CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 9TH, 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,
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, September 9th, 1895, and following days.
BEFORE the Hon. Sir WILLIAM RANN KENNEDY , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Bart., Sir JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS , Bart., and Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M.P., Aldermen of the said City; Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., FRANK GREEN , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR , Esq., and JOHN CHARLES BELL , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORREST FULTON , Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
RENALS, MAYOR. ELEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger † that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
OLD COURT.—Monday, September 9th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
The Prosecution offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a cheque for £151 2s. 6d., and BENSON to uttering the same cheque. Benson's father deposed to his son's good, character and promised to try and find employment for him. BENSON.— Judgment respited. SMITH.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of feloniously possessing counterfeit coin in May 1890, in the name of Thomas Feast ; and WILLIAMS* to a conviction of feloniously possessing counterfeit coin in April 1888, in the name of Frank Turner .
HADD.— Three Years' Penal Servitude, and WILLIAMS,— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
623. GEORGE RUNHAM (36) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to two indictments for stealing post letters and their contents, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
624. JOHN WILLIAM PIPER (22) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to stealing a post letter and its contents, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
625. ERNEST HAROLD HARRISON (17) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to stealing a post letter containing a cheque; and also to forging and uttering an endorsement on a cheque for £16 13s. His father deposed to his good character, and promised to try and find employment for him.— Judgment respited
626. CHARLES OWEN MARTIN (21) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to stealing a post letter and its contents, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office. A clergyman deposed to the prisoner's good character, and undertook to look after him and try to get him employment.— Discharged on recognisances.
627. MARY ABRAHAM (33) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to unlawfully obtaining from Harrod's Stores six napkins and table-cloths and other things from other persons by false pretences, with intent to defraud; also to a conviction of felony in the name of Lucy Knight in March 1895.— Six Months' Hard Labour. And
628. JOSEPH SAVAGE(29) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to receiving five boxes of cigars, knowing them to have been stolen. The prisoner produced discharges from ships which showed that he bore a good character.— Two Days' Imprisonment.
(For cases tried in Fourth Court, Monday, see Essex and Surrey cases.)
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 10th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
630. MARY GREEN [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , Feloniously marrying Daniel Jude, her husband being alive.— The Prosecutor stated that he lived with the prisoner four years before marrying her, and that he was drunk when he gave her into custody.— Two Days' Imprisonment.
631. FRANCES ROSE GUNNING (53) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to thirteen indictments for feloniously forging and uttering.*†— She received an excellent character.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
633. PHILIP HIGGINS (23) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] *, to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences six penny postage stamps and a postal order for 1s. 6d. from Walter Richard Shaw and other moneys from other persons, with intent to defraud.— Ten Months' Hard Labour. And
MR. BEARD Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
WILLIAM SALVER . I live at 3, Colburn Road, Ham—On April 1st about five o'clock I arrived at home, and found my front door forced open; I went upstairs and found a box not broken open, but ransacked—I missed two gold alberts, a silver necklace, a locket, and silver pencil case—I have here a lady's gold albert, lady's silver Albert, two pencil cases, and a broken gold ring—this cigar-holder is mine, but I never missed it—I had seen all the things safe the day before except the cigar holder—we wore them, and they were put away.
ERNEST FREDERICK ADAMS. I live at 26, Glasgow Road, Balham Road—I had known the prisoner before this occurrence—I received some of this property to sell before Easter, and some after, on Bank Holiday—I sold them for him, and got him the money—I gave him £1 for the chain—I got the chain and pencil back.
Cross-examined. I am a warehouseman—the prisoner and I were in
the same service—he did not tell me to conceal them—I showed them to a great many people—he said I was not to take less than so much—I know that he was in the habit of buying things from people who bought at Johnson and Diamond's sales.
Re-examined. I was never with him when he bought things.
Cross-examined. He has told me that he buys things of men who deal at Johnson and Diamond's.
GEORGE BURTON (Policeman K). On July 16th I was with Sergeant Lambert—we went to 13, Roman Road, and I saw him open a box and find this cigar-holder—the prisoner said, "You do not want that, it is only my cigar-holder"—he was detained in a back room, and said, "After being a good friend to Albert Wilkins, to be put away like this"—Albert Wilkins has been convicted—he was taken to the station.
GEORGE LAMBERT (Police Sergeant K)On July 6th, about midnight, I went with Burton to Roman Road—I said to the prisoner, "We are police-officers—I have reason to believe you have some property in your possession, is your name Ward?"—he said "No"—I said, "I believe it is, I shall search you"—I did so, and found a silver watch and a nickel one—I asked him to account for the possession of them—he said, "I deal in them—I bought them at Johnson and Diamond's salerooms"—I said, "When did you buy this nickel one?"—he said, "That was given me by a man who won it in a raffle, I will not tell you his name; the other I bought of Harry Howard, who lives somewhere at Stratford"—I said I believed they were stolen, and I should charge him with unlawful possession, and asked his address—he said, "I have got no address"—I said, "Come with me, and I will show you where you live"—he said, "Where are you going to take me?"—I said, "To Mattock's"—he said, "My sister-in-law is very ill; I will give you the keys if you don't make a fuss"—some property was found there which we have not got here—he was charged with the unlawful possession of the two watches first—he said, "Yes, but I had the elephants two years, and I plead not guilty"—those were two little white elephants.
Cross-examined. The other articles were identified by a gentleman, who said he would sooner lose the watches than come here—the value of these two watches is under £5.
The police stated that two cab-loads property the proceeds of eight burglaries and shop-breakings were found at the prisoner's house.
Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PRIDHAM WIPPLE Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
EDWARD PENNELL ELMHURST . I am a retired captain, living at Blisworth House, Blisworth—I am a member of the Naval and Military Club—on 17th July I received this bearer cheque from Arthur Bassett for the Royal Hunt Servants' Benefit Society—I posted it about four the same afternoon in the letter-box in the waiting-room of the club—the
following day I made inquiries at the office of the Benefit Society, and found it had not been received—I afterwards got it back from the bankers, and then communicated with Scotland Yard—this endorsement is not my signature, nor written with my authority.
WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT . I live at 154, Sheen Road, Surrey, and am assistant-secretary of the Royal Hunt Servants' Benefit Society at its office, 40, Brompton Road—on July 18th I opened the letters—I had no letter or cheque from Captain Pennell Elmhurst—he came on the afternoon of the 18th, and made a communication to me.
MARK BLUM BERG . I am a tailor, of 162, King's Road, Chelsea—the prisoner was my customer under the name of E. Johnson—he owed me £4—on July 18th the prisoner came and asked what he owed me—I said, "£4"—he said, "Will you take it out of this cheque," handing this cheque to me—it was endorsed—I said I did not care about taking it—he said, "the cheque is right enough; to show you proof that the cheque is all right just pass it through your bank, and I will call for the balance in two or three days, as soon as it has been met"—I gave him a receipt for it—on Saturday, July 20th, I was standing in the doorway when the prisoner came and said, "Have you got the money ready for me, the balance"—I said, "I have not been to the bank yet"—he said, "I will come with you to the bank"—we went to my bank, where I asked the manager, Mr. Gadd, if the cheque I passed through on Thursday was met and honoured—he said, "Yes"—I asked Mr. Gadd if I was justified in paying out the balance, and he said "Yes, the cheque has been met in a proper manner"—I gave the prisoner my open cheque for £21, payable to E. Johnson, and he cashed it across the counter—on the morning of August 12th he came and asked if I was satisfied that the cheque was all right—I said, "Yes," and then he went out; I followed him and had him arrested.
JOHN ORCHARD (220 B)On the morning of 12th August I was on duty in King's Road—in consequence of information received from Blumberg I went into the private bar of a public-house, where the prisoner was pointed out to me—I said, "I shall have to take you to the station respecting a cheque"—he said, "I know nothing about it; it must be a mistake"—he was identified.
JOHN MAGUIRE (Sergeant B)On 12th August I saw the prisoner about 12.45 at the Walton Street Police-station, and asked him his name—he said, "Reginald Young. I should like to know the charge I am brought here for?"—I said, "It is for stealing a cheque for £25 on 17th or 18th July last, and also for forging the name of Captain Elmhurst on the back of it"—he said, "I did not steal the cheque, but I did write the name 'P. Elmhurst' on the back; but it is not a forgery, as the cheque is a bearer one, and needed no endorsement"—I said, "Do you wish to say where you got it?"—he said. "I got it outside the London and Provincial Bank, Fulham Road, and you shall hear my explanation when I see my solicitor"—Captain Elmhurst arrived the next morning, and the prisoner was charged—when the charge was read to him he said, "Yes, thank you."
Cross-examined. The prisoner has never been in trouble before to my knowledge.
CHARLES WILLIAM RANDALL . I am an attendant at the Naval and Military Club—it is my duty to take the letters from the box at 1.30, 2, 3, 4, and other hours—I post them as a rule in the post-office letter-box, in
Curzon Street—the letter-box in the Club is kept locked, and the key is kept in the hall-porter's box from which I take it, and unlock the box—on July 17th I got the key in the usual way from the hall-porter, and posted all the letters.
Cross-examined. The prisoner is a stranger to me.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against him for forging and uttering the endorsement on the cheque, upon which MR. PRIDHAM WIPPLE offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, September 10th, 1895.
638. WILLIAM HOPKINS (20) and THOMAS SULLIVAN (18) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas James Curran, and stealing nine bottles of brandy and other goods, his property; also to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in February, 1894. HOPKINS**— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. SULLIVAN— Six Months' Hard Labour.
639. FRANK WALTER GREENWOOD (31) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to stealing three valuable securities for £22 11s. 7d., £49 17s. 6d, and £15 2s. while servant to William Wells and another— Six Months' Hard Labour.
641. GEORGE AMSWELL (50) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to three indictments for stealing £2 5s., £2, and £1 of Robert Russell and others; and to a conviction of felony at this Court in August, 1879— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
643. ERNEST WILLIAM SIMS** (22) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to three indictments for stealing a pair of trousers, an overcoat, a bag, and other goods from Alfred Bental and others; and to a conviction of obtaining money by false pretences at this Court in April, 1894— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
STANLEY PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. SAMUEL MOSES Prosecuted,
SAMUEL HERBERT BRIAN . I live at Bring House, Middleton Road—on 21st August I left the house between eight and nine a.m.—the windows were fastened and the door left on the key-latch—no one was in the house when I left it—my wife was away—in consequence of information I received in the afternoon I went back—I found the front door forced—I went in—I saw a little desk was forced open, and in the bed-room a chest of drawers was tampered with—there was a mark on the outside made by some tool—I went to the Police-station and gave information—a constable was sent out—he brought back the prisoners—I saw Stanley
searched, and these articles taken from him, two chains, a watch, three gold studs, a bracelet, and a pocket-case.
MARY ISABEL TURNER . I live in the Cowley Road, about sixty yards from the prosecutor—there are three houses between two small ones—our garden runs not quite up to it—on 21st August, about 4.15 p.m., I was in the garden, and heard people coming up the road—I saw the prisoners drink something out of a bottle—they next walked up to the prosecutor's house, looked at it, went into the garden, and into the porch of the house—they stayed there a little time, and the man went round the back way—I saw him leave the porch—the woman remained in the porch—after a short time the man rejoined the female, and they stayed in the porch fifteen or twenty minutes—the woman was holding a sunshade or umbrella—my suspicion was aroused, and I went to the woman (I did not see the man then) and said, "Do you wish to see anyone?"—she said she wanted the lady of the house—I said, "She is away from home"—she said, "Oh, she is away, is she?" and came away from the door—I asked her if she knew the lady's name—she did not seem to answer that, but commenced talking about the Uxbridge Cycling Sports that were on—she walked from the house and left me a few yards from our house—I went in our house the front way, and into the kitchen and stood upon a chair and looked out at the back window—I saw the woman go back into the garden—a few minutes after the man joined her and then went to the top of the road and down another road, and she came down the road and past my front garden, retraced her steps, the man came down the other road and she walked behind him about twelve yards—I went to Mr. Brian, senior's, house and informed him what I had seen—I then went to the railway station—I did not see the prisoners there—I went back to Mr. Brian's house and saw marks on the door—then I went to the Police-station—a constable came with me and I gave information—I went into Windsor Street with the constable and saw the prisoners together at the top of the street—I pointed them out to the constable—the woman recognised me, talked to the man, and they separated—I went back to—the station and the prisoners were brought in.
ALEXANDER LANGTON (421 X)About 5.30 p.m. on August 21st Mr. Brian, sen., and Turner gave information at the Uxbridge Police Station, and I went with Turner to Windsor Street—I saw the prisoners together at the top of Windsor Street, I took a short turn round a corner and went across to them—they were in the act of separating—I noticed the man's pocket was bulky, and could see a small tool-case outside his pocket—I told them I should take them into custody for being concerned together in breaking into a dwelling-house—the man replied, "That lady is quite innocent, she knows nothing about it."
REGINALD CAUNTER (Sergeant 69 X)About 6.15 p.m. on 21st August I examined the door of the prosecutor's house—near the lock were marks as if an instrument had been used forcing the door—I went upstairs, and in the first floor back found a writing desk had been forced open, and in the front room the sides of a chest of drawers had been forced away and the drawers forced open—I went back to the station—I told the prisoners they would be charged with being concerned together in breaking and entering the prosecutor's house in the Middleton Road—I
ordered the man to be searched, when he handed me these articles, and said, "I will give them to you, sergeant, they all come from there"; two gold chains, a silver watch, gold bangle, three silver studs, and a pocket-book—turning to the woman the man said, "she knows nothing about it, she is only a dupe, so help me God. I want you to make a note of that"—then he handed me this jemmy from his pocket and said "That is what I did it with"—he also handed me ten skeleton keys—I afterwards went to the premises and compared the jemmy with the marks on the door, and found it to correspond—the marks on the writing desk and on the drawers corresponded with this instrument—the prisoners were charged—they made no reply.
GUILTY .—BROWN also
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in February, 1875. STANLEY** and BROWN**— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
NATHANIEL EVANS . I live with my father at Wood End—he is a market-gardener and dairyman—I know the prisoner Hearn as having worked for my father—I am thirteen years of age—in the beginning of July I was picking beans with him—he asked me to get some money—then he told me to get a sovereign to pay for a bicycle from Frederick Barling—£2 was to be the price—the money was to come from the bureau—I looked to see where it was kept—he told me to find out—I got the keys of the bureau from the baby—he told me to—the other £1 was to come from father—Hearn told me to tell father the bicycle was only £1—then he said he would not tell father about it, and that now I should be able to get some money—he said that five or six times—the next time I had got £1 2s. 6d. for a watch—he said he had got a watch—I said "Where?"—he said, "I am going to get it out of the shop"—he said afterwards, he would sell it to my father for half-a-crown—he did not sell it to my father, who said I did not want it—then Hearn said one night, "I will give it to you," then he gave it to me in the night and a day or two afterwards he wanted the money for it—I got the money, and put it in a hole in a pear tree where he told me—that was the Friday evening before the Bank Holiday—he told me not to tell father any different, but still say I never gave him any money—he asked me to go to Wendover—mother would not let me go—on the Monday, the 4th, he asked me if I had any money for him—I said "No"—he said, "Get me some for to-morrow"—I got him some on the Tuesday morning, the 5th, out of the bureau with the keys, and two days after I got some more in the same way—he asked me on other occasions—he said if I never got money he would shoot me—he gave me 30s. the following Sunday evening—he told me to throw it away, or put it in my shoe, or where father could find it—I put it in my shoe—I was to tell father when I got home I had heard the burglars had been in india-rubber shoes through the window—after that I told my father the whole story—Hearn was arrested, and I saw him in custody—I heard him say first he had not had a halfpenny; then that he had £1 2s. 6d. for the watch.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not ask me to fetch you a pint
of beer, because mother should not see you when we are picking beans in the White Hart field, and the landlord did not say, "You must bring the pot back"—I did not say I was looking last night for you, and that I had put two half-sovereigns wrapped up in a piece of paper near Mr. Brown's door—I did say in answer to your question "What have you done with it?" that I gave mother one and kept the other myself—I did not say I would get a watch like yours with the other ten shillings, nor look at your watch—I did not say "Don't let father know about the watch, I won't have one now"—when I heard you ask father the price of the watch I was raspberry gathering—Mr. Franklin, my father, and Mr. Brown were present—Minnie was with me—Franklin was apple gathering—you asked father to buy the watch for four shillings—I heard you ask him half a crown—when Brown offered four shillings down I did not say "Don't sell it, it is mine"—you said "I will come and run it down and make a brooch with it"—I put the half-sovereign in the William pear-tree near the corner—I do not know whether you had it, but you had not money to pay for the beer—if you had not had it you would have told me—I met you on the Sunday morning going to church—you were not out of work—you were working for Mr. Salter, and had only just left my father—I gave you money on the Friday—you saw the baby had the keys when you came to clean the bicycle—I dropped money for you in an empty house, I did not say a new house—you have received other money I dropped for you other than that for the watch.
ARTHUR JAMES FRANKLIN . I keep the Vine public-house at Hayes—I work for Mr. Evans—on August 2nd Hearn was at the Vine—he said he could show more money than the wife could—she was not there—he said he would sell a watch for half-a-crown if anybody would buy it; if not he would give it to the boy—the same day his wife asked me if he had been paid—I said I did not know—she said if he has not been paid the young lad has given it to him—Hearn showed a handful of silver—he had had beer the day before he did not pay for, but he paid for what he had in the evening—on Saturday, 3rd, he came and paid for what ho owed, I think a little over six shillings—he said he was going on Tuesday to Wendover, and said he would be back on Sunday night—on Monday, the August Bank Holiday, he said he had no money—on the Tuesday he came to my house and had beer, and did not pay for it—he came on the Wednesday and appeared to have plenty of money—he showed some silver coins, and treated everyone—on Thursday I was working with him in Mr. Evans' field, and a man named Brown came along and said, "Mind what you get up to to-day, Mr. Tommy; I know where you get that money from; that boy has given it to you"—he said, "Illingham's boy told him that I got money from the post-office."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You showed the silver on the Friday—I did not see any halfpence; I paid your wife half-a-sovereign and one shilling for making picture-frames, because she said you would spend it.
JOSEPH BROWN . I was in the Vine public-house on Saturday, 2nd August—I saw the prisoner there with a handful of silver—his wife came in the same night when he was there, and could hear—she asked Mr. Franklin whether Mr. Evans had paid Hearn any money or not—Franklin said, "No"—Hearn said he would show more money than his wife would—he pulled out a handful of silver—his wife did not show any—she
said, "Well, if you have not been paid young Ned must have given it to you"—on 7th August I was working with Hearn for Mr. Evans—in the afternoon he asked me whether I was going to have a drink—I replied, "I have got no money"—he said, "Come over to the Angel and we'll have a drink"—he had 3d. worth of whiskey, and I had a pint of beer—Hearn paid with a sovereign—I saw another sovereign—on Thursday 8th Hearn and I were working in the White Hart field—Mrs. Hearn came along and said to her husband, "Mind what you get up to to-day; I know where you got that money from, that boy gave it to you"—he said" She means young Illingham got it out of the post-office bank."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You got 19s. 6d. change—you pulled out another "tanner" when I saw the other sovereign in your hand.
MATILDA EVANS . I am the wife of Mr. Evans, a market gardener—the first witness is my son—he takes the milk round and collects money—I kept the money in a locked bureau in the parlour—I carry the keys with me—I very seldom, but sometimes, give them to baby to play with—I missed £3, and in about a fortnight £7 10s.—I did not keep a strict account—I could not say how much I missed—I was always working and did not take particular notice—I found out gold had been taken from the bureau before the prisoner was arrested—Hearn said he thought my husband ought to buy my son a bicycle, and offered to give more than my son could for it—on the 2nd August his wife came, and asked Hearn "Where is that watch?" Hearn said, "I have given it to Neddy"—I said "What did you want to give him a watch for?" Hearn said, "He is a good boy: his father won't buy it for him, and I gave it him"—on Sunday, 25th August, Hearn was brought to my house—I heard him say he had £1 2s. 6d. for it—I said" Why deceive me? You told me you gave him the watch, and I never knew you had anything for it"—I missed £7 10s. on the Friday night before the Sunday he was taken into custody—my son took out of his boot a sovereign and a half—I did not see anything wrong with the lock of the bureau.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not come into the parlour, you came into the house to see the bicycle—you said my son could have a bow for his machine—one of the nuts of his machine was loose—I have seen you in the shed.
NATHANIEL EVANS . I am the husband of the last witness—Hearn was employed by me the first week in August—a week or two before that he wanted me to buy a bicycle for the boy—I told him the boy did not want one—he asked me to buy a watch—he asked two or three prices 4s., then half-a-crown—I promised to buy it—I afterwards saw the watch—the boy had it—I saw my son take out of his shoe on Sunday, August 25th, a sovereign and a half-sovereign.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You spoke to me about the bicycle in the back loading shed—I promised—you said if I promised I ought to buy it.
FREDERICK BARNETT . I remember selling a bicycle to the boy Nathaniel Evans before the August Bank Holiday for £2—I talked to Hearn about it once—he said he might have it if the boy did not like it—he knew the price was £2.
EDWARD MACDONNELL . I am an official in the Post Office Savings Bank—I produce the Savings Bank book of Thomas Hearn, of Wood End Row—this is the account, and this is a copy—the account was opened with a deposit of £2 1s. on June 28th, 1894, and closed on February 13th, 1895, by the withdrawal of 13s.
FREDERICK WILLIAM TAYLOR (29 X), On August 25th I arrested the prisoner—he was charged with receiving £7, knowing it to be stolen—he said he had not received any £7—I took him to Mr. Evans—the boy Nathaniel was there, and in Hearn's hearing he said, "I have stolen my mother's money several times, and given it to Hearn. He gave me 30s. to put in my boot at a quarter to 5 p.m. on 25th when going to church"—to which Hearn replied he never received anything from him—Mrs. Hearn said, "I thought you told me you had given the boy the watch"—Hearn said he received £1 2s. 6d. for it.
Hearn's defence. I do not know whether the jury think I had 30s. to throw away. I never received money off the boy. It is me giving it to the boy, not him to me, if it comes to that.
GUILTY **.—He also
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Aylesbury, Buckingham, in June, 1881.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BLACK Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
ERNEST YOUNG . I reside at 22, Brighton Terrace, Brixton—I know the prisoner—on Monday, 5th August, on opening the door to go out the prisoner was outside—thinking he had come in reference to a message I asked him in—he came in—then I went out again a few minutes, then he went away—he was there about twenty minutes; that was about 8.50—I went in after saying good-night to him—after that I went out again about 9.15 with Mr. and Mrs. Stanley—no one else was in the house, which was fastened up—I returned about 11—I found a bird loose in the room, which led 'me to look about—two birds were in the room—one was taken, the other was hanging up so that when the shutters were open it fell on the ground, the cage was a peculiar cage—I discovered the back side door communicating with the area was opened—I missed six coats, a mackintosh, this pair of gloves, and other things the property of people in the house—I gave information to the police—I saw the prisoner at the Police-station the following evening—I saw him searched—among other things taken from his pocket was this pair of gloves—they were in the tail-pocket of my frock-coat which was stolen.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been in the Army—I do not know how long—I was looking for a situation for him—he came in first, then I took him outside as there were other people in the house I did not want to trouble with the conversation—he had a situation as barman since he left the Army—I go to the City by 'bus as a rule—I live on the London, Chatham and Dover Railway and South London—I do not know where the prisoner lives—when the gloves were produced at the station I said, "Those are my gloves"—I recognised them at once, when they were laid on the desk where the sergeant had taken the charge, owing to this
peculiar tear in them—I do not think the prisoner said anything—Mrs. Collins lives two houses from mine at No. 26.
Re-examined. If the prisoner had said he had found the gloves, I am a little deaf, I may not have heard.
MARY COLLINS . I reside next door but one to No. 22—on 5th August about ten p.m. I saw the prisoner come out of the area gate of No. 22—I did not know the owner was not there—the prisoner walked across the road—he was not carrying anything.
Cross-examined. The Royal Mail was going by the terrace at the time—I had not seen the prisoner before to my knowledge—the time I saw the man was not a little after nine, it was nearer ten.
ISRAEL BEDFORD (Detective W). In consequence of information I went with Detective Pyke to Billingsgate—I told the prisoner I should take him into custody on suspicion of committing a burglary at 22, Brighton Terrace, Brixton—he said, "All right, you cannot prove it in twenty years, I know too much for you"—I took him to the station—he was identified by Collins—Pyke searched him in my presence—in his coat pocket he found this pair of kid gloves—the prosecutor said, "They are my gloves" he examined them and said, "I can swear to them by this hole," referring to one of the gloves—the prisoner made no reply.
Cross-examined. I did not hear prisoner say he had found the gloves—I took his statement down when I got to the station shortly after it was made in the street—Pyke was there—I do not know whether he heard it—he was close to me and the prisoner—I swear he used the words, "I know too much for you," and not "I will go with you, you cannot prove anything against me for twenty years"—he talked to me and said he knew me; but said nothing more about the case—Pyke inquired about his character.
FRANK PYKE (Detective W. Division). I examined the premises at 22, Brighton Terrace, Brixton—I found marks on the bay-window sill as if some person had got through—inside the window and on the floor I found marks of dirty footsteps—entrance had been effected through the area window—I searched the prisoner; found this pair of kid gloves—they were identified at once in front of the prisoner—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. He never said in my presence he found the gloves and had had them in his possession some time—I know his character is not good—he is a constant associate of convicted thieves for the last twelve months—he bore a good character in the Army for seven years—I enquired—I heard that three of those years he was an officer's servant; that Mr. Label dismissed him—twelve months ago I saw him with a man named Harrison, in possession of a stolen bicycle, but he escaped, and when I went to search his house that man was in his lodgings—the bicycle was stolen from his employer—the other thief made a statement which is not admissible here—I say he was not in constant employment from the date he left the Army down to a month ago.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 11th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. HUTTON for the prosecution offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
PLEADED GUILTY .— Six Days' Imprisonment.
Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 11th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
650. MAX REIMAN (46), PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the German Hospital Convalescent Home, and stealing a candlestick and other articles. Dr. Walker, of Holloway Gaol, stated that the prisoner is insane and would be taken care of. One Month's Imprisonment.
652. THOMAS LILLEY** (20) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to burglary in the dwelling-house of the Temperance Catering Company, and stealing a quantity of food, having been convicted at Bow Street on October 17th, 1894.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
653. JOHN WILLIAMS (35) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to stealing a breast-pin from the person of William Lawley, having been convicted in August 1892. Eight convictions of felony were proved against him, besides several as a rogue and a vagabond.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
654. JAMES RYAN (27) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to two indictments for forging and uttering two requests for the payment of £1; also to attempting to obtain money by false pretences.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. And
655. ROBERT HOOD (28) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas McMillen, and stealing a quantity of cigars and billiard balls, his property.— Judgment respited.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
JOHN MAX KLEMPNER . I am manager of the Adelphi Hotel, Adam Street, Strand—on July 30th I was aroused at 3.45 a.m., and found my porter in the passage holding the prisoner—I asked what he was doing there—he said he came to have a bed—I had left the office window perfectly secure, but did not lock the door, I closed it—I found the window forced open, the catch forced back, the cigar cupboard opened, and a box of cigarettes taken out and put on a chair—a desk where we keep money was prised and forced up half an inch, but not opened.
WILLIAM BRADY . I am night porter at the Adelphi Hotel—on July 30th, about 4.30 am., I saw a shadow through the glass door of the manager's office—I stood in the recess and saw the figure of a young man—a visitor was coming downstairs, and I put him near the glass door
while I went to the front door and called a policeman, who got over the railings and called out "Come out"—the prisoner came out at the window—I asked him what he was doing—he said he was hard up and wanted a bed.
JOSEPH DANEY (169 E). On July 30th Brady called me to the Adelphi—I got over the railings and saw the prisoner in the office—I said, "Come out"—he said, "I will, it is the first time T have been caught"—he came out, I took him into the hall; he said, "I had been walking about all night, and seeing the window open I got in to have a sleep"—I found these two keys and these pliers on him, and saw marks as though the catch had been prised with the handle of the pliers—I saw some cigarettes on a chair—I did not see the money drawer.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The handle of the pliers is not too thick to put back the catch.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I wish to say the window was open."
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN COLLINS . I am a house-painter, of Queen Square, Bloomsbury,—early on the morning of August 1st I was in Queen Street, Long Acre—I had a sovereign, half-sovereign, and two half-crowns in this pocket, and 2d. in another pocket—Bates accosted me and said, 'Where are you going?" I said, "That is my business, and gave her a shove, and the tall prisoner came across the road and hit me on my left cheek, cutting it open, and knocking me to the ground—the short prisoner then came across and hit me and kicked me, and Bates put her hand over my mouth, and the men put their hands in my pocket and took my money; I called "Police" and "Stop thief" and followed them—I saw their faces distinctly, and have no doubt about them—I did not lose sight of them—we came on them all three at a coffee-stall in Endell Street, and I gave them into custody.
Cross-examined by Desmond. I was not drunk—I was never locked up for being drunk—I have been laid up ever since this.
Cross-examined by Bates. I was not sitting on a doorstep in Long Acre—Griffiths made my face bleed—you helped to take my purse, and I did not lose sight of you.
FRANK CHAPLIN (129 E). I was on duty, and heard shouting in the direction of Charles Street, and met the three prisoners walking very fast, and Collins about thirty years behind; I ran back and saw the prisoners turn the corner; I followed them to the top of Endell Street, where they came to a coffee-stall, and the prosecutor came up and recognised them—he was sober—his cheek was cut—I took Griffin—the coffee-stall is 150 yards from the spot.
under observation—they went to a coffee-stall in Endell Street, and the prosecutor pointed them out—I took Desmond—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I found threepence on him.
Cross-examined by Desmond. The prosecutor did not say, "No you are not the men"—you did not ask me to send for a doctor to see if the prosecutor was drunk—I had never seen you before—I did not say to you three weeks before, "I shall have you right or wrong."
JOHN CHAPMAN (178 E). I was on duty and heard a shout of police—I went to the coffee-stall and saw the prisoners there—Bates said, "What is it for?"—I said, "Being concerned with two men in stealing a purse," she said, "How much was in it?"—I said, "I don't know"—Collins was quite sober.
The prisoners in their statements before the Magistrate, and in their defences, said that the prosecutor was very drunk, and did not recognise them at the coffee-stall till the constable said something to him.— GUILTY . Desmond and Griffin
PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, Desmond at Clerkenwell on March 2nd, 1892, and Griffin at Westminster on August 5th, 1890; and the police stated that Bates had been twenty-seven times convicted at Bow Street. DESMOND and GRIFFIN— Six Years' Penal Servitude each. BATES— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
658. KATE SMITH (18). KATE SHEA (17), CAROLINE MORRIS (17), and MARY ANN PITTMAN (17) , Robbery with violence on Isabella Keylock, and stealing a purse, sixpence, and a scentbottle, the property of Henry Keylock.
ISABELLA KEYLOCK . I am the wife of Henry Keylock, of 56, Orange Street, Bethnal Green—in the early morning of July 23rd I was in Union Street, Spitalfields, going home—the prisoners were sitting on a doorstep; they said, "Down her," and threw me down—five of them assaulted me, the prisoners are four of them—I had a scent-bottle in my pocket, and my purse in my bosom—this is my purse, it was picked up; it contained either 6d. or 5d.—I gave the prisoners in custody without losing sight of them—this is my scent-bottle.
FREDERICK BEAVIS (125 N). On 23rd July, about a quarter to 1 a.m., I was spoken to, not by the prosecutrix, and saw the prisoners in a door-way—the prosecutrix came along, and the four prisoners rushed at her—Pittman threw her down, and the others held her down and rifled her pockets—there were two of us—the prosecutrix was insensible, and her bodice was torn open—I saw Pittman drop this scent-bottle—I picked it up.
ALEXANDER AULSEBROOK (146H). I was with Bevis and saw the four prisoners in a doorway—the prosecutrix came along Union Street; Smith caught hold of her hand, and Pittman struck her in the chest and knocked her down—when they were taken they said, "This is just our luck; take us to the station."
Cross-examined by Morris. I saw you there.
GUILTY .— Ten Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted,
MARY MARENGO . I am a widow, and live at Coker's Hotel, 19, Charterhouse, Square—I keep the books—the prisoner came there towards the end of April and stayed ten or twelve days (he had been there before, on April 2nd, for six days), he left early in May—he owed the hotel £2 Is. 6d., and asked me to cash this cheque for £4 and take the amount of the bill—I gave him £1, leaving 18s. 6d. still owing to him—I said I had not sufficient to give him the balance—I paid the cheque into the bank twice, it was returned the first time marked, "Effects not cleared," and the second time, "Refer to drawer"—he stopped that night, Saturday, and left on the Sunday; the cheque had not been paid in then—he never called for the 18s. 6d.—I believed the cheque was good and would be honoured.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You sent me a cheque for £10 before you left the first time, and I sent it back saying that I could not change it—you did not say, "I shall pay it into the bank and draw again"—I had one cheque from you before for £2 14s., that was all right, but that was not your own cheque.
SARAH BINGHAM . I am manager of Bingham's Hotel Company, 5, Southampton Buildings, Holborn, and am a widow—the prisoner has been there two or three times, and paid his bill before he left—he came in June this year, and when he had-been there a week he asked me to cash a cheque—I said I had been told not to do so, and if I did it would be my loss—he said, "It is all right"—I gave him £5, believing it would be met, but it was returned marked "Unpaid"—he was still there, and I told him it was returned by the bank, who said that I ought to prosecute him—he said, "The money will be with you shortly"—it has never come—that was June 9th or 10th—he stayed that night at the hotel—I did not notice at the time that the cheque was dated May 31st—he left before June 11th—his bill was £3 or £4—he did not pay it; I have had to bear the loss.
Cross-examined. I did not instruct you to dispose of the hotel, but to increase the company—I have shares in it—this is your account; you were there from June 1st to June 12th—I did not know that you intended to return the following week—nobody has called and left any money.
ANDREW WILSON TAYLOR . I am manager of the Adelphi Bank, Manchester—on December 17th, 1894, the prisoner opened an account there in the name of the Manchester Corporation, Septimus Bright, manager, with £30 in bank-notes—the credit was reduced in September to £1 1s. 1d.—on January 22nd he paid in £10, making the balance £10 Is. Id.—on the 26th, 27th, and 28th three cheques were paid out, reducing the balance to 11s. 1d.—he then paid in a cheque which was dishonoured; he paid in nothing in March or April—on May 13th £10 was paid in, which was returned dishonoured on the 15th—1s. 1d. was left, which we appropriated for postage and commission—this cheque for £4 was presented on May 14th, and returned, marked "Effects not cleared;" it was presented a second time, and marked "Refer to drawer"—this cheque for £5, payable to S. Bright,
was presented on June 11th, and returned at once marked "Unpaid"—the biggest balance the prisoner has had this year was £10 1s. 1d.——twenty-two dishonoured cheques were presented between January 30th and June 11th, amounting to about £104, three of which were marked "Stopped by drawer"—on February 6th I wrote to the prisoner (Asking him to close his account, and return the unused cheques.)—he called next day, and showed me a telegram stating that he was going to pay some money into the account—I read it, and said "You must not issue any more cheques till the money is actually in the bank"—he said nothing—I wrote this letter to him in March (Stating that if he persisted in drawing cheques he must close his account.)—this is his reply (Stating that he was going to Liverpool that morning, and would call on his return.)—he did not call; I never saw him again.
Cross-examined. No money was paid in to your account during the week ending June 15th—I have no communication dated June—I never had a telegram from you—I had one purporting to come from Mr. Davis—some of your cheques were payable to Jones and Co., Callaghan, and Davis, there were eleven to Jones; some of them may have been delivered a second time—I see two for Jones on the same date—they came from the same quarter, and two to yourself—I never wrote to you and told you that those had been presented.
Re-examined. The three cheques stopped are for £3, £6, and £11.
ALFRED EDWARD PERRIAM . I am a traveller, of 15, Thavies Inn, Holborn, I saw an advertisement for a private secretary—I replied to it and went to Cocker's Hotel, 19, Tokenhouse Square, early in May and saw the prisoner—I told him I had come about the advertisement—he said he wanted me for a gentleman who was opening some restaurants—he said "Cash security will be required, how much can you give?"—I said,"£50,"—he said, "It is not sufficient, we require ten times that amount"—he then said he knew something which would do for me—I asked him what it was—he said he had a business in Manchester, and offices at 120, London Wall, and I should be his confidential clerk at 120, London Wall, at 30s. a week; that he was a company promoter, and I should have interviews with people in his absence, and if he was away I was to carry it on—he wanted £50 in cash before I entered upon it, and asked me for a deposit—I gave him £5 and he gave me a receipt for it, and I gave him an I O U.—I consulted a solicitor, and entered upon my duties—I never got any of the money back.
Cross-examined. The conversation about the second appointment was about May 2nd—I did not ask you if you knew of an appointment where £50 would be useful—I said that an agreement would not be necessary, but you said that one would be drawn up by a solicitor, and agreed to send me a draft of it—when I returned it one or two alterations had to be made in it—I did not understand that I was to be employed at the 14 Syndicate—you said that if the solicitor did not consider that I ought to take the situation he would return me the £5—you said that until I had paid the whole £50 I should not be admitted—I said, "I may go into partnership"—I was not to go into partnership, and my father to take the position of a clerk in the office—you promised to increase my salary from 30s. to £2.
BENJAMIN WARWICK . I am an inventor and manufacturer of time and date stamps, and lived at 120, London Wall, but I have given up that office—the prisoner came to see me several times on business matters—he never carried on any business there—I am in the habit of using paper printed in this way—I never gave the prisoner any paper with my stamp on it, he must have possessed himself of it when he called at my office—he never had any office there—I have no clerk—he never carried on any business for which he wanted a confidential clerk—he could not be described as a company promoter—I never had any conversation with him about it.
Cross-examined. I was there three months—it was not with my consent that you used my address—the offices were taken in the name of the Warwick Type Company, Limited—I paid the rent—Mr. Davis was with me there and so he was at London Wall—I made the payments in cash, I had no banking account—I do not know that Mr. Davis carried on business independent of me, he had writing paper printed as mine was, and I expect that is how you got hold of it—I do not know what has become of him, I wrote to him but have had no reply—he could make any arrangement he liked with regard to the office—he carried on his own business, he did not pay any rent—he did not give you some of his note-paper in my presence—there was a syndicate at Finsbury Pavement, I was the promoter—we have not got so far as working it yet, I don't think they have got the money—I put nothing in—a prospectus was issued—Davis was a director and so was I—I don't think the company got much from the public—there were no officials—the company was registered, so there must have been seven subscribers—Davis was largely interested, I don't think he could make appointments.
JOHN KANE (Police's Sergeant E). On 17th July I went to Manchester, and found the prisoner detained in custody—I read the warrant to him for obtaining money by false pretences from Mrs. Bingham—he said, "Yes, I had the £5, but I expect some money will be paid in the bank"—I said, "I have been to the bank and seen the letter-book," and I showed him a letter of February 5th written to the prisoner by the manager, acquainting him with the state of his account—he said, "Yes, I saw the manager after that"—I said, "Yes, and he cautioned you about issuing cheques when you had not the money to meet them, and these twenty-one cheques have been returned dishonoured"—he said, "Yes, but several of those cheques were cashed by Jones"—I said, "Is that Jones who is employed at a Liverpool house?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I hear you have been the absolute ruin of that man; he was discharged from his situation through you"—he said, "I wish I had never seen him or Smyth and Co"—I brought him to London.
The prisoner in his defence stated that Davis asked him to raise the capital for the company, that he discussed the matter with Mr. Jones, who arranged to pay £50 or £100 to his account, but he could not find him or Davis, and had not received a penny; that he met Mr. Jones who told him he had used some of the money contrary to the agreements; that he re mained at the hotel after giving Mrs. Bingham the cheque, and left his bag there, when he was called away to his wife who was very ill, and that he had no intention of defrauding anyone; that he inserted the advertisement for a gentleman at Manchester who had instructed him to supervise an association,and that Davis gave him liberty to use the office address and notepaper.
GUILTY .—He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of obtaining money by false pretences on July 18th, 1887, at Manchester.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, September 11th, 1895.
660. JAMES BOULTON (21), ALFRED JOHNSON (28), FREDERICK HUNT (38), and ROBERT TYLER (34) , Stealing the carcases of twenty dead sheep, the property of William Cornell and another, the masters of Boulton and Johnson; Second Count, receiving the same.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CORNELL . I trade as Robert Cornell, a butcher's carrier, at 18, Prideaux Road, Clapham Rise—I employ a number of men as carmen—at one time or another each of the four prisoners has been in my employment—I believe they were known to each other—on the evening of August 5th I sent Boulton with a van to fetch one hundred and twenty sheep of the Anchor brand from the Hibernia Wharf—On the morning of August 6th I was shown at Tyler's shop twenty carcases of sheep of that brand worth about £18—if a carman found he had sheep over after delivering the proper quantity he should give them to the foreman or myself; he has no right to dispose of them himself except under my or my foreman's instructions—I had no knowledge of them going to Tyler's; I had no instructions to deliver sheep to him.
Cross-examined by Boulton. If any sheep over are delivered to us they are kept till the owner is found for them, or they are sold to the owner's account, not mine.
RICHARD SHARPEN . I live at 38, Carlton Road, Mile End, and am foreman to Anderson, Webber and Smith, of the new Hibernia Wharf—on August 6th we had a number of carcases of sheep of the Anchor brand there—I had instructions on that day to deliver 200 sheep to Messrs. Blowfield and Lissenden—I know Boulton as a carman—on the early morning of 6th August, the day after Bank Holiday, he was there with van No. 17, assisting in loading it—the vans hold sometimes 100 carcases, sometimes 120; they hold not less than 100, 100 or more—while the sheep were being loaded on this van I was attending to another scale, and had to go away—we were short-handed, and I was very busy that morning—when I came back Wood drew my attention to something, and I asked Boulton if he could take the other twenty to make up 100—his van was then loaded right up to the top—he said, "I have got eighty on; you can see that I cannot take any more"—Wood showed me a ticket, with the number and weight of the sheep; it was made out for 100—I gave instructions to alter the ticket in consequence of what Boulton had said, and then it was altered to eighty—this ticket was then given to Boulton, and he went away with the load.
Cross-examined by Hunt. I did not see you in connection with the sheep.
FRANK WOOD . I live at 61, Grove Road, Bow—I am a chamberman at Hibernia Wharf—I look after the sheep in the refrigerating-chamber—on the morning of August 6th I was acting as booking-clerk; it was not my regular duty—part of my duty was to check the weight of the sheep into the vans—I made out this ticket: "Cornell's, No. 17 van. Eighty sheep to go to Blowfield and Lissenden"—I made that out originally for 100 sheep, but I received some directions from Sharpen and altered it to 80.
Cross-examined by Boulton. I did not hear you say that you had only eighty on your van.
Cross-examined by Hunt. I did not see you.
Cross-examined by Tyler. I did not see you.
JOHN CHRISTIAN BENNETT . I am a foreman to Messrs. Cornell—on the morning of August 6th I was on duty in the market—Boulton was in charge of van 17; Johnson was in charge of another van—Boulton gave me this delivery note made out for 80 sheep—he said nothing about any other sheep than the 80 on the note—it would be no part of his duty to hand over any sheep on his van to another carman without instructions from me or my master.
Cross-examined by Boulton. I know nothing wrong about you; I always thought you were very straightforward, so far as I knew you.
Cross-examined by Johnson. I know nothing against you.
Cross-examined by Hunt. When you have found any sheep over you should have reported it to me, and put them where I told you—I know nothing against you.
Cross-examined by Tyler. I have known no dishonest transaction done by you.
CHARLES GODDEN (298 City). I was on duty in the West Smithfield Meat Market about 3.45 on the early morning of 6th August—I saw Johnson, whom I knew by sight, with one of Cornell's empty vans, which he drew to the tail of another van and received some frozen sheep from it—he covered the sheep up with a tarpaulin and turned the other way, and remained standing in West Smithfield—the other carman drove down Giltspur Street—I did not notice if any sheep were left in that van; it was covered—later that same morning I spoke to Wade, and when I was doing so I saw Hunt knocking at 3, Hosier Lane—three or four minutes afterwards I crossed to the end of the lane and saw Johnson's van standing there—Tyler came to the door of his coffee-shop, 3, Hosier Lane, And looked up and down the lane, and then Johnson put the sheep on Tyler's shoulder, and Tyler carried all the sheep into his shop.
Cross-examined by Hunt. I came by you at the time you were knock—ing at the door—I heard you hulloa out "Darkey"—I did not see you do anything else—I did not see you speak to Tyler—I did not see you there when the van came down to the coffee shop—I did not see you beckon the carman.
FREDERICK WADE (Constable City). At 4.15 on August 6th I was on duty in plain clothes in Smithfield—I saw Hunt knocking at the door of the coffee-shop, 3, Hosier Lane—shortly after he beckoned to Johnson, who was standing at the top of Hosier Lane—Johnson went to Smithfield, fetched his van, and went down Hosier Lane, and stopped outside Tyler's shop, No. 3—Tyler came out without his boots and stockings, and carried
all twenty sheep inside—I called to my sergeant, and went down Hosier Lane, and into the coffee-shop—I saw Tyler and said to him, "You have got some mutton here this morning?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Where did you get it from?"—he said, "Cornell"—I said, "Where did you buy it?"—he made no answer—I told him to put his clothes on—he went upstairs—I went with him, and there he said that he had been called up that morning to take the mutton in—I said, "Who called you up?"—he aid, "A man from the market"—I said, "Of course you know his name?"—he said, "Yes; his name is Fred Hunt"—I arrested him, and looked round for Hunt, and found he had disappeared from the market—I saw the twenty sheep in the shop behind a partition, on the floor—Tyler was partly undressed—before the Magistrate he suggested that he was the worse for drink—he was quite sober; he had not been out of bed many minutes.
Cross-examined by Boulton. I did not see you have the sheep.
Cross-examined by Hunt. I saw you knock at the door and hold up your hand to the carman to come—I did not see you handle the sheep.
Cross-examined by Tyler. You were quite sober at 4.10 a.m.
FREDERICK KEEBLE (Sergeant 22 City). About 4.12 a.m. on August 6th I was on duty in West Smithfield—I saw a van in Hosier Lane—Johnson was in it—previous to my going down the street with Wade I saw Johnson hand the sheep to Tyler, who carried them into the shop—when they had finished unloading I asked Johnson what they were doing with the sheep down there—he said, "I have only brought them down here for a extra bit of beer money"—the same morning I went to Cold Harbour Lane where I saw Boulton—I told him I should arrest him and charge him with being concerned with Tyler and Johnson in stealing twenty carcases of frozen sheep—he said, "I had twenty in my van over; I saw Johnson in Smithfield; I said, 'I have twenty sheep,' Johnson said, 'All right, I know what to do with them'"—that he then trans—ferred them to Johnson, telling Johnson he was going back to the wharf—"I done it innocent enough," he said.
Cross-examined by Boulton. I did not see you with the sheep—I have seen you on fish vans at Billingsgate, but I never knew any—thing against you down there.
Cross-examined by Johnson. I never knew you to be convicted.
Cross-examined by Hunt. I did not see you interfere with the sheep.
STEPHEN BAKER (Detective-constable City). At half-past seven on August 16th I was on duty in Goswell Road, and I saw Hunt—I said, "You know me?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am going to take you into custody for being concerned with three other men already in custody in stealing twenty sheep"—he said, "I did not steal them, but I will tell you all about it: On that Tuesday morning at 4.30 I was down at the Market, when Mr. Fletcher asked me to wind his shutters up, which I did; he gave me twopence; I went and had a drink. On the way back I met Fred the slaughterman and one of Cornell's carman. Fred said, 'You might go and call Darkey,' pointing to Hosier Lane. I went and knocked at the door. A woman opened the door after knock—ing several times. I asked for Darkey. At last Darkey appeared. I said. 'There is something in the van for you, and I cannot wait, I am busy.' I raised my hand to the carman. I went back to Fletcher and
asked him if I should start work; he said, 'Wait ten minutes.' While waiting I saw something was wrong, and I went away and cleared out of it"—between the 6th and 16th I was looking for Hunt, and was unable to find him.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate:—Johnson said: "I should like the case settled. "Taylor said he had been holiday-making and went to bed not sober; that when he was called and went down—stairs he was asked if the sheep could be left there for a little time.
Boulton, in his defence, said that he asked Johnson to save the sheep for Cornell till he came. Johnson said that Boulton had asked him to hold them for Cornell, and as he had another job at Covent Garden he left them with Tyler to mind. Hunt stated that he did not know what was in the van; that a carman asked him to knock at the door, and he did so. Tyler said that he was asked to take in the sheep till Mr. Cornell came, and that he took them in quite innocently.
HUNT— NOT GUILTY .
BOULTON, JOHNSON, and TYLER— GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted.
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER , the Medical Officer of Holloway and New—gate Prisons, stated that in his opinion the prisoner was suffering from melancholia, and was not fit to plead to the indictment; that he could not understand what was going on, and, therefore, could not defend himself. The JURY thereupon found that the prisoner was insane, and unfit to plead to the indictment.
MR. RANDOLPH Prosecuted.
JOHN KROLL . I live at 36, Fulham Gardens, Kensington, and am managing-director of Slaters, Limited, a company incorporated at Somerset House, and having its registered offices at 18, High Street, Kensington, and various shops, including one at Ship Passage, Leadenhall Street—in. May, 1894, I engaged the prisoner as a clerk, to act at Ship Passage, at 30s. a week—he was to act as cashier, assisted by a boy, and look after the books—it was not then part of his duty to canvass for orders or receive money—in May or June this year his duties were altered—I said I thought he would make a better canvasser than a book-keeper, and he said he had been a canvasser before—in May I transferred him from the post of clerk to that of canvasser at a salary of 30s. a week and five per cent, commission on all the orders he could get—he had to devote the whole of his time to my service—subsequent to that he came and saw me at Kensington, and asked for some of his commission, and I gave him a note to take to the office—I think he drew something under £5 on account of commission—after he was transferred from the Ship Passage shop his duties were to canvas at 30s. a week and commission—all pay—ments for the orders he obtained should have been made through the desk in the ordinary course by the customers.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were not canvassing for several
months before you received promotion; you were employed as book-keeper—I was not aware you were calling at the Hotel Metropole and First Avenue for orders—when you were promoted the 30s. a week was not for expenses—the five per cent, commission was on new accounts, only for the first month—it was not at your suggestion that you were made canvasser—I did not say you would have to keep all the accounts you opened as well as those you were already working—the 30s. a week was divided between three shops—you were not limited to the Sunbury district; I gave you a wide area, so that you might make your salary a very large one—I did not know at first that you were living at Sunbury; I thought you were living at Hammersmith when I first engaged you; when I learnt you were living at Sunbury I thought you could work there—I am not aware that any expenses were allowed you.
Re-examined. He complained that the thirty shillings a week was not enough, and it was arranged through Mr. Miller that he should have five per cent, continuous commission.
FREDERICK CHARLES POTTS . I am manager of the Chancery Restaurant, 309, High Holborn—I first knew the prisoner just about the time he started in the employment of Slaters, Limited—he called on me for orders on behalf of Slaters and I gave him some—I paid him for them—this is an invoice for goods supplied to me by Slaters—I gave the order to the prisoner and paid him, and he gave me this receipt on a billhead of Slaters, Limited—this is the invoice of a further order which I gave to the prisoner on behalf of Slaters—I paid him and he gave me this receipt: "For Slaters, Limited, E. H."—this is a further invoice for other goods I ordered from Slaters, Limited, through the prisoner—I paid him £3 14s. 2d. for them and he gave me this receipt: "By cash to Slaters, Limited, E. Hunter"—the orders were generally paid at the end of the week, as he came in.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not collect the accounts as a clerk; I paid you when you called in the ordinary way.
Re-examined. I understood him to be in the employment of Slaters, Limited, and gave the orders on behalf of the firm—I thought he was canvassing for them.
THOMAS EDWARD FREEMAN . I am manager of the Magpie Hotel, Sunbury—I knew the prisoner as traveller for Slaters, Limited, and gave him orders on behalf of that firm—this is an invoice of goods I ordered from him—I paid him £5 12s. 8d., and he gave me this receipt, "By cash, Slaters and Co., E. Hunter"—this is a further invoice for a further order which I gave him on behalf of Slaters—I had paid him £11 11s. 4d. for that, and he gave me this receipt, "By cash, with thanks, Slaters and Co., E. Hunter"—I had no dealings with Slaters, Limited, before he called on me—I paid him each week—I did not tell him that I wished the account to be monthly—I also paid him £6 13s. 5d. on this invoice.
Cross-examined. You never asked me for these accounts—it was my suggestion that I should pay weekly—for the first few weeks you hired a horse and trap of me every Friday, and paid me for it.
Re-examined. I had no application for the money from the head office.
gave him an order on behalf of that firm; this is the invoice; I paid him £6 6s. 6d. on behalf of Slaters, Limited, and he gave me this receipt—I never asked that the account should be monthly—I paid him other sums represented by these three receipts given by him on behalf of Slaters, Limited.
Cross-examined. You did not apply to me for the account—on the Tuesday prior to the Sunbury Tradesmen's Regatta you called for an order; I said I should not require anything.
Re-examined. He showed no reluctance to accept the money when I offered it.
WALTER HERBERT MILLER . I live at Dulwich—I am manager of Slaters, Limited, at the Ship Lane shop—I have looked through the books—the money acknowledged to have been received by these receipts on Slaters, Limited, billheads has never been paid into our office—the prisoner was employed as a canvasser since May last; his duty was to solicit orders, which ought to have been paid for once a month at our shop—I arranged that with the prisoner—the prisoner was engaged by the office—he said the customers wished to pay monthly—monthly payments are our usual practice—since the prisoner has been employed as a canvasser no money for his orders has come direct to us—on July 17th the prisoner came to work, but he has not been since—on July 18th I received this letter in his writing. (This letter stated that the prisoner came to town the day before, but was taken ill and had to return; that his solicitor advised him to inform the prosecutors as to what accounts he had collected and placed to his own use; that it was impossible for him to have lived for the past three months on £5 10s., the amount he had received on account of commission, the 30s. allowed for expenses being inadequate for the work he had done; that he expected the prosecutors would take extreme measures, and he could not be blamed if he had to expose certain business transactions; that he had no idea what amount he had had, but it was considerable, as latterly he had been pressed on all sides for old and new debts, besides having had the brokers in twice; and that he should not leave Sunbury, but could be found if wanted)—I also received this letter. (Stating that it would be better for matters to take their course; and that he should be at their disposal at any time)—I subsequently swore an information at the Mansion House.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You first came to the Slaters, Limited, as a clerk in April, 1894—soon after you came I sent you out canvassing sometimes—you called at the Metropole, and so on, and opened one or two accounts—you were a clerk then, and you were not paid any extra salary, commission, or bonus for that canvassing—I don't think we had received any money for the accounts you opened up to the time you left—I cannot say whether we received a cheque from Folkestone before or after you left—I think you did £207 worth of business for my branch in the past four months—you have not received all that money—some of the people did not pay you—you would not in the ordinary way receive your 30s. a week in advance—my branch paid one-third of that—Mr. Kroll made the arrangement that your commission should run continuously after the first month of your new position—that was between May and June, I think—it was arranged that you were to have the same wages you had always had, and five
per cent, commission on all orders from fresh customers; that was in May, I think—I first arranged the matter with Mr. Kroll, and he saw you afterwards; I arranged with him that the 30s. a week was to continue as salary—it has not been suggested since this prosecution that the word salary should be used.
Re-examined.. I paid the 30s. a week, and then it was split up between the three branches—I think the prisoner has had between £70 and £80 altogether.
THOMAS ABBOTT (Detective Inspector). On July 27th I saw the prisoner in his garden at Sunbury, and said, "I am an officer from the City; I hold a warrant for your arrest for embezzlement"—I went into the house and read it—he said, "I repudiate being a clerk to Slaters, Limited"—he made the same statement at the station.
Cross-examined. The warrant was worded that you were a clerk.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that when he was a clerk he went out canvassing and got hundreds of pounds of order, but was out of pocket by it, as his expenses incurred by calling at hotels and restaurants were very heavy, and he was not allowed anything for them; that after a year he ceased to be a clerk and was promoted' to be a traveller, the 30s. a week being paid him for expenses; that that sum was quite insufficient, and that some of the money he had collected he had used in defraying necessary expenses, and that he had no felonious intent.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. GROGHEGAN Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROACH Prosecuted.
WILLIAM ATKINS . I am a labourer in the Central Meat Market, and I work for Mr. Parsons—on August 2nd I took a hind-quarter of beef off the scales and hung it on the hook—a salesman gave me a ticket with the name of Dartnell on it soon after 9 a.m., and I put it on the hind-quarter of beef—about a quarter of an hour afterwards the prisoner came to me for a quarter of beef in the name of Dartnell—I said, "Yes, I have got one here," and I delivered it to him—he had a porter's badge on his arm; I did not see the number—I saw him again in the dock at the Guildhall a fortnight ago last Monday—I noticed at the time his hair and moustache—he did not look very clean about the face—I have no doubt he is the man I delivered the beef to—afterwards Mr. Dartnell's carrier came for the beef, and made a communication to me.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. That was the first time I had seen you—I saw you for about half a minute then, and did not see you again for about a fortnight—you wore the badge on your right arm.
wrote the name of Dartnell on the ticket, and gave it to the last witness—Mr. Dartnell is our regular customer.
ARTHUR BARTINGTON . I am manager to Frank Bartington, butcher's carrier—we carry meat for Mr. Dartnell—on August 2nd I received instructions from his manager, and sent two men to Mr. Parsons' shop—they did not bring back the quarter of beef—I do not know the prisoner, I had never seen him before—I gave him no authority to call for this quarter of beef; he has never delivered it to me.
CHARLES SHUTE . I am manager and buyer to Mr. Dartnell—on this day I bought for him a flank and hind-quarter of beef—about twenty minutes afterwards I told the carrier to fetch it—only the top piece was delivered—I do not know the prisoner; I did not send him for the hind-quarter.
JAMES RISK . I am in the employment of James Blowfield, a meat salesman in the Central Market—on August 7th we sold to Mr. Macer a hind-quarter of beef—about two hours afterwards the prisoner, whom I did not know, came in and said, "I want it for Mr. Macer"—I said, "What do you want"—he said, "A quarter of beef"—I said, "Who sent you in for it"—he said, "His man"—I said, "His men generally come in for it themselves"—seeing a badge on his arm I let him have it—as he was getting under the meat I saw the number of the badgeunder his arm, and said, "Hold your arm higher, you will be able to get the beef off better"—he did not lift his arm, but I stooped down and saw the badge number, and I put—it on the file—I should not have given him the beef if he had not said he came from Macer.
FISHER MACER . I am a butcher of 140, Victoria Dock Road—on August 7th I bought a hind-quarter of beef at Mr. Blowfield's—I did not know the prisoner—I never authorised him to receive this beef, nor did I send him there—I have not received the beef—I sent one of my men to Mr. Blowfield's, and he came back and made a communication to me, and I communicated with the police.
EBENEZER MEARS . I am chief constable of the Central Meat Market—on August 15th I saw the prisoner in Paddington—I said, "Your name is Pardon; you are a market porter with the Number 2988. It is stated that you on 7th inst. went to Blowfield's in the Poultry Market representing you were sent by Mr. Macer of the Victoria Dock Road, for a hind-quarter of beef and that beef was given you and you left the shop"—he said, "Yes,"—I said "My name is Mears, I am the head constable of the Meat Market, what is your explanation of this"—he said, "I don't remember going to Blowfield's at all"—afterwards he said, "I recollect a man sending me into the market for a hind-quarter of beef; I believe it was on a Wednesday, about a week ago"—that would be August 7th—to other questions he answered, "I did not go to the markets after that day; I have not been to the market since, I have heard there is something wrong at the markets about a quarter of beef. I took the quarter of beef and placed it on the south side of the market in a van, there was no name on the van. I could not swear to the man, who sent me for the meat, nor could I give a description of him"—I left the prisoner, and on the following Saturday he was arrested on a warrant—I asked him for his badge, and he produced it—he was working with this badge, but he
ought not to have had it, it ran out in 1893—I have seen him at the market; he is a man who comes for two or three months, and leaves again—he is not a regular porter.
Cross-examined. You said you were in Mrs. Thompson's service—she is a carrier at the Central Market, and if you were in her service you would be employed at the market.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said he had no knowledge of the beef obtained from Atkins; and that as to the beef obtained from Risk, he was sent for it, and took it and delivered it to the party who employed him.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GEOGHEGAN, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
666. WILLIAM KNOWLES (19) , Unlawfully taking Susan Byfield, a girl under eighteen, out of the possession and against the will of Hannah Sweeney, her mother, with intent to carnally know her; Second Count, Unlawfully having carnal knowledge of Susan Byfield, a girl under sixteen.
MR. HARDY Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
667. GEORGE WOOD (56), PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Robert Claxton, and stealing a clock and other articles; also** to a conviction of felony in May, 1890, in the name of George Weston .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
669. CHARLES JOHNSTON (18) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to breaking and entering the counting-house of Edward Procter, and stealing an umbrella and other articles.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
671. HENRY JAMES (54) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Mary Isabel Carter, and stealing a pepper castor and other articles; also to a conviction of felony in February, 1884. The prisoner had served sentences of fourteen years, ten years, three years, and eighteen months.— Five Years Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 12th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended at the request of the Court.
JULIA BAXTER . I am a general servant, and single—on 9th April last I was confined of a male child at the Fulham Infirmary—at that time I had two other children, a girl four years old, and a boy three—they were not in the infirmary with me—I remained in the infirmary with the baby for a month—when I left I removed to 18, Claxton Grove, with the baby and my little girl; not the boy—I remained there about a fortnight—about the 14th May I called at the prisoner's house, 10, St. Alban's Terrace, to see a woman who I thought would take care of my baby—I arranged with the prisoner that she should take charge of the baby and the little girl for 8s. a week, and on Thursday, the 16th, she came and fetched the baby and the girl, and she fetched the boy on the following Saturday—we did not come to any terms as to the boy—when she took the baby it had three sets of clothes—it was a very small child, and very delicate—I saw it several times while it was under the prisoner's care—I did not notice that it looked much the worse—the last time I saw it before death was on the Friday night.
Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner all my life, but I had not seen her for about fourteen years; I knew her as a girl—when the baby was born I was told it would require very great care—after I left the infirmary I took the baby to Dr. Bridgeford—that was on the Saturday following—the doctor said it must be fed on Nestles milk and barley-water, and veal broth or chicken broth—it was always very weak and delicate from a day old; it threw up everything it took within an hour, and sometimes less—it was always sick before I gave it into the prisoner's care—I saw it six or seven times while it was in her care; it might have been more—it was always very thin, and I thought sometimes it looked worse—it did not suffer from diarrhoea while with me; not sufficient for me to notice it; it was not serious—the vomit was very bad—the prisoner very often came to see me about the baby while it was with her—she told me that Dr. Bridgeford said it was very bad, and that he did not think it would live more than a fortnight or three weeks, and that he said, "Stop the milk and give it veal and chicken broth," and that she had done so—I believe she did that on the Wednesday after Whit-Sunday—I cannot fix the date—after that, on one occasion when I went to see her, she told me she was giving it veal broth—she always seemed very fond of the child—she occupied three rooms; I could not tell how she used them at night—I think some of the children slept in her room; I know my child did, with her; I did not see that—when I saw it it was in the front room, in the daytime—the bed was untidy, but not dirty; only such as one would expect it to be with young children about it—one evening I undressed the baby at St. Alban's Terrace—the clothes did not seem dirty, nor its body—it looked as if it had been bathed during the day—I had not many clothes for it, but enough—I gave it three changes—when it was with me I washed it twice a day, on account of its being sick; that would increase the trouble of keeping it clean—the boy of three was at St. Alban's Terrace two days after the baby—his habits were very dirty, and would account for the very bad smell in the room—the prisoner's husband went to work every day from early morning, and returned about half-past six—I have been
there sometimes when the prisoner was out—I then found her eldest boy of about fourteen looking after the children—Mr. Davis was also at home in the evening—I have seen him there after he came home from his work—I don't think more than once—my other children were healthy and clean—I had only once seen the prisoner the worse for drink—that was the night I went with her to the doctor—I do not remember her telling me on any occasion, while the child was with her, that she had called her lodger up to see the child, and that the lodger said she thought the child was dying.
Re-examined. I saw the child six or seven times between 16th May and 19th June—it may have been more—the boy who was looking after the children goes to work in the daytime—I only went once with the prisoner and the child to the doctor—she paid the doctor the first time—I gave her money twice; once I sent the money, and once I left it to go to the doctor with—the room in which the child was kept was not dirty, it was not tidy, not so cleanly as I should keep it—the child vomited while it was in the infirmary—it was fed by the bottle—it increased in weight eleven ounces while in the infirmary—I weighed it myself—I nursed it, and it also had the bottle—the prisoner had two children besides the deceased, one seven and one five.
JANE MUNDAY . I am a nurse in the Fulham Infirmary—the last witness was confined there of a male child on 9th April this year; it was full-timed child; I weighed it, it weighed about 6 lbs.—to the best of my recollection, it was fed on cow's milk, and the mother also fed it—it took its food all right—while under my care it was not suffering from constant vomit or diarrhoea—when it left it weighted 6 lbs. 11 oz.; I can't remember whether I weighed it then.
Cross-examined. I have a number of babies under my observation at the infirmary; during that month I had about twenty—my attention was particularly called to this child, because I was fond of it, it seemed a child that would require a good deal of taking care of—it may have been sick, as children are, but it was not actually vomiting—it would not be correct to say that it threw up its food within an hour—I saw it every day during the month; of course I was in and out of the ward day and night—it was fed both on cow's milk and the mother's, but she had not sufficient milk to feed it—I said before the Magistrate, "So far as I can remember, it took its food all right."
LOUISA GRAIN . I am the wife of Albert Grain, of 5, St. Alban's Terrace, Fulham—I know the prisoner; she lives at No. 10 in the same terrace—I remember the child she took care of, Herbert Baxter, after it came, about 2nd or 3rd of June—the prisoner's daughter, Mary Davis, had it then; she is seven years old—the child was very dirty; its clothes were rather dirty—I saw it three times altogether, and each time it seemed to get worse with regard to dirt—I have three children, it was not kept as I keep mine—the terrace is not a thoroughfare; there is only one entrance—if the prisoner had to leave the terrace, she would have to pass my door—I was not always at the door—sometimes she would go out at ten in the morning, and return, sometimes at four, sometimes six, three or four times a week—sometimes she would be sober, sometimes the worse for drink—I could not say exactly how often; I should say about a dozen times, when she was not fit to look after children—I remember the day
the child died, the 19th of June—I saw her go out that morning about eleven—she was brought back by a policeman at ten at night; she seemed then the worse for drink.
Cross-examined. I was on friendly terms with her, neighbourly—I saw an officer of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, after the death; I spoke to him—I do not know that the prisoner had been ill some time before the death of the child; I did not hear that she had had a miscarriage.
HARRIET PRICE . I am single—I lodged with the prisoner for the last fourteen months—I remember Miss Baxter's child coming there on the 16th of May—her husband went to work, very often at twenty minutes past seven; he returned at all times in the evening; he was out during the day—the prisoner had three children—the boy William went to work with his father; George, the eldest, did not go to work; the other boy is a little fellow, and goes to school; the girl Mary is about seven—Mrs. Mitton was a lodger, and lived downstairs—she did not go out to work; there was no other lodger—when the prisoner went out no one was left to look after the children, as I know of—on 18th June she came to my room between half-past ten and eleven at night, the worse for drink—she sat on the bed, and asked me to go for some beer—I did so, and when I came back she was asleep on my bed—she remained there till daylight next morning—I awoke her; I was aroused by my own child—I heard the deceased baby cry and I woke her—on the 19th she was conducted home by the police the worse for drink—I don't know how long she had been out.
Cross-examined. I sometimes went into the room where the children were when I came home from work—if I went in of a morning the room might be a little out of the way; in the evening it sometimes was, and sometimes not; the children and the room were then tidy—it did not always look clean of an evening—I said before the Magistrate: "The child generally looked clean in the evening, but would be dirty the first thing in the morning"—the child looked very ill from the first—in the morning it looked as if it had been vomiting in the night—I saw it fed with veal broth, it had three or four spoonfuls, that was on the 19th, in my room; it had been washed then—the prisoner brought it in and showed it to me, and placed it on my bed—it looked very delicate the first day it came there; it looked as if it required a great deal of care and attention to keep it alive.
Re-examined. It was on the day of its death that the prisoner brought it into my room and gave it the veal broth, between a quarter and half-past nine in the morning; it looked very ill then—I did not see it again till it was dead—I came home to dinner at one, I did nor see it then—I don't know whether the prisoner was in at one—I should say that I went into the room three or four times during the week; the prisoner called me in—I went into the front room; there was no bed in the front room, only a sofa—I can't say whether the prisoner and her husband slept in that room.
ELIZA GAMMON . I am a widow—I live at 6, St. Alban's Terrace—I have known the prisoner twelve months—on Wednesday, June 19th, about half-past four in the afternoon the prisoner's little girl called me three times—she was carrying the baby, it was dead—I took it out of her
arms and laid it on a couch, it was very dirty and filthy—the room made me very bad—it smelt bad; I had to send for a neighbour—the prisoner came home about ten the worse for drink—my son went for the police.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner very often during the twelve months—I have seen her the worse for drink several times—I have seen her drunk three times—her husband is a hard-working man—when I saw the child dirty and filthy it did not appear to be suffering from vomiting, there was no trace of it; it seemed very hungry—there was no trace of diarrhoea—it was never clean—I never saw it clean of an evening.
JOHN BEDGE (Policeman 422 T). I was called to 10, St. Alban's Terrace at 4.50 on June 19th, where I saw the deceased child lying on a couch in the front room—the room was very dirty, and there was a very bad stench—I searched the rooms, and found some bones on a plate and a sheep's head, apparently unfit for human food—on the table in the front room there was an empty feeding-bottle—it Was sour.
WALTER BRIDGEFORD . I am a registered medical practitioner, of Baron's Court Road—on June 13th the prisoner brought the deceased child to my surgery, and said it was suffering from vomiting and diarrhoea—I did not find any disease—I ordered her to put barley-water with the milk, and give the child some brandy—she brought it again on June 17th, it had not improved—I failed to find any organic disease—I told her to leave off giving the child milk, and to give it mutton broth, veal broth, and chicken broth mixed with barley-water. That was the last time I saw the child.
Cross-examined. When I first saw it it was very emaciated—I did not assign as a cause for the diarrhoea and vomiting improper feeding. I recollect telling the Coroner "I think I only saw it twice. The child had diarrhoea and vomiting and was very emaciated—I found no disease." I assigned the cause to be improper feeding; she said, I think, that she fed it with cow's milk—I meant to say that the milk did not agree with the child, not that she was not giving it food—the prisoner appeared anxious about the child. I told her it would die—she said something about taking it to the Children's Hospital, which I said was the best thing she could do.
Re-examined. I judged of the effect of the food by the condition of the child—when a child does not improve under the diet it is having I alter it, and very often knock off milk altogether for a day or two—sour milk would cause vomiting and diarrhoea—it may arise from the milk or in the bottle without being aware of it.
AUGUSTUS A. PEPPER . I practice at 13, Wimpole Street, and am a master in surgery of the London University and F.R.C.S.—on 23rd June I, in company with Dr. Maddison, made a post-mortem examination of the child—it was a full term child and weighed 51/4 lbs.—the normal weight of a child of about 6 lbs. at birth would be between 8 and 9 lbs. at two months—they vary much according to conditions, but I am speaking of the ratio at which the child throve while in the Infirmary—there was no disease of any organ of the body—the stomach and intestines were empty—there were no signs of congestion—there was nothing to lead me to suppose the child was unable to digest its food except the extreme emaciation—it could
not have had food in any quantity for many hours before death—I did not see the child alive—I do not think it could have taken food in any quantity—it was so exhausted that it was physically unable to swallow much—I saw no traces of diarrhoea and vomiting, which I should expect to find if persistent—if a child gains eleven ounces in weight during the first few weeks of its life it shows that it is able to digest its food and has thriven—the child was in an extremely emaciated condition, due in my opinion to the want of a proper amount and character of food—going for a long time without food would reduce it to that condition.
Cross-examined. I do not think if diarrhoea and vomiting (though persistent) had ceased a few days before death that signs of congestion would have disappeared to the extent they had. As a medical proposition it would be correct to say that if persistent vomiting had ceased a week before death congestion might disappear; but then there would be no reason why the child should die. The meaning of the word diarrhoea is merely a flux. I think the child would probably die from collapse in twenty-four hours if it were so weak as to be unable to take food.
HARWOOD MADDISON . I am a medical practitioner, of 308, Lillie Road, Fulham—I went with the constable to 10, St. Alban's Terrace, where I saw the child lying dead—I assisted Dr. Pepper in making the post-mortem—the room was very dirty, and there was a very bad smell likely to be injurious to health—the bottle smelt of sour milk—the child was very dirty—I agree with Dr. Pepper's evidence.
Cross-examined. I saw no vermin on the child—its body and clothes were dirty—it is common to find vermin on neglected children—I should not like to say that the child died from want of food—it may have died from the unsuitability of food to its condition—a child suffering from diarrhoea and vomiting would require special care and different foods suitable to its condition—the food would not cost much, simple food is very often as good as special foods—a little milk and sodawater is often as good as Brand's Extract—I do not think poverty would be any detriment to its treatment.
Re-examined. I should expect on a post-mortem to find traces of constant vomiting and diarrhoea—I did not—I saw three other children there—one girl of seven, and two others—they appeared very healthy indeed, and clean—they were in a back room, and seemed very comfortable.
GUILTY—Strongly recommended to mercy.— Six Weeks' Hard Labour.
The prisoner was also indicted for the manslaughter of the said child, upon which no evidence was offered.
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
MART ANN HACKER . I am caretaker at 193, Dartmouth Park Hill—the deceased was a lodger there—at about 6.45 p.m. on July 20th I heard her little girl screaming—Mrs. Grove fetched me upstairs—Mrs. Dutnall was there, too, and she knocked at the room door—the deceased came to the door and answered very roughly, and smacked my face when I spoke to her—the prisoner came out of the bedroom, and the deceased
smacked my face again—I then smacked her's with my open hand—prisoner asked me what was the matter, and as I was explaining the deceased hit me again. The prisoner caught hold of her, and pushed her, and said, "Will you go in"—she fell, and got up and said to me, "I will stick a knife in you"—I did not see a knife—I said, "Be careful what you say or I shall fetch a policeman"—she said, "I didn't mean it for you—I meant it for my husband"—he pushed her again, and they both went into the room and shut the door, and I heard the prisoner say, "What have you been beating the girl for?"—I heard a sound like the moving of a chair; and went downstairs, and went for a policeman after I had my tea—I saw two policemen on the point—as I was talking to one the prisoner came up and said, "You have done a nice thing for me; you have killed my wife"—I said, "Nonsense, Mr. Moore, I left you rowing with your wife in your own room"—he said, "I beg your pardon for what I have said; but where is the nearest doctor?" (speaking to the policeman)—we were standing outside a doctor's, and the prisoner went in with the constable, and we returned with the doctor, I going to my own room—I did not see any marks of violence on the deceased when I last saw her.
Cross-examined. I have lived in the house over two years, and have always been on good terms with the prisoner and his wife—I believe him to be a quiet, sober, and industrious man—the deceased was under the influence of drink that afternoon—I had a quarrel forced upon me, and I defended myself—the prisoner stopped his wife hitting me, and pushed her into the room—I hit her twice—the prisoner did not strike her in my presence—he was excited and upset when he said I had killed his wife.
KATE GROVE . I am the wife of George Henry Grove, of 193, Dartmouth Park Hill—I heard the child screaming, and the deceased using angry language to her—I listened on the landing with the last witness, and Mrs. Dutnall knocked at the door—it was opened, and Mrs. Dut nall said to the deceased, "Whatever are you doing?"—Mrs. Hacker spoke to her, and deceased told her to mind her own business, and struck her on the face three times, and then Mrs. Hacker struck her—the prisoner came out of his room and said, "What is the matter?" and pushed his wife into the door—Mrs. Hacker said, "I will explain," but before she could do so the deceased struck her again—the prisoner said, "I walk in and out of the house and interfere with nobody, and I won't allow the child to be beaten if I can help it"—the deceased said, I don't know who to, "I will put this knife through you if you come here"—I did not see a knife—she came towards the door, and it was then that the prisoner pushed her back into the room, and she fell—I did not see her get up or see her again—the prisoner went in and shut the door, and I went down-stairs—when I got into my room I heard like the moving of chairs—I heard them speaking after—a quarter of an hour later I was called to the prisoner's room by Mrs. Dutnall, where I saw the deceased silting in a chair between the sink and the table with her head back, and Mrs. Barrett holding it—I assisted her to lay the deceased on the floor.
Cross-examined. I heard no blows—the deceased appeared to be in a very excited state and unsteady—I said at the Police-court, "I heard nothing like blows; I never knew the prisoner to strike his wife"—I
think the prisoner did all he could to prevent the deceased making a fool of herself while in drink.
EMMA DUTNALL . I am the wife of Frank Dutnall, and lived in the same house as the deceased—I heard the child screaming on July 20th and went up to the door and knocked, and then opened it, when I saw the deceased sitting in a chair and the child under the table—I spoke to her, and then Mrs. Hacker and the deceased quarrelled and fought—the prisoner came out of the bedroom and tried to stop the quarrel—he put the deceased back into the room—she returned and he put her back again, and went in with her and closed the door—I heard nothing about a knife—I went down and heard nothing more; my little boy fetched me about ten minutes after—I went to the deceased's room and saw her sitting in a chair between the table and sink with her head against the wall—the prisoner was wiping her face with a towel and said, "Oh, look here, Mrs. Dutnall, what is this?"—I was frightened and ran all over the building to fetch the people—her face was red, from the slaps I suppose when she went into the room—I did not notice anything about her eyes then.
By the COURT. I did not see her face again after the slaps were inflicted until I saw her dead.
Cross-examined. I heard the prisoner say, "Oh, Kate!"—he seemed very much worried and anxious that everything should be done for her—he has been a good husband and kind father the eight months I have known him—he did not do more than a husband should do to prevent him wife continuing to fight.
ELIZABETH BARRETT . I live in the same building as the deceased did—I had been out with her on the day in question—we returned abon six—she was perfectly sober—I was called later in the day, when I saw the deceased sitting in the chair, apparently dead—Mrs. Grove assists me to lay her on the floor.
Cross-examined. The deceased had complained to me that afternoon of not feeling well, and said she had not been feeling well for some weeks, and had a swelling on the head—she and her husband were on very good terms—he seemed perfectly stunned.
WILLIAM ROGERS (Y R 50). I was on duty at about 7.45 p.m., on Dartmouth Park Hill, when Mrs. Hacker spoke to me, and the prisoner came up and said to her, "You have killed my wife—she is dead—policeman, where is the nearest doctor?"—I showed him into Dr. Bridgeford's surgery, and then went with the doctor and him to the house, where we found the dead body of the deceased lying on the floor—the doctor said she was dead, and had marks of violence—the prisoner made no reply—I told him he would have to go to the station, and he said, "Certainly, I will go with you"—there was no disorder in the room—Mrs. Hacker and the prisoner went to the station, where the prisoner was kept until the inspector came.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was very much agitated and worried—he was admitted to bail at the police-court.
CORNELIUS MOUNTFIELD (Sub-inspector Y). I went to the Highgate Police-station on July 20th, just after 9 p.m., where the prisoner and Mrs. Hacker were detained—I went to the prisoner's house, and returned and told the prisoner I should charge him with causing the death of his wife—he
replied, "For God's sake don't say that"—the charge was read over to him, and he said, "It is a wrong charge."
DAVID EVANS (Police-sergeant Y 80). I was on duty at the Police-station on July 20th when the prisoner and Mrs. Hacker were brought in—they both desired to make a statement—I cautioned them—the prisoner's statement was taken down and read over to him and signed by him. [Read.] "Highgate, July 20th, 1895. William Moore. I was in the front-room in bed and asleep. Mrs. Hacker and my wife were rowing and caused me to wake. When I got outside the door I saw my wife and Mrs. Hacker. I believe they were fighting. I parted them and pushed my wife indoors. She then opened the door and came out with a knife in her hand, and said she would stick it into me, or through me, or something to that effect. I don't know exactly what she did gay. I told her to go in again and shut the door. She went in and I shut the door, and then went into the front-room. I thought I heard my wife fall, and when I went into the back room she was sitting sideways on a chair as if she had fallen; her head was on the table. I went to her and lifted her head up—she looked pale and white. I went to a constable and asked him where the nearest doctor was, and the constable accompanied me to Doctor Bridgeford's at Dartmouth Park Hill. I cannot say anything more."
Cross-examined. I was present at the inquest when the prisoner made a statement on oath.
JOHN S. BRIDGEFORD . I am an L.C.P. and L.C.S., practising at 29, Dartmouth Park Hill—the constable, Rogers, and the prisoner came to me on July 20th, at about 7.45 p.m.—the prisoner said, "My wife is dead, will you come across and see her?"—I went at once and examined the deceased—she appeared to have been dead about a quarter of an hour—she was quite warm—she had two recent black eyes—there was a small cut under the right eye, which was bleeding—there was a terrible bruise under the right ear, which covered about three inches, and there were marks of injury on the forehead, and a scratch on the nose—the black eyes had been caused by a severe blow in each case—the cause of injury to the neck was a blow or a fall, but the probability is strongly in favour of a blow, because there was no abrasion of the skin which I should look for in the case of a fall against any hard substance likely to cause such an injury. I asked the prisoner how the black eyes came about—I don't think he said anything—he said something about his pushing her, and her falling against something, and I said that would not account for the black eyes—he said nothing further—the injury at the back of the neck was undoubtedly the cause of death—she would not lire a minute.
Cross-examined. The cause of death was injury under the right ear, which produced extravasation of blood on the brain—whether it was caused by a blow or a fall is doubtful.
WALTER MACINDUE DUNLOP . I am a B.M. and Master of Surgery of Glasgow, and Medical Superintendent of St. Pancras Infirmary—I made a post-mortem examination of the body with the last witness on July 23rd. The body was well nourished—there wag bruising on the forehead, especially the left side—both eyes were blackened, especially the right, under which there was also a small
lacerated wound; behind and underneath the right ear and extending over the right cheek for about three inches there was a swelling and bruise—there was a slight abrasion over the nose—the prominence of the thumb was bruised, and there was extensive bruising along the inside of the right hand, including the little finger—there was a small bruise on the right elbow and under the right knee—on further examining the bruise under the right ear I found extensive effusion of blood in the soft tissues, extending upwards towards the roof of the skull, in the skull itself—on removing the skull we found extensive extravasation of blood over the entire surface of the brain—the other organs of the body were in a healthy condition, with the exception of the heart, which had undergone some slight fatty degeneration—the injuries were the result of direct violence in some form—the injury at the back of the neck was caused either by a blow or a fall—I should say the probabilities were in favour of a blow, on account of there being no abrasion of the skin, showing contact with any hard or pointed surface. The effusion of blood in the soft tissues was streaky, such as would result from a blow rather than a fall against any hard substance—I should say the black eyes were caused in the usual way, by a direct blow.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that the injury which caused death may have been the result of a fall or a blow.
At this stage of the case the Court considered that it would not be safe to convict on this evidence, and a verdict of
NOT GUILTY was accordingly taken.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, September 12th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted.
HENRY WITHERINGTON . I am second clerk at Marylebone Police-court—on 22nd May I was present at the hearing of a summons taken out by Annie Greenslade against Mr. Whiteley, under the Lodger' Goods Protection of Act of 1871—the prisoner, Greenslade, appeared in support of the summons—she was called; I took a note of her evidence and produce my notes—the prisoner North was also called in support of her summons—I took notes of his evidence also—a solicitor and counsel, Mr. Crisp, appeared for her then, but not on any other day—the case was adjourned to May 29th, when she called Mr. Tully, and also gave further evidence on her own behalf—evidence was also given from the Post Office on behalf of Mr. Whiteley, and the Magistrates dismissed the summons with £5 5s. costs. (The Witness read his notes, by which it appeared that Greenslade swore that she lead paid £100 to North for the furniture, on an agreement of sale of March 30th, 1892, paying £80 down on the drawing of the agreement, which had been withdrawn from the Post Office Savings Bank in one sum; and that she had more than £80 at the bank at the time of its withdrawal. Both defendants were sworn.
FRANK J. JENNINGS . In September, 1894, I was manager of Mr. Whiteley's estate agency department—he is the owner of the house, 133, Queen's Road, Bayswater—before the end of March, Mr. Hayes, a house-agent, who I knew, introduced North to me with a view to his becoming a tenant of the house, and the female prisoner was introduced to me as Mrs. North—I saw her about twice before the house was taken—he took possession at Michaelmas under this agreement for three years at £60 a year for the first year, and £63 afterwards—the Christmas quarter's rent was paid but not the Lady Day—about the end of April I saw North and said I thought it was about time the rent was paid—he said, "Well, I must refer you to my wife for that"—she was with him, they were both coming out of the house—she said nothing—on April 28th Mr. Hayes came to my office with Greenslade; she said that she was not Mrs. North, but his lodger, Miss Greenslade, and that all the property in the house belonged to her—I reported that to Mr. Whiteley, and on April 30th he signed a distress warrant authorising me to levy for the rent—I executed the warrant the same day; and on May 3rd this notice and declaration under the Lodgers' Goods Protection Act was served on me signed A. Greenslade, 103, Queen's Road. (This stated that North had no right or title to the goods, of which a list was enclosed, and that they were Greenslade's property.)—I refused to withdraw the distress and a summons was taken out at the Police-court—I was there on May 2nd and 29th, and saw the document she produced in search of her claim. (Dated March 30th, 1892)—these are the monthly receipts she produced for £2, and this is the rent-book showing the payment of her rent to North.
WALTER REEVES . I am one of the firm of Heeps, Son and Reeves, estate agents—14, Queen's Road, Bayswater, is the property of one of our clients; it came into our hands in June 1891—North was then the tenant in possession—I claimed the rent—it was paid up to Christmas 1893, but not at Lady Day 1894—we destrained, and Mr. Holland acted as bailiff—after four days the rent was paid, and the bailiff left—no claim was made then under the Lodgers' Protection Act—I had to distrain again for the Midsummer rent, and a man named Hayes served me with this notice claiming the goods in the name of Annie Greenslade, and I had a letter from a solicitor—I withdrew the distress in consequence—North remained in possession up to October 1894, and then left owing two quarters—before I withdrew the distress I had been threatened with an action.
WILLIAM CLIFTON . On June 7th, 1894, I was put in possession of the goods at Monmouth Road by Heeps, Son, and Reeves—the prisoners were living there—Mr. Hayes was a constant visitor—I remained five days, and then the money was paid—something was said about the Lodgers' Protection Act, but I said "They are all liable for the rent," and I heard no more about it.
ERNEST K. HALKIN . I am auctioneer to Mr. Whiteley—I succeeded Mr. Jennings—after the Magistrates' decision in this case I sold the goods at Queen's Road, at the house—North wanted me to sell them for him and Miss Greenslade, but I could not acknowledge her in the matter after the Police-court proceedings—they realised £57 10s.—the rent was
£30, and another quarter had become due, and there were the costs of the action.
Cross-examined by North. The result was that there was a balance of eight guineas against you.
Re-examined. It was by his consent that I retained the current quarter's rent.
EDWARD MCDONALD . I am a clerk in the Post Office Savings Bank, Queen Victoria Street—there is a post-office at Westbourne Grove, called Westbourne Grove office, and one in Alexandra Street, called the Westbourne Park Post-office—there was no account at either of those offices in 1891 or 1892 in the name of Annie Greenslade, nor was any sum of £80 withdrawn in the name of Greenslade or North—while I was giving my evidence at Marylebone Police-court, on May 29th, I heard Greens-lade say that she had opened the account at the Alexandra Street Post-office—this letter, signed Annie Greenslade, dated May 27th, was received on the 28th, addressed to the Comptroller of the Post Office. (This stated that she had opened an account at the Alexandra Street Post-office, and asked for a copy of it.) Two printed forms were sent to her to fill up, and she returned them, one signed "A. Northey," and the other "A. Greenslade"—it asked the date of the first deposit, and her answer is "I don't know"—she was informed that there was no trace of any account at the Alexandra Street Post-office—I was summoned to attend at the Police-court on May 29th—Greenslade met me at the door of the Court, and, said she was very sorry for the trouble she had given me—she had not had an account, but she produced a memorandum-book and said, "I never did withdraw £80, because I never had that sum in at one time—she had an account-book in which was the name of Johnson, and said she had that account in the Harrow Road—that was in the name of A. Greenslade, it was closed in 1890, the sums range from 15s. to £15—it was closed on October 10th, 1890, the largest balance was £35 in 1887.
Cross-examined by Greenslade. This (produced) is an account opened in the name of Florence Gaspard, who you say is your daughter—it has nothing to do with this case—you took out ten guineas from your daughter's account in 1891.
North's statement before the Magistrate. "I had no intention to defraud in any shape or form; I believed everything was straightforward because the prisoner made out that she was Miss Greenslade. I paid my rates and taxes."
Greenslade, in her statement before the Magistrate and in her defence, said that she was told to stick up for her own property, that she never cheated Mr. Whiteley or anybody else; and that she was very frightened in COURT and did not know what she was saying, and was nearly blind with excitement and worry.
Witness for the defence.
WILLIAM CHARLES TULLY . I am porters' cashier at Mr. Whiteley's—I have known Greenslade twelve or fourteen years—I knew her when she was a waitress at Whiteley's—I visited them both in the Monmouth Road and in Queen's Road—Greenslade had plenty of money; I have seen £1 lying about at a time—she let lodgings and I have made out the bills for her—I knew them as Mr. and Mrs. North up to the time of
making out the agreement of March 30th, 1892—I always thought she was his wife; they cohabited together—Mr. North asked me to write out this agreement and I witnessed it—I know she was in service in Mr. Whiteley's private house, but do not know what wages she received.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I have no idea whether she left in 1884—I know it is some years ago—it may be six, eight, or ten years since I first knew her living with North in Monmouth Road—it was when they first went to the house—I visited them and treated them as. man and wife about ten years before this agreement was drawn up—after that they went to Queen's Road, and were passing as Mr. and Mrs. North—I was very friendly with them—I never heard it suggested that Greenslade was a lodger of Mr. North's—I never paw a rent-book between them—Mr. North gave me instructions to draw up the agreement—he told me to put in that £80 had been paid to him in various sums—I think I saw money pass on one occasion, it was one of these receipts; I never saw any of this £80 paid—I drew up these receipts for £2 monthly; they are all in my writing—there are ten of them—I did not write them all at one time—I cannot say whether it was on the first, fourth, or fifth receipt that I saw money pass—I drew up the receipts because I used to do all her writing, they were both very bad writers—I know North's writing, I have seen a little of it—I cannot recognise this as his—I do not know whether the rent-book looks like his writing—I do not know that he has sworn it is—I used at one time to do all her writing; I was there two or three times a week—I never heard of her being a lodger—the money I saw her in possession of was paid to her by her lodgers—she was managing the house for North—up to the time of the agreement I took them to be man and wife.
By the COURT. North said one day that he wanted to make the goods over to Greenslade—the rent was not due—he said he should like to have it made over in a proper manner—I considered I was competent to do it, and I did it to the best of my ability—North never told me that Greenslade was going to pay down a lump sum—he said that it had been paid, and I wan to put it in the agreement—he said that he had borrowed money of her.
Cross-examined by Greenslade. I heard you called Mrs. Northey by the lodgers, but I knew him as North—you have mentioned receiving money from gentlemen, and one particular gentleman who I do not wish, to mention.
NORTH, in his defence, stated that he handed over the furniture to Greenslade four years ago for £100 without any intention of fraud—that the house was so out of repair that a lady and gentleman left it, and that he wrote and asked Mr. Whiteley to refund him half of the quarter's rent in consequence.
GUILTY .— Judgment respited.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted, and MR. GILL Defended.
CHARLES HUMPHREY BARR . I am head waiter at the City of London Club, which is managed by a committee, of whom Thomas B. Leslie is one—we have half-day waiters—on the morning of May 29th I gave nine silver dessert-spoons and six silver teaspoons among other plate, to a waiter
named Langham—they bear the initials C. L. C.—I was afterwards shown the fragments of the nine dessert-spoons (produced)—the initials C. L. C. are partly flattened down, and attempted to be taken out—there are marks of acid on some of them—they are worth £4 17s.
Cross-examined. I also missed six silver tablespoons value £5 or £6.
CHARLES LANGHAM . I am a waiter—I am undergoing six months imprisonment for the larceny of these spoons—I took them from the City of London Club on July 29th, about 3.10, and left them at a public-house in Fann Street—I called for them on Tuesday, the 30th, and met a man named Isaacs, who took me to the prisoner—he came down the yard, and after Isaacs said something to him I handed him the spoons wrapped in newspaper—he said, "Are they silver?"—I said, "Yes"—they were hallmarked—he went into his shop with them for four or five minutes, and left us in the yard, and came back and asked me how much they weighed—I said, "I don't know"—he said, "How about paying for them, who shall I pay?"—I said, "Pay Isaacs"—he said he would leave the money for Isaacs at an address named—I went away—these are like the spoons, but now they are broken up.
Cross-examined. I did not get into the service of the Club with a false character—I had been about sixteen months out of prison—they did not know I had been in prison—I had been convicted of forgery—I never had the tablespoons—I understand they were missed and looked for—I only know Isaacs by meeting him at a betting club—I did not tell Isaacs I had some old silver by me which I had picked up cheap and wanted to sell it—his father is a greengrocer—I met him that day, three or four minutes' walk from the prisoner's shop—he did not ask Grist whether he knew anyone who would buy old silver—I had never seen Grist before—I wanted someone to run the risk of selling the silver, to a certain extent—when I was first spoken to I said I knew nothing about Roper's things—I left Isaacs outside a coffee-house, and did not see him again—I went to the club on the Friday after I stole the spoons—I was arrested on Tuesday, August 6th—I had been in two places between July 29th and August 6th—I did not destroy the identity of the silver myself—that is Isaacs (Pointing him out)—I guess he is the man who pointed me out to the police.
By the COURT. I met Isaacs by accident on the Tuesday, and said, "I have got nine spoons, do you know where lean sell them?"—he said, "Are they crook?"—I said, "Yes, I took them out of the place where I was at work because I was discharged without a week's wages"—I was taken on regularly, but I was paid off on the Friday—they paid me weekly—they told me I might look in again on Tuesday and see if they wanted me.
Re-examined. Isaacs said, "Any of these silver shops will buy them"—I said, "No, I took them from where I have been at work"—he said, "I know a man round by here who will buy them," and took me to Grist's shop—they had no acid stains on them when I gave them to him—Isaacs did not see them at all, and yet he charged me with giving him broken spoons; before we got to the shop he said, "This man I am taking you to has got a pot, and the spoons will be melted; he is an old hand and has done ten years," but I believe that is a lie.
a shop at 16, Red Lion Market, and buys and sells bottles, crates, straw and such like—I first saw these fragments of spoons lying on the table on Wednesday, July 31st, in the dining-room on the first floor—Grist gave them to me and said, "Take them round to Sewell's and get the best value you can for them"—he had never asked me to sell silver for him before—I took them to Sewell's the silversmiths; a gentleman who is here said, "Where did you get them from?"—I said, "From my governor"—he said, "You held better go and fetch your governor"—that was just before four o'clock; I went straight back, which is ten minutes' walk, and Mr. Grist was out, and the place shut up; I did not see him till 8 p.m.—I do not know Isaacs, but his father lives in Whitecross Street—I have seen Isaacs and Grist together round the market, and I have seen Isaacs at Grist's shop, but not very often.
Cross-examined. The washing of bottles is collected for the different leading chemists—five or six men are employed—that was the only time I went to Bryer's (Sewell's)—I gave my employer's name there, and took Isaacs there the next day.
Re-examined. Isaacs did not go in with me, when we were within two minutes' of the shop he said, in Aldersgate Street, that he had to meet a friend, and left me.
HARRY EDWARD BRYER . I am assistant to William Bryer and Son, of 53 and 54, Barbican—on Wednesday, July 31st, Gorman came and put down these broken spoons, marked with nitric acid—I told him to go to his employer—neither Grist or Isaacs called on me—I saw" C. L. C." on the spoons—another man brought a silver soup ladle next morning.
By the COURT. I went round to this man, and next morning a detective came to me with a list, as they do at a pawnbroker's—I looked at the description and said, "These are the things"—he looked at them with a glass—our place is well known; it is the nearest place to the Market—they are worth 2s. 6d. an ounce, and as spoons more; but they are second-hand—they would be worth 4s. or 4s. 6d. an ounce as new spoons—there were about twenty ounces, which, at 2s. 6d., would come to £2 or £2 10s.
JOHN EGAN (City Detective Inspector). I received information, and on August 1st sent Mr. Bryer a special list, and afterwards went there—I then went to 16, Red Lion Market, and said, "I understand you sent some broken spoons to Mr. Bryer's for sale," he said, "Yes; 'I said, "Who did you get them from?" he said, "This man," pointing to Langham—I said, "Did not your man tell you Bryer had stopped them and wanted to see you about them?" he said, "No." I said, "I don't think your explanation is satisfactory, I shall take you to the station."
Cross-examined. He gave me every facility for searching—he said that he had sent spoons by Gorman brought by Joe Isaacs—I did not know whether there was such a person, and asked him to describe the man, and also Mr. Gorman; he said, he had not seen him—I took him in custody And he was let out on bail—Isaacs came to the Police-station, Old Jewry; I had told them to send him down—I arrested Langham on August 6th; he said he knew nothing about the matter; I confronted him with Isaacs who said he was the man—all the fragments are here—I was also looking for six tablespoons which were missed a day or two before.
C. H. BARR (Re-examined). The tablespoons were stolen on the same day as the dessertspoons.
Witness for the Defence.
JOSEPH ISAACS . I live at Denmark Terrace, Islington—my father has a shop and stable in Red Lion Market—on July 31st I met Langham; I had met him before at a restaurant where I worked—he said, "Do you know a place where they buy old silver?"—I said, "There are plenty of places about here"—we were walking towards Grist's—he had a parcel in brown paper in his hand, and said he had had it by him some time—I saw Mr. Grist standing by his door, and said, loud enough for Langham to hear, "Halloa! Mr. Grist, do you know a place where they buy old silver?"—he said, "Yes, there is A place in Barbican; I will send my chap round with you, if you like"—I said, "Thank you, this is a friend of mine"—I hadn't then seen the silver; Mr. Grist took the parcel, and opened it in my presence in the market—it was a lot of pieces of silver, like these; I did not take much notice of it—he said he would send his chap with it—Langham said, "When the chap brings the money back you might give him some beer money—next day, August 1st, I heard that there was some inquiry about it, and went straight to the Police-station, and told them all I knew, and gave a description of this man, and with the officer succeeded in finding him—he denied having the silver, but I said, "That is the man."
Cross-examined. I have met Langham now and then at the same place and sometimes elsewhere; but never at the betting club—I did not bet with him—I work in Covent Garden—I am quite sure it was silver I saw—I have never said in the presence of detectives Baker and Egan that I never saw the silver—I never told them, to my recollection, that I did not see it—I have known Grist more than five years; I never had a deal with him or sold anything to him, but he knows how to cure dogs—he lives next door to me; that is a long distance from Barbican—Langham did not offer to go to Barbican—he was no particular friend of mine; I was just going indoors to have some tea, and I did not say, "Come along, let us go to Bryer's, it is just round the corner—he did not tell me that they were broken spoons—I made no remark when I saw that the silver was broken up; it did not strike me as peculiar—Grist said, "It is all broken up; I will send a chap round with you"—he did not say, "Who is your friend who has brought this broken silver to me?" or ask me his name, occupation, or address—I did not go with Gorman to Bryer's shop on August 1st—Grist did not ask Gorman to take me round to Bryer's, but I said, "I will have a stroll up that way, and see if I can see this man Langham"—I waited outside Mr. Bryer's—Mr. Grist's man was not to settle with the dealer; that was left with me—I was not to meet them at Bryer's—the chap was to give the money to me—I was to get nothing—I am a Christian.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, September 12th, 1895.
676. FRANCIS EDMUND VICKERS (28) and ROBERT ALFRED HARDEMAN (47), PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully conspiring together, by false pretences, to defraud Alexander Joseph and Morris Joseph . Vickers also to falsifying the books of Alexander Joseph, his master.(See the next case.)
677. MORRIS ZIMMERMAN (28), SOLOMON COHEN , and SIMON HARRIS were indicted, with the said FRANCIS EDMUND VICKERS , for unlawfully conspiring together to cheat and defraud Alexander Joseph and Morris Joseph . Vickers
PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. BODKIN and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
MORRIS JOSEPH . I trade with Alexander Joseph, my father, at 75, Farringdon Road, Clerkenwell, as a rag and metal merchant—we employed some two hundred hands, among others Vickers, up to the time of his arrest, as a clerk at 32s. a week—he has been with us for a little over two years—up to the time of our fire we believed he was an honest man—Zimmerman, Cohen, and Harris were customers—we dealt with them in rags and metal—Zimmerman's address was 21, Tenter Street South; Cohen's business address on the invoices was 12, Little Aile Street, and Harris's address was 12, Hanbury Street, Spitalfields—Zimmerman has been a customer since November of last year—his account has considerably increased—Cohen has been a customer since May 1895, and Harris since April 1895—I had not the remotest idea the three defendants were connected—we have six or seven departments; the goods sent to us differing in character—they have to be sorted out on different floors according to their different qualities—we have carts, and hire about twenty horses a day—if a customer wants to send a load of goods we send a horse and cart—the three prisoners used their own—different carmen came—a delivery note conies with the goods—that note is handed to the salesman who checks the goods and signs the note with his name—it is then placed on Vickers' desk—it is his duty to enter up the note after the goods are sorted and reported on into a bought book, and that is priced by myself—Vickers makes out a copy of goods sold to A. Joseph, that is checked by the head clerk, and I draw a cheque in the customer's favour to that amount, the cheque being crossed or handed to him as he desires—the three prisoners called when cheques were not posted regularly, through pressure of business—they sent us billheads with their printed headings—on July 1st goods were sent by Zimmerman of which No. 21 is the delivery note—the weights appearing in the note—I know the writing is his—it has been ticked and signed, and the scalesman's weight put in my office, the usual place—in consequence of something I heard Mr. Glover took this copy of that note, and I checked it—it was put in the right-hand coiner of Mr. Glover's desk—this No. 22 is an accurate copy of the delivery note as I first saw it—I saw Vickers take the delivery note and a piece of blacklead out of his pocket und alter various figures and enter it up in the bought book—this is the entry at folio 404 which I saw Vickers make—it corresponds with the delivery note as it now appears, but not with the copy—1 qr. 6 lbs. has been altered to 2 cwt. 1 qr. 6 lbs.; 2 qrs. 6 lbs. of old red to 1 cwt. 2 qrs. 6 lbs; 1 qr. 1 lb. of stocking to 1 cwt. 1 qr. 1 lb; 2 qrs. 24 lbs. of
white flannel to 3 qrs. 24 lbs; 1 qr. 6 lbs. of blue serge to 1 cwt. 1 qr. 6 lbs.; 1 qr. of old merino to 1 qr. 61bs.—the notes were always in pencil—in the bought book I put my prices—Vickers worked out the figures—the total of the invoice made out was £14 14s. (No. 23)—in drawing the cheque I intentionally made it £14 4s.—Zimmerman called for it—he came back some time afterwards and said I had made a mistake in his account—I said, "Have I, how much do you make it 1"—" £14 14s."—" Are you certain of it?"—"Yes, here is the note"—I said, "I beg your pardon," altered the amount, gave him the cheque for that, and crossed it—it was paid by the London Joint-Stock Bank through his bank, the Cripplegate Bank—the value of the goods, according to the original note, was £9 18s. Id.—there was an excess of £4 15s. 11d. on that one invoice—I drew the first cheque wrongly, under the solicitor's advice—I drew the cheque on the faith of the invoice produced by Vickers, believing it to be a true invoice—No. 25 is another delivery note of Zimmerman, dated July 3rd—that was checked by the scalesman, and altered by Vickers on 4th—I had taken the copy (No. 26) that morning—there are increases in the weights—the invoice (No. 27) shows a total of £12 0s. 11d. in Vickers' writing, the original note amounting to £5 14s.—I did not draw that cheque—on July 2nd a load of goods, with delivery note No. 13, purported to come from Harris—it is Zimmerman's writing—it was placed in the safe on the 3rd—Mr. Glover and I copied it in the same way as the other note—this is the copy (No. 14)—it was kept in the safe in a locked drawer—I saw Vickers alter the figures with a blacklead pencil, as before—in the bought book I find the entry at page 410—the invoice is made out for £15 2s. Id.—I made a mistake in the cheque, making it £14 2s. Id., which I gave to Harris—he went away, but came back in an hour's time, and said, "You have made a mistake"—I said, "What do you mean?"—he said, "the amount of your account is £15 2s. Id"—"Are you quite sure?"—" Yes; I wish you to give me another sovereign"—I said, "I will alter the cheque," and I altered it, initialled it, gave it him, and he took it away—the difference on that transaction was £8 7s. 5d.—on 1st July a load of goods with this delivery note (No. 17) came from Cohen—it was checked by the scalesman in the ordinary way, and put in the safe—Mr. Glover and I made this copy (No. 18 and put it away in Mr. Glover's drawer—I find Vickers' entry in the bought book at 404—the invoice (No. 19) is £13 5s. 9d.—this is my cheque for £13 5s. 9d—the proper weights show the value of £9 11s. 9d.—there is an excess of £3 15s.—Cohen called for the cheque, and I told him I would send it by post, which I did the same evening—the endorsement is "S. Cohen," in Zimmerman's writing—on 5th or 6th July I gave information to Police Inspector Leach, in consequence of which the prisoners were arrested and charged—a search was made for documents at Zimmerman's place—No. 29, with the printed heading of "S. Harris, Rag Merchant 11, Hanbury Street, Spitalfields," was found there—it shows a list of goods in Zimmerman's writing—when I started business with Harris, about April or May 1875, he called at my office and asked me for prices, and I put the prices in blue pencil in No. 29, and told him the goods must be of first-class quality at those prices—No. 28 is an invoice of rags bought by Zimmerman of Aaron's,
dated June 21st, 1885—Zimmerman was sending in goods nearly every day—in the bought book I find entries of the same kind of goods sent in tome, but much less money on June 21st, 22nd, 23rd, and 24th—these cheques are drawn on the Cripplegate Bank by Zimmerman in favour of Harris and Cohen—the first is dated April 29th, and the last July 1st—some are Zimmerman's writing—one is drawn by S. Barnett—these Cheques are mine—the one drawn to S. Cohen for £9 8s. 3d., and the one for £7 5s. 10d. payable to Harris, of June 14th, are endorsed by Zimmerman—we have a rigid rule in our establishment that clerks are not to associate in any way with customers.
Cross-examined. I do not know Cohen's writing—nor Harris's—I have never seen them write—the only conversations I have had with Cohen was when he came and asked me to buy goods and I said "Yes," and when he has called for his accounts I have mentioned—the goods were inferior—we have no computations here of the accounts that are incorrect—before business commenced Harris brought a list of goods which I priced—I had done business with him a considerable time ago, which was broken off—I have seen the three prisoners together—I saw Harris go outside my place with cheques round to the left and up the street to Cohen and Cohen came to me and I said "We will send the cheque on"—I placed confidence in Vickere, and found him correct, till my suspicions were aroused—the scalesman would alter the weights, if found incorrect, and Vickers would book them accordingly—I do not deal in bones—the weighing is not rough, but correct to half a pound—the weighers are not ignorant men—the goods are collected from large dealers and Her Majesty's dockyards, and sold by auction by the cwt.—my solicitor has instructed you on my behalf—I have dealt with Zimmerman some years—I forbid him my place some time ago, when information came to me that he was in connivance with one of my managers, and I dismissed the manager—after my great trouble, with my fire and other things, I commenced business with him again—there are unpaid accounts between us—£20 to £30 is due to him, subject to this, for goods delivered since these proceedings commenced—since I first went to the police, and whilst the prisoners were being watched I pursued the same practice—I do not believe it is to the value of from £50 to £70; £40 at the most—my books are not here—the question was put to me at the Police-court, and I answered, not wilfully, incorrectly—I speak from memory—you may be correct—I consulted my solicitor; I went to Mr. Bodkin, who told me this was conspiracy and fraud—the goods were still coming in—Vickers was still retained—I say he continued to falsify my books, in Conjunction with Zimmerman—there is one little account due to Harris, of £5 or £6, not £40 or £60, for one small load delivered a day or two before his arrest—he was arrested on the Monday—they were delivered on the Friday—Cohen has a small account for £6 or £7—for which he got £14 or £15—I owe him £6 or £7—I can send for the books—I have been served with a garnishee order, which has nothing to do with this case—Mr. Barnett (solicitor for Zimmerman) told me so—it is for money owing to Aaron—my scalesmen are not here—I can send for them—they were at the Police-court but not called.
Re-examined. We buy expensive rags, up to 1s. 2d. a pound—I consulted
my solicitor on a Thursday—I was then in communication with the police—they knew I was seeking advice elsewhere—Harris and Cohen sent in goods very frequently—we have three scalesmen who weigh about fifty loads a day—when the delivery note is put on the shelf signed by the scalesman Vickers had no authority but to treat it as accurate—there are in one note half a dozen or more different kinds—the scalesman weighs each alleged weight of the sender in a separate bag—the scalesman ticks each weight, and it is the ticks and the signature we look at.
GEORGE GLOVER . I am head clerk to Mr. Joseph—under his instructions I made copies of the four delivery notes which came, two from Zimmerman, one from Harris, and one from Cohen—Mr. Joseph afterwards checked the copies—the copies 14, 18, 22, and 26 are my writing—they are correct copies of the original delivery notes.
FRANCIS EDMUND VICKERS (a prisoner). I was a clerk employed by Mr. Joseph for about two years and five months—my duties were to enter details into the bought book for Mr. Joseph to price opposite each item—the book being handed back to me I worked out the figure and copied it in an invoice form and handed it back to Mr. Joseph—upon that form Mr. Joseph would draw cheques for the customers—I first knew Zimmerman as a customer of Mr. Joseph about November at the office—I had regular hours and met him going out to dinner—the first time I spoke to him was a week or a fortnight after a transaction with Hardeman—I met Zimmerman at the Castle public-house where I went for my meals—he would say "Is my account ready?" and I would say "Yes" if it was, or "No"—this was repeated several days, until I told him the office was the proper place to make inquiries—he complained of waiting a long time and invariably offered me a glass which I refused—one day he made a suggestion which I refused—he asked me if I would like to make a few pounds easily—I said "No, I will have nothing, to do with it"—he came the next day, and as I saw what he intended I had my dinner elsewhere, but he spoke to me at the railway station—one day he came to the public-house, and said, "Why do not you do that?"—I said, "I will have nothing to do with it"—he said, "I know you are doing it with Hardeman"—then I had no alternative but to give way to him—I said, "Who told you?"—he said, "Never mind; you do not want to know"—I said, "It is very funny"—he said, "Are you going to do it?"—I said, "Yes; I will do it," and I said, "How do you do this, affair?"—he said, "This is what we will do; we will send goods in; you alter the weights in the notes in some cases, the cwts. and in some less"—I agreed to do that—he continued to send goods in—he stopped calling personally at the office—I made alterations in the notes, sometimes a cwt. sometimes less, opposite the various items—I entered into the bought book the notes as altered—the first time I began to do that was the beginning of March this year—after some time Zimmerman said, "you can make more money; I can introduce you to a couple more-persons"—"I said I will not do it"—he introduced Harris to work the same process—"If you like," he said, "We can do a further deal"—I had no alternative—he said, "I have a relation; my brother-in-law lives in Scotland. I shall bring him all the way from Scotland, and nominally employ him as my foreman, and give him so much a week"—his name was Simon Cohen—Harris and Cohen are the two defendants—I was to
meet Zimmerman, and we were to share the money—I met him three or four times a week at a coffee-shop opposite the Castle—I got money from time to time—I got none from Harris or Cohen—I never met them at the coffee-house—the first delivery note from Harris I altered from 2 qrs. to 1 cwt. 2 qrs; the next from 1 qr. 5 lbs. to 1 cwt. lqr. 15 lbs.—the old blue serge I would not swear to, but I believe the "1 qr" was altered to "3"; the new light prints from 1 qr. to 1 cwt. 1 qr.—every note was altered in pencil—I did it at my desk in the office—the merino I altered from 1 qr. 20 lbs. to 1 cwt. 1 qr. 20 lbs.—to the stockings I believe I added 1 cwt.—the white flannel has been altered from 1 or 2 to 3—to the copper 1 cwt. has been added—1 cwt. has been added to the fines—looking at No. 17, the delivery note of Cohen, to new light prints, 1 cwt. has been added; 1 cwt. has been added to the new white cuttings, to the fines, and to the stockings—in the white flannels 1 qr. 3 lbs. has been added, or it has been altered from 2 to 3; 1 cwt. has been added to the merinos—looking at Zimmerman's delivery notes on 1st July, 1 cwt has been added to the fines, 1 cwt. to the stockings, 1 cwt. to the old blue serge, 1 cwt. to the new prints and the merinos, and I believe the flannel and lace have been altered—on 3rd July 1 cwt. has been added to the striped blues, 1 cwt. to the new light prints, 1 cwt. to the white cuttings; an alteration has been made in the qr. figure of the stockings, 1 cwt. has been added to the merinos, and to the fines, and I believe to the old blue serge, and the white flannels have been altered—there were other alterations of a similar kind—on July 8th I was taken into custody by Sergeant Kyd—I made a long statement to him in the Police-station, which was taken down in writing, read over to and signed by me as correct—I have never been in Zimmerman's premises—a day or two before July 8th I saw him at my residence, 6, College Place, Camden Town—he said he had information that we were being shadowed by detectives, and he asked what was best to be done—we talked the matter over, and he decided he would go home and destroy all his papers—that was the Saturday afternoon when I left off work from 4.30 to 5.30—also the Sunday at dinner-time.
Cross-examined. I am twenty years of age—I was a soldier in the 2nd Battalion Queen's Royal Surrey Regiment—I was discharged to the First Class Army Reserve—I have never been in America, nor Canada—I left school in 1884; worked in London a little, to August 1884, when I enlisted at St. George's Barracks as a soldier—I have known Hardeman since he has been a customer of Josephs from about July 1894—I had had transactions with Hardeman before I had with Zimmerman of a similar character—I lent Zimmerman £50 about a fortnight before I was arrested—my wages were 32s. a week—I received the £50 partly from Hardeman and partly from Zimmerman—it was part of the proceeds of the fraud—I had received about £50, and about £40 from Hardeman—£90 out of my master—I took no receipt—he came to my house in the evening and said he expected money from Yorkshire, but he had payments to make and he was short of money, and I lent him £50 on friendly terms, and he never paid it back—I could not swear to the words, but I said in substance to the policeman, "I will go with you; it is my place now to get out of it if I can"—Mr. Joseph was at the Police-station when I made my statement—he did not say, "If you will make a statement against these other men I
will do the best I can for you"—I have not seen Harris inside the office—I saw Cohen once only—my dealings were with Zimmerman.
Re-examined. I have pleaded Guilty in the hearing of the Jury to both these indictments—this is my discharge, and this is my character: "Very good; sober, steady; has been in the Army Club Association five years.—Signed, W. BRODERICK, Major"—this is my Army medal, with my name, age, and number—before I met Hardeman I had not been dishonest to my master.
EPHRAIM ENGLANDER . I am a traveller in pictures, and live at 43, Tenter Street, Goodman's Fields—Zimmerman and Harris and Cohen are related—Zimmerman is my brother-in-law, Harris is my father-in-law, and Cohen my step-brother—Zimmerman occupied a warehouse at my address for about eighteen months before he was arrested at 15s. a week—Cohen's premises were at 12, Little Alie Street—he occupied one room—Harris had a shop at 11, Hanbury Street—Cohen told me Zimmerman sent rags to Joseph in his name; that when he came to London he could not get a living, Zimmerman promised to find employment for him, and gave him so much a week—Cohen had no banking account—he could write very little—he could write his name—Zimmerman had an account at the Cripplegate Bank—I have cashed cheques for Zimmerman about seven weeks or two months—they were payable to Harris and Cohen—I gave Zimmerman in return my own cheque—he explained he did not wish the prosecutor to know that he sent goods in their names—Harris writes very little, only his name—Cohen had only been in London seven weeks to two months before he was taken—I commenced to cash the cheques soon after Cohen came to town—I saw one or two books at Zimmerman's, I do not know whether he kept them—his private address was 21, Tenter Street—sometimes I saw the books at his office, sometimes at his house—I have never cashed cheques for Harris or Cohen.
JAMES SCOTT (Detective G). I arrested Harris on July 8th at 11, Hanbury Street, Spitalfields—I told him we were police-officers, and read the warrant to him—he said, "I do not know what it all means. The cheques I received I gave to Zimmerman. I only received 2s. or 2s. 6d. for my time; what little lots I had to sell, which were very small, Zimmerman paid me for"—in answer to a question he said, "I keep no books, I have no papers or banking account"—he added," There wag a mistake in one cheque, and Zimmerman sent me back to have it corrected"—when charged he made no reply—the shop in Hanbury Street is small, consisting of a front parlour and a small shed at the back.
ANDREW KYD (Sergeant G). On July 8th I arrested Zimmerman about 4 p.m. outside the Farringdon Street Railway Station—Leach who was with me told him he would take him into custody for being concerned with four others in conspiring to rob Mr. Joseph of 75, Farringdon Road—he said, "What for? I do not know them. Who is Vickers? I do not know what you are talking about. I do not know anything about it"—I took him to King's Cross Police station—I arrested Cohen about twelve o'clock the same night in Tenter Street South, Goodman's Fields—I told him I should take him into custody fur being concerned with others in conspiring to rob Mr. Joseph—he said, "I have heard
about it, but I have not had anything to do with it. I am Zimmerman's servant. He gives me 20s. a week. The letters that come from Mr. Joseph I give to Zimmerman and he opens them. He brought me from the North to learn the rag business, I wish I had not come"—I took him to the Police-station—after Vickers was charged he sent for me and made a statement which was reduced to writing and read over to him, and then he signed it—Mr. Joseph, who was present, did not interfere or suggest what he should say.
FREDERICK CLEVELAND (Detective D). I saw Vickers on July 5th shortly after one midday—I followed him from Farringdon Road to a public house called the Ship in Herkeley Street where he met Zimmerman, and was in his company about twenty minutes when Zimmerman went away, and Vickers left shortly afterwards and went back to his firm—I kept observation.
WILLIAM SERGEANT (G). I saw Zimmerman in the company of Vickers on July 6th, two days before they were arrested, about 5.30 p.m., at the College Arms, Great College Street, Euston Road—I was keeping observation there—they were both in the house together about half an hour conversing.
ANDREW KYD (Re-examined). On July 8th I went with Leach to the telegraph-office and sent a telegram to Zimmerman—I waited at Farringdon Street railway station till he came there—then I went and searched his place of business, a warehouse at 43, Tenter Street—I found some papers, and two books containing entries relating to business between him and Joseph—I had no search warrant—he was in custody—I found cheques from Joseph to himself—I also searcher! his private address and found Nos. 28 and 29, a billhead of Aaron and one of Harris, and a bundle of ten cheques in favour of Harris and Cohen by Joseph.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: "Harris and Cohen: I am not guilty. Vickers: I have nothing to say."
GUILTY .—ZIMMERMAN— Five Years' Penal Servitude. COHEN and HARRIS— Three Months' Hard Labour. VICKERS— Six Months' Hard Labour ,
MR. HARRISON Prosecuted.
ABRAHAM LEVY . I am a furrier of 118, Houndsditch—in October, 1893, I went by the steamship Holker to Philadelphia—I took my luggage on board in the Victoria Docks; I left it in charge of chief steward Morgan—I joined the steamer at Swansea—I saw my luggage all right—in consequence of my instructions my things were unpacked and placed in the empty berths—when I got near Philadelphia I gave instructions to Morgan to pack them up again—I saw the prisoner helping to pack them—I was not there the whole time—when I landed my luggage was supposed to be sent to the Custom House—when I went there a couple of days afterwards I looked at ray luggage and there were eight coats short, value £46—the trunks had been taken direct from the ship to the
Customs—these coats are part of my property—I identified them at the pawnbroker's—they fetch more money in America, but not much.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I declared the goods when the Customs Officer boarded the ship at Philadelphia—I discovered the loss when I went to pay duty two days afterwards—one coat was given to me a long while after in Philadelphia—the goods were not smuggled into America—they were landed in one place and not sent to David Holker's—you did not accompany me to take some to the Second Lombard to a Jewish pawnbroker's, named Solomon—none were left at 512, King Street at a broker's, a cousin of my witness—I had not sold or given a coat to anyone—I did not cause a witness to prosecute his own son to get the coat back, because I did not claim it, as it was smuggled—the police did not inform me where to get the coat that was returned.
JAMES MORGAN . In October 1893 I was chief steward on board the steamship Holker, and Mr. Levy left his luggage in my charge in the Victoria Docks—he joined the ship at Swansea a few days afterwards—in consequence of his instructions a day or two afterwards I laid the luggage out in the spare berths, so that moths could not get to them—when rearing Philadelphia he told me to pack them up again—I had to go ashore for provisions, and asked the prisoner, the second steward, to continue packing—when I came back, I said, "Have you got them all ready, all packed up?"—he said, "Yes, everyone"—we left Swansea on the 25th, and arrived at Philadelphia sixteen or seventeen days after—these are some of Mr. Levy's goods that were on board—the prisoner gave orders to put the goods in a cart—I asked him, and ho said he was going to take hem to the Custom House—I saw him go away with the luggage—we returned to London December 3rd, 1893, according to my note; I have a bad memory—we went into the Victoria Dock—I did not count the coats in the berths—I left them just as I had taken them out.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I asked you if the goods were all there and all right—I said, "You have not got anything to pack up," and you said, "No"—I did not say I saw you leave with the goods, you put them into the cart and the cart was taken to the Custom House between Second and Third Streets—the goods were not smuggled as I am aware of—I did not help to smuggle them into America—a man came for them from the Custom House—he was not David Holker's carman, I know his men—none of the goods went to his warehouse or to a ware-house in Queen Street, nor to 'Solomon's in Second Lombard—you never accompanied me to Second Lombard with any—Levy did not cause a relative in Philadelphia to prosecute his own son to obtain the goods again—one coat was retained by a pawnbroker in Philadelphia, and when he went out you ran out of the place and left the coat behind you, and it was fetched home a little over twelve months ago and returned to Mr. Levy—I do not know from whom it was obtained—Levy never gave me one of the coats, only one he authorised me to get in Philadelphia—I brought it to England and gave it to Levy—the coat was got from Second Street Police-station—the boy escaped and left the coat in the pawnbroker's shop—I do not know the boy—he was not the son of my nephew in Philadelphia—I had Only one coat in my possession which I returned to Mr. Levy about eight months back—I have made three, or four, or five voyages to Philadelphia since, and when the ship was laid up
in the Victoria Docks for five weeks I had time to carry it to London to Mr. Levy to whom it belonged—I could not give the exact time—a voyage lasts thirty to forty days—the police had the coat for one voyage—I have not kept account of the voyages—Mr. Levy reported the second day after the loss, when the baggage went ashore—I said, "Have you packed up all the goods?" and you said "Yes"—I said "It must be an excuse of Mr. Levy," and you said, "Yes, it must be nothing but an excuse of Mr. Levy"—one thing or other stopped me delivering the coat before—I was often at the George and Dragon—Levy might have lived close to there but I have not been there since the coats were put on board the ship and Levy was a passenger—I only wore Lery's coat when I took it to London—I put it on four or five times in London—Captain Donaldson sent me, but I was going up to London to give the coat to Levy.
Re-examined. On the return voyage the prisoner never showed me any fur coats he was bringing back from America.
ERNEST FREDERICK BENTING . I am assistant manager to Phillip, Label and Co., pawnbrokers, East India Dock Road—I produce fur-lined coat and pawn-ticket of 24th January, 1894, in the name of Henry Noon, of 29, East India Dock Road—the prisoner pawned the coat for £1 10s.—I had known him as a customer twelve months before—the pledge was renewed on 23rd January the next year in the same name by the prisoner.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Your first address was 302, Victoria Dock Road.
CHARLES HALL . I am assistant to Robert George, pawnbroker, of 256, Commerical Road—I produce a fur-lined coat and pawn-ticket—the coat was originally pawned on 6th December, 1893, for £1 10s. in the name of George McAlister—I do not recognise the man—the pledge was renewed on 16th November, 1894, in the same name and the same address given, interest being paid.
GEORGE BLOWSE . I am assistant to Joseph Tucker Hall, pawnbroker, of 417, East India Dock Road—this sealskin jacket was pawned with me on 26th January, 1894, for 10s.—the pledge was renewed and interest paid on 23rd January, 1895 in the same name, but the address was altered from 56, Kirby Street to 29, Cotton Street.
JOHN DOUN (Sergeant K.) On December 3rd I arrested the prisoner at the Central Police-station, Liverpool—I read the warrant to him—he made no answer—an officer handed him these pawntickets and other articles, and he handed these four tickets to me and said, "I pawned the coats, I never stole the coats; I bought them from Morgan in Philadelphia—I brought him to Limehouse and he was charged.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw Morgan wearing this plain coat with astrachan on the collar.
The Prisoner in his defence stated that the coats were entrusted to Morgan to take from England to smuggle into America, and he was merely the subordinate and assisted the carman and the ship's butcher to take them from the ship in the early morning before the Customs officers commenced duties; that Levy had not the money to pay his passage until the goods were sold,and promised the carman a considerable sum, as he would render himself liable to two years' imprisonment in the Penitentiary. That when the carman taxed Levy he confessed he had no money, and Levy asked the prisoner to buy them, which he did, and got them on board his ship to avoid their becoming American property, brought them to England, and pawned them. That he was told that Morgan's nephew had been taking some of the goods round Philadelphia to sell or pawn; that Levy caused Godfrey Levy to prosecute his own son to obtain possession of a coat back again, which he dared not do himself, having smuggled the goods into America; and that if he had stolen the good he might have been prosecuted in America, or when the ship returned to England, and he would not have renewed the interest on the tickets. Morgan had kept one coat until this year, and he (the prisoner) made no secret of having the coats, and his address was known.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Friday, September 13th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. GEOGHEGAN, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on this indictment.— NOT GUILTY . There was another indictment against the prisoner for an assault upon the same person, to which the prisoner
PLEADED GUILTY . Six Days' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, the Prisoner defended himself.
REV. WILLIAM WALROND JACKSON . I am Rector of Exeter College, Oxford—a young man named Thomas Erskine Williams was an undergraduate there—he took his degree in June 1894, being then about twenty-one years of age—on November 19th last year this letter was left for me at my house in the College on the same day the prisoner called on me; I saw him twice—he said he was the person who had left the letter (letters read: "Oxford, 19 11. '94. REV. AND DEAR SIR,—If at liberty, I should feel glad of an interview. It is in re a Mr. T. E. Williams, late Exeter College. I am sure the few moments you grant will enlighten you on a matter you ought to know of—Yours very respectfully, GEO. A. PERKINS, U.S.A. and C.S. B.K. Canada")—The first time the prisoner called I was going out, and I told him to come later in the afternoon—I saw him later in the afternoon—he then said he was an Attorney and Councillor-at-Law of the United States, and Barrister-at-Law of Canada, and was employed in secret-service work by the United States Government; that he was a son of a Judge of the United States, and had married an English lady of respectable position—he said that he had come to me about a young girl who had been seduced when much under age by Mr. T. E. Williams; that the girl was in a village school near Mr. Williams' home; that he had seduced her, and she had become pregnant; that he brought the girl to
Oxford, and had sent her to New York; that he himself became acquainted with the case in New York, and took it up from compassion for the girl; that he came to Liverpool with her, and took or sent her to London, and placed her in a home; that Mr. Williams got her out of the home at night, and was found by him (the prisoner) and the police with the girl later—he showed me two letters and a card—I recognised the letters as Mr. Williams' handwriting, but I was not so certain of the card—I noticed that the letters were undated—these are the letters, they are addressed, "To my Dear Kate," and signed, "T. E. Williams"—I recognised the card at Bow Street, and I recognise it now.
Prisoner. Half that card has been detained by the police.
ARTHUR HAILSTONE (Police-sergeant). I have not in my possession the other part of this card, and never had—this portion was in a sealed envelope with other papers—I found them at the prisoner's lodging—I have never seen the other portion of the card.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The Magistrate did not ask me twice for the other portion of the card—the card was asked for, and I produced it—I have never seen any other piece than this—I produced the sealed envelope, the letters were in it—it was sealed up as it is now—I gave the card to the Treasury representative, and these letters also, and it was handed back to me.
DR. JACKSON (continued). The card was complete when the prisoner showed it to me—I cannot exactly recall what was on it. (The envelope contained two letters from E. T. Williams to Kate Hansford couched in affectionate terms, urging her not to take upon herself all the blame of their connection, but to make known the writer's name if asked for.) The prisoner gave me the name and address of the girl—he said the case was known to people in London, amongst whom he mentioned Canon Pelham, the late Vicar of Lambeth, who he said had advised him to put the matter in my hands as head of Mr. Williams' College—I asked him why he did not put the matter in the hands of the police—he said that his wife, from friendship to a relative of Mr. Williams, asked him not to do so—I spoke to him about Mr. Williams' career at College—no arrangement was made at that interview for seeing him again, but he called again on the 21st—he was then very anxious to know if I had heard from the Rev. Mr. Williams, the father—he talked a good deal about himself, more or less confidentially, also about the case—he said he had incurred great expense over it, and he thought that Mr. Williams' family should pay part of it—he showed me a copy of a letter professedly written by himself to Mr. Williams from Oxford; and also again produced the two letters to Kate Hansford, and offered to leave them with me—I declined to take them—on the 21st I had written to the Rev. Mr. Williams, and had received a reply to that and other letters—I told the prisoner if he was staying in Oxford to see me again on the evening of the 23rd, but he did not come—on the 24th I received these two letters from him; I believe they are in the same writing as the first—(These wire headed: "The Anglo-Generale and United States Press and Enquiry Bureau, also Business, Commission and Trading Agency, 6, Staple Inn, London, W.C., England." Rev. and Dear Sir,—I have had a fit and relapse, but hope to be able to leave this town to-day. The girl Hansford has left to-day for parts abroad. If you have
heard from Rev. Mr. W., senr., I should like to know what lines his reply runs on. Although I am ill and unable to be about much should be glad to see you before leaving, and by an appointed time I will call. I I am going to end the whole affair.—Very respectfully yours, GEORGE A. PERKINS." "My Dear Sir,—Yours duly to hand, for which I thank you. I now enclose you a dated letter from Mr. and Mrs. Hansford relative to this case. I did not tell you before that the girl is now fifteen, and it is the second child she has had by this villain, so how can her character be assured. The more you inquire the dirtier you will find. I held papers over his head till he took his degree and, understand me fully, all Mr. Williams knows is what I suggested to his son when she had the last child some few weeks ago. I put my foot into it by intervening, and I mean either to have satisfaction, or settlement in full. The case is the blackest ever known—I want ease of mind only—I will make you and Williams one offer, I will burn all the matter in his or your presence, accept all risk and stay the thing on receipt of £12, half of cost of stamps, or I will hand them over to the proper authorities and stand its merits. Kindly return by bearer the enclosed letter, and you can settle for Mr. W. if you like; easy to wire; the more investigation shows his villainy, and proceed the reference to her character is absurd; the letters are all this year's date.—Yours respectfully, G. A. PERKINS.")—I replied to that letter and made a memorandum of my reply on that document That letter enclosed a letter purporting to be from Mrs. Hansford—I returned it to the prisoner—I did not see him again till I saw him at Bow Street—I had no further correspondence with him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I believe at our second interview you showed me this letter; I just glanced through it—it is addressed to the Rev. F. Williams, Bettisscombe, Dorsetshire—(This was a long letter, refer ring in, strong terms to the misconduct of Mr. Williams' son and to the disgrace of a public exposure, concluding, "Let your son come to see me, or I will him, maybe I could do him some good")—You had two interviews with me, on the 19th and the 21st—you never lunched at my house—I gave you some refreshment on the Monday evening, because you said you had come from London to see me, and I thought you were going back by train—I made no appointment for the 23rd; I never expected to see you—I never wrote to Mr. Williams till the 21st—I saw a supposed copy letter of Mr. Williams' on the 21st; it was dated the 20th—young Mr. Williams was rusticated for a year in 1893 for bringing a young woman into the College, and giving her tea in his rooms—the girl you spoke to me about was Kate Hansford; she was evidently a different person—I cannot recall the words that were on the card I saw on the 19th—I said if I had known that young Williams had ruined Miss Hansford I should certainly not have let him come back to College—I said if that offence had been committed in Oxford it would have been brought before the Vice-Chancellor, but as it was in Hampshire he would not be concerned with it; I said bringing a girl into the College was vice, but not criminal—I knew nothing of the Hansford case till I saw you—I recognised young Williams' writing immediately on seeing the letters—you may have said that you would not go down to see Mr. Williams unless your expenses were paid; expenses incurred on behalf of Hansford, not on account of both girls—I knew
nothing of Hansford's existence in 1894—I stated before the Magistrate that I was not aware that Williams paid the costs of her confinement—I may have said that the best thing for him to do was to go to Australia—I heard nothing about his going there until long after this case; it was some time after the whole thing was blown up—you told me you wanted to get clear of the whole transaction relating to young Williams—the letter from the Rev. Mr. Williams was received by me on the 23rd, after I had seen you, and I never saw you after—I said I thought you were entitled to be reimbursed the money you expended on behalf of Hansford—I may very likely have thanked you; I should have thanked any honest man—I could not say positively that it was young Williams' intention to be ordained—I informed you that if he were guilty he could not possibly be ordained in any English diocese, but that he might try and get ordained in the Colonies; I believed your story—I said in the case of a man expelled the University for a crime it was usual to write to the Archbishops, in order that he might never be able to seek Holy Orders—I was not on intimate terms with young Williams—I was not aware that you were in the College on Sunday, the 18th; you told me you were—the last time I saw the Rev. Mr. Williams was in the summer of 1894, I only saw him for a minute or two, I met him with his daughters; I exchanged greetings, nothing more.
Two letters at the Prisoner's request were put in and ready one from the witness to the Rev. F. Williams, dated from Exeter College, 21st November, 1894, containing an account of his interview with the prisoner, and another, dated 23rd November, on the same subject, and also a reply from Mr. Williams.
Re-examined. At the time I wrote to the Rev. Mr. Williams I believed the prisoner's statement as to who and what he was, and the circumstances under which he said he had met the girl.
REV. FREDERICK WILLIAMS . I am the Rector of Bettiscombe, Dorsetshire—my son, Thomas Erskine Williams, is 22 years of age—he was at Exeter College, Oxford, and took his degree in June 1894—I did not then know the prisoner—I received this letter:—"Care of Fennells, 29, Catherine Street, Strand, London, W.C., November 26th, 1894: "Sir—I hold all the letters now, having obtained them as between your son and this girl K. M. Hansford. The Rev. Dr. Jackson has perused most of the incriminating ones. I have been called upon to hand them back but refused. As I found out a great deal of the statement of girl exaggerated, I have had abuse and also various incidental expenses re this affair and have letters from Messrs. Seagrove and Woods, whom you wrote. The correspondence in itself is terrible as from an educated man. However, I will stand the bullying and any action they like to pursue regards the letters providing I can either hand them to you or destroy them in your presence. I, as the Rev. Dr. knows, would not further injure you or your son's prospects by returning them to Rope Walk, and if all I am out of pocket and abuse received at these people's hands is at a loss I will have to stand to it. I can also procure the information by girl if you want it. I will bring the letters or send them if you will defray part costs. I am out over same. If I come down I would call on the Hansfords if you wish and get remainder of correspondence for you. Write or wire me expenses down and I will bring down letters,
but I should have to defray certain costs to procure the information. An interview between us anyway would not tend to misplaced object in advantage—Very respectfully yours—Geo. A. Perkins, U.S.A. & B.L. Can." I replied by this letter of 28th Novr. "Bettiscombe, Charmouth R.S.O., Mr. Perkins—I may be able to meet you at Salisbury on Tuesday next. There are several fast trains running there from Waterloo and you could return to London in the evening. I shall probably be there by the train arriving from the West at about 1.30, yours truly, F. Williams—Note address"—I received this letter: "29 Nov. 1894 c/o Fennells 29 Catherine Street Strand, W.C. Rev. F. Williams. Sir,—Yours duly to hand, contents noted I have no business calling me to Salisbury, and furthermore I have paid out enough and had quite as much abuse and expense as I intend to cope with. I had a trouble to obtain the letters from Messrs. Seagrove and Woods and have been summoned to produce them. I held them over during my illness and absence from the country as your son knows to allow him to take his degree, my letter to him some months since shews that I should never taken the way I have if it had not been for his friends. Dr. Jackson is well aware that I asked (and earnestly asked) no harm done unless compulsory toward him. I am now under appointment for to-morrow at 2 p.m. at the National Vig. Ass., but I will waive same till I have a wire from you on receipt of this. And you will please send expenses. I am not in good health and shall be glad to relieve myself of all connected with this dirty matter. I will meet you at any named hotel or place on receipt of £5 and arrange things in general which you cannot regret—Yours very truly, Geo. A. Perkins." I replied by this letter of 1st Dec. [Arranging to meet at Salisbury on Friday and stating "I think that you have been very much deceived as to the whole bearing of facts."] I received this 3rd Dec, 1894, etc. "Sir—Yours again duly to hand. I beg to inform you that I am in noway whatever deceived, your long letter to the Rector of Exeter was all unnecessary, also yours in ignorance to Messrs. S. & W., 22, Chancery Lane. You are the one who has been deceived, and I am sorry to say so by another beside T. Erskine. I have been to Bridport also to your neighbourhood, and know the whole history of the two. I am surprised at you, and deceived also by the way you address anyone in dictating terms, etc. Allow me to say further I know what to do and am going to act now according to my first instructions. I have with ray own eyes seen this year what you would not believe in words. Had I not been ill and away this would not have remained ere this long and he would never obtained his B.A. You do not suppose a man of long standing and experience is easily deceived. I have followed and seen for myself and therefore know as Mr. and Mrs. Jackson can tell you. By my terms aforenamed I will meet you at Salisbury or not at all, and I must call at Bridport some time this year so we may meet in any case. My time is always well occupied, so do not necessitate further communications. I have the girl's certificate of birth, and also documentary proofs re first child and all since then. Deceived My dear Sir, you have had trouble I know, but don't drive more on by such uncalled for observations. I have acted friendly in good faith, but not indiscreetly to my own detriment. 'You come an awful tedious way to meet me (What for). I will meet you on Friday on terms I quoted, no other.—Yours
truly, GEO. A. PERKINS, U.S.A., A.S.C., L.B. Can. Reply by return, as I intend disposing of this affair this year.—G. A. P. I gave you this add. because I do not want clerks or others to hear more." I answered that by letter of 5th December (refusing to comply, asking for the letters the son who was responsible for them being dependent on him). Then I received this letter of 6th Dec.: "Sir,—Yours to hand, bearing date 5th inst., for which I thank you. Shall I then hand all letters over to Mr. Hugh Lee, the Ec'll. Soltr. to the Arch. Bishop or to E. L. Ridge, Esq., B.A., his clergyman here? They were at Lambeth Palace to day, and again next Tuesday. I have been to some expense and trouble in this matter, and have acted honourable to you and your family on good faith by representations made me by a gentleman friend of your son's now in Mildura, Australia. I know you have had trouble before besides this matter. I am sure I would not receive a cent from you if not freely in honour of what I have done and can do further. I am well known in London, and have had many complicated affairs. But never before have I had so much unnecessary correspondence, especially after laying plain facts down which are stubborn things to remove. I am out pocket over £60—sixty pounds in hard money. But never mind, I asked £5 for my expenses, and I was low enough. I do not like to act harshly after waiting and waiting many obstacles. But I intend, as I said, disposing of this within ten days. I can have satisfaction for my trouble and expense, which would, in a measure, be somewhat consoling. Unless I have a reply here Monday noon I shall call at No. 1, Sanctuary, Westminster, and leave papers, etc., which will in some measure put a stop to everything, so far as I am concerned. I am editor of a London magazine (The Sectarian Monthly) when here. If I do not hear per return my conscience is clear, and I am free to act as I see fit. I enclose you copy of one of his letters, and also one from Mr. and Mrs. H. for your perusal, and I am very respectfully yours, Geo. A. Perkins. P.S.—The sworn informations I have not here before me are in safe." (One enclosure referred to was from "T.E.W.," Oxford College, to "My dear Kate," and the envelope was dated 8th September, it expressed sorrow for not writing, and that she was in pain and "If anything happens don't mind telling my name, I really don't mind a bit, because it is not your fault you are too good a girl to suffer for me." Then there is a postscript, "How can you in face of this letter and others, and his cards with his own writing on as to appointments, declare against her character at the age. And can he enter Holy Orders or the English Bar in the face of it. In other letters comment is worse and mentions money, etc., dates on them." [The enclosure signed by Mr. and Mrs. Hansford was dated March 13th, 1894, and asked Perkins to do what he could for their daughter.] The letters I received are the same writing as the one I did not receive—I replied by this etter of December 8th [preferring Templecombe to meet Perkins and stating], "Or if you prefer to send me all the letters you have and can gain possession of, I will immediately upon their receipt send you the sum you name. I am a man of honour, and you can trust me"—Then I received this:—"Sir,—Yours to hand. Send me the £5 note and I will be at Templecombe Thursday. I must see you anyway personally in handing you back the letters. And if you study your son's future interest I can do
further by way of clearness. But I cannot put in writing. You seem to have a peculiar idea as to me or business or you could have had this done with ere this. I shall make no more appointments or disappointments any more here. Write me saying A. or yea to this by return. I am intent on one purpose"—I replied on December 11th that he would be at Templecombe on Thursday and would enclose postal order for 10s. for Perkins' fare]—I enclosed the postal order—I went to Templecombe with my son—I waited two or three hours—I did not see the prisoner—I received this: "C.-S my private address—41, Burdett Chambers, Westminster Road, London, c/o G. E. Cooper. 13/12/94: Rev. Sir,—I told you most distinctly in all my letters that I would meet you anywhere on receipt of £5 for expenses and not else. I have to pay some costs yet, and if you intend doing as you said you might as well have sent the £5 first as last But I cannot understand your method if, as you say, you are honourable why do you shuffle? I will in due course return you the 10s., unless I hear from you to the contrary with an enclosure of what I asked. As I am sick of correspondence over the matter you cannot blame me in not meeting you, because you have entirely followed your own lines. My time is as valuable as others, and I also have a system which I follow, and to it I most stringently adhere. This would have been over and forgotten if you had choosen it such. Maybe you would prefer a trip to London. I would meet you anywhere as per arrangement; no other. Yours very truly, George A. Perkins"—That was the last letter I received—they appear to be the same writing—the letter of March 10th to my son was forwarded from Oxford to the Rectory—it was put with my papers at Bow Street, and when I got back I found it—this is the envelope (marked private)—the writing is the same—(from Perkins, 34, Paris Street, Palace Road, Westminster, stating he had received instructions from Mr. and Mrs. Hansford to secure evidence against him re their daughter, asking Erskine to call at his chambers to "arrange amicably for all concerned," and "address me here privately" with "P.S, 2nd March, 1894—since writing the above-named letter to you something has come to light, which would easily dispel the whole affair if acted on rightly—G. A. P.")—early in the year I received a letter from Seagrove and Wood, which I answered—my son towards the end of December went to Australia.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not receive the letter No. 13 from my son—I am positive he did not receive it—I never heard from you from 11th or 13th December, until I heard from you through the police—I never saw you; all communication was by letter—I saw the letter from Dr. Jackson—I do not think I received a reply from you to say you would be at Salisbury—I have produced my son's last letter from you he handed it to me—he was at home at the time when I had a letter a few days afterwards from the solicitors—the postscript is dated later than the 10th I believe—I have had the letter in my possession since till now—I considered my son responsible simply in regard to the letters in your possession, which were his, not mine—my son came of age in December 1893—my son was sent down by Dr. Jackson in 1892 for immorality—I arranged to meet you in December 1892 at Templecombe, November is a mistake in the copying of the depositions—it was a Thursday, I think about December 13th—my son was at home when
this occurred with Miss Hansford—the child was born in September 1891—all I know about the girl being in a home was from a letter from Seagrove and Woods, and my short reply writing for further information, they sent no further reply—they mentioned they had seen Mr. Perkins (in letters of March 16th and 19th, 1894)—I made an appointment with you because I knew you had letters from my son, and I thought you would hand them over—Dr. Jackson had told me—the letters are in and speak for themselves—I think the girl will be twenty this month—my son did not tell me of his appointment of the December 14th with you; it is the invention of your brain—he could not possibly tell me, if any arrangement was made you could produce the letters—I think my son told me the girl had written him for money in the Vacation—Bridport is about seven miles from Baddiscombe—this visiting-card and these two letters are in my son's writing—the card says "Church," I know nothing of it, but seven miles is some distance for an appointment—the suggestion would be in the letter; it is some months since I have seen any of those letters—the fare from London to Charmouth is 22s. second-class, 44s. return—to the best of my knowledge there was no block in the main roads last November and December—Chard Junction is my station—you need not have come sixty-eight miles—I did not weigh my words; my son had no money of his own; he was entirely dependent on me—he did not come into a legacy at twenty-one—I gave letters to the police early in August, very likely on Tuesday, 6th—I think the detective said he had called at Mrs. Hansford's on his way to me—you had no right to demand £5 for expenses—I had your letter to my son from March 1894 till it was in the hands of the detective—when I sent money in 1891 I was not aware my son had been wronging the girl; I simply wrote her a kind letter sending £2 or £3—my son might have sent her money for funeral, confinement, and doctor's fees in 1892; he is a kind-hearted fellow—I do not know what he did in 1891, he could only send a small sum. I am not aware of his sending her money in March 1894—my son sailed for Australia on December 15th, 1894. I am not aware that he intended visiting Oxford, he could not without my knowledge—I have not received his letters, he always had his own—I know nothing of his visit to London in the spring of 1894—the detective told me he thought they had caught a man who had been preying on the public for some time and had found letters in his possession from me and they wished me to come forward—I did not want to expose my poor boy or I should have wanted to prosecute—he had not then been exposed in the way he is now—you are the cause of it originally—I do not wish to say a word against the girl, she is not on her trial—I sent you 10s. and wrote the letter of December 11th, 1894; and I could have met you on 12th or 13th if you had wished—the fare from Waterloo to Templecombe is 9s. 10d.—your letters were sufficient to tell me what you were without the detective—they are not straightforward: by demanding money, threatening with regard to the Vigilance Association, and things of that kind I could see it was a plan to get money—I am not aware of a young man being expelled from the Church through my son in 1894—I knew nothing about the Hansford affair till May 1892.
By the COURT. I have an impression but do not know what the
Sanctuary, Westminster, is—might I say the whole thing has been a great trouble to me, ruined my son's prospects, and my future too through this exposure.
KATE MATILDA HANSFORD . I formerly lived at Bridport, in Dorsetshire-in March 1894 I met the prisoner in Victoria Street, London—I had not seen him before, and knew nothing of him—he stopped me, and asked me where I was going—I said I was going home—he asked me where I lived—I said, "23, Great Peter Street"—he said, "I do not mean that home; I mean your own home"—I said, "My own home is 5, Milk Walk, Bridport"—he said, "You look as if you have had a child"—I asked him what it mattered to him—he said, "I am a private detective, of Scotland Yard"—I said, "Yes, I have had one"—he asked me who the father was"—I said, "Erskine Williams, of Exeter College, Oxford"—he asked if I had any letters—I said I had not got any, but mother had—he said he would send to mother a letter—I told him where she lived—he took out a pocket-book and wrote in it—he asked me Erskine Williams' address—he said, "Go to my place in a few days, and I will let you know if I have got a letter"—I told him where his father lived, and that he was a clergyman—he said, "Call at my place over Westminster Bridge"—he told me the address, but I have forgotten it—I called a few days afterwards—he said, "I have got the letters; I sent to Mr. Williams, and I expect £5; that will be £2 for you and £3 for me and the inspector at Scotland Yard "—I told him he had no business to do so after Mr. Williams had tree so kind to me—he said, "I expect £50 more before the week is out, and I will let you know"—a few days afterwards I saw the prisoner at 23, Great Peter Street—I went with him to some office at Charing Cross—there were some ladies there—the prisoner asked are if they could put me in a Home if my mother wished me to go—he said, "Which are you going to do, come to Scotland Yard or go to the Home?" and I was frightened and chose the Home that day—I stayed till the next day—Erskine Williams had nothing to do with my leaving the Home—I saw the prisoner a few days after I left the Home, as I was going over Westminster Bridge—he said, "Come for your clothes, I have got them," and I did not take any notice of him—I have never been to America.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I think you have seen me four times—the last time was going over Westminster Bridge—the first time was in Victoria Street—you were with me about half an hour—it was about 9.30—it was in March 1894—I could not read what you wrote in the pocket-book—the second time I saw you was when I went over Westminster Bridge to your place—I did not say there were four ladies at the Female Aid Society—the ladies were in the room when you mentioned Scotland Yard—I do not think they heard it—I had the child about three years ago—I cannot tell you the date—I shall be twenty to-morrow—this is the card Williams sent me at Bridport—I stopped with the lady who took me away—I do not know Mrs. Wright—Mrs. Little was my landlady—I have seen Williams in London—I do not know the date—I did not send my mother Williams' letter of February 1894, I have not seen it—I left my letters at home when I went for my summer holiday—I did not write to Oxford to ask Williams for money—I wrote to him not to come to see me—he did not send me money, he came to
London to give me some—it was not in response to my letter of February 1894—I went to the Female Aid Society, and they said they did not know anything about my clothes—I cannot recollect whether I left the Home by day or night—I came away in the day I think—then I went to 40, Great Peter Street—I knew my clothes were gone—a few days after I ran away from the Home I saw you—you told me you had my clothes—the Society did not give me clothes belonging to the Home—I do not know the matron's name—I have seen the lady that took me to the Home—I did not leave the Home in my nightdress—Botterell did not strike the lady with a belt, you struck him—I do not think I told Mother Williams was coming to see me on Saturday, 16th March—y mother told me nothing about writing to you—I got through the door and then through the window of the Home—I saw Williams in Great Smith Street—he came to give me money to keep me—he paid my confinement expenses at Bridport.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. She is twenty the 4th of this month—she was fifteen and six months old when she had the child—I sent you two letters in March, 1894, that I had from Williams and a whole card—Read: ["Your daughter Kate Matilda is in a bad way, has to solicit money on the streets to live, she is also pregnant"]—that is what was sent—I cannot write—I do not know who wrote, but the letter was answered-letters were sent by my instructions—I am not aware that my daughter gave me any letter written in February—I do not recollect receiving money from the Rev. Mr. Williams four years ago—I do not recollect about the letters, nor what the police said, nor when my daughter left her situation in Percy Street, Tottenham Court Road—I cannot tell why she left it—I know she came home, but I do not know what time—I do not know what letters I gave to Rev. Mr. Williams or the son in 1891, four I think—I do not think I have any now—I have not—I wanted you to send the two letters and curd back, because you promised—the police asked me for letters—I gave up two—I did not horde up letters—they were in my possession, and I never thought about them—I know nothing about my daughter's threats to go to Oxford to expose Williams nor what was going on in London while I was at Bridport—the detective said nothing about the offence I was coming to London about.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had two letters from Mrs. Hansford, and a card of which this is a part, in my possession—on April 7th, 1894, a message was brought to me, and I sent out the letters to you, and had your receipt for them on the letter written by you to me—I am not sure about the third letter—when you called you had a letter from Mr. Maddison, the Secretary of the Reform and Refuge Union—you were first sent to me with a letter from Mr. Maddison to state the facts of the case to me—I am Acting Solicitor for the Female Aid Society—you made statements to me on the 16th and 19th March—I had a letter from Mr. Maddison some time in March, enclosing one from Miss Darling, which states, "I regret to tell you that Kate Hansford made her escape," that it was through the water—closet window between one and 4.30 a.m., and that she was only partly dressed, as all her outer garments were locked up—the information I had was
from what you and Mr. Maddison told me, and from the letters—my evidence is from recollection of what occurred between March 16th till April 7th, 1894—I have not seen you since till I saw you at the Police-court—I simply acted on the instructions from the Secretary of the Female Aid Society, under whose care I understood the girl was—she was supposed to be pregnant—I understood from you that Erskine Williams was the father; that you first took the girl to 32, Charing Cross, and ultimately she was taken to the Home, I do not know by whom—you told me you had seen Mr. Williams, the father—you were dissatisfied with some course we had taken, and said if a certain course had been adopted "your costs and my expenses would have been paid"—both being minors the question of the validity of an agreement was mentioned, but whether that was the course you referred to I cannot say—girls sent to the Home are pregnant, or have had children—I believe the card was intact when I had it——this is only half of it—it says, "By the church—if I cannot come," then it is broken off—I do not remember what was on the card—"Bettiscombe" is familiar to me now you mention it, but I do not remember whether it was on the card.
Re-examined. I am clear the prisoner told me he had seen young Williams and the father—I think at the First Avenue or some hotel—he said the father had produced a thousand pounds in bank notes, and had offered them to him if he would get the girl safe out of the country—he said he had taken the case up at the particular request of Miss Tait, the daughter of the Archbishop of Canterbury—I understood from the prisoner the girl was pregnant.
By the Prisoner. We discussed the question of the validity of an agreement between minors, and whether it would stand with the consent of the parents—my answer to you at Bow Street was that, in cases like this, it was usual to get an agreement or a bastardy order.
By the COURT. We never had an office at the Sanctuary, Westminster.
THOMAS POTTS . I was formerly the manager of the Sir John Falstaff public-house, 29, Catherine Street, Strand—the landlord was Mr. Fennell—the prisoner came there about last October and said he knew Mr. Fennell in Liverpool-letters were addressed to the prisoner there—after he had been coming for his letters about a month he spoke to me about a young gentleman at Oxford—he read some letters from the young man to a girl, and said he had got himself into a pretty fine mess—he also showed me a letter from Exeter College, Oxford, I believe from the Rev. Dr. Jackson—he said he had to meet the Rev. Mr. Williams at Temple—combe, and he was going to try to get money from him to square the—matter up—I said I thought it was a dangerous business to be engaged in—I thought it amounted to trying to obtain money by menaces—he said he knew perfectly well what he was doing; he had been engaged in similar affairs in America—he showed me a post-office order for 10s.—I told him he must not have any letters of that sort addressed to this public-house.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said at Bow Street I did not read two letters shown to me—the letter of the 24th November is the letter I saw—I
saw you in October; you were going to Templecombe the next day—I am almost certain I saw the letter of 11th December—I could not be certain as to dates—no one else heard the letters read; we were by ourselves—the detective asked me if I had read the letters—I did not say, "I did not know I had read the letters till I was told"—I said "I could not say if anyone was present when I saw the letters; I do not think anyone heard you read any letters to me—the detective first told me that I had heard the letters read—I do not know how he found that out; he told me he knew you had read some letters to me;" but I corrected that by saying, "the detective asked me about the letters"—I did not stand by the door of the Court when you cross-examined the Rev. Mr. Williams—I said in cross-examination "The first time I saw you I may have handed you a letter, you had several letters addressed to my house—we have no letter rack, but theatrical persons sometimes send letters addressed to the house where they are known—I became manager on 11th July, 1894—I kept the letters on a desk in the office—you told me a lot of things I cannot remember—you said something about having business in Southampton and Paris—I did not see you every day—you said you were an American attorney and the agent of several American trading companies—you generally came alone—you did not talk much, only to poor old Audley, who knew an official in Liverpool—you may have left him a shilling or two—I have said you did write a letter in my house, I supplied you with paper—I think you gave Audley sixpence or a shilling towards his bed—you said he owed you money—he said he was waiting to get money from you—the letters were read in the daytime to me, in the billiard room, which was sub let—the detective asked me if I knew anyone named Perkins, I said yes; and if I had seen any letters that he had, and he showed me some letters and asked if I remembered what they were about—I told him as far as I can remember it was from a young fellow to a girl, saying how sorry he was to get her into trouble—I am out of employment—you never misconducted yourself in my house.
HENRY MOORE . I am a porter of Staple Inn—I know the prisoner—in 1893 I have seen the prisoner go to a room at No. G occupied by a Mr. Smith—letters came there in the name of Perkins—the paper Perkins used had a printed heading.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Smith had two rooms—something was said about the ground floor, but you never took possession—I spoke from memory at Bow Street—I saw you at Staple Inn in January—there was an arrangement about the furniture—it was not paid for—Smith remained from January, 1894, for about two months—some stationery was used with "Smith, Perkins and Co." on it—a brass plate was made, but never put up—Smith was an architect—I did not speak to you about Smith's bill for firing and cleaning the chambers before I came there—you sent for me on 14th January, and you were going to pay me, but we had some rather severe words about it—Smith was not there—I never was paid—rent was paid in January for the back-quarter—Smith was there when you left.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It might have been a month afterwards when I saw you—I believe in July—I asked your name—you said Perkins—I remember your being away about Christmas time—you returned and paid the rent—Mrs. Cooper was away before February—you called with an American gentleman, Colonel Roberts, who had a conversation with me and paid the rent—he said he had known you all his life—the detective did not try to prejudice me against you—he did not say you were a bad lot—I told him Mrs. Cooper took the rooms, and her husband afterwards—then that your name was Perkins—I never saw you misbehave yourself—Mrs. Cooper's sister came to live there—you visited before her child died in April 1895—Mrs. Cooper and her sister behaved very quietly.
ARTHUR HAILSTONK (re-called). I took the prisoner into custody on July 18th on another charge—he gave me the address, 30, Catherine Street, Buckingham Gate—I went and searched there—I found this pocket-book, which contained a number of letters, this envelope with writing, and a piece of a card—I searched for the other piece after the prisoner applied for it, but I could not find it—the documents in the pocket-book were subsequently marked 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 13, 16, 18, 18a, and 18b; the half card 18c, 19, 20, and 21—they were submitted to the Treasury solicitor—on the direction of the Public Prosecutor on August 10th I said to the prisoner, "You are going to be charged now with feloniously sending on November 29th, knowing the contents thereof, a certain letter demanding of one Frederick Williams with menace and without reasonable cause the sum of £5"—he replied, "Have you got the documents in this case from America? There is heaps of correspondence at my solicitors at King Street, Cheapside. I am glad this it going to be thrashed out"—on the charge being read over to him he said, "Where is Catherine Street?"—waiting to go into the Police-court he asked me if I had found a long letter addressed to the Rev. Mr. Williams, and marked "copy"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "This was written at Oxford in the presence of Dr. Jackson and posted to the Rev. Mr. Williams by him"—he was brought before the Magistrate, the matter was gone into, and he wrote me this letter from the prison on August 7th—the other letters are the same writing. (The prisoner requested his letter from H. M. Prison Holloway, dated August 6th, 1895, to Sergeant Hailstone, to be read, in which he repeated in detail many of his statements, and stated that he could prove a "legal retainer")
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had another letter from you from the prison before that (produced)—you did not offer to give me all the necessary information and assist in these inquiries—you say, "Come and see me"—I did not notice this, "I should take it as a favour if I can see you," and, "Anything I can say in the investigation re myself I will"—I read that letter before I went into the country—it is dated July 23rd, 1895—I believe I went to Dorset on the 5th and 6th.
Re-examined. Mrs. Hansford gave me two letters in the same writing dated 6th and 9th, then I saw the Rev. F. Williams and got his letters.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate "Your worship, I beg to draw your attention to the fact that on my second remand I was distinctly told by the Court that on my next appearance the charge
on the warrant should be completed. On my next appearance I was prepared with a complete answer to such charge, and also with a letter in the prosecutor's own handwriting, clearly removing all idea as to my ever having received any money or moneys from him, and also setting forth his motive and spite for obtaining such warrant. This, coupled with his most awful conflicting and false evidence, clearly entitles me to my discharge on the one. Secondly, I beg to draw the attention of the Court to the most unfair, unjust, and irregular manner in which this second charge has been brought, and I may here state, without any reasonable cause, under cover of this said warrant, issued to one named Windom. They, the prosecution, have even irregularly and purposely misplaced the letters already in Court, so as to mislead the Court as to the issue of the charge. The letters should be in proper rotation as to the dates thereof, and also in regular form. Then I most emphatically deny ever telling the detective-sergeant that Dr. Jackson ever posted a letter, or any letter that I had written, and I say right here that I told the detective-sergeant that the letter of the 29th November was simply one in response to a letter I received on that day from the Rev. Williams making an appointment, and I desired my expenses. I desire the inspector who took the charge called, and he can then explain what took place in his presence. Then, again, I beg to draw the attention of the Court to the unfair, irregular manner in which they, the prosecution, objected to any cross-examination of Mrs. Hansford when she was at the time present in the Court, because they, the prosecution, knew that her evidence would reveal Kate M., her daughter, as a wilful and corrupt perjurer, as is now already done by the solicitor, Mr. Wood's evidence, and also by the letters lying now before the Court. Then I again beg to draw the attention of the Court to the concocted evidence of one Thomas Potts, who was present in Court, and heard the cross-examination of Rev. F. Williams—on a former occasion I saw him standing at the door. The said witness deliberately goes into the witness—box and swears that he did not know that he had read the letters until he was told. When I asked who told him, he replies the detective. Is this not manufactured evidence? And I may say the same as the evidence of the girl in reference to private detective, Scotland Yard. There were four ladies present with her at the Female Aid Society, and she was perfectly willing to go to the Home if her rent was paid. No threat or illegal means were used on my part or anyone else. Call the witnesses who were present. I merely want fairness in this matter. The detective has purposely withheld half the card, I desire each charge cleared up separately, as allowed by law and criminal procedure."
The Prisoner, in a long written statement, interspersed with observations, repeated his defence alleging that the witnesses were perjured, that he ought not be convicted in the absence of the son, that he had been prevented by being incarcerated bringing forward sufficient proof of his innocence and that what he had asked for was for his expenses in carrying out his retainer, that his letters contained no threat, and he was merely determined to bring the case to a conclusion, and explain the whole matter, and to do justice to all, and that he had been advised that with the knowledge the letters contained he would have been criminally liable if he had not acted as he did.
GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, September 13th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
He received a good character. Judgment respited.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. DOOD Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— One Month's Hard Labour.
WILLIAM CUSACK . I am a mason's labourer of Lordship Road, Stoke Newington—on July 13th about 5.30 I was near Highbury New Park with the prisoners, drinking together at public-houses—I tried to leave them to go home, but they asked me to come up the road and hare a drink—after we left the public-house one of them, I do not know which, threw me down—I had had fourglasses of bitter ale, and was the worse for drink—I had a half-sovereign in one pocket and this tie clip—(produced)—I identify it by the stone dust which I put in it—I missed them and got up and followed the prisoners and one of them struck me on my mouth—when I left the house I put my hand in my pocket and missed the half-sovereign and clip—I did not see them take them—one of my teeth was knocked out.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. This was in a private road—I had left work at one o'clock, and received about 25s. for ray wages—I had spent it all but the 10s.; I had 3s. or 4s. in the other pocket—I spent some of it in drink—I only had three glasses of beer with them, but I had had some before, I do not know how much—I had nothing stronger than beer—I felt somewhat stupid when I met them—I was about five minutes' walk from the public-house when I missed the half-sovereign—my trousers pocket was all right, but when I got to the station it was turned inside out and torn at the side—I was able to walk steadily—this is my the clip—I identified this (another) at the Police-court, but I did not have it in my hand—no violence was used till I accused them of taking my half-sovereign; no blow was struck, but I was thrown—I was not so drunk that I fell down.
ABTHUR CANNON . I am nearly thirteen years old, and live at 68, Brile Street, Islington—on Saturday, July 13th, I was at Highbury New Park, and saw Cusack; Bartlett struck him on his mouth and knocked him down into the road—I saw his mouth bleeding—Jessop was there, but I did not see him do anything—Bartlett put his right hand into the font of Cusack's jacket pocket, but not into any other pocket—I did not
see them quarrel so as to give Bartlett cause to give him a blow—they went up Gravel Lane to Grosvenor Road, and I followed—a policeman brought them back, and I followed to the station.
Cross-examined. After he was knocked down he got up and walked between the prisoners, each taking his arm.
Re-examined. He was tipsy—the three were walking together when the policeman came up.
WALTER TAYLOR (233 N). On 13th July I was near Highbury New Park, and the prisoners passed me walking fast—a gentleman on a bicycle told me something, and I went after them to Grosvenor Road—Cusack was not with them—I told them they would have to come back to Highbury New Park, and we saw Cusack with his mouth cut and smothered with blood—he was the worse for drink—he said, "Give me my half-sovereign, and I will say no more about it," Bartlett said, "I do not know what you mean"—Cusack's left pocket was hanging out, and torn right through the side and across.
Cross-examined. They went back willingly, but I held each by the arm—they walked back with me forty or fifty yards—they had got forty yards beyond me—I lost sight of them while they turned a corner—Cusack did not mention the tie-clip—I found sixpence and a few half-pence on him—there was no indication of the prisoners being the worse for liquor.
THOMAS CAGE (203 N). I saw the constable with the two prisoners but thirty yards from where they were arrested—I found this the—clip on Bartlett, which Cusack identified—he was very drunk, but he appeared dazed by the blow—he was bleeding from his mouth—I did not find any half-sovereign.
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN ELIAS NOLAN . I am a tobacconist of 503, Cambridge Road—on the evening of August 21st the prisoner came in for a packet of cigarettes and laid this gilded sixpence on the counter, I examined it and said, "Halloa, this is a wrong one." He said, "Oh, is it, I got it in a shop in the Broadway"—I weighed it, and showed him the lightness of it, and during that time I sent for a constable, who offered to search bun, but he produced an ungilt Jubilee sixpence—I gave him in custody.
Crete-examined by the Prisoner. You said that you got it in change, but afterwards you said from a friend—you said that you did not want to part with the ungilt sixpence.
JAMES SIMMONDS (555 J). I was called to the prosecutor's shop and saw the prisoner there—Nolan told me the charge, and when I was going to search the prisoner he produced a second sixpence which has been gilt, but the gilding is very much worn off—I found this empty purse on him, but no more money—going to the station he said that he was hard up and met a friend who gave him the coin he tried to pass, and that he not tender it as a half sovereign—at the lodging where he lived
they said that he is very respectable—he had some cigarettes in his possession and a discharge from the Army—he was invalided out.
The Prisoner produced a written defence—stating that he met a friend named George Wood and told him he toot in need of money to get a bed, who replied "Here, my chum, here's a half-sovereign for you," and that he tried to change it at the prosecutor's shop but did not say that it was a half-sovereign or anything else, and that he had had the second since October last, when it was given him by an old comrade as a keepsake—he gave the names and addresses of six persons willing to testify to his good character.
GUILTY .—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Judgment respited.
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, September 13th, 1895.
MR. SOPER Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
ARTHUR MAYO . I live at 30, Wenlock Street, New North Road, and am a law stationer—on 27th July, between 3 and 3.30, I saw the prisoner in the Apple Tree and Mitre in Cursitor Street, sitting at a table with his head down as if asleep—I stood there about a minute, when he made some remark about b—law writers, and he got up and went to the partition to get a light—I was standing with my arm on the bar; when he got in front of me he gave me a violent blow between the eyes, and followed it with one on my mouth; it knocked me out of the bar into the street—as I went out I felt a blow in the ear from another man—I became unconscious—I next remember being picked up by my hips by the other man who said to the prisoner, "If he does not get up kick him"—I felt a violent kick on the hand—then the prisoner and the other man went away—some of my fellow-workmen came up and spoke to me, and I found the whole of my money, 9s. 2d., was gone—a constable came up, I described the prisoner to him, and he went to a lodging-house—after from five to ten minutes I saw the policeman and the prisoner on the ground struggling—I went up and said, "He is one of the men—I went to the station and charged him, and from there I went to King's College Hospital, where they found that my left hand was broken and permanently injured; I have lost the use of the knuckle-joint—my nose was cut, and my eyes were black for ten days, and my mouth was hurt, I could not eat properly.
Cross-examined. I should say I had been to four public-houses that afternoon—I did not step back and sit on the prisoner's glass—I remember everything that took place—no doubt I tried to defend myself, and hit out at the prisoner—the last time I saw my money was when I was in Cursitor Street, outside Chifferiel's, which is next door to the Apple Tree, about two minutes before I went in, or as I was going in—I felt it in my pocket—I did not look about for it in the street afterwards—I have not found it.
about 5.30—I saw the prisoner rush at Mayo and strike him without any provocation—the prisoner and his friend were dancing round Mayo—I did not like the look of them, so I went to fetch a policeman.
Cross-examined. The first thing I saw was the prisoner striking the prosecutor—the prosecutor was standing up outside defending himself; they were exchanging blows, but the prisoner struck the prosecutor first—the prisoner was not knocked down while I was there.
Re-examined. I am positive the prisoner struck the first blow; I did not see the prosecutor give him any provocation.
FRANK DREW . I live at 87, Victoria Dwellings, Farringdon Road—I am a lithographer—on July 27th, about five p.m., I was in Cursitor Street—my attention was called to the prosecutor lying in the roadway, and I ran to his assistance, and on my way I saw the prisoner and another man standing over him—the other man lifted up the prosecutor by the middle of his body and dropped him down—I spoke to the prosecutor, who was dazed; he stood up; he was bleeding.
WILLIAM AVIS (34 E. R.) On Saturday, July 27th, I was on duty in, Chancery Lane, and from information received I went to Cursitor Street, where I saw the prosecutor being supported by two men, bleeding from the nose; his eyes appeared to have been knocked about—from what he told me I went to the National Chambers, Took's Court, Cursitor Street—I met the prisoner coming downstairs—I told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with another man in a robbery with violence—he replied, "You cannot f—well take me," and put himself in a fighting attitude—I dragged him as far as the door, when he became so violent that I had to throw him on his back in the road and keep him there till a private person came to my assistance—I took him towards the station—in Cursitor Street I met Drew and the prosecutor—Drew said, "That is one of them"—the prosecutor said, "That is the one that cut my nose, at any rate"—in reply to the charge at the station the prisoner said, "It is false; I never took his money or anyone else's"—the prosecutor's nose was bleeding, and his eyes were very much swollen and his head was injured—he was quite sober.
The Prisonery in his statement before the Magistrate, said that the Prosecutor, stepping back, was about to sit on his glass when the Prisoner put out his hand to prevent him; that the Prosecutor asked what he was doing, and kept on aggravating the Prisoner till the prisoner struck him; that the Prosecutor struck him back, and that he went to wash the blood from a cut on hit nose.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SOPER Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
MR. SOPER Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CUNDY Prosecuted, and MR. OVEREND Defended.
JOSEPH HEDGES . I am a greengrocer, of 83, St. James Road, Holloway—about nine p.m. on 16th July I went to 22, Chalfont Road for my rent—a lady opened the door, and I asked for Mr. Rattenbury, and the prisoner answered from upstairs, "What do you want?"—I said, "I am come for my rent"—he said, "I will give you rent, you b—, if I come downstairs"—he came downstairs, and slipped into me, and knocked me about; I was obliged to retaliate—we began fighting, and had eight or nine rounds, and then I found myself bleeding from the jaw—I became unconscious, and found myself in the Great Northern Hospital—I was there about eight days—I saw no weapon in the prisoner's hand.
Cross-examined. I had been acquainted with the prisoner for five years—he owed me 22s. for arrears of rent, and found it desirable to remove—he employed me to remove his furniture to Chalfont Road—I met him on 10th July; I did not tell him I was going to take the rent out of him—on the 15th July I went to Chalfont Road, but the prisoner was not in—I was not drunk—the prisoner's wife answered the door—she did not send for a policeman; he did not remove me for my violent conduct—I was quite sober when I called at eight o'clock on 15th—I said nothing about killing the prisoner or his wife, or giving them a thrashing—I went away of my own accord—I did not see Mrs. Rose, his present landlady, that evening—I did not call between six and seven on the Tuesday night—I did not use threats towards the prisoner; I did not say I would put three inches of cold steel into him—I did not go at nine o'clock to provoke him to a fight, but for my rent—I was not told he was in bed—I did not go into the middle of the street and shout for him to come down to me, or say I would pay him out for the rent if only he would come down—I was not excited; I merely asked for my rent at the door—I did not put myself in a sparring attitude till he came at me—he struck the first blow; he hit me in the chest with his closed hand, and I put my hands up—I felt no stab during the eight or nine rounds—he must have struck me on the left cheek, because no one else was near me—I had had a glass of ale before nine o'clock, but I was not drunk—after I was struck on the jaw I made no complaint of being stabbed; I was unconscious—I was unconscious when the policeman took me to a surgeon's, and while he dressed my face—I don't know where Dr. Wight lives; I never spoke to him—I did not tell Dr. Wight that I had been stabbed by a woman—when I left the hospital I went to the Enfield Arms, George Road, Holloway, to have a glass of ale—I saw Mr. Dillon, the landlord—I did not tell him there was nothing the matter with me, or that I only wanted to get out of the hospital to have a drink—I did not tell him there was nothing more than a mere fight between me and the prisoner—I told him I felt the effects—I showed no one my clothing to show where I had been stabbed; I believe my waistcoat was open—there was only one cut through my clothes, and that was through the sleeve of my waistcoat; I felt that blow, it was more like a sting than a cut—the material was not very thick—it was not a very new waistcoat—the prisoner is a blacksmith, and a pretty strong man—I am not very weak.
9.30 p.m. on July 16th I was smoking outside my house, and I saw the prisoner and prosecutor fighting—they had several rounds, and I saved the prosecutor from falling down; he fell into my arms and became unconscious, and I pulled him on to the coping of the railings—I saw the prisoner hit him three or four times; the blow which made him fall was on the left cheek—he bled from the wound—a constable came up and I assisted in taking him to Dr. Wight's surgery, where the wound was dressed and he was ordered to go to the Great Northern Hospital—he could not speak at Dr. Wight's, nor at the hospital—he was detained there—I saw no knife—I heard Hedges ask the prisoner for the rent—I heard no answer; then the prisoner came out in the road and they put up their hands to fight—the prisoner began the fight, he struck Hedges first.
Cross-examined. Hedges stood in the middle of the street and shouted out at the prisoner's window; he did not give me the impression of being calm—he invited the prisoner to come downstairs to fight, and the invitation was accepted, and I saw the fight—Hedges said nothing about being stabbed when I assisted him; he could not speak—he had been drinking—when he was struck on the cheek he was dazed with drink and the force of the blow—the constable came up—I was present in Dr. Wight's surgery—the doctor asked him questions, and he tried to speak and could not; his mouth was filled with blood and he only made a rumbling noise in his throat—I don't think it was possible for him to make the doctor understand anything—I did not hear him tell the doctor that his wounds had been caused by a woman.
SAMUEL JORDAN (662 Y). At 9.45 on July 16th I was called to Chalfont Road, Islington—I found the prosecutor being held up by two men; he was bleeding from the left cheek—I sent him by another constable to Dr. Wight—I saw the prisoner and told him the charge—he said that he had not stabbed anyone, that he went down and had a fight with Hedges—I took him to the station—no weapon was found.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was wiping his face when I took him—I saw no blood on his face—when charged he said, "I did not stab anyone; Hedges came to my house and annoyed me. I was in bed. I got up and went down, and we had a fight."
ERNEST BRIDGES . I am House-Surgeon at the Great Northern Hospital—on the evening of July 16th the prosecutor was admitted—he was collapsed—he had two small superficial wounds on the left side of the lower jaw, an incised wound on the neck, and an incised wound on the right shoulder, one behind the left shoulder, three incised wounds on the lower part of the left side of the chest, and two below the lower border of the left shoulder-blade—one wound penetrated the lung—they were clean-cut wounds, and most probably caused by some sharp instrument—he was discharged from the hospital on the 25th, I think—he was in danger for some time—I thought when he came in that he had been drinking, but I cannot say for certain, because the condition of a collapsed patient is rather altered.
Cross-examined. He made some incoherent remarks; most probably the incoherency was caused by drink in my opinion—I think he was completely dressed—I did not examine his clothing for cuts—I was not aware that his injuries had been attended to by another surgeon—the
knuckles of a blacksmith could not have caused the wounds on the trunk; they must have been inflicted by a knife or some sharp instrument.
Witness for the Defence.
GEORGE WIGHT . I am a Divisional Surgeon of Police at 428, Liverpool Road—on July 16th Hedges was brought to my surgery, and I dressed his wounds—he wanted to go home, but I said the wound was so serious that I should recommend him to the hospital—he spoke to me—he was drunk—he said in his rambling something about a woman having caused the wound—I only saw the wound on the cheek; I stopped the bleeding from that and bandaged up his head; he made no complaint about any other injury.
Cross-examined. He was not collapsed; he was suffering from the effects of drink when I saw him, that was before Mr. bridges saw him.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MAY Prosecuted, and Mr. BURNIE Defended.
FRANCES WILCOX . I am the wife of Lester Wilcox, and live at 106, Paradise Street, Walworth—on July 19th about 7.15 p.m. I was getting into an omnibus at the Bank when I felt a hand in my pocket—I found my purse gone—I turned round and accused the prisoner of it—he said I had made a mistake—I shook him by the right shoulder and I saw him drop my purse from his left hand—inside the purse were 11s. 83/4d., a brooch, and watch-key—this is the purse.
Cross-examined. There was a crowd there—people were round me beside the prisoner—he was behind me—the crowd was not pressing—I saw the purse drop from his left hand—the crowd dispersed, some got on the 'bus, and two or three waited.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I plead guilty."
MR. A. B. SMITH Prosecuted.
EDWARD HARRAWAV DUBERY . I am a lamplighter, of 4, Bayer Road, Willesden—at 8.35 a.m. on Bank Holiday, 5th August, I left my house to go to Southend—the doors were all fastened, but a window behind a creeper near the area steps was left slightly open, so that my two cats
might get in and out—no one could get in without opening the window wider—I came back at eleven p.m.—I found the creeper all pulled down on the front window, and the bottom of window thrown up level with the top—I missed three cages, four canaries, and concertina.
ALFRED MARTIN . I am ten years old—I live at 6, Bayer Road, two doors from Mr. Dubery—I had seen the prisoner before Bank Holiday—that day I saw him at the corner of our street about 10, and about 10.30 I saw him get through Mr. Dubery's window; the window was open a little bit, and he opened it further and got through—another boy was with him—when they came out they had the birds in their hands, and they put them in their pockets, and I heard them squeak.
ETHEL FENTON . I am ten years old—I live at 6, Bayer Road, Kilburn, in the same house as Martin—I have known the prisoner a long time—on Bank Holiday night I saw the prisoner go down into Mr. Dubery's area with a light—I gave information to the police.
WILLIAM MCARTHUR (Sergeant X). I received information of this burglary, and went to 156, Cambridge Road, and in the back-room of the basement I found the prisoner in bed with his brother—I said, "Is your name Shackell?"—they said, "Yes"—I said, "I want one of you for breaking into No. 4, Bayer Road, and stealing some cages and birds, but I don't know which it is"—the prisoner said to his brother, giving him a good nudge, "Don't say anything"—I said, "I must take you both"—I took them to the Police-station—the prisoner was identified by Martin and Fenton without hesitation from about ten other boys—I told him he would be charged with burglariously breaking and entering and stealing cages, birds and concertina—he said, "You can do your best, I am not going to split."
The Prisoner in his defence asserted his innocence.
GUILTY .—He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of Felony in January 1895.— Discharged on Recognisances.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
WILLIAM GILLARD . I am manager at the Tavistock Hotel, kept by Mr. Russell—at one a.m. on 4th August I closed the premises securely and went to bed—the fanlight was secure—in the bar-parlour was a safe containing silver and copper, a cash-box, books and memoranda—in the bar were bottles of spirits and bottles of raspberry and clove—about eight next morning when I came down I found the bar-parlour door broken open, and the safe and its contents, a bottle of brandy, a bottle of whisky, a bottle of raspberry, and eight pounds of tobacco gone—I have since identified these articles produced: they were safe in the premises on that night—I found the cord of the fanlight had been cut; that would open the fanlight, which would be sufficient to admit any person into the house, and a door was left unbolted—the cord which was cut could be reached from the outside—I informed the police—I had seen the prisoner using my house on several occasions before—I knew he lived opposite I had seen him looking out of the window.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I estimated the weight of the safe at between 3 and 4 cwt., but perhaps it is nearer three—it was about 2 ft. 6 in. square—I helped to move it from one side the bar-parlour to the other; it was very heavy.
Re-examined. When I came down in the morning the bar door was open to the street.
WILLIAM STOWE . I live at 41, Tavistock Crescent, opposite this hotel—I never saw the prisoner before I saw him at the Police-court—I knew some persons lived on the first floor of No. 41, but I did not know who they were.
Cross-examined. The front door was always in a dilapidated state—anybody might have come in and out at night.
FREDERICK TURNER (Detective-sergeant X).—I went with other officers to 41, Tavistock Crescent, where the prisoner lives—I found the prosecutor's safe in the basement—in the kitchen in the basement I found 8 lbs. of tobacco—in the front shop, which is not used, I found four books and a cash-box—on the first-floor landing outside the door of the prisoner's rooms I found these two memoranda, which the prosecutor identifies as taken from the safe—in the prisoner's room close by his bed I found this bottle, which the prosecutor has identified—in an ante-room on the same floor I found this bottle, which has contained raspberry—I cannot say if the prisoner occupies that room—I also found several skeleton keys in the prisoner's room—this chisel was found in the prisoner's room, and this mallet by the side of the safe.
Cross-examined. Two of the keys are skeleton—the mallet has been identified as the landlord's property—the tobacco was on the kitchen dresser—there were plenty of places in which it could have been hidden.
Re-examined. I went under an order of the Home Secretary to visit the prisoner, who wanted to see me—he made this statement to me: "Arthur Allen, late of 41, Amberley Road, came to me some time prior to the 4th inst., and asked me if I was willing to go with him and assist to break into the Tavistock Hotel. I did not give him an answer. Allen subsequently sent James Mace, late of 63, Cirencester Street, to me. Mace told me that Allen was standing across the road (that was on Thursday previous to the 4th inst.), and said that Allen had spoken to him about the Tavistock. I afterwards went across the road and spoke to both of them. I knew what they wanted. I said I would go and look round the corner. I did, and saw a policeman standing opposite. They both then went away. I saw them again on the following Saturday night at my lodgings against the front door. They asked me again if I was going to assist them to break into the Tavistock, as they intended to break in that night. Allen had a steel chisel in his possession. I said, 'You had better wait a little longer.' They left me at 12.10 on the 4th, and I heard a noise at 4 o'clock the same morning. I could not tell where it came from. I thought no more about it. About 6 o'clock the same morning they both came to my room door. I said, 'What is the matter?' They said they wanted to come in, but I would not let them Mace said, "Don't be a fool; let us come in'; and they meant to clean up. They were both smothered in white; I thought it looked like whitening. I would not let them in. Mace went downstairs to fetch his hat. I went down into the basement of my house and saw the safe
broken open. They then left the house. Allen before going asked me to take the chisel while they went to get some tea. I took it, and then accompanied both of them as far as Bayswater, where I left them. I had none of the money." He signed that statement after I had taken it down.
ALFRED MUGGRIDGE (Detective X). t was with the last witness when we searched 41, Tavistock Crescent—about 1.30 that day I saw the prisoner standing with other men in the Harrow Road, and I crossed over and told him he answered the description of a man who was suspected of burglary at the Tavistock Hotel, and that I should arrest him for that offence—he said, "All right, governor, I must put up with it. It is rather rough; I did not b—well take the safe myself; why don't you take the others?"—he spoke about the safe first—he was taken to the station and charged—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. Two men with you were arrested by other officers, but they were discharged—I was present when you were searched—you mentioned no names.
WILLIAM MCARTHUR (Sergeant X). I searched the first-floor room at 41, Tavistock Crescent—I found this chisel lying on the sideboard under a piece of paper—it corresponds with marks on the safe, and with marks on the parlour door.
Cross-examined. This wooden crusher belongs to me—the bakehouse is the proper place for it—you came to me with a thoroughly good reference as having been the caretaker of a large house, or I should not have taken you in.
GUILTY†of Receiving— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. FARRANT Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
THOMAS ROBINSON . I am a kitchen-boy employed by Mr. Berry at his coffee-shop, 3, New Turnstile—on August 27th I just finished cleaning the knives, and Mr. Berry said, "You get on with the marrows; you can do them much quicker than the other Tom"—I asked the prisoner for the knife, and he bit me across the arm with it—I was sent to the hospital—the doctor attended to it for two weeks; it is not healed yet—I did not say anything else to the prisoner—he hit me first with his hand, and then with the knife which was in his other hand.
Cross-examined. He was peeling the marrows with the knife—he is rather weak in his mind—he is employed as a boy like myself—he is a good deal worried by the boys, because he is of weak intellect—I don't think he knew what he was doing at the time; he might have forgotten he had the knife in his hand.
JAMES ISAAC BERRY . I employ the prisoner and Robinson—the prisoner was peeling marrows in the kitchen, and was not doing it fast enough, and I said to Robinson, "Take the knife and peel the marrows"—the prisoner then sprang at him with the knife, and I parted them and put the prisoner downstairs—he has a very weak intellect—Robinson did nothing to provoke him—I charged the prisoner in the afternoon, after seeing his father—I employed him out of charity, because he was on the street—I gave him board and lodging, and 2s. 6d. a week, and he made another 2s. 6d. a week out of the bone and fat money—he gave all his money to the Salvation Army.
THOMAS EDMUND RICE . I am House-Burgeon at King's College Hospital—on 27th August Robinson was brought in between nine and ten a.m., suffering from a wound on the outer side of the upper arm about 1 1/2 inches long and inch deep; it had gone through the superficial tissue and partly through one of the muscles—it was not a serious wound; there were no large vessels where it went—the boy is almost well now, there is no permanent damage; I saw him yesterday.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate; "It was a mistake. I am sorry I done it; he aggravated me."
GUILTY.— Strongly recommended to mercy on account of his weak intellect, and of having been exasperated. Dr. Walker stated that the prisoner was of weak intellect, but not insane, and so far responsible for his actions as a man of weak intellect could be.—Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, September 14th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
ELIZABETH ANNISON . I live at 65, Ohlsen Road—on 2nd August I was living at 204, Fairbridge Road, Upper Holloway—I have known Trew about four years—he has been away from the country in the Royal Artillery—he returned about the middle of July this year—I saw him the day he came home—on Friday, 2nd August, he came into the front kitchen a little after one o'clock—he asked me what I intended doing, whether I intended going out with him—I said, "No, I do not want you"—he asked me again what I intended doing—I said, "I was going to have my dinner"—he said I was not going to have any dinner that day—I said, "Well, what am I going to do then?"—he said, I was going to die, something like that—he pulled something out of his pocket—I was standing in the middle of the room, close by his side—I told him not to be so silly—he fired at me—I heard a loud report like a gun going off—I caught hold of his arm that he held the thing in—I called to my sister-in-law, Lottie; she was in the back kitchen—she opened the door—I ran down
the passage into the garden; he followed—I heard one or two loud reports as I run down the passage—I jumped over the wall—I think he fired again as I was going out of the back door—I went into 206, the next door, Mrs. Newton's—I went with her to the hospital—when I got into the next house my left shoulder smarted a little—Dr. Roberts examined me at the hospital—I had seen the prisoner the previous Wednesday; he asked me to go out for a walk—I would not go—I annoyed him a lot, and then he said he would kill me—I had seen him on the previous Saturday at 204 in the kitchen—he went to the dresser, and picked up a knife—I laughed at him and told him to put it down again, and he did so—on 2nd August, at night, I found this bullet in my bodice—I kept it till Saturday morning, and gave it to the officer—there is a mark in the bodice—I was wearing that bodice—it was torn; the sleeve was pinned up, and it was partly torn by the tiring—I do not wish to prosecute; it was all my fault; it was through me he did it—I think he has suffered enough, if you will deal leniently with him.
CHARLOTTE ANNISON. I am the wife of Frederick Annison, of 204, Fairbridge Road—the last witness is my sister-in-law—I was in the back kitchen getting dinner on August 2nd—a minute or two after she went into the front kitchen I heard her scream and holloa out "Lottie"—I heard a bang first—I opened the kitchen door and she ran out—I saw my brother, the prisoner, with something in his hand—I clasped hold of him and said, "Oh, Charlie, what are you doing of? '—he was standing against the door—he left the house by the front area—she ran into the yard and jumped over the wall—I heard a second bang in the passage.
CHARLOTTE POWELL . I am the wife of John Powell, of 204, Fairbridge Road—the house is let out in apartments—we have a landlady—on Friday, August 2nd, I was in my washhouse in the middle of the day—I heard a scream and a shot—I went towards the passage—I saw Trew come out of the front room and stand in the passage—I took hold of him—he fired over my left shoulder—towards the kitchen door—Lizzie opened the front room door and let Trew out—she ran past behind me—then he fired again towards the wash-house, over my shoulder—Charlotte was then pushing Lizzie out at the back door—the back and wash-house doors join—I heard four shots—I only saw something bright in Trew's hand—the wash-house opens to the left out of the passage—the back door is on the left, close to where I was originally—the passage leads to the area in front—it is only a few feet.
LLEWELLYN WILLIAM ROBERTS , M.D. I practise at Godalming—I was Surgeon at the Great Northern Hospital—on 2nd August, about 2 p.m., I examined the prosecutrix—on her left shoulder, at the back, she had a small superficial abrasion with an area of black surrounding it—a powder mark—there was no dividing of the skin—it was about a quarter to half inch—the appearances were consistent with a shot from a pistol—there was a hole in her dress corresponding with the abrasion—this is the dress, and this is the hole made.
GEORGE PAYNE . I live at 7, Doynton Street, about five minutes' walk from Fairbridge Road—about 2 p.m. on 2nd August the prisoner came into our kitchen and asked mother if he could lie down—she said he might, and shifted the baby into the kitchen, and he went into the next room and laid down—when I was in the kitchen he called me twice—when I
went in he showed me a fire-arm like this (produced)—he asked me what he could do with it; he said he did not want to carry it about with him—I told him he could put it in my box, and I opened the box and he put it in—he had a small box like this which he placed with the revolver—I locked my box—I gave the key to the officer when he came.
THOMAS GALE (Sergeant 70 Y). On Friday, August 2nd, I went to 7, Doynton Street, about 2.40 p.m.—I told Trew I should arrest him for attempting to murder Lizzie Annison—he said, "See, see, this is the letters she has sent me" (producing a bundle of twenty-two from his pocket) "while I have been hundreds of miles away; on Monday last I pawned my watch and took her to the Oxford; on Tuesday I took her for a walk, and left her early in the evening; I returned about twelve at night, after visiting my brother-in-law, and saw her standing against the wall cuddling her cousin; I went toward them, when he threatened to play all b—with me"—I searched his uniform, which was hanging on the back of the bed, and not finding the revolver, the prisoner said, "It is in that box," pointing to a tin clothes box, "I gave it to George at dinner-time and asked him to keep it for me"—the key was brought, and on opening the box I found the revolver and this tin box containing cartridges—I counted forty-six—the prisoner said "I fired two, I cannot say what has become of the others"—the box containing about fifty, "I bought it this morning near London Bridge, I gave 5s. 3d. for it, the lot cost 6s. 2d.; I am gains to India; I brought it to take with me, I have frequently a lot of stuff about me"—I took him to the station—he was charged—he made no reply—I examined the revolver—it had been used—it was stained with smoke in the four chambers—no cartridges were in it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said nothing about having tea and going out again.
GEORGE GODLEY (Sergeant Y). On Friday, August 2nd, I went to 204, Fairbridge Road about 3.45 p.m.—I examined the passage—I found marks of bullets on the left wall about three feet from the floor, one was about two yards from the front room, twelve feet from the back door, and the other about four feet from the front, and about six to eight feet from the back door—the passage is about twelve feet from the front door to the yard door, a continuous straight passage—I found this bullet in the passage on the floor in the same condition it is in, partly flat—the prosecutrix gave me this bullet at the Police-court next morning—they are similar to those in the box—I also examined the back yard, and about four feet from the ground on the left I found a piece of brick freshly knocked off.
CORNELIUS MOUNTFIELD (Inspector Y). I examined the passage of 204, Fairbridge Road, with Godley shortly before four on 2nd August—I found two marks on the left wall, and this bullet underneath—it corresponds with the cartridges in the box.
The Prisoner, in defence, read a written statement, repeating in substance what he said to the police.
GUILTY on the Second Count.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Two Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PURCELL, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, September 14th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
698. JOHN MORAN (32) , Unlawfully obtaining £10 from Arthur Whymark, £10 from Walter Guildford, £10 from Joseph Hoare, £5 from Charles Leycester, £10 from John Paris, £8 from Joseph Jones, £5 from Edward Thomas Burling, and other sums from other persons, with intent to defraud.
MR. BESLEY, Q.C., and MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
After the commencement of the case the Prisoner stated that he unshed to plead guilty to the Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth Counts, upon which Counts the JURY then found him
GUILTY . Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Saturday, September 14th, 1895.
MR. LATHAM Prosecuted.
The evidence was interpreted to the Prisoner.
LYDIA LOGAN . I am an unfortunate—the prisoner lived with me at 104, Heath Street, Mile End for over a year—my sister also lived with me—on 26th August I went out with my sister and the prisoner at 7.45 on the streets—the prisoner went into a public-house—I saw him at 9.30, he asked me for some money, and I gave him 1s., and he went away—at 1 a.m. that morning I met him again, and we were coming along together, and he struck me twice and knocked me down, and took these ear-rings from my ears—a constable came up, and the prisoner ran away—I did not go home that night; I and my sister took a bed in the Whitechapel Road—the constable took us there—the prisoner has not kept me while he has lived with me: I have always been out on the streets; he has given me a few shillings, but he has taken them from me, and gambled—he has not given me from 20s. to 30s. a week.
MARY LOGAN . I live at 104, Heath Street with my sister—on 26th August I went out with her and the prisoner—the prisoner left us and went into a public-house—I next saw him at 9.30 the same night, when my sister gave him ls.—between 12.30 and I he came up and pulled the
ear-rings out of my sister's ears, and struck her twice and knocked her down, and a policeman came up—he found us some lodgings.
JOHN MARCHANT (356 H). About 12.30 cm 27th August I was on duty in Whitechapel Road—the prisoner and Lydia and Mary Logan came down the road quarrelling, and outside the Earl of Warwick public-house the prisoner struck Lydia Logan behind the ear with his fist; she screamed, and as I walked towards them, he walked away—she was on the ground—after he had gone she told me something—I found her lodgings for that night—I afterwards identified the prisoner at Holloway.
ALFRED CHARLES WRIGHT . I am assistant to Mr. Fish, a pawnbroker of 541, Commercial Road—on 27th August this pair of ear-rings was pawned with me for half-a-crown; this is the ticket I gave—I do not recognise the person who pawned them.
The Prisoner in his defence stated that he had supported the prosecutrix, that he had bought the ear-rings; that they quarrelled in the street, and that site threw the ear-rings on the ground and he picked them up.
700. CORNELIUS VALMANLAN was again indicted for stealing three pairs of stockings and other goods, the property of Lydia Logan, and two pairs of stockings and other goods, the property of Mary Logan; Second Count, Receiving the same.
MR. LATHAM Prosecuted.
LYDIA LOGAN . On 27th August I and my sister went back to 104, Heath Street to get our clothes—the door was open; we went in and found our boxes were broken open—we fetched a constable, and when we came back with him we found the door locked with a padlock—I took the padlock off in the constable's presence—I missed from my box three pairs of stockings, two under-vests, and these seven pawntickets; the box had been left locked—the prisoner spoke to me in English, but I don't know whether he can understand it.
MARY LOGAN . When we went back to 104, Heath Street for our boxes I found them on the floor with the locks filed off and empty, some of the things were gone and some were lying on the floor—two pawntickets which I missed belonged to me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had the pawnticket for a watch which was pawned in Newcastle; I did not tell you my father had the ticket—the ticket is missing.
THOMAS SMART (Constable H). Mary and Lydia Logan came to me about 9.30 on 27th August, and made a statement, and I went with them to 104; Heath Street, and say the padlock taken off the door—I saw that the boxes had been broken open and were empty—I arrested the prisoner that morning; he had about twelve pawntickets; he handed me this one for a watch pawned for 15s.—I found on him at the station these other six pawntickets, which Lydia identified as her's.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that when he came home he found the door broken open; and that he had had all the pawn tickets in his possession for six or seven months.
GUILTY *— Tweleve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ROBINSON Prosecuted.
CHARLES CASTLEMAN . About 10.30 p.m. on 3rd September I was in the Alma Arms public-house, West India Dock Road, with my working mates—the prisoner came in with two others, and he started telling me in English he had lost a handkerchief—I pulled a sweat rag out of my pocket and asked him if that was the one—he said, "No, not you take it"—he turned and spoke to his companions in his own language, and then turned and spoke to me in his own language—I said, "Speak English to me; I don't understand that language"—he said, "You come outside speak English"—he went outside—I walked to the door and he ran across the road—I came back and spoke to my mates—about five minutes afterwards the prisoner beckoned me to the door—I walked to the door; a man warned me—as soon as I got to the door the prisoner made several slashes at me with this knife; I saw it coming round and I could not get out of the way quick enough, and it struck me in the side—he struck at me four or five times with the knife, but he only hit me with it once—I was on the pavement, three or four yards from the door—I did not know I was stabbed; I knew my coat was torn—the prisoner ran away directly it was done—I came back into the beer-shop—my wound was not attended to till the following day, when the prisoner was given into custody—the wound was not much, about three inches long.
JAMES RYAN . I was in the Alma Arms on September 3rd—the prisoner and two other Malays came in and called for pots of beer, and they talked to Castleman in English about losing a handkerchief, and then went on in their own language—Castleman said, "Speak in English, and I can understand it"—the prisoner said, "You come outside and I will speak English"—the prisoner went outside and ran across to the Asiatic Home—I, going out to the urinal, saw the prisoner coming across the road with a knife in his hand—I warned the prosecutor of it—the prisoner called the prosecutor out, the prosecutor went out, and the prisoner made three or four slashes at him with the knife—I saw that—the prosecutor fell forwards, I think; a woman screamed out, and the prisoner and his two mates ran away—I am positive the prisoner is the man.
THOMAS PHILPOT (41 K. R.). I arrested the prisoner about two on the 4th inst.—I told him the prosecutor charged him with stabbing, and pointed to the cuts in the coat—the prisoner said, "Me no cut, me no knife"—I found this knife in his left hand in the dock at the station.
JAMES JOHN MCANDREW , M.R.C.S. I practice in the East India Dock Road—on the afternoon of 4th September I examined the prosecutor—I found an incised superficial wound about three inches long on the left side; it went from above downwards; there was nothing serious; the intervention of the clothes prevented that—I examined the cut cloth; I think much force had been used to give the blow—there were several cuts in the coat, but only one had gone through to the skin—this knife is very sharp—I think the cuts might have been caused by it—it must have been used in this kind of way, giving a slash, not a stab.
The Prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence,
denied any knowledge of the matter, and said that he went to the Sailor' Home about nine, and went to sleep.
The Prisoner called
WILLIAM WHATMORE . I am steward of the Asiatic Home—a crew of twelve Malays came from a ship on this day, and stayed till the 3rd, when they signed in the Pekoe—they stayed three weeks in the home—we had some Japanese as well; we had between sixty and seventy men in the home at the time—I gave the prisoner £1 6s. 6d. between 5 and 6 p.m. on 3rd September—I could not swear whether he slept in the home that night—a lot of the men had money that evening.
NOT GUILTY .
702. SAMUEL FREDERICK JONES (69) , Unlawfully obtaining from William Wragg thirty-five dozen pairs of stockings, and from Titus Walker fifty dozen clog soles, and attempting to obtain from Samuel Sprague 500 bags with intent to defraud; Other Counts, For obtaining credit from William Wragg and Titus Walker by fraud.
MESSRS. HURRELL and SELLS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM WRAGG . I live at 157, Butler Street, Manchester—in July I advertised in the Manchester Guardian that I had 250 dozen pairs of stockings for sale—shortly after I received this postcard from William Carter, of 39, Britannia Street, Gray's Inn Road (Asking for particulars and sample pairs)—I forwarded three pairs of samples, and sent them with a letter, saying that the price was 3s. a dozen—in reply I received this letter from William Carter, 39, Britannia Street (Stating that the hosiery seemed to be unfinished, but asking for twenty dozen each of plain cotton and plain thread; and adding that he supposed five per cent, for prompt cash would be allowed, and that if he found the goods suited his business he would take the remainder)—I sent thirty-five dozen pairs of stockings, at 3s. per dozen, with an invoice—they came to £5, and with five per cent, discount off, £4 19s. 9d.—I received nothing—I wrote saying I should be glad to hear from him per enclosed envelope—I had no answer—I credited the prisoner with the goods believing his statement that he was in that line of business, and was a bona fide business man—the goods were sent by the railway company—this is the delivery note.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not deal in hosiery—I am a shoe dealer; we were shoe manufacturers—I am a teacher and attend to the shop in the evening—if I had received the money for the stockings I should have considered the matter satisfactory—the goods are not bordered—I had suspicions before I heard from the police—you promised prompt cash.
CHARLES SHORNEY . I am a carman of the Midland Railway Company—I live at St. Paul's Crescent, Camden Square—on 6th August I delivered a truss of goods at Britannia Street, Gray's Inn Road, a little general shop—Mrs. Egerton signed for them—they were addressed to Carter.
Cross-examined. I don't know what was in the bundle.
AMELIA EGERTON . I am the wife of Thomas Egerton, a traveller—I keep a sweetstuff-shop at 39, Britannia Street, King's Cross—two or three months ago I had a notice up that I received letters—the prisoner called and asked me to take in letters for him, and I agreed to do so for a half
penny a letter—"I received letters for him from time to time—I received a parcel for him from the Midland Railway Company, and signed this sheet for it and paid 2s. 10d. the charges the next day the prisoner came for the parcel, and I handed it to him—he had previously left 2s. 6d. saying he expected a parcel.
Cross-examined. You generally called from 10 to 10.30 a.m.; sometimes you called twice a day—you called for three or four months—I had no complaints about you; I believed you straightforward—the only other parcel that came was a clog sole—anyone could have seen you there about that time in the morning; I could have told anyone what time you would be there—two letters have been left for you since your arrest—I gave them to the detective—I did not see you after the Wednesday when you came for the parcel.
TITUS WALKER . I am a clog sole-maker at Norbury, Yorkshire—on 4th June I received this postcard from William Carter, of 39, Britannia Street, Gray's Inn Road, London. (Asking the price of men's blocks up to 200 dozen)—I wrote in reply, and then received this letter. (Ordering 150 dozen of blocks, and stating that he would remit when they were to hand, and could take more it these pleased)—I sent by the Great Northern Railway fifty dozen of clog soles of the value of £8 7s.—I did not receive any money for them, and I wrote again, and then received this postcard. (Asking for the blocks to be delivered within a fortnight, and stating that he had enough to keep him going, but that he always liked to have stock to dry)—I sent a couple of finished soles to him as samples—I received these postcards from him. (The first acknowledged the receipt of the blocks, and said he would remit in a few days; the second said he would send the account next week, as business was rather quiet). I parted with the clog blocks on the full understanding that he was in business in the clog trade.
Cross-examined. I sent the blocks a few weeks, perhaps a fortnight, after they were ordered, as soon as we could get them ready—you did not say you were in business as a clogger, but your way of corresponding led me to be certain you were—I believed you knew something about the clog trade—we allow 5 per cent, for payment in a month—we sent a sample of soles a few days after the clog blocks—I began to doubt you when you did not send the money; that was after we had sent the finished soles as samples—it was more than six weeks between the time when I sent the blocks find your apprehension—we get our accounts very regularly; the clogging trade is chiefly in Yorkshire, Lancashire and Staffordshire; but I was told there were cloggers in London—I did not know you.
BENJAMIN HALLAM . I am a clog-maker at 99, Waterloo Road, S.E.—I have known the prisoner about four years,; when I first knew him he wanted to sell me some timber, and I took him for a traveller in the timber trade—I purchased fifty dozen clog blocks from him for £5 12s. 6d. on July 2nd—this is one of them—this is the receipt.
Cross-examined. You sold me a lot of alder blocks five or six years ago; there were no complaints about those—afterwards you offered me timber which I did not want—you did not say you should lose money by these last blocks, but that you did not want to return them—you did not mention the name of Walker, but I saw the label on one of the bags and I
communicated with him—you said they were undercut and the wrong size for the London trade—you said you had sold timber on commission—you came in a business way; I had no fault to find with you—I gave as much as they were worth—I have sold the same goods for 3d. a dozen less—I did not consider I had any great bargain with them.
SAMUEL SPRAGUE . I am a marine store-dealer of 47, Admiralty Street, Stonehouse, Devon—I advertised in a Plymouth paper, and about July 22nd I received this postcard—(Asking what sort of bags he had to sell and if he had any mats)—I sent sample bags, and then received this letter dated July 26th, 1895, from J. T. Laing, 33, Fetter Lane—(This ordered 500 bags to be consigned to the Great Western Railway, Paddington, to await order for delivery)—I sent 500 bags by the Great Western Railway to Paddington consigned to Laing, Fetter Lane, to be called, for—I received this letter of Jury 29th from Laing—(Asking that the bags might be sent as per last letter.; and sitting that he could do at any time with a few thousands and also mats, and that if they were consigned to the station his van could call for them:)—I have never been paid for the bags I sent—the invoice price was £4 13s. 9d.—I had to pay the railway freight of their coming back—they were returned to me—I thought from his memorandum that Laing was carrying on a genuine business. and that induced me to part with my goods.
Cross-examined. I thought you knew something about what you were writing about—I understood you would pay me as soon as you got the bags—when the police came to me you were in prison, and I thought it was time to stop the bags from being delivered to you, and I wrote to Paddington—you have not defrauded me.
Re-examined. I wrote this letter to the prisoner (Asking him to send cheque by return of post);
EDWARD FITCH . I am a dairyman, of 33, Fetter Lane—the prisoner occupied one room in my house as an office for seven or eight weeks at 5s. 6d. per week up to about the end of July—he represented himself to be an advertisement and newspaper agent—he had no furniture or Anything else in his room—no business was carried on there so far as I could see—the Great Western Railway brought a number of bags there—the prisoner was not there at the time, and I refused to take them—when he came in I told him a large number of bags had been brought there, and he paid they were not intended to be brought there; they ought to have been left at the railway station.
Cross-examined. You always paid your rent in advance; you do not owe me anything—sometimes you came there two or three times a day, sometimes not more than once—you could not get in without my knowing—you were there nearly every day—one or two people called to make inquiries about you—no complaints were made about you—two or three letters came every day on an average, sometimes none—you said you thought you must give the place up, but you retracted that and said you must have an office in the City, and therefore you might as well keep it on—you did not say you had a commission business as well—I had nothing to complain of—you never came before the first post arrived—I should have objected to you taking a lot of dirty bags into my place.
Company at Paddington—on August 2nd I received twenty bundles of bags from Plymouth, addressed to E. F. Laing, Fetter Lane, and they were sent on that day to that address, and returned—subsequently they were returned to Mr. Sprague.
Cross-examined. Most likely if you had come for them on August 3rd you could have had them.
PHILIP WILLIS (Detective G). On August 9th I took the prisoner into custody, and charged him with the unlawful possession of a bag—on searching him at the Police-station I found certain correspondence on him, and the following day he was taken before the Magistrate and remanded for a week, and communication was made with the different prosecutors—On the 24th Mr. Wragg attended from Manchestor and prosecuted—letters from Sprague were in the prisoner's possession when he was arrested—at the room occupied by the prisoner at 33, Fetter Lane, I found these four stockings—I told him he would be charged with obtaining stockings by false pretences—he said, "I have the stockings; I have sent them to Nottingham to be bleached"—I found the whole of the stockings at his address, Barford Street, Islington.
Cross-examined. You were first charged with the unlawful possession of the sample bag from Plymouth.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had tried to get an honest living by selling goods on commission, that the prosecutors would have been paid if he had not been interfered with, and that these matters were only civil debts, which he intended to pay.
PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of obtaining goods by false pretences in December, 1892.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WALLACE Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended Parkes.
ALFRED CHARLES FORTE . I am a licensed victualler; I keep the Edinburgh Castle in the Caledonian Road—at 12.30 on the early morning of August 28th I saw that everything was perfectly safe about my house—about 2.0 or 2.30 a policeman awoke me by ringing my bell—I went down and found that one of the large gates leading to the stables at the back of my premises was wide open—that was carefully fastened when I went to bed—a window had been tampered with, and about two inches of the putty had been scraped away and remained on the window-sill—the window had recently been fresh painted—matting that had previously been lying in the yard was found on the roof of a shed just under the window that had been tampered with—I should not like to swear that matting was put on the roof that night—I went with the constable to the Caledonian Road Police-station and saw the prisoners and gave them in charge—I knew them as frequent customers at my house.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. My house is at the corner of Clayton Street and Caledonian Road; the gate is in Clayton Street, almost exactly opposite the back entrance to a baker's shop—a urinal adjoins the gateway on the Caledonian Road side.
baker's opposite the Edinburgh Castle—I noticed the prisoners outside the public-house gateway—Parkes came across the road and asked me for a match; I gave him two—I stood there till Parkes left me, and I then walked to the corner of the street and waited for other men to go into work at 1.30—I went into work—from something I heard I came out and looked from our workshop doorway across to the public-house—I saw Parkes standing on another man's shoulders and trying to get over the public-house wall—he failed to do that—he got down and they lifted another man over the wall—the prisoners and two other men were there—when the lighter man got over he opened the gate, and then Parkes and another man, not in custody, went inside—Gilroy remained outside on the watch, looking about—once he gave a signal, and the men came out—Gilroy crossed from a corner back to the gateway—we kept watch till they went into the yard again, and then we went outside to look for a policeman—ultimately we got one, and we saw him arrest the prisoners.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. It was dark on the gateway side of the street—one light, a faint glimmer, was left in the public-house—Parkes went in and out of the urinal before they went inside the gate—he came out of the gateway.
Cross-examined by Gilroy. You whistled to the men inside the gate.
GEORGE NEAKER . I am a baker, living at 4, Sutton Road, Tottenham—I work at the same place as Hagthorp—when I turned the corner about 1.30 a.m. on this morning I saw the prisoners and two other men—one man's head was against the wall, and another one was standing on his back trying to get over—I went into my work, and did not stop to look if he got over—I spoke to my mates when I went in, and we looked through the glass door and watched them—the tallest prisoner tried to get up, and could not, and a short man was got over the wall, and he opened the gate and let in the tallest prisoner and another man.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. The shortest man, a man not in custody, got over the wall, which is about ten feet high.
Cross-examined by Gilroy. Once or twice when anyone passed you gave a low whistle—I was standing in the doorway—when you came out afterwards you asked we for a light—they kicked at the door, and you went straight there and mumbled to them.
EDWARD SALTER (147 Y). About 2.30 a.m., on 28th August, Hagthorp came and said something to me, and I went to the public-house and to the two gates which were partly open—as soon as I got there four men came out—Gilroy was standing at the gate, and Parkes was behind him—I went inside the gateway and apprehended Parkes—I brought them out and moved a short way towards the Caledonian Road—the other two men got away—Parkes resisted at first, but yielded afterwards—I took them both to the station—I found this knife on Gilroy (both blades are broken) an old pipe, a box of safety matches, and a tobacco-box—two keys was found on Parkes, one of them was a skeleton key.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. Before the Magistrate I said that the four men were at the gateway.
Cross-examined by Gilroy. I apprehended you close to the gateway, and said I should take you to the station; you protected—I said, "If you are respectable characters, you can prove you were not in there for any unlawful purpose and inquiry will be made."
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: Parkes said, "I was talking to my friend outside the house." Gilroy said, "I am not guilty."
Parkes received a good character.
Gilroy, in his defence, stated that he was waiting for Parkes who had gene to the urinal, and that Parkes was not inside the gates.
GUILTY .— The JURY strongly recommended Parkes to mercy on account of his good character. Eight Months' Hard Labour each.
The GRAND JURY and the COURT commended SALTER for having arrested two of four prisoners.
(For cases tried in the Old Court on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday,
see Essex cases.)
FOURTH COURT.—Monday, September 16th, 1895.
NOT GUILTY , and filed a plea of justification; to this the prosecution demurred.
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted, and MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and A. GILL Defended.
The COURT overruled the demurrer after hearing MR. BURNIE upon it. MR. BURNIE then stated that he did not ask for leave to plead over, and, as he had not put in any reply to the plea of justification, he consented to judgment being entered for the defendant upon that plea. The prisoner slated in the hearing of the JURY that he had written the postcard containing the alleged libel. MR. GEOGHEGAN asked that the JURY should be directed to return a general verdict of
NOT GUILTY; he argued that judgment having been entered for the defendant upon the plea of justification he could not be found guilty of having unlawfully written and published a false and malicious libel. MR. COMMISSIONER KERR (after consulting MR. JUSTICE KENNEDY) ruled that the only issue before the JURY was whether the prisoner had written and published the libel; that the fact that judgment was entered for the defendant upon the plea of justification could not be before the JURY, although it was before the COURT, and that the defendant having stated in their hearing that he was guilty of writing and publishing the libel they must find that verdict. The JURY thereupon found him guilty. MR. COMMISSIONER KERR directed judgment to be entered for the defendant, and the costs incurred by the plea of justification to be paid by the prosecutor.
BERRY PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL defended Hughes.
GEORGE CHEESEMAN . I am a boot manufacturer, of 8, Helmsley Terrace, Hackney—on August 8th I was delivering boots from a van in Cowcross Street, about 4.30, and I missed from the back of my van a case of boots worth about £4—I gave information to the police, and I afterwards
saw the prisoners in custody and charged them—I do not know them.
THOMAS MIDWINTER . I am a salesman, of 123, Gloucester Road, Peckham—on August 15th I was looking out at a window on my emplover's premises, and I saw three men drive up with a pony and van—two of them got out, and then the third one walked round to the side of a wheel, as if to ease himself; but all three went to Alderagate Gateway, which is almost opposite our premises—directly after he came and threw a case in the front part of their van, and two of them drove away in the van as fast as they could go; the third went into the Three Compasses—I asked Cheeseman if he had lost anything—I got a policeman and went into the public-house, but did not see the man there—Berry is the man who drove the pony up and drove it away—to the best of my belief the man that went into the public-house was a man of Hughes's description; but I only had from two to four minutes to see him from the time they pulled up to the time they were gone—I identified him from other persons at Kingsland.
Cross-examined. I would not swear to Hughes—when I picked him out he stood last of the row—I went round the row, and then said of Hughes, "To the best of my belief this is another, but I Would not swear to him"—I believe I and Florence Beck waited in the same room—I am not aware that there was a window there through which we could see the prisoners—I did not point Hughes out to her—I said nothing to her—I saw Willis speaking to her in the yard—I was not in any place which commanded a view of the prisoners.
RICHARD EVANS . I wag employed in a warehouse in Cowcross Street—I saw a light van and pony pull up opposite my place—Berry and two other men were in it—two of them got down; one stood on the offside of the van, and the other two went behind—in a minute or two one of them brought a care on his shoulder and put it in the van, and two of the men got up and drove off—the shortest man had not time to get in, and he went into the public-house—he was about the height of Hughes.
Cross-examined. I saw a number of men at the police-station, but I only recognised Berry—Hughes was amongst the men, but I did not recognise him as being concerned in the robbery.
FLORENCE BECK . I am a barmaid at the Three Compasses, Cowcross Street—on the afternoon of August 15th Hughes came in and asked for Scotch whisky; he did not stay to drink it, but went straight upstairs—a hat and coat like those Hughes was wearing were afterwards found in the public-house—he was the only person in the bar at the time—I identified him when he came in with other prisoners at the Police court; he refused to stand up for me to identify him before that—I have no doubt about him.
Cross-examined. He did not say it was because I had already seen him; I had not seen him—I did not hear him say he refused to stand amongst others—Willis told me he refused—I was then in a room with Robinson—I did not see any window to that room—Midwinter was not standing hear me in the room—I am positive he was not there; there were only persons in uniform in the room except Willis—I saw Hughes come into the Court with other prisoners—he was in the public-house bar about a minute before he went upstairs—he
walked sharply upstairs—there are glass partitions to the bar; you can turn them; they are very often open.
Re-examined. I have no doubt about Hughes being the man.
Cross-examined. I am not sure if I or my father measured him for this coat—I was taken to see the prisoner, among other men, although I told the police he was a well-known customer—I have no doubt about this coat; it has our name on it.
PHILIP WILLIS (Detective-sergeant G). About nine p.m. on August 21st I saw the two prisoners together at the London Music Hall, Shoreditch—I called them outside and told them "I should take them into custody on suspicion of stealing a case of boots the week before at Cow-cross Street"—they were taken to the station and detained—next morning they was placed with others, and Midwinter identified Berry and Hughes to the best of his belief—they were taken to King's Cross Police-station and placed with others, Evans identified Berry—Hughes was asked to put on the coat and hat, which exactly fitted him—I have seen Hughes before wearing this coat—when Hughes was asked at Clerkenwell to place himself among others for Miss Beck to identify him he refused to do so; he gave no reason.
Cross-examined. Robinson was not at Clerkenwell when Hughes refused; he was not in the waiting-room with Miss Beck, I was there—policemen and Midwinter and other persons were there—she had an opportunity of seeing Midwinter—the waiting-room windows look out on the court-yard, through which prisoners are brought from the cells—you could not see the prisoner being brought into the yard—Hughes refused to be placed among others—he did not say, "It is a farce to place me among others when the young lady, and you and Midwinter could see me from the window"—he said nothing of that kind.
Re-examined. He could not be seen from the window.
GUILTY .—They then
PLEADED GUILTY** to convictions of felony in January 1890. There was another indictment against Hughes for stealing a van. Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
MR. SELLS Prosecuted.
FREDERICK STEVENS (180 H). At three a.m. on August 23rd I was in Fashion Street a man not in custody walked down the street in front of me on the opposite side—he paused at the door of No. 23—the prisoner joined him—they walked to Fashion Court and I saw them peeping round the corner—I crossed the road; their heads disappeared—I went down the court and saw them running down about three parts of the way through—I was wearing silent boots—I gave chase through the court and through Flower and Dean Street—I lost sight of the other man, but I caught the prisoner in Commercial Street—he had not succeeded in getting out of my sight all that time—as soon as I caught him he held up one hand and put the other over his coat, and said "I have cot nothing, governor, search me"—I did so, and found in the
breast pocket of his coat this knife, a small piece of iron, and some soap, which could be used for smearing on paper to stick on a window—I took him back to Fashion Street, where I saw the passage-door open; inside the passage the woodwork of a door had been cut away near the lock, and there were jemmy marks on it—I called the prosecutor, who said he left it all right when he went to bed, and that there were no marks on the door then—it looked as if the catch had been tried to be forced back—the prisoner spoke very plainly at first, but afterwards, on the way to the station and at the Court, he seemed to have an impediment in his speech.
JACOB FELCOMB . I am a general dealer, of 23, Fashion Street—on the night of August 22nd I saw my son shut the house up; the front door was shut, but not bolted; it has a spring lock—the police aroused me a little after four next morning—I do not know the prisoner; he had no right on my premises.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "The copper spoke to me, and I ran away."
GUILTY .— Discharged on Recognisances.
JAMES HENRY BAKER . I am cashier to Mary Jane Harris, a provision merchant, of l, West Smith field—the prisoner was her salesman, and his duty was going out with the van with goods, and if a customer offered him money to give a receipt for it and give me the money on his return home; he had a book to enter them in, and a receipt-book with counterfoils—I wrote to Mr. Young, a customer, in August, asking him to pay me, and received a reply—I asked the prisoner whether he had taken Mr. Young's money—he said, "Yes"—I asked him why he did not pay it in—he said he had lost it—I asked him if he had received any more—he said, "Yes, Mr. Pottenden's, on August 2nd."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I receive all money; I am cashier, and am accountable for all money paid in—I sign the receipt-book, or you sign my book—if goods are lost out of the van, you have to account for them—I do not say that I receive money directly in all cases—there was a cheque which you paid to the manager at Ely Place when I was not there to receive it—there was no deputy-cashier or receiver to my knowledge—your expenses were allowed you, and when you gave in an account I paid you; they are only a shilling or two—I have not received any money which was applied to your expenses—you have entered £3 against yourself on September 2nd—you did not produce a book to show that you. had received Young's money—you entered your receipt in the proper book—you had two books—you did not give up the first, and the receipt for that was in the old book—I have not seen the counterfoil—there is no suggestion that you have made away with the books; but you said, "I have left my old book at home, I will bring it to-morrow"—I have asked you for it—I do not know whether "Young" is the last entry—I forgot to ask you for the book, when you came home I was not there—I have not got your signature for £3 1s. 4d.—I do not say that I paid in all money.
received goods from Mrs. Harris, delivered by the prisoner, coming to £6 8s. 10d., which I paid to him, and he gave me this receipt—I afterwards wrote to Harris and Co., and received a communication from them.
Cross-examined. You asked me for a piece of paper to wrap the money in, and I gave you some blue royal; you twisted it round and made a cup of it—the money was in gold and silver—the paper would not stand much friction in your pocket, it soon ravels—I should not have done business with you if I had not known you for fifteen years—I worked under you when you were manager for two firms—some thousands of pounds passed through your hands, and I never knew anything of this sort before.
Re-examined. When he asked me for a piece of paper he did not say what he wanted it for, but he turned the pocket inside out, and I saw a hole in it.
JAMES POTTENDEN . I am a grocer and provision dealer, of Greenwich—I supplied goods to the prisoner, price £1 10s., and paid him £1 6s.—he gave a receipt on one of my billheads—on September 2nd I paid him £1 10s.—he gave me this receipt for the two sums, making £3, and I destroyed the first one.
Cross-examined. I have sometimes paid you £1, sometimes £1 10s., and I have paid you £2—sometimes you paid so much on account—I have had losses over some eggs, that is all—I do not remember you telling me that you were in the habit of holding back the small sums and giving receipts for larger—a little difference arose between us; I gave a receipt for £1 more than you had paid—a small sum is still owing—I may have said that you must pay up before I gave you any more orders—the balance was about £2, as far as I can recollect.
Re-examined. I never received any objection from Mrs. Harris or the cashier about paying in small sums on account.
J.H. BAKER (re-examined). All Pottenden's payments are on account.
Cross-examined. That was said in Baker's presence, and no answer was given.
Witness for the Defence.
EDWARD PINK . I met the prisoner in the Market last Saturday fortnight—he told me he had a hole in his trousers pocket, and had lost the money, and turned his pocket out and showed it to me—I have known him some years, and always found him a very respectable, upright man.
Cross-examined. He said he had lost several pounds; the hole was big enough for sovereigns to go through, but not for pence—he did not tell me he took the precaution of rolling the money up in sugar paper given him by Mr. Young.
Prisoner's Defence: "I have a character without blemish. Mr. Baker's evidence is not at all clear; he ought to be better posted up in the books than he is. I often took the precaution to wrap money in paper. I should have been able to prove that a man saw me picking up part of the money on the railway platform at New Cross Station. This bulky
piece of sugar paper entirely prevented my, feeling the weight in my pocket; £5 and two or three shillings wan lost through the hole in my packet. As to Mr. Pottenden's £3, I should have liked him to be more clear; his evidence shows that I made no attempt to deal with him in an under-handed manner. The amount would have been squared up if I had not been taken in custody."
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, September 17th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BODKIN and MR. A. GILL Prosecuted; MR. H. AVERY and MR. HUMPHREYS Defended.
DE WICKHAM CHAPMAN . I live at 402, Edgware Road, and am land-lord of Nos. 383 and 399—the prisoner became tenant of 399 in 1882 or 1833, and occupied it ten years till September, 1893, at £110 per annum rent—after February, 1891, he took a fresh lease for fifty or sixty years, as a stable behind was converted into a factory—he laid out between £600 and £800—he carried on business as the American Camera Company—early in September, 1893, before quarter-day, I distrained for two quarters' rent, and the things fetched about £60—he contested that, and we got next to nothing—in the mean time he had converted his business into a limited liability company, and the receiver for the company disputed our right—it, went before one of the Law Masters—I appeared in person, and lost; I then appeared by solicitor, and won, but I had to pay some costs; I believe the prisoner bought some of the stock himself and the implements of trade—he lived there till the house was used as a storage—he had nothing to do with No. 399 after September, 1893—in April, 1894, he came to see me, and I agreed to let him and his wife jointly No. 583 for business and residence at 28s. a week, and paying rates and taxes, but he said he should not live there—they got into arrears almost immediately, but only one week is due now—he is still there—he was ten weeks in arrear, but he paid up when summer came round.
Cross-examined by MR. AVERY. He has occupied the premises eleven years and paid the rent—he paid the rent for nine years before the limited company was formed—I believe he spent £900, but the work ought to have been done for £600; he did not go to a good man, but jobbed it—I think it quite possible that he paid £1,000 for the work done, and then he turned the business into a limited company—I do not know that he had taken most of the shares—he never got any subscriptions for the company, he got no capital subscribed whatever—that is the explanation given of the company coming to grief—he was to carry on the business by himself, with the help of his mother and his brother, who is a debenture-holder—I called at the premises occasionally between 1892 and 1893, both before and after the company was formed, and am quitesure he was carrying on a large business—about twenty to thirty men and girls were employed there—the things were shown in the window in the usual way; it was nicely dressed, and you could scarcely go by without
seeing customers there—after the company was formed the same state of things went on, and then the company went into liquidation, but not before we distrained—a notice was put up without my permission at No. 399 that the business was removed to No. 383—letters addressed to 399 would be delivered at 383—I went to 383 after he was a weekly tenant—he was still carrying on business in cameras, he had a shop there and work rooms, and a lot of lathes and pots which he had at the other house came there—one or two men and some girls were employed—the business is still being carried on since his arrest—the only rent due is one week due last Saturday—I allowed that, I believe if I do not let him get behind he will always pay—he was, and still is carrying on a bona fide business, the house is used as a workshop, and I have seen orders from City firms only last week for these articles, one from Nuttall and Co., of Bishopsgate Street—I once saw a cheque from them for something under £5—up to the time of the distress he bought large quantities of packing cases of me, to send goods off in, four, five, or six dozen a week, it was a genuine running order, all the packages we got we were to send, but since the distress only an occasional case—the Demon cameras are sent off in boxes like this, and wrapped in paper—they are only toys—the profit is not on the camera, but with it are supplied a certain number of dry plates, and when they are spoiled more are wanted and more acid.
Re-examined. He has been the tenant of 383 about eighteen months—I have visited him a great many times, and have seen three or four persons working there at one time, not including his daughter—I saw a lathe there and a knife for cutting the edges of cardboard—I do not think I have ever been to 383 without seeing two or three dozen demon camera boxes; I cannot say whether there was anything in them—I saw all kinds of cameras there, and Tobin's fertiliser, and spectacles; the second house was mailer and lower rent, but the window was wellstocked, and there were cameras there which he said were worth two to four guineas—this is the rent-book—the rent got into arrear from the very first, that was partly wiped off in the spring—he paid two weeks instead of one—he paid better since his arrest.
GEORGE JOHN SERJEANT . I am a clerk in the office of Joint-Stock Companies—I produce the file in the matter of the American Camera Company, Limited, which was incorporated on January 30th, 1892—the nominal capital is £15,000 in 15,000 shares of £1 each—there is a record of seven shareholders on the file, and I find Walter O'Reilly holding 3,000 ordinary and 1,000 preference shares—there is a resolution of September 4th, 1893, to wind-up the company, which was acted upon, and John M'Donald and Co. were appointed liquidators—the company is still on the file—it will be dissolved three months after the filing—it would be in existence, technically, for three months after January, 1895.
Cross-examined. There is a contract on the file by which the prisoner sold the business to the company for £7,000, of which £4,000 was to be paid in shares, and £3,000 in cash—there was no subscription by the public.
CHARLES ARROW (Police Inspector B). Charles Doyle, a detective-sergeant has been working under me—I have received complaints about the prisoner, and produced a list extending over six years, nearly all in
the country—Mr. Butcher swore an information, and I went to the Portman Arms, Edgware Road, saw the prisoner and read the warrant to him for obtaining 5s. 6d. from Mr. Butcher by false pretences—he said, "All right"—I took him to his shop; there were fifty empty camera boxes in the window, some electric motors, bells, and telephones; not toys—on the counter were seventy boxes labelled, "Tobin's Fertiliser," a number of bill-heads, circulars, and memorandums from more than eight camera companies, three different catalogues, a number of which were done up for postage, some stamped—one was for photographic apparatus only, not toys; there was a large number of letters and seven account books, among the letters were 120 in which complaints were made of money being sent and the goods not received—I also found fourteen parts of Demon cameras not put together—the prisoner's daughter was on the premises and a man, who went out, and I did not see him again, he looked like a workman—it was dinner-time—the daughter was the only woman in the shop and apparently attending to the correspondence—I did not see a lathe or tools, nothing that could be described as machinery—in the books there are entries for cameras from June 1st to July, and one bill amounting to £9 12s. Id. and another to £104 13s. and one for fertilisers £61 18s.—I am referring to books 7, 8 and 52, numbered "London order book," that is a continuation of the other—I have examined the books, they all appear to be records—I did not strike them through in this way—I find in No. 7 the names of some of the prosecutors in this case—there are other books, this is a fertiliser book, that is, a patent manure-book—I have taken the figures out, the total from January 1st, 1895, is £61 18s., and during 1894 £75—this is the Post Century camera book, and this a miscellaneous order book, this entry is for powder, to be made into ale.
Cross-examined. Those are only some of the books on the premises—these (Eighteen others) are books which were not being used, I did not look them through; I asked for the books, and these were given to me—I have no reason to doubt that these are the books of previous years—the shop has been open and business carried on ever since his arrest—there was no attempt on the prisoner's part to evade Sergeant Doyle's inquiries—this medal was put into my hands before the Magistrate—I cannot ascertain whether he actually received these medals or not there may be a record, but I do not know where to find it—I am not in a position to state that any of these statements are false—I find he did patent an American camera about three years ago—I am not aware that he has taken out five patents; I have only found one—he must have bought the apparatus, but I have not seen the firms who supplied him with goods—Sergeant Doyle made enquiries, but he is ill in bed, and another Sergeant of the B Division made enquiries as to Theobald's Road—I have interviewed Mr. Mason Smith, an advertisement contractor, and ascertained that he has done business for him for years, putting in advertisements, and has paid him hundreds of pounds—Smith said that he was doing a very large business and a genuine business at one time.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MACKIE Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
The prisoner stated that he was willing to
PLEAD GUILTY to unlawfully wounding. MR. MACKIE accepted this plea, and the JURY found a verdict of GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Second Count, to do her grievous bodily harm.
THOMAS RUSSANT (637 Y.) On July 27th at 8 p.m., I was called to 6, Salisbury Road, Highgate, and saw Emma Harrison sitting unconscious on a chair in the kitchen, with a cut across her throat—I went out and overtook the prisoner about 300 yards from the house, going away—I said, "I shall arrest you for cutting your mother's throat"—he said, "What do you want? you would not live long if I had an opportunity; this is another Highgate tragedy"—he went quietly towards the station, but said, "Where is my bleeding knife; I wish I had a sharp-shooter, I would put some of your lights out," referring to me—he had been drinking, but was not very drunk; he was able to walk without assistance.
CELIA HARRISON . I am ten years old, and am the prisoner's daughter—on 22nd July, about 6 p.m., I was at tea with my grandmother and aunt—I heard a knock at the door—my grandmother answered it, and the prisoner came in and said, "Is Jack at home?"—she said, "No"—Jack is my uncle—the prisoner said, "I mean doing for him when he does come home"—my grandmother said, "You had better go away till he does come home—he had this knife (produced) in his hand—I went away into the garden.
CHARLES RATTISON . I am a tram-driver of 8, Salisbury Road—on 6th July I was in my room on the first floor—the prisoner's mother lives in the kitchen, and Mr. Harrison lived on the floor as you go in—I heard cries of murder about 6 p.m., and rushed downstairs and met Mrs. Jack Harrison coming up the kitchen steps—I went into the room and saw the old woman lying on the floor, and the prisoner sitting cross-legged on her body, cutting her throat with this knife—he was not drunk—I pulled him off on his back; he could not see me because I was behind him—he said, "Are you Jack?"—I said, "No, I am Charley"—he said, "Let me finish mother off, and I will do for you, you—, I will"—I held him till Mrs. Davis came, and the knife was taken from his hand—he got up and walked up the steps into the street, and said, "Never mind, Charley, I have got my own back one. I have done for mother, it will almost spare me; I will do for my brother Jack"—he did not live in the house with his mother, but Jack did—he works somewhere down the Lane—I followed him, called a policeman, and he was taken in charge.
EMMA HARRISON . The prisoner is my son—he knocked at the door on July 22nd, about 6p.m.; his little girl opened it—he asked for me; I went up, and he asked if his brother was at home—I said, "No"—he said, "I mean to do for him to-night, or he shall for me," and took a
knife from his pocket, wrapped in three or four pieces of paper—he said, "Here is one more I mean to have," and ran for his little girl, who was sitting at a table—I struggled with him and fell—I put a wet cloth to my neck, and ran to the sink.
WILLIAM JOHN QUALBROUGH , M.R.C.S. On July 22nd, in the afternoon, I was called to this house, and found Mrs. Harrison on a chair, with her throat cut—I stopped the bleeding and sent her to the hospital.
WILLIAM ROBERTS . I am House-Surgeon to the Great Northern Hospital—on March 26th the prosecutrix was brought there, suffering from a severe incised wound on the throat three and a-half inches long and an inch and a half deep—she was in great danger from haemorrhage, but there was no actual severance of any great vessel—she was a patient two months, I think—she had been there five weeks before I left the hospital, my time being up—her life was in danger for three days; death was prevented by my skill in stopping the bleeding; there was a wound on her tongue too.
GEORGE GODLEY (Police sergeant Y). On July 22nd, about seven p.m., I told the prisoner I charged him with cutting and wounding his mother—he was detained at Upper Holloway Station—I said, "I charge you in her absence"—he said, "In her absence?"—I said, "Yes, she is in the Great Northern Hospital"—while detained he tried on two occasions to dash his head against a brick wall.
By the COURT. I took the prosecutrix from the hospital to the Magistrate, and back to the hospital—I have seen Arthur Turner this morning—he has had his ankle broken on duty, and is unable to travel—I was present when he was examined before the Magistrate—the prisoner had an opportunity of cross-examining him. The evidence of Arthur Turner was read as follows: "On July 22nd I found this knife in the kitchen at 8, Salisbury Road; there were blood-stains on it then."
Prisoner's defence: I had no intention of wounding my mother; I have given way to drink lately; I never had any words with my mother.
GUILTY on the Second Count. The police stated that he had been convicted of unlawfully wounding his wife, giving her eleven wounds, and sentenced to eighteen months' hard labour.
Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, September 17th, 1895.
MR. PASSMORE Prosecuted, and the evidence was interpreted to the Prisoners.
PETER PAZZI . I keep a restaurant at 271, Seven Sisters Road, Holloway—on the 29th August my son locked up the house under my superintendence, as usual, before I went to bed—at 7 a.m. I was called down—I saw three desks and a cabinet broken open, and a lot of cigars thrown all about the place—I missed cigars and four bunches of keys—the
double doors from the kitchen to the saloon were open; on the kitchen table was a meat block, and from there someone had gained access to the roof, where I found this handkerchief, containing eleven boxes of cigars, and there were twenty-eight boxes tied up, and a jemmy and chisel—the same morning I gave information to the police—in the evening the inspector brought me these bunches of keys.
HERMANN HOBDEN (Police Inspector Y). About 11 a.m. on 30th August I was called to this house—I found marks on the side wall adjoining Finsbury Park, and on the skylight over the kitchen—the cupboard was forced—I afterwards showed the prosecutor these keys, which he identified.
GEORGE CLOKE (514 Y). About 5.40 a.m. on 30th August, I took the prisoners on a charge of loitering—in reply to the charge at the station, Boggi said, "Me and Allazetta met Serafino at Saffron Hill, at 2 a.m. on 30th, and walked about all night, and were going into Finsbury Park to sleep when it opened, as we had no bed"—I found these twenty-three keys on Allazetta, and this rope, knife, and purse, containing 7s. 1d., on Serafino.
THOMAS MANN (400 Y). I was with Cloke when the prisoners were taken—Boggi said he met the other two prisoners at Saffron Hill at two o'clock, and they were walking about, as they had not beds to go to, and were waiting till Finsbury Park was opened, so that they could go there to sleep—I found on Boggi this bunch of keys, a pawn-ticket, and a cigar lighter; they are not connected with this burglary.
The COURT considered that there was no case for Serafino and Boggi to answer.
Allazetta, in his defence, stated that he found the keys under a bridge.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted, and the evidence was interpreted to the Prisoner.
MINNIE HERTZ . I am the wife of Morris Hertz, but I live apart from him at 58, Richard Street, Commercial Road, where the prisoner and his wife lodged—on August 26th I took proceedings against her for spitting in my face, and she was fined 20s. and costs—I had given her notice to quit—on my return from the Police-court on that day their son said something to me—I went to my room—about seven p.m. the prisoner came in with his wife, his son, and a German woman—the prisoner said in German, "Now I must kill you," or, "Now I must have my revenge"—he rushed in like a murderer; I saw something sparkling in his hand, and he attacked me with four or five blows—I bled in consequence—I went to the window and blew a whistle, and screamed "Murder" and "Police"—the prisoner then rushed upstairs, and they all locked themselves in their room—I went down and found the street door fastened; it took me five minutes before I thought of letting down the latch—I found a constable, who went up to the prisoner's room—the door was locked—the constable knocked at the door, and after some delay it was opened, and the prisoner was taken to the station—in answer to the charge, he said that I fell down the stairs; afterwards he said that I came up with knife to stab him—I went and had my wounds dressed.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had not an animosity against you because I thought you had written to my husband about me—you lodged with me for two years, and during that time I was continually in fear of my life; I gave you notice to withdraw because, of your 'threats—I did not tell other people you were the most respectable man I ever had in my house—I did not insult your wife.
HENRY BARBER (257 H)I was called and found the prisoner locked in his room; I called upon him to open the door, and he did so—the prosecutrix said, "I will charge this man for doing this to me; he rushed at me with something like a knife"—she was covered with blood—the prisoner said, "I did not do it. I never had a knife in ray hand. She fell downstairs, and did that"—at the station he repeated the same statement in reply to the charge—I went back to the prosecutrix's room; it was disordered, and there was blood about—I looked for a knife, but did not find one.
Cross-examined. You opened the door directly I said I was a policeman knocking—there was no appearance of any scratch on your face when I took you.
HENRY THOMAS HAMILTON , M.R.C.S. I am Divisional Surgeon of Police—about 8.30, on 26th August, I examined the prosecutrix, and found her suffering from four wounds: one incised, on the right side of the upper part of the head, penetrating to the bone; another, just above the forehead, penetrating to the bone; and another on the upper lid of the left eye, and another on the lower, margin of the orbit, which penetrated below the margin into the orbit; all those wounds were incised, and of exactly the same size; in my opinion they were inflicted by the same sharp instrument.
Cross-examined. The scars are healed now.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I should like the character of the prosecutrix and myself inquired into; she took a knife to wound her husband, and wounded herself with it. When she came home she insulted the German woman with me, and scratched my face; I gave her a push, and she fell down stairs, and so got hurt."
The Prisoner called
MRS. BACHMANN. On August 26th we all four came home, and the prosecutrix said to the prisoner's wife, "How do you like to pay 22s.?" and Mrs. Friedman said, "I like to pay 22s.; you are swearing false"—the prosecutrix tried to smack the woman and child, and the prisoner came between them, and pushed the prosecutrix—I heard her fall down, and I walked upstairs—she had a tray in her hand, and intended to strike the woman.
MRS. KLINK. I was in the house when Mrs. Friedman went down-stairs to get a pail of water, and the prosecutrix insulted her, and then she insulted the prosecutrix, and Mrs. Friedman had to pay 22s.—after we came from the Court the prosecutrix said, "How do you like to pay 22s.?"and Mrs. Friedman said, "I paid 22s.; I like it very much; you swore false, and had false witnesses"—the prosecutrix went to hit Mrs. Friedman when she had the child in her arms, and the prisoner pushed her away, and she fell down, and we went upstairs, and the prosecutrix screamed "Murder!" and "Police!" and after that the prisoner was taken to the station.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was innocent, and that his witnesses had given a true account.
GUILTY of Unlawfully Wounding.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SELLS Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GILL, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GILL offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 18th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
One Year and Eight Months' Imprisonment.
GUILTY of the attempt.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted, and MR. OGLE Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
720. ROBERT ALLEN COOMBES (13), and NATHANIEL GEORGE COOMBES (12), were indicted for the wilful murder of Emily Harrison Coombes; and were also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the said murder.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL, HORACE AVORY, and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, MR. GRANTHAM appeared for Robert Coombes, and MR. SHERWOOD for FOX. MR. C. F. GILL offered no evidence against Nathaniel George Coombes.— NOT GUILTY .
CHARLES ORPWOOD (Police-sergeant K 73). I prepared this plan of 35, Cave Street, Plaistow—it is drawn to scale—the house consists of four rooms and a kitchen—the bedrooms are 14 feet by 9, and the downstairs 11 by 9.
EMILY COOMBES . I am the wife of Nathaniel Coombes, of 168, Bowling Road, West Ham—Emily Harrison Coombes was my sister-in-law—she was the wife of Robert Coombes—we married brothers—they lived together at 35, Cave Street—the prisoner Robert is their eldest son, about thirteen—Nathaniel George is a younger brother—I produce the certificate of Robert's birth—the father was a steward on board ship—the last time I saw him was on the Tuesday before he went away on the Friday—the last time I saw him while his wife was living was on Saturday evening, July 6th; that was the last time I saw her—at that time she was in good health, the same as usual—the boys were both at home then, they were playing in the garden, quite happy—I never saw Fox till I met him at the house later on—he was not at the house when I was there on the Saturday—on Monday, July 8th, I went to 35, Cave Street, about six in the evening—I knocked at the front door two or three times—I got no answer—I went again to the house on the Monday following, the 15th, about the same time—Mrs. Burridge was with me—I knocked at the door; Fox opened it—I said to him "Can I see Mrs. Coombes "he said "No, she is not at home"—I asked him where she was gone—he said "On a holiday"—I said I was a sister-in-law, and I wanted to know where she had gone—he said she had gone to Liverpool—I said nothing to that, he closed the door then—at that time the two boys came up to the door from the street; before they came up I had tried to go in, but Fox did not open the door. I tried to push my foot in the door and I could not—he did not open the door wide, just a little way—I just put my foot in at the bottom, but he shut the door—the boys came up at the moment—I asked Robert where his Ma was—he said she was gone to Liverpool, that a rich aunt had died and left them a lot of money, and all he knew was that he was rich—the boys then went away together towards the Recreation Ground, they ran away with some other boys—I then left the house with Mrs. Burridge—I went again to the house on Wednesday, 17th July, about nine in the morning—I knocked two or three times, but got no answer, I went again at mid-day about one, or thereabouts—I went first to my husband's mother—I then went again to the house with Mrs. Burridge, that was about twenty minutes past one—I knocked two or three times—then the door was opened—I don't know by whom, it was a man I think, I could not be sure—when the door was opened I passed into the house I went straight into the back parlour; Fox, Robert Coombes, and Nattie were there; they had been playing at cards; one of them, I can't say which, scrambled them up—I asked Robert where his Ma was—he said she was round at Mrs. Cooper's, and he would take me round to see her—I said his Ma was in this house, and I would not go out until the police came. Nathaniel was not there at that time, he got out of the window into the garden as we were talking—I asked Robert if I could go into his Ma's bedroom—he said no I could not, it was locked—I asked where the key was; he said he did not know—I then went up to the front bed-room to burst the door open—I found it was locked; ultimately I
borrowed a key from the landlady, unlocked the door and went in, and there saw the dead body of my sister-in-law on the bed—I sent for a constable, and Constable Thwart came—I then came downstairs again into the back parlour, the two prisoners were still there—I said Robert was a bad, wicked boy, he knew his mother was dead, and he ought to have come and told me—he said, "Auntie, come to me and I will tell yon the truth, and tell you all about it"—he said that loud enough for Fox to hear—he told me his ma had given Nattie a hiding on the Saturday, and she would give him one, and Nattie said he would kill her; but he said, "I cannot do it Bob, will you," and I did it—he said, "I slept with mother on Sunday night, and I kicked about, and mother pushed me, and I got out of bed and killed her; Nattie was in the back room, and coughed twice, that was when I done it, when Nattie coughed"—I said, "Did your mother cry—he said, "No"—I asked whether she was awake when he did it—he said, "Yes, with her hand over her face"—I asked him what time it was—I think he said, "About a quarter to four on the Monday morning, a week ago". she had been dead ten days—I asked him what he did then—he sad he covered her over and went to Lord's Cricket Ground—I said, "Where is your father's gold watch"—he said, "I have pawned it, I gave it to John Fox to pawn, and some other things"—he was going to give me the ticket but the police came up, and he handed it to the sergeant—I told Fox he was a bad man—he said he did not know any thing about it; that was all he said to me—I noticed that Fox had got on my brother-in-law's clothes, a new suit—when I went to the house on the 17th before going upstairs I noticed a nasty smell of strong tobacco, that was all—Fox was smoking when I went in.
Cross-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. Robert's confession on the 17th was quite open and frank—I did not ask him with what instrument the murder had been committed; he told me it was with a knife, and it lay on the foot of the bed—he did not seem to feel his position at all—I had known his mother many years—she was a very excitable woman—I had seen her nearly every day since Christmas—I have seen the boy several times during the last few years—I have noticed him excitable many times—his mother gave him medicine for it when he complained of his head.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I had never seen Fox before the Monday—I have heard the boys speak of him as coming to chop wood—I did not have any conversation with Fox, I simply told him I was a sister-in-law of the deceased, and wanted to know where she was—I said it was funny she did not tell me where she was going; that was just before he shut the door; I just put my foot in the door; I used no force; I did not push; he did not open the door wide—he seemed as though he did not want anybody to look inside—I was just turning away when the boys came running up from outside; I could not tell whether he saw them; they ran away again towards the Recreation Ground—I gave evidence before the Magistrate twice, I think—I don't know whether Fox saw my foot in the doorway; I did not feel the door against it; there was no one else there but the three prisoners; the house was all fastened up at the back—I was excited—I did not see a Mrs. Hayward go in; I saw her at the door—Mrs. Burridge went in with me on the Wednesday—when I went in Fox was sitting down smoking; the others were standing—I did
not see them playing cards; one of the boys was scrambling them up—I think I left the front door open when I went in; Mrs. Burridge was behind me, and came half-way upstairs with me—when the bedroom door was opened I went in—the face of the deceased was covered with the clothes, and a pillow on the top—when I left the room Thwart followed me downstairs. Mrs. Burridge fetched the policeman—he came in five or ten minutes—I waited downstairs till he came—I went up in front of him, and when I came down I left him there—Robert produced the pawntickets; they were on a bracket in the room—the new clothes that Fox had on was a grey suit, a plaid or tweed or something—Mr. Coombes had had them on only once—I brushed them and put them away—Fox struck me as rather a stupid man—I believe I have told all the conversation that took place; all that I heard.
By MR. GRANTHAM. The mother was very kind to the boy—I know that he ran away from home.
Re-examined. I did not notice when that was; it is a long time ago—the last time I knew of his running away was in November—I think then he went to Grays—that was at the time when Read was charged with murder; he stayed there all night—he had run away before that some years ago; he was away then two or three days, I think—the first time I was before the Magistrate there was no gentlemen present from the Treasury—on the second occasion there was, and I was recalled.
NATHANIEL GEORGE COOMBES (in custody)I was twelve years old last February—I lived at 35, Cave Road—Robert is my brother—I went to the Cave Road School—the last time I went there was on the Friday before my mother died; my father left home on the same Friday—Robert and I slept together in the same room, the back room upstairs—on the Saturday night I think Robert slept with my mother, and on the Sunday I slept in the hack room by myself—between half-past eight and nine on the Monday morning Robert came into my room, and told me he had killed my mother—I said, "You have not"—he said, "Come in and look"—I went into mother's room; I heard her groaning like—I did not see her exactly; I don't think I went in half a yard from the door; I looked at the bed, but I could not see her—I went back to my room—I don't know what my brother did—he did not come back to my room—I went to bed again—on the Friday or Saturday before, he said to me he would try and do it—he had spoken about it once before that, I could not tell how long before—it was not in the same week—the first time he spoke about it he said he was going to kill my mother—he said he wanted to get away to some island—he said he was going to stab her—he bought a knife—I was not with him when he bought it—he showed it to me—I think that was about three days before the Monday—this (produced) is the knife—he said, "That is the knife I am going to do her with," that was after my father had left home—my mother has beaten me several times—she hit me on the Sunday before she died—I was naughty. Robert was present when she beat me he said, "If you cough twice that will show that I will do it"—he said that on the Saturday, I think—I did not cough—on the Monday evening he brought mother's dress into my room and got the money, out of the pocket—it was in a purse—I could not tell exactly how much there was—it was some in gold and some in silver—I had half of it till Fox
came—I had one piece of gold and some silver—on the Monday Robert and I went to Lord's Cricket Ground, we came back to the house that night, and slept in the back parlour—there was a sofa there—my brother slept on the sofa and I slept in the arm chair—on the Tuesday I think we went to Lord's Cricket ground again, and at night slept in the back parlour—on the Wednesday we went to fetch Fox, I think that was at the Royal Albert Dock—I had known Fox for about three years—the first time I saw him was in our house—he was there while my father went and fetched me—I was at my aunt's at Bow before we moved in—I saw him many times before this Wednesday; he used to come in and saw wood for us—we fetched him on the Wednesday afternoon, he was on a ship—we came home to 35, Cave Street; he said he would come and stay with us for a few days till mother came home; my brother asked him to at the docks, an we were bringing him home—my brother had the key of the front door—I think we got in about half-past three—we all three slept there that night, in the back parlour; my brother slept on the sofa and Fox and I slept on the floor; we brought down a blanket from my room upstairs; my brother went up for it—Fox did not go upstairs on that Wednesday—nothing was said about where we were going to sleep—Fox stayed in the house on the Thursday; he stayed there till the police came—we all three slept in the house every night, in the same place—nothing was said all the time as to why we were all sleeping in the back parlour—the door of mother's room was shut all the time, he always shut it—the first time it was shut was on Monday; my brother shut and locked it when we went to Lord's Cricket Ground; I put the key underneath the sofa on the Wednesday when my aunt was in the house; before that it was put on the clock on the sideboard—the door of my mother's room was opened about twice after the Monday; I think it was opened on the Thursday, and I think on the Monday following; my brother opened it; I saw him go in; I could not say whether he went into the room or not, I saw him open the door, he went to see if she was all right—I did not see whether he had anything when he came away from the door—Fox was down-stairs then—I think Fox went upstairs to make a bed on the Thursday; it was the bed I had slept in, in the back room—my brother asked him if he would go up to make a bed, he said yes; my brother told Fox that mother was gone to Liverpool—he said that the first time he came, as we were on the way to the house I heard him say it—Fox had not asked any question—when my brother opened the door during the week there was a smell—I was going upstairs on the Thursday, when the door was opened—I noticed the smell as soon as the door was opened—I did not notice it after the Thursday—on the Monday when the door was opened the smell was the same—I was then going up the stairs, I was just about one stair from the top—on the Wednesday my brother shared the money he got between the three of us; me and my brother brought the money out of the pocket, and my brother said, "Share it between us now," and it was divided into three—he said that my mother had left it—Fox also had some of the food, and my brother gave him some of father's clothes to put on—I saw him gave them to him—I think it was a greyish colour; that was on the Wednesday, the day he came; nothing was said when he gave them to him—I think my brother got them from behind the door, and he
said, "John, here is a pair of clothes that my father had, they did not fit him"—that was what he said when he gave them to him—Fox wore them after that day—they had been hanging up in the back-parlour, they were on the sofa—I know my father's gold watch—my brother showed that to me on the Monday morning that he opened the door, when he d me it; he brought it into my bedroom, and a silver one as well, and he said, "You can have one, and I will have the other"—he gave the gold one to himself and he gave the silver one to me—I kept it till he asked for it, when he was going to pawn them—I think that was on the Wednesday, the day that Fox came; I gave it to him—I saw him give them both to Fox, and he went and pawned them—he said to Fox, "Will you go and pawn these two watches?" and Fox said, "I will try if I can," and he went out with them—we all three went out together—Fox went up Poplar way—Robert gave him the two watches and a gold bracelet, I think—my mother had had the bracelet, I did not see where it came from—I saw Robert give it to Fox I think on the Thursday the day after he came—Fox went out with it—my mother had two bracelets both the same; I knew one from the other—Fox pawned both of them; I saw them both given to Fox—I was with him when he pawned them at a shop in Poplar I think—Robert said to Fox and me that we were all three going away to some place, and Fox said "what place"; and he said "To some Island;" no particular place was mentioned—these two letters are in my brother's writing; I saw him write both—one appeals to be addressed to my father—this one which states "Dear Pa, I am sorry to inform you that ma has hurt her hand/' he wrote I think on the Monday before the policeman came, in the back parlour; I think the three of us were there when he wrote it—he put it in an envelope but I cannot say what he did with it after that—he only said he was going to write to father; he said nothing else about it—these three other letter are in my brother's writing—I do not know anything about this one of them; "Will you please be kind enough to place my advertisement in the Evening News. I enclose stamps. 'Wanted, £30 for six months, will pay £6 a month by instalments.'—I do not know how my brother came to write that—I think this letter is in my brother's writing addressed to my father—when my brother bought this knife, before my father went away, he put it first in the dust-bin in the yard, and then just up the chimney in the back-room upstairs; that was the last place I saw it—my brother said "I will keep it here," meaning the chimney—he never said anything more about it—I did not see it on the Sunday night before mother died; nothing was said about it on the Sunday night.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAMTHAM. Mother was very kind, and did all she could for us both—my brother ran away from home suddenly on two occasions, I think—he took me with him—he asked me to go with him—our father said nothing about it—Robert has often complained of pains in the head, headaches, and has been excitable—I never coughed on the Sunday night; I was sound asleep all night till he called me, between four and five—there is no clock in my room; he brought the clock into my room to show what the time was—he was quite calm, and knew what he was saying then—we went out about 5.45 that morning, I think—after he came into my room he got up; he said nothing to me about going back to sleep.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. Mother was kind to Fox, too—he used to come to the house pretty often—sometimes he would not come for a week, but sometimes he stopped for a good time—he had slept there once or twice in the kitchen; he has said he would sleep anywhere—he slept there when he came to do some work, and he went away next morning—we and our father called him John, and both father and mother were kind to him—when he came he used to saw up the wood and brush up the garden—he did not run errands for mother—I had known him for three years—my father fetched me from Bow when I stayed there with my aunt, and when I came home to Cave Road I found Fox there; that was the first time I saw him—when he worked in the house I and my brother talked to him from time to time; we knew him pretty well—he called me Natty, and my brother Robert—I used to go out with Fox sometimes before mother died—sometimes I just went to the top of the street with him to see him off—I do not know that I went longer distances with him—I knew where he was to be found—I have heard that he was generally to be found on ships at the Royal Albert Dock—my father's ship is the France, and as my father had gone it must have been the Soain on which we found Fox—I and my brother both went to the Dock in the morning—we could not see him either in the France or Spain, and they said he was on another boat—we were about two or three hours at the docks finding him—I did not see Mr. Hewson that day—when we got home that same day my brother sent Fox to pawn the watches, and he sent him to pawn the bracelets the next day—he asked Fox if he would do it, and Fox said yes—I and my brother went with him and waited outside, both when the watches and the bracelets were pawned—we went to the Stratford Theatre one night—once or twice we went out and left Fox indoors—we were playing out in the street once—sometimes we played in the garden after mother's death, and when Fox was there—he was with us in the garden when we played—when we fetched Fox my brother said to him, "Come and take care of us while our mother is away"—once when we were playing in the garden Fox said he would tell our mother when she came back if we did not be quiet—we played in the garden in the daytime—Fox smoked a pipe, and my brother smoked in the house—I think he smoked a cigarette—we all of us went out together to get food—we went and had it at a coffee-shop or eating-house about three times I think in the whole time—sometimes we had food at home; some of it was left indoors—we did not have to buy anything during those days; my brother used to make some pastry in the kitchen—I think they bought two quarterns of flour which my mother ordered—there was enough in the house—the three times we went to an eating-house were on different days—I think on Thursday we went to the top of the street for breakfast; we went to other places afterwards—we used to find a coffee-house—I think Fox was only left alone in the house two or three times; all the rest of the time he was with me and my brother—on the Thursday and Monday my brother just opened the door of the room where my mothers body was, and looked in to see if everything was all right there, and shut the door again—it took about two minutes opening the door and shutting it again—on the Thursday I was on the second stair from the top—my brother just put one foot inside the room and looked in, and shut the
door and locked it, and came away—he did not do anything inside the room—on one of the two evenings when he did that Fox was upstairs in the back room making the bed—that was the only time he went upstairs while he was there—my brother said nothing when he looked in—I did not look in—I could not see in—Fox could not have seen in; he was in the back room on the other side of the staircase, and he could not see in from there when my brother opened the door—from the time Fox came into the house we all slept downstairs—since the day I ran away when the police came I have talked to Fox once or twice—he does not talk much—when he was staying in the house with us from the Wednesday till the following Wednesday, he did not talk very much—he did talk to me and my brother—he is not very sharp; sometimes we teased him.
Re-examined. When he stayed in the house with us we talked to him when we were generally playing cards; we used to talk about who would win the game and that, nothing else—he used to tell us a tale sometimes—after the Monday when mother was killed my brother never talked about her—we never said a word to each other about it—Robert said once or twice that he was going to see how my mother was up there—I knew she was dead—he said nothing more about her to me—he said he was going to leave her up on the bed there, and put some quicklime over her; he said that soon after he did it, on the Tuesday, I think—I am sure about that—after that Tuesday nothing further was ever said about it—while Fox, my brother and I were there together nothing was ever said about my mother—I could not say the day when Fox said, "If you don't be quiet I shall tell your mother when she comes back"—my brother bought all these books (produced); I have seen him reading them—I used not to read them.
By the COURT. My brother wrote this letter (A) in the back parlour—I did not see what became of it—Fox slept in the kitchen, which is at the back of the back parlour, before my father went away—I saw him putting on the grey suit in the kitchen—the clothes he had been wearing he put on the stool against the copper fire in the kitchen.
By MR. SHERWOOD. The grey clothes he put on were new clothes—his own clothes were black and old and very shabby, not quite in rags.
ALFRED KENNEDY . I am a Divisional Surgeon of Police—on the after noon of 17th July I was called to 35, Cave Road—I found in the front bedroom upstairs, lying upon the bed and on the left-hand side of it, the body of deceased—she was lying on her back, slightly inclined to the left side—the body was in a horrible state of decomposition; the nose, eyes and ears had been entirely eaten by maggots—on exposing the chest, I found on the left side, over the region of the heart, two gaping wounds—the chemise, bedclothes, and bedding were stained with dried blood—this knife would be a weapon likely to produce the wounds I saw—it was shown to me afterwards by the police; there was blood on it when I examined it, and there are dried blood stains on it now—the smell in the room was frightful—before I got into the house I noticed the smell; the front door was open when I arrived—the buttocks and calves of the legs and other parts of the body were also destroyed by maggots—I should say the smell must have existed for several days—on the following morning I made a post-mortem examination—the cause of death was the two stabs through the heart, one through
the base, the other through the extreme right edge of the right auricle; there was a notch on the spine behind, corresponding with that wound.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I am not asserting that the smell was equally diffused some days before—the street door was open, and I smelt it in the street—the room door was open—if the door of the room had been kept shut pretty continuously and hardly opened at all, and then only for just a minute there would undoubtedly not have been an equal diffusion of the smell throughout the house—I think that if the door was kept shut there must have been a bad smell in other parts of the house; of course not so bad as it was in the room itself—if there had been a bad smell outside the room it would probably have increased gradually—on the bed alone there was quite a bushel of maggots, I should say—people living in the house would not notice the smell if it increased gradually so much as people coming in suddenly from the fresh air.
By the COURT. Even if the door were kept shut, I should think there must have been a bad smell perceptible in the rest of the house—evidently there were some blowflies in the room at the time, and decomposition must have been going on rapidly.
JOHN BRETT . I live at 273, Barking Road, where my mother keeps a shop, and sells among other things knives—I went to the same school as Robert Coombes—at the beginning of July there was a card of knives in our window—Robert Coombes pointed out to me a knife on the card, and I showed it to him—he said, "Johnny, how much will you take for the knife?"—I said sixpence—he was alone—he said, "I will come to-morrow and see Mrs. Brett, and ask her the lowest she will take for it"—then he went away.
MARY BRETT . I keep a shop at 273, Barking Road—at the beginning of July Robert Coombes came and said, "Mrs. Brett, what do you want for that knife?"—I said, "Sixpence;" I let him have it for five pence—I gave him the knife—he gave me sixpence and I gave him one penny change—I said, "It will make your mother a good bread-knife"—he said, "Oh, yes"—I wrapped it in paper, and he took it away—that was on a Tuesday or Wednesday.
ROSINA ROBERTSON . I am the wife of James Robertson, of 37, Cave Road—on Sunday, July 7th, from 6.30 till 8.30 I saw the deceased at her street door; she was in good health, in her usual condition apparently—our house is next door to No. 35—on the following Wednesday I first saw Fox at the house—he was in the backyard—I saw him every day after that in the yard—I saw both the boys going in and coming out of the house with Fox—they played together in the yard—I slept in the front bedroom upstairs; my bedroom adjoined that in which Mrs. Coombes slept—I heard no noise till the Tuesday night, the night before the body was found, and then from my bedroom I heard voices which seemed to come from either the bedroom or the landing of the Coombes house—I could not tell whose voices they were; but they were the voices of people talking—it only went on for a minute or two—it was about ten o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. There was a yard or garden at the back—I saw Fox playing with the boys there pretty often in the evenings, every evening—they used to play cricket—they seemed pretty cheerful—I heard nothing that was said—I had no suspicion that anything
was wrong in the house—I smelt no smell—I saw the boys go out together, I did not see Fox go with them—I was not always looking—I had seen Fox there, but I did not know who he was—when I saw him there on the Wednesday afternoon I was not surprised, because I had seen him before, and knew him as a person who was in the habit of going to the house—the voices only lasted for a minute or two, and I cannot say whether they came from the landing or the bedroom—I don't think I should have heard them if they came from the staircase—there was nothing to draw my attention to them; they were not voices in anger.
Re-examined. I know Mrs. England at 33, Cave Road, which is the house on the other side of 35—I do not remember her calling my attento anything—I noticed nothing peculiar about No. 35 at any time—the blinds in the front were down on the Monday of the murder and Tuesday, but were pulled up on the Wednesday morning and afterwards—I saw a. few flies outside and in.
By the COURT. I never saw Fox go out with the boys—I saw them go out by themselves from the street door into the street two or three times a day between the two Wednesdays.
By MR. SHERWOOD. I saw them every day, as I was at my door—I saw Fox with them every evening in the garden—I cannot say Fox was generally smoking—I did not see the boys smoking.
JAMBS WILLIAM ROBERTSON . I lived at 37, Cave Road; I have moved since—I knew the deceased—on Sunday, July 7th, I saw her about eight at her front door, and spoke to her; she was quite well—on Monday, July 8th, about 6.15 a.m., I saw Robert and Nathaniel—Robert threw stones on to my washhouse roof at the back to make me hear, and then. he called me outside and asked me to change him a sovereign—I said I had not got change in silver, but I could give him two half-sovereigns, and I did so—he then asked me if I would mind paying the rent for him, as—they were going out—he got the rent-book and gave it to me, and a half' sovereign—I asked him if he was going with his mother, and if his mother was going out—he said his mother was going to Liverpool; that he had had A rich uncle die in Africa, and his aunt had telegraphed to his mother to go and assist her about the money that was left—I said, "Is she gone?"—he said, "No, she is not going; she has had 'a faint,'" or "a fit"—I could not be certain which he said; and I said, "When was this?"—he said, "About an hour or an hour and a half ago"—he pulled out a gold watch—I asked him who was with his mother, and he said, "Mrs.—"and jerked his thumb behind him—I said, "Mrs. England?"—he said, "No"—he said, "Perhaps ma will see Mrs. Robertson before she goes"—that was all he said—I heard the front-door slam—about seven that evening he knocked at my door, and said they had been to Lord's, and he wanted the change from the rent—the rent was 7s.—he asked me if everything was all right—I said I had not noticed anything, and he went in—I knew Fox by sight; I had not spoken to him—on the following Wednesday I saw him about the place, and again on the Saturday afternoon—I noticed then that he had some different trousers on—I had no conversation with him.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I never spoke to Fox till the Sunday—I had seen him there several times before—I saw him in the yard on the Wednesday evening—I could not say if he was smoking on
the Wednesday—on the Sunday evening he was playing a mouth-organ, while the boys were shooting with a bow and arrow—they were making a fair amount of noise, and enjoying themselves generally—my business took me away all day—they brought some bamboo fishing-rods to my house on the Tuesday night after the murder—I recognised the clothes Fox had on on the Sunday as Mr. Coombes's—on the Saturday I saw he had on a respectable pair of trousers and an old short jacket and waistcoat—when they were playing in the backyard I could not see their back door—I noticed the upstairs front windows—I noticed big flies outside and in the windows—the windows were nearly covered with them outside—the garden door opens out at the back—when I was in my garden I did not notice any smell coming from the house; I should not, because there are market gardens there at the back coming up to the Coombes's garden, and manure is often put there, and there are often large quantities of manure and smells there—I should not notice a smell even if there was one—the front doors of 35 and 37 are together, but the back doors of 33 and 35 face each other—I saw them playing from the back.
CHARLES EDWARD PRARSON . I am a chief-officer in the service of the National Steamship Company—I know Robert Coombes, the prisoner's father, as a steward in their service—Fox was employed occasionally on board the company's ships—on Wednesday, 10th July, I was on board the Spain in the Victoria Dock—I saw Robert Coombes on board in the morning, and he came aboard again two or three hours later—I asked him who he was; he said he was Mr. Coombes' boy—I saw Nathaniel further forward, and I said, "I suppose you are one of Mr. Coombes' boys too?"—he said "Yes"—I asked Robert who he was looking for; he said, "John Fox "—he went aft towards the galley to look for Fox—I cannot say if he found him—I did not see Fox on board that day.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. FOX might have been on board without my seeing him—he was allowed to go about and do odd jobs, and go messages for anyone—I have known him for three years, since I have been in London—I have always found him honest; but he is not very bright as to intellect; I should think he is half-witted—he would not be put to do anything difficult, or any message that required much thought—I knew the Coombes knew him, and that he was in the habit of going to them and doing odd jobs there—he made very little about the Docks—he was shabbily dressed—I heard he had been to sea in one or two of the steamers—I have not heard of an accident which gave him a fright—if I had missed him for a week I should not think anything of it—I never saw anything wrong with him—I know the Egypt was burnt, I don't know the date—I have not heard that Fox was on board the Egypt.
Re-examined. As a rule he slept on the ships in the Docks.
JOHN HEWSON . I am cashier for the National Steamship Company at the Royal Albert Dock—Robert Coombes, the prisoner's father, went to sea on 5th July in the France—on 15th July, the Saturday week after the France sailed, Fox brought me this letter (A): "Dear Sir,—Will you please advance the sum of £4, as my mother is very ill with Bright's disease and will have to pay a very heavy doctor's bill. Will you please bring it yourself or give it to John Fox. I remain yours truly, R. Coombes"—I am not sure if it was in an envelope; I think it was as it is now, only folded up—I read the letter and gave it back to him,
and said, "I don't believe that without a doctor's certificate"—he took the letter and went away—on the following Monday the prisoner Robert came to my office at the Dock and put this letter (B) on my desk—I read it; it was as follows:—"I certify that Mrs. Emily Coombes of 35, Cave Road is under my care; she is suffering from an internal complaint, and still remains in a very weak state. J. J. Griffin"—I said, "I will come and see your mother"—there is no date on it—I just looked at it; it was like it is now with the top corner torn off, but I did not notice it at the time, but directly he had gone I did, and I put it on my file—when I said I would go and see his mother, he said, "You will bring the money with you?"—I said, "Oh, yes—he went away—I did not go to see his mother—about two years before he came to me with a story that his mother was sick, and he wanted £2—he got £2 from me then.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I have known Fox about thirteen years—I should take him to be close on forty years old—for the thirteen years I have known him Fox has followed his present employment of doing odd jobs; occasionally he used to go to sea, but he has given that up now—the last voyage he made was on the Egypt, when she was burnt at sea four or fire years ago—I think he was scared then—he had made the ships in the Docks his home for over twenty years; everybody knows him—I believe he is honest; he was never entrusted with anything important—he carried sailors' and officers' bags, and fetched things for persons from their houses, and posted letters—I was not at all surprised at his bringing me a letter—I am not sure it was not in an envelope—if it was I did not keep the envelope—I did not discuss the contents of the letter with him; I only read it and gave it back to him—we are under the impression that Fox is half-witted, but otherwise well-behaved—we know nothing wrong about him, beyond that—he always sleeps in the galleys of these merchant steamers.
By the COURT. I am under the impression that Fox can read; I have no certain knowledge of it.
WILLIAM WHITE . I am assistant to George Fish, a pawnbroker, of 545, Commercial Road—I produce a gold-plated watch, pawned with us on the 10th July, between four and seven, by a short, dark man, in the name of Robert Coombes, 35, Cave Road, Greengate, for 10s.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I did not see him come into the hop—there were no boys in the shop—I did not look outside—he did it quite openly.
MRS. COOMBES (Re-examined)This is the watch that belonged to my brother-in-law.
HENRY GOLDSWORTHY . I am manager to Messrs. Ashbridge and Co, pawnbrokers, of 554, Commercial Road—I produce a silver watch, pledged at our shop on 10th July, between live and six p.m., in the name of Robert Coombes, 35, Cave Road, by a shortish man, who appeared to be like a sailor; I cannot identify him.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. It was done quite openly—I did not see the boys with him.
case does not fasten properly"—he said, "Oh, yes, it fastens without a key"—afterwards I found it did not.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I judged from that that he did not know very much about it—he did not seem very bright.
ROBERT THWART (West Ham police-constable)On 17th July, about ten minutes to two, I was called by Mr. Burridge, and went with him to 35, Cave Road—I saw Mrs. Eaily Coombes there, and went with her up-stairs to the front room—I saw on the bed the form of a woman with a pillow over the face—I removed the pillow, and saw the face—it was very much disfigured; the smell in the room was awful—I saw this dagger-knife on the foot of the bed—this bludgeon was on the floor; it is a truncheon; it was lying between the bed and the window—I sent for Doctor Kennedy—I went downstairs into the back parlour, and there saw the prisoner Robert and Fox—Robert made a voluntary statement to me—I cautioned him that what he said would be used in evidence against him—I have the note of it, which I made at the time (Read: "I did it. My younger brother, Nattie, got a hiding for stealing some food, and Ma was going to give me one, so Nattie said that he would stab her, and as he could not do it himself he asked me to do it, and said,' When I cough twice you do it,' which I did, and I am sorry that I did it. I did it with a knife, and left it on the bed, covered her up, and left her ")—Having written that down, I asked him where his brother had gone to—he said, "I expect he has gone to Woolwich, as we were both going there this afternoon"—Fox was in the room all the time this statement was being made—I asked him what he was doing there—he said, "I have been here since last Wednesday, a week to-day, but I do not know anything what has taken place"—I then took him to the station; he did not come upstairs at all during the time I was there—Robert said in his presence that he, Fox, had been sleeping in the back parlour—he said, "We have all been sleeping in here"—I searched FOX, and found on him this letter, (marked A)—it was exactly as it is now—I charged him at the station with being an accessory after the fact; he said nothing.
Cross-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. Robert was very frank and open, and told me all he knew without my asking him questions—the knife was not concealed; it lay on the foot of the bed, not covered over—I found some jewellery that was left behind—when I got to the house I found Mrs. Emily Coombes in the passage by the front door, which was open—she walked upstairs in front of me; she went into the front room first; I followed—the door was about halfway open—Mrs. Burridge did not follow us up; I did not see where she went; I found her in the room downstairs, and also Mrs. Hayward, Fox, and Robert—I formed the opinion that the body of the deceased had been lying on the bed quite undisturbed for a considerable time; that was from the general look of the room—the body was quite covered up with the bed-clothes, all except the face; that was covered with the pillow—on the removal of the covering the smell became worse, so bad that we could not stop in the room—I noticed big flies outside the window—I was only in the room five or six
minutes; I pulled the door to when I left; I did not shut it; it stood open while I was making the examination.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. When I got downstairs I found the front door shut—it was open when I went in—the sitting-room door was open, and Mrs. Hayward, Mrs. Coombes, Robert and Fox were there talking—I did not hear what they were talking about—Mrs. Coombes came down before I did—she was in the room when I got down—Fox was sitting in a chair—I did not hear him say anything—he was not smoking—he did not say anything then—I was about three-quarters of an hour in the room before I left with Fox—someone was then sent to fetch more police assistance, and another officer came, No. 228—there was a good deal of talking amongst the women—Fox took no part in it—he took no notice—he did not seem to take any interest or appreciate the situation—I did not know him before—I found no money on him—the letter was in his breast pocket, folded up—when I charged him I used the words "accessory before the fact"; I did not explain what that meant.
Re-examined. I have here what I found on Fox—it is not anything, only some pipes.
HARRIET HATWARD . I am the wife of John Hay ward, and live at 39, Cave Road, which is next door but one to 35—on Wednesday, the 17th, about half-past one, I was in Cave Road—there are two frosted glass panels to the door of 35—I tried to look through them to see if I could see the boys in the passage, and as I looked a horrid smell came through the keyhole—I saw the door opened by Robert, and Mrs. Emily Coombes came up and went in—I drew back outside the gate till the door was opened by Robert; I saw that—I saw Constable Thwart come up and go in—a few minutes afterwards I followed him to the top of the stairs—I think I saw Fox in the passage, I am not quite sure; I only saw his back—he was standing in the passage, with his back to the front door—I went upstairs into the front room—I saw something on the bed, but I could not say what it was; the smell was so dreadful I could not stop to look, and I came downstairs again—I went outside the front of the house, and then went into the back room downstairs—I there saw Fox sitting in a chair just inside the doorway—I said to him, "John, you have been here all this time, and did not you know what was going on?"—he said, "No, missis, I knew nothing about it; they fetched me from the ship"—Robert was present, and he said, "Yes, Mrs. Hay ward, John knows nothing about it; I did it"—I said to him, "You bad boy," and he began to cry—Fox said nothing more, and then went into the passage.
Cross-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. I always looked upon Robert as a bright, intelligent boy—I did not see any excitability about him—he took the blame off Fox and incriminated himself.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I am quite sure I recollect the order in which the things took place—the Robinsons live between me and 35—I knew the Coombes as neighbours since they have been there—I have seen Fox there a great deal; I called him "John"—I have spoken to him over the fence in the garden when Mr. Coombes was there—I have seen him in the garden, chopping wood—I have not
seen him there of late, but very much at one time—I had not seen him go about with the boys before this affair; I have seen him with them more in the yard than in front—I saw him in the garden with the boys, after the mother's death, very often, from the Wednesday or Thursday, up to the day the body was found; I think Thursday was the first time I saw him—I did not speak to them then—they were playing cricket sometimes; Fox was playing, too, sometimes—sometimes he was playing a mouth-organ, principally cricket, every day while the mother was missing—I saw him come in with them once, with fishing-rods in their hands; that was the first time I saw him—I was in the front parlour, and saw them come in the gateway; it was between six and seven in the morning—they seemed on friendly terms—I always looked upon him as being very simple and good-natured—I don't believe he would hurt anyone—Mrs. Coombes always spoke of him as being very trustworthy, when she went out she could always trust him in the place—I could see that the Coombes liked him; they all liked him—he was fond of playing with the boys—Thursday was the only time that I saw him going into the house, but I saw him every day—I saw Robert, the afternoon before the body was found, playing in front of the school with a boy, while the children were at school—I noticed him trying to stick a stump in the pavement; he had his bat in his hand—as far as I can say, it was from one to a quarter past one when I went to the house on the day the body was found, when Mrs. E. Coombes and Mrs. Burridge came up—the bedroom door was open when I went upstairs; Robert opened it; he stood at the door, holding it when they went in—during that time the front door was shut—Fox was not smoking when I went into the parlour; I did not notice the smell of tobacco; I noticed a terrible smell; it was not a smell of tobacco, I am sure of that—Robert was not smoking; he was sitting in a chair by the window—I have told all the conversation with Fox; I was in the room with them, it might have been a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, while the constable was taking down the evidence of Robert—I was out in the front part of the time for a few minutes; I let the other constable in—during the time I was in the room there was conversation going on.
Re-examined. I have known Robert three years or three and-a-half, since they have been neighbours—I saw him daily—I have spoken to him very often; I always regarded him as an intelligent boy.
HENRY BALCH (Police-sergeant). On July 17th, at two o'clock, I went to 35, Cave Road—from what I learnt I went downstairs and saw Robert Coombes and Fox—I spoke to them—I cautioned Robert that anything he said would be taken down in writing, and might be used in evidence against him—he then made this statement to me: "My brother, Nattie, said he would kill his mother, as she had given him a hiding for stealing food; he then asked me to do it. Nattie then said, 'When I cough twice you stab mother with the knife, 'which I did; we then went to a cricket match at Lord's, and have slept in the house ever since." He gave me four pawn-tickets; three related to property pledged since the murder—he said, "I took the property, and gave it to John Fox to pledge"—he said this voluntarily. (The tickets were for a silver watch pledged for 10s. on 10th July, a lever watch for 10s. and a mandoline on 13th July; the fourth was in the name of Mrs. Coombes)—Fox said he did not know anything
about the murder—he said Robert had given him the property to pledge—he said he had been there eight days, that he came last Wednesday.
Cross-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. He gave me the pawn-tickets without my asking for them.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. He took them from a little book-shelf hanging against the wall—I got to the house about two; Thwart and Mrs. Coombes let me in—they were both in the passage; Mrs. Hay-ward was there as well—she was at the door, but she went out immediately—I was in the room about half an hour before I took the prisoners away; I was simply waiting for the Divisional Surgeon—I have stated all that Fox said in my hearing; he sat still there, doing nothing.
GEORGE GILBERT (Police-Inspector). I searched the house, 35, Cave Road, on the evening of 17th and morning of 18th July—in the kitchen, at the back of the parlour, I found a boy's flannel shirt hanging on a line over the fireplace; it was blood-stained; there were several spots of blood on the front—in the back room I found a new axe, and in the bed-room, on removing the body, I saw a small leather purse and a white shell purse containing some threepenny pieces—it was on the bed underneath the body—the leather purse was closed and empty—all the drawers in that room were open, pulled out, and ransacked, and the locks all broken—some of the contents of the drawers, which were clothing, were on the floor, and some in the drawers—there was a number of articles of jewellery, most of which I have here; they were on the table, on the top of the drawers, and some on the floor—there was a gold bracelet, a gold brooch with one diamond, a gold ring, a pair of gold studs, a pair of silver ear-rings, a P. O. savings book, two life policies, an I O U for £5, and other articles, which were handed over to the prisoner's father—this revolver was found empty, with no ammunition, in the front-room downstairs—the key of the room in which the body was found was under the swab of the sofa, in the back parlour; these books were in the back parlour; they are apparently sensational stories; also some documents, one with the address, 480, Barking Road, dated March 20th, that I found in a little blotting pad in the back parlour—I also found this letter from Robert to his father: "Dear Pa,—I am very sorry to inform you that my Ma has hurt her hands, and that the sore on her finger has spread all over her hands, and is unable to write to you. Just before I wrote this letter a bill from Mr. Greenway has come in, so had to pay it. Please send her home a dollar or two; all very well, Ma's hand improving. We will ask £4 for the mocking-bird. I enclose the bill and receipt. Hoping you are well, I remain, your loving son, R. COOMBES "found the bill re-ferred to from Greenway, and these two letters to the Evening News: "35, Cave Road, Barking Road. To the Evening News Office, 12, Whitefriars Street, Fleet Street, E.C., London:—"Sir,—Please be kind enough to place my advertisement in the Evening News. I enclose stamps. 'Wanted, £30 for six months. Will pay £6 a month for instalment.'"—I also found a rent-book, the last payment being on July 8th—I also found a letter from the deceased to her husband.
Cross-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. There are several articles in the list of jewellery upon which the boy could have raised money.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. Some of the things were tolerably good all the letters were in the back parlour, in the blotting pad—there
was not a quantity of blood on the shirt; about twenty or thirty spots—this is it (produced)—there was a wedding-ring in the small purse; both the purses were under the body—this piece of rag was inside the shirt—it was on the sofa; it was not under the shirt; it was in the front room where the body was, close by the side of the bed.
GEORGE CHARLES HOLLAMBY . I am head master of the Grange Road School—Robert Coombes was for some time in that school in 1891, 1892, and 1893—he left in November, 1893, but there was a long interval of absence between 1891 and 1892—when he left I think he was in the fourth standard; I am not quite sure; the seventh is the highest standard—his capacity was very good.
Cross-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. In November, 1893, he ran away from school—there was a slight trouble in the school with the teacher—I know nothing about his being removed owing to a doctor's interference—when he left there I believe he went to Stock Street, where Mr. Cossington was the attendant officer—the School Committee made a special order for his removal to Stock Street—that school was full at the time—while with me he complained of headache on more than one occasion.
Re-examined. He complained that his head ached, to me, or to the teacher, not often.
JESSE SMITH . I am head master of Stock Street School—the prisoner Robert was admitted there on 30th November, 1893—his name was taken off on 20th July, 1894, but he did not attend after the 6th—during the time he was with me he got on—he was in Standard V. when admitted—he passed that and was just in Standard VI.—I should say he was a very clever boy for his age.
Cross-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. I knew that a special order was made for his admission to the school—our school was full at the time—it was an unusual thing to make such an order, it was an order made by the School Committee, that is sometimes done on a doctor's order, but I don't think it was so in this case—a special order is never made by a doctor, I never knew a case where an order has been given after a statement by a doctor—there is very little difference between the schools, they are both public elementary schools—I suppose the exchange was made in consequence of a report by the attendant officer—I gave the boy a good character while with me—he was a very good boy, he gave no trouble whatever—I should not say he was precocious.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. When boys cease attending a list is given to the visiting officer, who reports the case; he would go to the house of the parents—that process is known to the boys attending the school.
CHARLES STRULER . I am head-master at Cave Street School—the boy Robert was admitted there in July, 1894—he left on September 12th to go on a sea voyage—he came back on March 11th, 1895, and was re-admitted—he remained until May 30th and then finally left—he was a very intelligent lad; he passed the sixth standard with me and was placed in the seventh.
Cross-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. I gave him a good character while with me.
10th, 1895—he was under my supervision, employed as a plater's boy—he stayed till June 24th, he came back for his money on the 25th—he did not work after the 24th—he gave no reason for leaving—he was a boy of very good capacity.
Cross-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. I gave him a good character while with me.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate.—Robert: " I have nothing to say, I reserve my defence."Fox: "I am not guilty."
MR. TRUELOVE. I am a schoolmaster at Cave Road—Nattie attended school until Monday, July 8th, when he absented himself without reason given—I sent to ask about him, and a verbal answer came that he had gone into the country.
MR. GRANTHAM called the following witnesses for the Defence:
ROBERT COOMBES . I am the father of these lads—I have been married seventeen years—Robert was my first child—I had been married four or five years before he was born—my wife was a very excitable woman from the first, very frequently laughed and cried at the same time—I was not at home at the time of Robert's birth, I think I had just gone to sea, or came home just afterwards, I cannot recollect—I know that my wife had a very bad time—Robert has marks on each side of the temples, I believe one is visible now; they are the marks of an instrument used by doctors in confinements; I was told so when I arrived home—I first noted signs of excitability about him when he was about three or four years of Age—he always complained of headaches—in disposition he was a very good boy—I took him to Dr. Coward when he was three or four to see what was the matter with him—he always complained of those bad headaches—Dr. Coward prescribed for him—I removed to Liverpool, and I wrote to Dr. Coward from there, and asked him to give me a prescription for the boy, as he was very ill at Liverpool from headache, the same complaint, and in consequence of what Dr. Coward told me I was specially careful; he always told me never to chastise him anywhere near the head, or to touch him on the head, or to give him any home lessons to do; he gave me a letter to give to Mr. Hollamby—the boy complained very often of his head at that time, at intervals of a week or a fortnight, sometimes a month; at such times he would sit down and look very sullen, as if he was having a headache, and would speak to nobody—he always made the same complaint up to the time he went to sea—it was in 1891 that I received a certificate from Dr. Coward—this (produced) is it; I believe he showed that to another doctor, Dr. Griffin, who attended him at Liverpool—I returned from there at the end of 1892—I did not know that the boy was suffering from an affection of the brain until I got that letter—I have continually had complaints from the lad since 1893—he was attended by Dr. Coward for cerebral congenitis, a disease of the tonsils—it was for that I sent the letter to Dr. Griffin—the boy ran away from home on two or three occasions, once as recently as last November—the reason his school was changed was in consequence of a report made by the school attendant officer, and he was admitted to Stoke Street School—I do not know whether he took bromide of potassium—it was in consequence of an interview with Dr. Griffin that I took my son to New York last winter—he ordered me to take him somewhere about Christmas time—when anything
special occurred in consequence of his complaints of violent headache I had to take him to Dr. Griffin.
Cross-examined. There is no insanity on my side of the family or my wife's either, the boy always got on very well at school, he had no difficulty in learning, he is a very learned boy, he read a great deal—he has not to my knowledge been reading sensational books—the books that were found in the house were good books, such as the Strand Magazine and the New York Century—he took an interest in the trial of criminals—I know he went to Southend to see Read last year—he had two shillings, and he paid his fare to Grays or Purfleet, and walked from there to Southend and back to see Read—I did not know that he got employment after leaving school till I arrived home.
Q. Did you ever know him to suffer from any delusion? A. No; I have heard him say that he had heard noises in the night—after I came home I heard of his obtaining money from the docks; he went to the cashier and asked for £2, and he went with it to Liverpool and was found there by a detective—that was some time ago—he has an aunt at Liverpool—my wife had a sore on her finger when I went away, but it was getting well—the two doctors who attended him were Dr. Coward, who is dead, and Dr. Griffin—he always complained of pains in his head.
Re-examined He several times complained of noises in the night—that was when I was at home—I did not hear any noises; the last time he complained of that was about four months ago.
MRS. INGRAM. I am next door neighbour of the Coombes's—I have known them for the last three years; I was very intimate with them—the mother was rather excitable all the time I had known her—Robert was very excitable indeed—I have on occasions gone to Dr. Griffin for medicines for him—I knew that he had pains in the head; he has complained in my presence—he has had very excitable fits; I mean fits of excitement—his mother was very kind to him.
Cross-examined. I can hardly explain the excitement; it was if he could not get what he liked he would fly into a passion, and then he would have these fits afterwards—I have known him to go right off into a fainting fit with them more than once—it was not always when he was in a great passion, but very often—I saw him every day nearly all the time they were living there—he was a very bright, intelligent boy when spoken to, and a well-spoken boy—when I missed his mother I asked him where she was he told me that his mother had had a telegram from an aunt in Liverpool; that a rich uncle had died, and left then some money, and she had gone to see about it; I believed it—on the Tuesday morning I asked him where he was going—he said he was going to St. John's Wood to his aunt's—I asked him whether he had heard from his mother—he said, Yes; he had had a letter from her, and she had sent him some more money—I asked him when she was coming home—he said, "Very likely she will be home to-morrow evening, Wednesday"—I spoke to him every day right up to the Friday in that week—he was fond of reading, passionatetly fond both of music and reading.
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I am Medical-Officer of Holloway Prison and Newgate—Robert Coombes has been under my charge since July 18th—I have watched him carefully—an officer under my charge moved him from an ordinary cell to a padded room for a few hours on August 10th—he
seemed a very clever boy, and as a rule he was well behaved—from August 5th to 10th his excitability was especially noticed—I saw him on the 5th, the rest was reported by the officer—on the 5th he was excited and would not do what he was told—he was singing and whistling, and was very impertinent to the officers—he has complained of pains in the head on two or three occasions—he told me he had suffered from them more or less all his life—there is a distinct scar on his right temple, and on very careful examination I noticed also a very faint scar just in front of his left ear—those scars might have been caused by instruments used at the time of his birth—the brain is always compressed more or less when instruments are used, which will occasionally affect the brain—I believe children have suffered from fits afterwards—I have come across such cases, and I think it has been stated to me by the mothers—generally the marks disappear, but in this case there is a distinct mark of a wound—it depends upon whether the flesh has been injured or not—in this case considerable violence must have been used—and from the violence there must have been considerable pressure on the brain—I have noticed that his pupils are at times unequal—the variability of the pupils shows that the mischief is not in the eye, but is probably due to cerebral irritation—I asked him whether he heard voices—he said at night he had heard voices saying, "Kill her, kill her, and run away" on several occasions—I was instructed by the Treasury to examine him—I questioned him closely as to those voices, how they seemed to speak to him, and he stated that they seemed to whisper into his ear—he said he killed his mother because he was afraid that if he did not do so she would kill his brother Nathaniel, and that she had often threatened to knock his brains out with a hatchet, and had thrown knives at him—he said he had an irresistible impulse to kill her—I took down those words—these fits of mental excitement might come on at varying intervals—his general behaviour in the gaol has been fairly good as far as I have seen it—I made two reports to the Treasury—I had a conversation with him on the 10th inst.—it led me to the opinion that he was suffering from cerebral excitement—it was peculiar—he appeared in very great glee at being about to be brought here to be tried—his manner was peculiar, but you would hardly say he was suffering from very great excitement that day—he thought it would be a splendid sight, and he was looking forward to it—he said he would wear his best clothes and have his boots well polished—then he began to talk about his cats—from having been very talkative he suddenly became very silent and burst into tears—I asked him why he was crying, and he said because he wanted his cats and his mandoline—I have his letter, which was handed to me on Sunday, which appears to be written by an insane person—(Letter read—addressed to Mr. Shaw, 583, Barking Road, Plaistow, Essex, from R. A. Coombes, H.M.S. Prison, Holloway, 14.9.'95)—"Dear Mr. Shaw,—I received your letter on last Tuesday. I think I will get hung, but I do not care as long as I get a good breakfast before they hang me. If they do not hang me I think I will commit suicide. That will do just as well. I will strangle myself. I hope you are all well. I go up on Monday to the Old Bailey to be tried. I hope you will be there I think they will sentence me to die. If they do I will call all the witnesses iars.—I remain, yours affectionately, R. A. Coombes"
(Then followed a drawing of a gibbet and two figures being pushed forward by another; over the last figure was written, "Executioner." That was headed," Scene I, going to the Scaffold." Then, "Scene II," a drawing of a gibbet with a person being hanged, and the words, "Goodbye" issuing from his mouth, and the writing, "Here goes nothing!" Then, "Mywill: To Dr. Walker, £3.000; to Mr. Payne, £2,000; to Mr.Shaw, £5,000; to my father, £60,000; to all the warders, £300 a piece. Signed, R. Coombes, Chairman, solicitor. P.S. Excuse the crooked scaffold, I was too heavy, I bent it; I leave you £5,000.") That letter considerably strengthened my previous opinion of the boy's mental condition—I gave my reasons in my report to the Treasury—the things which would indicate insanity are: the inequality of his pupils; his hallucinations of hearing; the fact that whilst in prison he never appeared to realise his position, or showed remorse for the crime he had committed; and the attack of mental excitement from which he suffered from August 5th to 10th—hearing voices is sometimes a symptom of incipient insanity—misanthropy and general dislike to those about them is occasionally so, and sometimes a suspicious disposition—in my opinion he suffers from recurrent attacks of mania with lucid intervals—there are two forms of homicidal mania: sometimes the crime is committed on the impulse of the moment; sometimes with great deliberation and cunning—pernicious literature would be very bad for such a boy to read—I have been studying criminal lunacy more or less for the last twenty-three years—in my opinion these symptoms would be characteristic of the boy during his life.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. The subject of insanity is very difficult, especially with regard to children—I should say the conversations were held in a lucid interval; he appeared to talk' to me quite rationally and showed no insanity when I first examined him; that was the day after he was received into the prison, as he casually spoke to me and not from his physical signs—he answered my questions intelligently—he appears to be a boy of more than average intelligence—he is well educated, and able to take advantage of the opportunities given him at school—I only find trace of delusion from the boy's own statement; apart from the murder, I saw no delusion—"irresistible impulse" is what I have written, but I would not swear those were the very words he used, but he said something to that effect, either "impulse" or "irresistible impulse"—I am judging from the statement of the father that he had these periodical attacks every two or three months; that appeared to me the same kind that he had when under my observation—I have heard the evidence; a boy may be very passionate and may be vicious without being insane; some boys do give way to extraordinary violent fits of passion, especially if they are interfered with and not allowed to have their own way; but I do not speak of those fits of passion, but attacks of mental excitement, as the father described it to me, that is very different—the mental excitement came under my notice: the boy who is generally well-behaved becomes very excitable and passionate, and appears to be in a very excited mental condition—the father, in his evidence, said this boy had these attacks at intervals of two or three months—the statement the father made in evidence was that pains came on very often, and then there were intervals of a week, a fortnight, or a month
without them, and that then he would sit sullenly and not speak to anyone—that was hardly the statement the father made to me—except when suffering from what I have described he would be perfectly sane, and would understand the difference between right and wrong—he would then appreciate that he was doing something wrong for which he might suffer if found out—he might have been under the influence of delusion when he bought the knife—I do not know that he was—he might have bought it while suffering under an attack of mania—I seriously mean that he would go to the shop, select the knife, bargain for it, and buy it while under the influence of mania; under the influence of homicidal mania these crimes are done with great deliberation—I have not said he was violently passionate in these attacks—in this case there would be no symptoms you could notice, except it appeared to be a case of moral perversion at the time—no doubt any person committing a crime would be suffering from moral perversion—in this instance we could do nothing with him when he was so excited—I do not mean he was suffering merely from moral perversion, but that moral perversion is one of the symptoms of insanity; moral perversion exists in people who are treated as sane—that is, people who are supposed to understand the difference between right and wrong—whether his inquiring for the knife one day, and going a second day to buy the knife would take place in a boy suffering from an attack of mania, would depend upon how long he was under its influence—there may be no observable symptom of it—a person would have sufficient control to avoid attracting attention—the attack under my observation lasted five days—I think the boy's conduct after the murder and his explanations during the week would possibly be consistent with his being under the influence of mania—so would trying to conceal the crime—I do not think the boy was under its influence a week, but it is possible he might have been—his endeavouring to conceal the crime would point to his knowing he had done wrong—his letter to his father would be consistent with his endeavouring to conceal the crime—also if it is true that he said he would get quicklime—he gave me a detailed account of how he did it—he did not tell me he concealed the knife—the first time he told me he had no recollection of stabbing her, but remembered hitting her on the head with a truncheon—on another occasion he told me that he had stabbed her—I do not think he told me about his going to Southend to see Read's trial—he knew who the warders were and that I was the doctor—the boy's behaviour in prison and the absence of motive are unfavourable to sanity—there is nothing in the facts of the case as given in evidence which is inconsistent with perfect sanity.
Re-examined by MR. GRANTHAM. I do not think he knew why I examined him; he was brought to the office and sat at my table—I did not tell him why I had come to examine him—his different accounts of the crime showed loss of memory.
By the COURT. Recurrent mania is a condition in which the person would not know the nature and quality of the act he was doing, while the attack was upon him—he would not then know that he was doing wrong—he did not know the difference between right and wrong on the 5th, I fancy; I would not state positively.
By MR. GILL. FOX has been under my observation two months—he
has a badly-shaped head and a highly-arched palate—he is undoubtedly of weak intellect—I mean he is slow in understanding what is said to him, and does not know common things you would expect an ordinary man to know—he was slow of apprehension—he has the peculiar hesitation in speech often noticed in weak minds.
JOHN JOSEPH GRIFFIN . I attended the Coombes family for the last two years—the mother was of a hysterical disposition, very emotional, and subject at times to fits of crying and laughing, and to attacks of hysteria—she used to laugh and cry with the least exciting cause—she was generally of a weak and nervous disposition—the nervous disposition and temperament of the mother sometimes affects the children—the lad was brought to me by his father, and sometimes by his mother—the last time was December 1894—he was suffering from attacks of mental excitement due to cerebral irritation—his father brought me two papers, in consequence of which I prescribed for a disordered nervous system—when the attacks were on him he had an irresistible impulse to run away without reason—I advised his father to take him to sea for a trip in consequence of these attacks—what I saw might develop into mania—and from what I have heard since, the boy has changed for the worse from what I saw last, physically and mentally—the disorder is of a progressive nature, and has got worse in my opinion—I form the opinion from what I have seen of him and what I saw yesterday—I have noticed the birthmarks on his temples—I agree with Dr. Walker that they show very considerable pres sure and violence had been used—I gave a report to the school officer as to the boy's mental condition.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I never saw him in any condition of mania—what I know is from what the father stated to me—he said his boy used to get up in the morning and complain of severe headache, and was restless, fidgety, and excitable, and twitching in his limbs—his father used to put him to bed—I gave him bromide of potassium to calm him—I saw the father at least three times—I knew the boy went to school.
Re-examined. He was in a condition of great mental excitement yesterday, and not responsible for what he was doing.
JOHN COSSINGTON . I am a school attendant officer at West Ham—I had reason to make inquiries in October 1893 as to the boy's nonattendance at school—I went to the mother—the result of the inquiry was that the boy had been sick through excitement—when I did see the boy he was in a very sullen mood, and would not answer me—I saw his doctor—in consequence of what I saw, read and heard from the doctor, and by request of the mother, that I would get him another school, I obtained a special order from the School Committee for his removal from one school to another.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. The boy did not want to go back to the same school—he had stayed away from that school.
ROBERT ALLEN COOMBES— GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time.— To be detained in strict custody in Her Majesty's Prison at Holloway as a criminal lunatic until Her Majesty's pleasure can be known.
JOHN FOX— NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUTTON for the prosecution offered no evidence on the Coroner's Inquisition.
NOT GUILTY .
BRIDGET SCANLON . I am a widow, of 4, Cortland Road, Canning Town—I act as midwife at times—I attended the female prisoner in her confinement, it was a beautiful boy, weighing about 11 lbs.—it was fed with a bottle and took its food—I attended twice a day for ten days, and once a day for three days—the child was all right when I left—the prisoner had made no baby linen, but the neighbours provided her.
MARTHA HURST . I am the wife of Joseph Hurst, of 29, Chargable Street—I know the prisoner—I saw her child shortly after it was born—it was a fine child—on June 21st, when the baby was six months old, she removed into my house, and I saw the baby the same night, its face and neck were very thin indeed, and its eyes sunken—about a fortnight before June 21st I said, "How changed your baby looks"—she said, "I don't take much notice of that; my children generally waste away soon after birth"—when she moved into my house I said, "The baby is very bad, you had better have some advice"—she said that they generally wasted away, and she did not think that she should rear it, as the doctor said she would never rear a baby—she has three daughters, and she said that she has had eleven or twelve—her husband came home once or twice a week—he gave her £1 a week, and sometimes 22s., and once he gave her 25s.—he is the captain of a barge—there was a distress for rent, and that is why she left 60, Chargable Street, and I took her in out of charity—I afterwards charged her 2s. a week—she had to provide for herself and the baby and two of her girls—I said, "You will get into some trouble if it goes on wasting in this way"—on August 16th I asked how the baby was—she said, "Very ill"—I said, "Do you mind my looking at it?"—it was covered all except its face—I pulled the blanket off, and said, "Oh, Mrs. Price, how bad your baby looks! if you don't have advice you will get into trouble"—she said, "You are always going on about doctors; but if you think there is need of one, I will take it to-morrow, when my husband comes home"—I said, "You need not wait for that," and lent her 2s.—I saw the baby next day; it appeared to have had convulsions the day before; its mouth was moving—I asked if she had taken it to the doctor—she said, "No"; she thought she would wait till her husband came home, as it was so much better—She came out at the door, and said, "Just let me draw your attention to my baby eating an ice-cream"—I looked in at the door, and saw the little girl feeding it with ice-cream—I saw the bottle was empty lying by the child, which had the teat in its mouth, and said, "Mrs. Price, your child is sucking an empty bottle."
By the COURT. She was in the habit of getting drunk; she was drunk on Sunday, Monday, and Thursday during the time she was with me—when her husband came home and she got money she drank.
RICHARD JOHN CARRY . I am a medical man, of 85, Barking Road, Canning Town—on August 18th, about 12.15 p.m., I was called to the prisoner's house; she was not there—I saw a little girl eleven years old, and the child was on a table wrapped up in some dark clothes—its face was very wasted; it had been dead ten hours—on the same evening, at
eight o'clock, the prisoner came to my house and wanted a death certificate for the child—I asked its name—she said that it had no name; it had not been registered—I asked how old it was, she could not remember till she asked a friend who was with her—I asked how long it had been ill—she said, it was never ill before that night—I asked if a doctor had seen it—she said, "No"—I refused to give a certificate, and referred the case to the Coroner's officer—I examined the body at the mortuary, and formed the opinion that it died from starvation—I made a post-mortem examination on the 23rd by order of the Coroner, and found no fat at all on the body, and no food in the stomach or intestines—there was no trace whatever of organic disease—it was twenty-one inches long, which is about the normal size for its age—it weighed 5 lbs., and it ought to have weighed 10 or 12 lbs.—I should not expect to find a trace of food in the stomach or intestines if it had had diarrhoea or sickness—it would have been able to take light food—the clothing was dirty, but this was four days afterwards.
By the COURT. If the milk given to the child was sour that would cause wasting or diarrhoea—I found no trace of diarrhoea and do not believe it had any—cornflour would be improper food—I think the neglect had gone on from June 1st, and if a doctor had been called in the child might possibly have been saved—ice cream is not a proper food for a baby, it is cold—I have not the slightest doubt that the prisoner was drunk, and she slipped her words.
HARRY ERRY . I am an officer of the Coroner for Canning Town—on August 14th I received information of the death of this child—I went there at 7 a.m., on the 20th, and asked the prisoner if it was registered, she said "No;" I informed the Registrar—I had seen her on the night of the death, she was the worse for drink—on the next day I removed the child to the mortuary.
Cross-examined. I am positive you were drunk, I could not make anything out of you—you were stupidly drunk.
WILLIAM RYAN CUNIS . I am a master barge owner, of 51, Great Tower Street—George Reuben Price, the prisoner's husband, has been in my employ as captain of a sailing barge four years—during the last three months up to August 19th his wages have been about 25s. a week, but he was not paid by the week, but by what he did—he was absent from two or three to eight or nine days at a time—he would go down to Gravesend or the Medway.
ELIZABETH PRICE.— GUILTY .— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
HART PLEADED GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRANTHAM Prosecuted.
ALRKRT GEORGE GURR . I live at 60, Stopford Street—on August 18th I left my house locked up, and gave notice to my next door neighbours to keep an eye on it—I was called home on Tuesday, the 20th, and found it in charge of the police—I missed these two gold pins, two razors, a meerschaum, a spoon and fork, and a cigarette case—I do not identify this handkerchief.
STEPHEN NORTON . I live next door to Mr. Gurr—on August 19th I saw a man resembling Cressey, and asked what he wanted there—he said nothing, and walked away—about 11.10 I heard the door of No. 60 slam—I dressed and went out for the police, and went to the house—I saw faces at the window—the policeman put his light on the window, and then I fancy I saw Hart—one man jumped the wall, and the constable and I chased him.
WILLIAM SAVAGE (302 K). On Monday, August 19th, about 11.20 I was near Mr. Gurr's house—Jones and Cressey passed me fifty or sixty yards from the house—I was called later on, and examined the door, I found a mark under the keyhole—Mr. Norton said, "Look, there are two or three of them at the window"—I had a lantern—I looked, Jones was one, and to the best of my belief Cressey was another; I picked them out next day out of eighteen others—I had seen Jones on the previous night, he glanced up at me—he was followed by the other two and disappeared in the dark.
FREDERICK FORD (Detective-sergeant). I know the three prisoners, they are constant companions—I arrested Jones on the 20th, and said, "I take you for being concerned with Hart in burglary"—he said, "I was not there."
Cross-examined by Jones. You did not say, "We shall see about that to-morrow."
Cressey's statement before the Magistrate:"I am innocent of it; I have never been with these two as a rule."
Witnesses for Jones,
Cross-examined. I was examined before the Magistrate about a week after the burglary, and said that I meant Monday, the day before yesterday—Jones is my brother—I do not sleep in the same room with him; I sleep in the front room—I do not keep an account every night of the time he comes in, or look at the clock—we have a clock—my mother also sleeps in the front room, but she was called out.
Cross-examined. I sleep in the front room with Mary Durrant—I went to bed about ten o'clock—only me and Mary sleep there—I do not always take a note of the time anybody comes in—the clock is on the mantel-shelf in the front room, and I generally look at it once every night about 10.30 or 10.45—there is a lamp in the room all night, and I turn it out about 7.30 or 8 a.m.
By the JURY. I heard Jones come in on this night, and then I looked at the clock.
Cressey's Defence: I went round to my brother-in-law's mother and went straight back. I was with a young woman, and I took her home. I went to hear the band play, and got to her house at a quarter to eight, and was there till seven or eight minutes past eleven. I have three witnesses.
Evidence for Cressey.
SEYMOUR. On August 19th Cressey came to my house about a quarter to eight, and left about a quarter to eleven.
Cross-examined. Cressey comes every night for me—we go round the lane, and it has generally gone eleven when we go home, but we got home by ten o'clock on this night—it was 9.50 when we were at the corner of West Ham Lane—the clock indoors had stopped, and then a clock struck eleven—a young man told me that Cressey was taken up on suspicion of stealing; he is not a friend of Cressey's, but he knew that I generally walked out with him.
Cross-examined. We generally notice the time when he comes home—he came home on Saturday the 17th about 11.15—he used to get in generally about 11—I then went to bed in the back-room; he sleeps in the kitchen—no one has spoken to me about the time he came home—I know Cressey's young woman; she has not spoken to me about it only to tell me that he was locked up—Kate Keeble spoke to me about it and said she had seen him at a quarter to eight on Monday evening—when he came in me and my husband were sitting up waiting for him and the church clock struck eleven—on the Thursday morning a man came and asked me if I would get a few shillings towards a solicitor.
JONES and CRESSEY.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. OGLE Defended.
GUILTY — Six Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
(728). WILLIAM ERNEST SIMS (18) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Thomas Albert Ward, and stealing four handkerchiefs and other other articles; Also to a conviction of felony at Chelmsford in November 1894.— Seven Months' Hard Labour.
MR. OGLE Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
ELIZABETH ORAMS . I live at 17, Red Post Lane, East Ham—on 13th August I was in the service of David Wybro, of 54, Shrewsbury Road—in the middle of that day Mrs. Wybro, the prisoner, told me to fetch a cab and to tell Holliday to meet her at Maryland Point Station at 8 o'clock—the cab came to 54, Shrewsbury Road, and Holliday and the cabman brought downstairs boxes, which they put on the cab—I did not see Burnell then—Mrs. Wybro, me, and the little girl went in the cab to Manor Park Station, and took train to Maryland Point, and then went to 16, Bow Street—about seven some boys fetched the boxes on a barrow from the station—we stayed at Bow Street till 8 o'clock, and then went to Maryland Point Station where we met Holliday and Burnell—we walked to Stratford and took train to Liverpool Street Station—Burnell, who is called Curly Dick, took the tickets—we went about London, and finally we went to a coffee-house, but they turned us out because they said that I would not say that I was twenty, and that missus was drunk—we went to another coffee-house, where we stayed the night—Burnell, Mrs. Wybro, and myself all slept in one bed; Holliday slept upstairs—next morning we all four breakfasted together—I heard Mrs. Wybro tell the coffee-house keeper that she was a publican's wife, that she and Burnell were husband and wife, and that I was the maid—after breakfast we went to the Monument, and on many 'buses and trams till we got to Highbury Station, and I went to 16, Bow Street—the landlady told me a detective had been, and I went home—I did not see the boxes packed; I saw them when I was doing the front-room; they were kept in that room, Mr. and Mrs. Wybro slept there.
Cross-examined. I had been in that employment a week and a few days, since the business had been given up and they had gone to live in a private house—Holliday was working at the next-door house, which was empty; he was not in the Wybros' house that day—when the cab came up no one was there, and Holliday was called up to assist in putting the boxes on the cab—I did not see Burnell on the scene up to that time—Mrs. Wybro and I walked to the station, and sent the cab on—Mrs. Wybro paid the porter for putting the boxes into the parcels office at the station—up to that time neither Holliday nor Burnell had come on the scene—the first time I saw Burnell come on the scene was at 8 p.m. at the station.
HARRY CAVIN (Detective-sergeant). Detective Liddilow, who has charge of this case, is at present in the hospital—I saw him this morning—he is suffering from rupture through a kick he received in arresting a prisoner—the
doctor gave this certificate (produced)—"Liddilow is in bed, and seems very weak."
Cross-examined by Mr. George, who appeared for the prisoners.
The Deposition of Lewis Liddilow (Detective K) was read as follows; At 4.30 p.m. on 15th August I went to an unfurnished house in Shrewsbury Road, East Ham, about three doors from Mr. Wybro's. I there saw Holliday. I said to him, 'Are you the man that put some boxes on a cab on Tuesday afternoon?' He said, 'Yes.' I said, 'What is your name?' He said, 'Edmund Holliday. I am known by the name of Ted.' I said, 'I am a police-officer, and hold a warrant for your arrest.' I then read the warrant to him. He said, 'I know nothing about any property. I was asked to put the boxes on the cab, which I did. They were taken away, and I haven't seen them since; and as for Curly Dick and Mrs. Wybro I don't know where they are. I didn't go with them. I have not seen Mrs. Wybro since she went away.' On the way to the station he said, 'I may as well tell you the truth: I know you have got your information from the girl. In the evening I met Curly Dick at the Princess Alice. He asked me to go with him to Maryland Point Station, where we met Mrs. Wybro and the girl, and from what he told me I then knew that I was doing wrong. I must have been a fool to go with them to London. I am sorry for it now. We went to his brother's at Liverpool Road, Islington, and afterwards in a cab to near Walworth Road. They turned us out of one coffee-house, and at the next house Mrs. Wybro, Burnell, and the girl went to one bedroom. I slept upstairs in another. On Wednesday we all went to Highbury. We sent the girl to see the children, and as she did not come back I came home I did not see a gold watch and chain, or any other property.' He was detained at the station and afterwards charged, and in reply he said, 'I am innocent; why wasn't the girl charged as well as me!' At 5.50 p m. on the 16th inst. I was in Liverpool Street, Islington, and saw the prisoners Kate Wybro and Richard Henry Burnell come out of the Duchess of Kent public-house in Liverpool Road together. I said, to Burnell, 'I hold a warrant for your arrest for stealing on 13th a gold watch chain, £10 in money, and other goods value £20, the property of Mrs. Wybro's husband' I read it. He said, 'I know nothing about it, I have not seen the property, I haven't stolen anything.' She said, 'Why I have the watch and chain, I am wearing it now; it was given to me by my husband. I know nothing about any money; he might have me in another way, but not for stealing anything, as I have only taken my own property. Dick knows nothing about it.' When charged at Forest Gate they made no reply. I searched Burnell; I found £1 10s. gold, 12s. 6d. silver, 1s. 4 1/4 d. bronze; the gold watch and chain produced, two-half return railway tickets. On Mrs. Wybro were found the gold watch and chain, 2s. 3d. silver, 3 1/4 d. bronze, and in her presence at the station Mr. Wybro identified the lady's gold watch and chain she was wearing as his property. In the trunks left at 16, Bow Street, which I took possession of, which were opened in the presence of Mrs. Wybro, I found two sponges, two wash-leathers, one girl's petticoat, one shawl, one waterproof cape, one knee-cloth, one table-cloth, two dinner napkins, one
pair gent's gloves, one toy-pistol, three spirit cups, one screwdriver, one whistle, one marriage certificate, which Mr. Wybro identified in their presence as his property. The other trunks contained apparel.
Cross-examined. The return tickets were Merton Abbey to London Bridge, dated August 15th; Wybro only claimed the watch and chain found on his wife Lewis Liddilow."
FRANK WHARRAN . I live at Deacon Road, Walworth, and am a coffee-house keeper—on the early morning of 13th August the three prisoners and Orams and another woman came to my house and slept there—in the morning the three prisoners and Orams had breakfast, the other woman did not stay—Burnell said he was a publican from Canterbury, and that Mrs. Wybro was his wife—they slept together—Burnell hired the rooms, and paid 7s. 6d. for the five persons about 2 a.m., when they got there—the next morning he asked me to change 8s. in coppers for him, and I did so, giving him silver; the coppers were a bit mildewed, beery—they all went out together.
Cross-examined. Holiday brought the fifth person as his wife, and they occupied the top floor; she did not go away till the morning.
JOHN ELLAMS . I am a plasterer of 59, Bristol Road, East Ham—on Tuesday, 13th August, I was working about 100 yards from Wybro's house—I saw a cab come to the house about 2.30—I first saw Burnell that day about three-quarters of an hour after the cab had gone—I saw Holliday putting the boxes on the cab—I did not see Mrs. Wybro.
Cross-examined. Burnell had been working next door to the Wybros' house: he helped build some house's there—on no occasion that day did I gee the three prisoners together, or any two of them.
DAVID WYBRO . On 13th August I lived at Shrewsbury Road, East Ham—I had been for some years the licensed holder of the Rising Sun—I married the prisoner, Kate Wybro, in December 1894—we got on very well for about three months till Burnell came on the scene, and then he upset it—I had on several occasions grounds for complaint of her conduct with Burnell, and also I lost money out of the bar—on 13th August I went to town—I did not know she was going away that day, she did not tell me she was—I got back about 4 p.m., and found she had gone—I saw the things were greatly upset in the room, and I missed things out of the desk; I missed £8 in gold, £2 in silver, and 8s. or 9s. in coppers; I had seen it safe that morning—the desk was locked; I had given her the key to pay bills out of the money—she paid one, and these are the others; I left her the money to pay; I have paid them since—I also missed this watch and chain of my previous wife; I had never given those to the prisoner, and she had no authority to take them away—once or twice, when her own watch was broken, she was allowed to wear them, or when she went out with me, but I never gave them to her—I also missed thin shawl, which my mother gave me, for a keepsake—I saw that and other things in the boxes when they were opened at the station; I also missed other things that have not been found—the boxes were hers—I have never treated her unkindly—she want on all right for about three months after our marriage, and then took to drink, and came home all hours the worse for drink—I never kicked her or struck her, or threw her downstairs.
Cross-examined. I bad known my wife two or three months before I
married her; she was in my employ as barmaid, and lived in the house—I had grown-up sons and a cook and housemaid at the public-house; one son attended to the bar—I had no reason to charge my wife with stealing anything while she was barmaid—she is my third wife—I never gave her any of these articles; I gave her a brooch and two rings,—we were on very friendly terms before marriage—I only gave her a diamond ring before marriage—I never mentioned the gold watch before marriage—she had a gold watch; she might have shown it to me before our marriage; I don't remember saying I had a better one upstairs belonging to my former wife—I might have said so—I did not then tell her I would make her a present of it and the chain—I did not go up and open the safe, in which the watch and chain were, under the dressing-table, and take them out and give them to her—I gave her the brooch she is wearing, not a gold brooch—she did not then bring all those articles of jewellery downstairs and wash them; she never had them in her hands—she did not thank me by giving me a kiss in the bar parlour; nothing of that sort took place—I bought what I made her a present of—I deny giving her these things—I may have talked to her about £30 worth of jewellery that my late wife bought; they brought them in when she laid on her deathbed, and she never saw them, and they took them back again—my wife has not worn the watch and chain from the time the conversation took place till her arrest; only when she has gone out with me, and I gave it her to wear—she had no right to have it on except when she was with me; she took it from the dressing-table; it did not always lie there, but when we moved it was placed there—up to the time I left the Rising Sun it was in the safe, but, when I moved, it and other things were taken out—my wife and I used to go out three times a week with the trap—I allowed her to wear the watch when tier's was broken; she did not put this on every day, not once in three months—when we were going out in the trap I did not take it out of the drawer and say, "You can wear this," only when her's was broken—she had to send hers to be mended on three or four occasions—I have never treated her cruelly; if I had the had her remedy—the watch and chain are of the value of about £8 or £9; they and the money are the most important things she took—the goods she is charged with stealing are about worth £10 or £15—I charge her with stealing two sponges, she broke the place open to get them out—I also charge her with stealing two wash-leathers, my daughter's petticoat, a shawl, a pair of gloves and other things—they were found in her box as when they were opened at the Police-station in her presence—I allowed her 15s. a week for pocket-money; I paid the housekeeping—I bought two dozen sponges for the house and yard—the two sponges and leathers had not been used before she left the house—I had last seen the sponges before I left the Rising Sun in the lower part of the sideboard—they were moved in the sideboard—the two sponges, wash leathers, and shawl were not packed in one of her boxes to be removed the week before she left my house—my wife only packed her own goods, not mine—I have no doubt that the shawl was not moved in her box—I did not pack her boxes myself—she had no reason for leaving me—she never complained of cruelty—she called in a doctor once when the came in the worse for drink and fell downstairs—she was never sober
two days a week at night-time; for the last two months she has never come home sober once a week—before two months ago she used to go out and come home the worse for drink, two or three times a week—I have asked her to drink when we have been out together—I gave her 15s. a week pocket-money, and promised her another 10s. if she did not drink—a Stratford doctor was called in to attend her; that was not in consequence of ill-treatment by me—I never hit her or lifted my hand against her—she did not tell me two or three days before she went away that if I hit her again she would leave me—I should not have given her the keys if I thought she was going away—I did not tell her to leave—Dr. Nicholls was the doctor who attended her—I do not charge her with stealing the locket.
The COURT directed the JURY that as there toot no evidence against Burnell and Holliday they should be acquitted.
Witness for Kate Wybro.
KATE WYBRO (the prisoner). I was married to the prosecutor on December 5th—the watch and chain were given to me by my husband—he promised them before we were married—we were sitting on the couch one evening, and I pulled out mine, and he said, "I will give you a better one; would you like to have it?"—I said "Yes"—within a week after our marriage he lit a candle and went to the safe under the dressing-table, and unlocked it. and took out the watch and gave it to me, and I have worn it ever since—I thought it was mine; it was in the dressing-table drawer in my bedroom that I used for my own trinkets—I do not know how the sponges and wash leathers and other things came in my boxes; I daresay they were lying about the house when we moved, and they might have been put in my boxes which were unpacked; I did not know they were there—I left my husband, and I think I had good reason for leaving him; he had previously hit me several times before, and I had the doctor because my husband pushed me out of the bedroom door.
Cross-examined. I went away with £7 or £8, which my husband gave me to pay the housekeeping and little bills—I had the keys of the desk, and I took it from there—I kept it myself—I paid for something I owed, and for my children being kept, and the rest I had spent when I was arrested—I was away for three or four days—I don't know if Burnell has any money, he seemed to have plenty—I did not give him any—I gave him no coppers—he paid the expenses of the journey; I paid for my own things—I gave him my share towards the lodgings; I think I gave him 3s. out of the money I took away.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted, and MR. ROOTH Defended.
am a composition manufacturer—I have known the prisoner a year or two, but not by name—he lives near there—on 21st August I went to bed between 10 and 11 p.m.—everything was fastened up—we kept a light in my room—about 1.30 I saw the door open, and the prisoner at the end of my bedstead—I looked at him a couple of minutes to take a full view of him before I jumped out of bed; he was looking round the room searching for something—I jumped out of bed and tried to catch him, he ran down-stairs, I ran after him, but could not catch him—I heard a bang of the door—I next saw him on the 22nd by the Britannia about 9 p.m.—I recognised him at once—the police took him then and there.
Cross-examined. He must have known me by sight—he knew me better than I knew him—he searched the pockets of my son downstairs—I had supper between seven and eight—the gas was on nearly full about a foot behind the bed—we have blankets on the top of the bed to keep the light off, and the draught—that did not come between me and the prisoner—the light is high up—I could see his side face and front; it was all in half a minute—I did not speak to him because I was watching him—at the Police-station he said he was indoors.
JOHN DODD (Detective). I am stationed at Plaistow—about nine p.m. on 22nd I went to the Britannia public-house, Stephenson Street—Holtz pointed to the prisoner among fifteen to twenty men, and said, "That is him"—I said I was a police-sergeant, and should take him into custody for breaking and entering 43, Bidder Street, about 1.30 that morning—he said, "I was indoors at eleven o'clock; you have got me wrong"—I took him to the station—he was charged—he made no reply—while being searched he said, "You have made a mistake; Holtz will have to prove it."
Cross-examined. When charged the prosecutor was standing by my side—he might not have heard what was said on account of the noise of the house—he was the further side of the house—it is incorrect to say I charged him outside the house—he bears a good character—he has been ten years in one employment.
ALBERT STRETCH (22 K). I am stationed at Plaistow—about four a.m. on 22nd August I visited and examined 43, Bidder Street—I found an entry had been effected by the parlour window on the ground floor by cutting the new catch—I found dirt and candle grease in the passage.
Evidence for the Defence.
ELIZABETH COOTE . I am the wife of James Coote, of 15, New Road—the prisoner lives in part of our house with his father and brother—on 21st August I went to bed at eleven p.m.—I heard the prisoner come in at 10.45—he said, "Good-night"—his brother asked if all was in, bolted the door, and they went upstairs to the same bedroom.
Cross-examined. I do not know which said, "Is all in?"—the brother said, "Good-night," and passed upstairs—I am certain the prisoner wished me good-night—I sleep downstairs and the prisoner overhead—I was in the kitchen when the brother came in—I did not see either of them—I do not know what time the brother or the prisoner came in on 19th or 20th.
"Good-night," and when I went up—I said, "Good-night"—I said something about bolting the door—I awoke at 5.45 the next morning—my brother was with me then.
Cross-examined. I cannot sleep sound.
MARTHA REARDON . I live at 15, New Road, Borough—I am house-keeper to the prisoner's father—on Wednesday, 21st August, I went to bed at eleven p.m.—the two sons were in before I went to bed—I fastened up and knocked at the front-room door—the prisoner told me to call him at 5.30 a.m.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, MR. GUY STEPHENSON Defended, at the request of the COURT.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM RYDER . I live at 64, St. George's Street, Whitechapel—I was a seaman on board the Castledale, a British ship sailing under the British flag from Cuba to Philadelphia—I joined at Baltimore—the prisoner was a seaman on the same ship—I had no quarrel or dispute with him before July 11th—he said he had seen one of his shirts in an empty bunk down below; he laughed and seemed funny—I knew there was no empty bunk—I said, "Which empty bunk is it?"—he said, "The one you have been sleeping in"—I said, "We will go down at six o'clock"—we went down at six o'clock, and there was a shirt there which he claimed—it did not belong to me—he took it away, and we were good friends afterwards—there was no quarrel or dispute between us, between that time and July 11th—on that day I left the wheel at eight p.m.—I took up a shirt which I had left to dry on the bridge and went down to the forecastle, where were the prisoner and a witness—I put the shirt in my bunk; and I heard the prisoner saying, more to himself than to me "God d—son of a b—"—I said, "What is the matter now?"—he said, "You know d—well what is the matter with me"—I said, "What?"—he said, "You have been taking 'one' or 'some' of my shirts"—I said, "I did not—he said, "Yes, I see you wearing them"—I called him a liar—he said, "God d—you," and he had his right hand up, and his left hand like this, and I thought he was going to hit me, so I hit him first in the face with my fist—almost at the very same time I felt a pain in my face where this scar is now—I saw something in his hand; I cannot say what it was, but then I saw him changing a knife from his left hand to his right hand, and I hit him again in the face, and he made a blow for my chest, but I kept my arm up and got the blow on my arm—I saw then that blow was caused by a knife which cut my muscles, and my arm
dropped useless—then he caught hold of me and aimed a blow at my heart, but I slewed round and got it below my left shoulder-blade—I hollowed out, "I am stabbed!" and then a witness came up and the prisoner ran up on deck—next day we got to Philadelphia, and I went into the hospital, where I stayed about ten days—this knife is the prisoner's; I have seen him wearing it.
Cross-examined. I know the knife is yours because I opened a jam tin with it and broke the point, and I have used it for a scraper on the main-deck; I used it three or four times—you claimed that your shirts were in my bunk, but it was not my bunk; I slept in it before.
FREDERICK LINDBLOW . I am an A.B. on the Castledale—on 11th July I was in the forecastle when the prisoner and Ryder were there—I heard the prisoner say to Ryder, "You have taken two of my shirts"—Ryder said, "No, I have not"—the prisoner said, "Yes, you have"—Ryder said "No" and struck the prisoner, and then I saw them fighting—I did not see anything in the hand of either of them—I was about seventeen feet away—then the prisoner ran out of the forecastle, and Ryder came and spoke to me and showed me a wound on his left shoulder, and one on his arm, and one on his face—his arms and back were bleeding—this is the prisoner's knife.
Cross-examined. We were good friends, and you tried to do your work in good friendship.
FRANCIS TAYLOR . I am Divisional Surgeon of Police, and live at 224, Lewisham High Road—on August 21st I saw Ryder—I found the scar of a wound about one and three-quarter inches long underneath his left shoulder blade; I cannot say how deep it had been, it had quite healed—it might have been caused by this knife—there was an irregular jagged scar about three and a-half inches long on the outside of his right forearm; it was a deep cut, because the skin was adhering to the muscles underneath; it disabled him from work as a seaman for some weeks after I saw him—I saw another wound about two inches long on the right corner of his mouth; it cut through the lip; the scar is still there; it is a permanently disfiguring wound—it must have been caused with some sharp instrument—the tip of the tongue was cut nearly through, and it will affect his speech for some time until the parts get to their natural condition, and then I daresay he will be all right again—the wound on the fore-arm could have been done when he was holding up his arm to protect himself from a blow.
Cross-examined. I think the cut in the back was done by the knife glancing, not a stub; it was a cut on the arm—I cannot say whether the wound on the face was a cut or a stab.
JOHN NOLAN (Detective-sergeant). On the arrival of the Princess, on August 6th, I boarded the vessel, and saw the mate and captain, who handed the prisoner over to me—I took him to Deptford Police-station, and told him the charge—he made no statement—the Castledale is now in the West Indies, out of the jurisdiction of this Court—the master, the chief-officer, and the carpenter are on that vessel.
Cross-examined. The captain gave you a good character.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that the prosecutor seized him by the throat, and struck him, and that he must have used the knife in self-defence, not knowing at the time what he did.
FREDERICK LINDBLOW (Re-examined). Ryder did not take the prisoner by the throat—he held him by the trunk after he started the fight—I saw no blood on the prisoner's face; his eyes were swelled—Ryder struck him first.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. The JURY recommended him to mercy.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HARRISON Prosecuted. The Prisoner was deaf and dumb, and the evidence was interpreted to him.
GUILTY of indecent assault.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. BROXHOLME Prosecuted.
The JURY being unable to agree, were discharged without returning any verdict. The prisoner was subsequently tried before another JURY, when the following evidence was given.
MINNIE PAVITT . I am the wife of Alfred Pavitt, of 127, Honeywell Road, Wandsworth—the prisoner has been in my service since January 9th—I told her I should not keep her, as she had been dishonest—on August 2nd I went out about 11.40, leaving the prisoner alone in charge—I kept the cupboard in the dining-room locked—it was a portion of the house, in a recess—I returned a little after six p.m.—I found a fire had been in the house; the dining-room cupboard had been broken open and a fire lit there—the door and shelf were burnt—in the cupboard was a silver-mounted morocco writing-case, drawing paper, a drawing book, paints and other things, which were partly consumed—of some things nothing remained—the bed in my bedroom on the first floor front had been set on tire and was partly destroyed—a wash-stand and towel that had been hanging on it had been burnt—in the back room the bed was burnt and the top of the drawers and the top of the dressing-table—I went through the kitchen to the scullery, and seeing the prisoner I said, "Rebecca, what is the meaning of this?"—she said, "I do not know, mum, I never did it"—when her sister came we went upstairs, and she opened her box and" showed us her things, which were packed very neatly—I have not missed anything.
ELIZA CROUCH . I reside at 125, Honeywell Road, next door to Mrs. Pavitt's—about 12.50 p.m. on August 2nd the prisoner called to me that she thought the house was on fire—I went from my front door to Mrs. Pavitt's front door—I saw the girl coming downstairs with her box corded and labelled, and her hat and jacket were on her box—I could see there was a tire, and I took Mills, the tinker, in with me—he opened the dining-room cupboard with his hand—it was on fire—it was unfastened—some
water was got, and we put the fire out—I tried, but could not get upstairs for the smoke—I asked the prisoner where her mistress was, and she said she was out—I said, "How could the house catch fire, when there is no fire in the kitchen, or gas in the house?"—she said she did not know.
HENRY MILLS . I am a cutler, of Sheepcot Yard, Sheepcot Lane, Culvert Road, Battersea—I was called to 127, Honeywell Road—on going into the back room downstairs I saw a cupboard alight—it was shut but not locked—I put the fire out—the girl helped me with the water—I went upstairs and found the bed alight in the back room—I put it out with assistance.
GEORGE GARLISLE . I am a laundry man, of 45, Chatham Road—I was passing, and went into the house and upstairs, about 1 p.m.—in the back room I found the bedding on fire—after I had put that out I went in the front room, and found the bedding on fire—I said to the prisoner, "It seems strange to me to be on fire in so many different places"—she said she did not do it.
WILLIAM RICHARD GLOVER . I am in charge of the Fire Station, Battersea Park Road—I was called to 127, Honeywell Road, on August 2nd, at 1.27 p.m.—on examining I found four separate fires: one in the cupboard in the back room ground floor, which had been extinguished, but the inside of the cupboard was well charred—I found two fires in the front room, first floor, partly out—I extinguished them—the bed and bedding and the greater part of a towel were burnt, and the towel-horse was alight by the side of the washstand—the bed and bedding were alight in the back room on the same floor—I asked the prisoner whether anybody else was in the house—she said, "No"—and where her missis and master were—she told me her master was at business at the Post Office Savings Bank Department, Victoria Street, and her missis had left the place about 11.30 to see a friend—I said, "Can you account for the fire?"—she said, "No"—I asked her if she had not been upstairs—she said, "No"—she told me she had been cleaning the stair rails on the stairs, and when she got to the upper part she smelled smoke, and she called her next-door neighbour to extinguish it; the place was then on fire—I then asked her if she did not smell the fire from the cupboard, being on the stains—she told me she did not—I said, "How can the cupboard be on fire?" supposing it was locked; and as to how the door of the cupboard was broken open—she told me one of the men who came to extinguish the fire had broken the cupboard door open—the cupboard was charred, the catch was on, as if it had been locked and forced open.
JOHN FIRMAN (338 V). I was called to 127, Honeywell Road at 2.20—I saw the prisoner—I asked her where her master and mistress were—she said they were out, and "I expect when my master and mistress come home they will say that I done it; if I have another place I will take care there are other servants in the house; left alone all these hours."
HENRY MONTGOMERY (81 V). I went on August 2nd to the prosecutor's house—I saw the prisoner—I asked her if she was alone in the house—she replied, "Yes"—I followed Firman—I did not know he had been—she said her master went to the City about nine a.m., and her mistres eft about 11.30—I asked her if she knew anything about the fire—sh
said, "No"—I asked her if she had let anyone into the house at all—she said, "No"—I inquired if she had had anyone in the house—she replied, "No"—I awaited the arrival of the master and mistress in the evening, and she was given into custody—when the charge was read over to her she made no reply.
WILLIAM PUGSLEY (Inspector V). On August 2nd I went to the prosecutor's house soon after six p.m.—on examining the house I found a cupboard in the ground floor back room had been forced open, apparently by a poker, because I saw black smut on the impression—a fire had been there, as there were charred remains of paper, and the cupboard door was charred—I found remains of fire in the bedrooms, back and front—I told the prisoner I should take her into custody for setting fire to the house in four different places—she raid, "I did not do it; I did not know till I saw the smoke in the back room"—I produced the poker and said, "Thin is the poker with which the cupboard was broken open"—she made no answer to that—there is white matter, which I take to be paint, on the end of the poker.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:—"I did not do it. I only found out when I saw the smoke—I went upstairs, and I went to the next-door neighbour, and told her I thought the house was on fire, as there was a lot of smoke—I went upstairs and found a lot of smoke."
GUILTY.Strongly recommended to mercy on account of her youth. Discharged on Recognisances, and taken to a Home.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
737. RICHARD CORDEW (22) , Feloniously possessing ten counterfeit half-crowns after a conviction of possessing counterfeit coin at this Court in October 1887, in the name of Richard Cohen , and MAUD CORDEW (23) , unlawfully uttering a four-shilling piece to Charles Morrell.
PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
CHARLES MORRELL . I am a chemist, of 26, Clapham Road—on 20th December at six p.m. the female prisoner came in for a tablet of soap, price 6d., and gave me this four-shilling piece—I noticed immediately that it was bad, and told her so, and broke it in half—I said I should give her in charge—she said she was not aware it was bad—I asked her where she got it—she said a man in the Horns public-house had given it to her a little while before, and that he was a stranger to her—I sent for a constable—at the time she was in my shop another four-shilling piece, passed about five minutes previously at my other shop, was brought in—I do not think that coin is here to-day.
ALBERT COOK (Police-constable). I was sent for to this shop on 20th December—I found the prisoner there—the prosecutor said he wished to charge her with uttering a counterfeit four-shilling piece—she said, "I was not aware it was a bad one"—I took her into custody—she made no answer when charged at the station—she gave her name as Mabel Gray, and her address at a lodging house in Chelsea—she was discharged by the Magistrate.
prisoner standing outside Kennington Park gates—shortly after the female prisoner joined him—they turned round Kennington Terrace, and she handed him a packet, which he put in his left-hand trousers pocket—they walked together along the Camberwell New Road, and into another street, where they stopped—she left him; I kept him under observation, and Burgess followed her, I following him through a number of streets, and went towards him; as I did so he took something from his left hand trousers pocket—I seized his hand, and found this parcel, containing ten counterfeit half-crowns, all separately wrapped up in the ordinary way common to coiners—the parcel was of similar size to that which I saw the woman hand to him shortly before, and wrapped up in the same way—I took him to the station, and then went with Burgess to 190, Hillingdon Street, where in a front room upstairs I found the female prisoner—I said, "Where is your husband"—she said, "He is out"—I said, "What was it you gave him at the corner of Kennington Park about three-quarters of an hour ago?"—she said, "I suppose some b—has put us away"—I said, "He is in custody for possessing counterfeit coin; we are going to search your room"—under a chair we found a tin box—I said, "Where is the key of this box?"—she went to a picture, and from underneath it took a small key and unlocked the box—I there found these implements for manufacturing counterfeit coin, acid, a clamp, a ladle, a battery, metal, a spoon, plaster of Paris, and quicksilver—I took her to the station, and charged her—she made no answer to me, nor, I think, to the other officer.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. No keys were found on you—we were about forty yards off when you passed the parcel, which was similar to this—I said to the male prisoner in your presence at the Police-court, "If you are married, where is your certificate of marriage?"—he said, "Well, it is no good to tell a lie; I am not married; I am only living with her; "she said nothing to that.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—this is a bad double florin—these eight half-crowns are all bad—these things are all part of the stock-in-trade of a professional coiner.
Maud Cordew called
RICHARD CORDEW (the other prisoner). You know nothing about this—these coins were made on the Thursday night before I was arrested at my place—I sent you to Victoria to borrow 2s. for me—when you returned without them these coins were made and locked up in a box with these things—I did not know you knew where the key was—you did not hand me the coins, but the key—I don't know what became of the key—another constable came up at the same time, and he handed those coins to the other constable—you had no knowledge of what was going on in this room—I gave you the four-shilling-piece; you did not know it was bad—I have been at work since then, and so have you; you know nothing of it.
Cross-examined. When she said, "I suppose some b—has put us away," she referred to a fight I had with a man; she hit a man across the head with her umbrella a week before—I have lived with her for some
time—I gave her a wedding-ring, but I could not afford to get married—I gave her the 4s., and told her to buy the soap—I have lived in the house since April—all these things are new; they were locked in the box, and it was done in the night-time, when she went out—I have not had a great deal of experience in coining—I have done previous convictions, but not for making it—I have done twelve months for it in the name of George Johnson .
Maud Cordew in her defence stated that she did not know what was going on,— GUILTY . A police-sergeant stated that since Richard Cordew's last conviction he had served in the Army. RICHARD CORDEW*— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. MAUD CORDEW— Three Months' Hard Labour.
738. JOHN NICHOLLS (32), and WILLIAM BURDELL (19) , Unlawfully attempting to steal from a Post-office letter-box certain postal packets, the property of the Postmaster-General; Second Count, Plastering on a Post-office letter box a glutinous substance likely to injure the letter-box and its contents.
BURDELL PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. H.C. RICHARDS and SOPER Prosecuted.
WILLIAM KEMP (Detective M). I have had some experience of these Post Office cases—about 10.30 p.m. on August 30th I and Bolton were in Holland Street, St. George's, Southwark, in plain clothes—I saw the prisoners standing outside a pillar letter-box and placing their hands in the aperture—we secreted ourselves on the opposite side—one of them called out, "Lookout, there is somebody over the road"—we followed the prisoners as far as Southwark Street—I arrested Nicholls, and asked him what he was doing at the pillar letter box—he said, "Nothing, take this 8d., and let me go," placing 8d. in my hand—he struggled to get away, and during the struggle I heard something fall—I said, "What is that you have dropped?"—after the struggle I found this leaden weight attached to the piece of string, and these curling-tongs—both the lead and the curling-tongs were covered with a sticky substance—when charged Nicholls said, "I know nothing about it; I only went for a walk with the other man"—I found sticky stuff on his fingers.
ALBERT BOLTON (Detective M). I was with Kemp—I saw Nicholls and Burdell standing by the pillar-box in Holland Street—I took Burdell—I examined the pillar-box, and found a sticky substance on it, and another pillar-box about 150 yards off had sticky substance on it.
Cross-examined by Nicholls. It was not another man who was with Burdell; when you both struggled to get away you dropped something—we did not lose sight of you—two women and a man were walking behind you.
EDWARD WILLIAM LANCASTER . I am a postman in the South-eastern Post-office—I made the collection at 9.30 on 30th August from the Holland Street and Gravel Lane pillar-boxes—they were all right then; there was no sticky stuff on them—it was part of my duty to examine.
midnight collection—I found a sticky substance on twenty or thirty letters—I cleansed them and sent them on.
Nicholls in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that he met his sister, who gave him 8d. for his lodging money, that just afterwards he met Burdell, and was showing him the money he had and hit work-ticket when the detective rushed up and seized him, and a third man ran away, and threw something on the ground.
The Prisoner called.
"WILLIAM BURDELL (the prisoner). On Friday, August 30th, I was walking through Union Street about 11.30 a.m. and T met a young chap I knew before, named James Lee—he asked where I was going—I said, "for a walk"—he stayed with me till 9.30 p.m., and then he said he was going round to try and get some money—he had not been gone above ten minutes when he came back and said he had a shilling—he gave me a penny out of it to go and buy the curling-tongs—I went to an oil shop and bought them for a penny—we went through Gravel Lane into Holland Street—he said, "Go up on the bank side and see if any one is coming"—I went on the bank side and saw a man sitting down on the seat in the gateway—that was about ten o'clock—I came back and said, "There is someone sitting on the seat, come away"—he did the things up and put them in his pocket—when we got to the top of Holland Street Nicholls came and asked me whether I was going home to bed—I knew him, he lives in the same house with me—I said I was not going home just yet, and asked him how much money he had—he said eightpence, and before he could put it back the police-officers came up—he ran round the corner, and they started swearing and knocked the eightpence out of his hand and took us to the station—Lee who was with us, when he saw the officers coming up, ran away and threw the lead and tongs on the ground—Lee got me four months before this.
Cross-examined. I was in trouble before for house-breaking implements—I was doing nothing from 11.30 till 9.30, I had nothing to eat or drink—I got the curling-tongs in Southwark Street; the shop was open between 9.30 and 10—I don't know where the lead and string came from—I had nothing to do with that—Lee told me he was going on a fishing expedition—we were not two minutes at the box in Holland Street—I think I know Kemp—it was about 125 yards from where I saw someone sitting to where Lee dropped the curling-tongs—I did not see Kemp coming up all the time—I walked up the street, and Kemp and Bolton walked up behind—Lee kept looking round; I think he is known to Kemp, and is sometimes wanted—Kemp came up, and the lead and curling tongs were dropped in Summers Street, opposite the corn ware-house—I saw nothing of Nicholls till I came into Summers Street—Bolton took hold of me first—I think it was a planned job between the two detectives and the boy.
NICHOLLS† GUILTY— Eight Months' Hard Labour. BURDELL**†— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
The Common Serjeant commended Kemp and Bolton.
Six Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. BLACKWELL for the prosecution offered no evidence.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. BLACKWELL offered no evidence.— NOT GUILTY .
744. THOMAS GOODCHILD (16) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to burglary in the dwelling-house of George Thomas Sanderson, and stealing a packet of tea and other goods, his property. He received a good character.— Six Months' Imprisonment.
745. THOMAS SHELTON(35) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to receiving three watches and other goods of Thomas Jarrett, stolen from his dwelling-house. He received a good character.— Six Weeks' Hard Labour.
746. JAMES HART (27) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to feloniously entering the dwelling-house of William George Dunnett, and stealing a watch, a pencil-case, and other goods, his property; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of John Langdon with intent to steal.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
747. THOMAS WILSON (20) , Throwing stones at certain engine, tender, and carriages, then being used on the London, Chatham and Dover Railway, thus endangering the safety of persons being conveyed by the said railway.
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.
JOHN CARTER (385 L.) I was on duty on July 28th with Police-constable Kennedy, in White Hart Court, close to the Elephant and Castle Railway Station—as a train was coming up and another down I saw the prisoner and another throw a stone at the platform in the direction of a train steaming into the station—Wilson said, "You can't hit the f—g thing" as he was in the act of throwing a stone, when I caught hold of his right-arm—I was in plain clothes—it had been raining, and I slipped down—both got away, and went round the Walworth Road, Newington Butts, and the Elephant—I saw the prisoner dodging about amongst people—he got under a railway arch, where I caught him—I never lost sight of him—I searched his clothes, and found these two stones in his jacket—when I arrested him I said, "I am going to take you into custody for throwing stones, endangering the safety of persons in the train"—he said, "Do what you like with me, you can't hang me."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not drop a stone in your pocket outside the oyster shop.
THADY KENNEDY (40 L). I was with Wilson, and saw the prisoner And another throw stones at the train that steamed into the Elephant and Castle Station—one of them said, "You cannot hit the b—f—g thing"—I chased the man who escaped—I had a good opportunity of seeing them—the prisoner is one—he had one stone, and had actually thrown one, and more for aught I know—he was crouching under the bridge in the Kent Road—I assisted Carter—I saw him throw one stone—I saw him put his hand in his left-hand pocket—a stone was taken from it by Carter—I had hold of his right hand with my left hand.
JAMES WHITMORE . I am station inspector at the Elephant and Castle Station—on July 28th I found the prisoner in custody—in consequence of what they said I went to one of the platforms—I found these three granite stones—that is unusual.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I found them on the platform directly opposite White Hart Court—they would drop on to the platform from the court—this one was found close to the carriage.
The prisoner's defence was that he was going towards the London Road to meet a friend when Carter arrested him, and dropped a stone in hit pocket, as he had a bad feeling against him, and wanted to get him behind prison bars, but he had more sense than to do such a thing.
GUILTY .*— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ROACH Prosecuted.
WALTER KIDDLE (563 V). On Saturday, June 1st, at 2 a.m., I was near the Commercial public house kept by Mr. Fuller, in Battersea Park Road—I saw Thurgood (See page 802) leave the side entrance of the public-house—when he got to the corner of the public-house he hit the wall with his right hand; immediately the prisoner came out of the lobby from behind the iron gate at the side entrance, joined Thurgood, and they went away—I looked in the side entrance and saw no one else was there, and then I went in pursuit of Thurgood and the prisoner who had disappeared—I knew where Thurgood lived, and I made for his house and caught him as he was coming up from the other end of the street—he was subsequently convicted of breaking into the public-house—I did not see the prisoner again till August 5th when I was in plain clothes in Battersea Park Road—I asked him if his name was Turner—he said, "No, it is not"—I said, "I think it is; I am a police-constable; I shall take you, into custody for being concerned in breaking into the Commercial public-house, Battersea Park Road, on June 1st"—he said, "I don't know anything about it; you have made a great mistake"—I knew him before—I am positive he is the man I saw coming out of the house.
FRED STEWART (666 V). About one a.m. on 1st June I saw Thurgood, the prisoner, and several other lads near the Commercial public-house, Battersea Park Road—I told them it was time they were away from there, and they went away—Thurgood and the prisoner kept on this side of the road and the others went to the other side round by the Polytechnic—I examined the lock of the door leading to the lobby; it was secure.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You and Thurgood went straight down the Battersea Park Road—there was no disturbance.
ROBERT BROUGHTON (46 V). I examined the Commercial public-house after Thurgood had been charged with burglary—I found the lock had been wrenched from the iron gates leading into the lobby—on the righthand door leading from the lobby into the public-house there was a cut as if someone had begun to cut away the lock—the lobby is part of the premises; it is closed by a gate instead of a door.
FREDERICK JAMES FULLER . I keep the Commercial public-house in Battersea Park Road—at 12.15 on 1st June I twice looked round and saw my premises were closed—I locked the iron gate—about 2.15 I was called by a policeman—I saw the lock of the gate had been wrenched off.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he left the public-house when it was closed and went home.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
GEORGE MORGAN . I am a dealer, of 45, Ella Street, Walworth—I have known the prisoner for about two years as a ship's steward—he used to pay me a visit when his ship was in port—I did not know what ship he was in—on July 10th he asked me if I would cash or get cashed for him this advance-note for £2 15s.—(This note was dated July 10th, 1895, and directed the payment of £2 15s. to the order of Thomas William Hunt, steward, three days after the ship "Fuchia" left the Downs, and stated that the note was payable at the S. N. C., 6 and 8, Eastcheap, and that the ship was lying at Tilbury)—I said I might get it cashed daring the week—he said he would purchase three watches and some brushes from me in part payment—I sold him three watches for £1 2s. and ten brushes for 10s., and I gave him 18s. in two or three payments—he endorsed the note in my presence "T. William Hunt"—I took it to 6 and 8, Eastcheap, where it is stated to be payable, and made inquiries—and I went to the office in Leadenhall Street, and made inquiries about the Fuchia—I asked the prisoner when I came back what "S. N. C." meant; his answer was not satisfactory—I asked him where the ship was; he said, "In Tilbury Dock"—I gave him into custody—I saw the brushes at the Police-court.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You stayed at my shop after cashing the second note till I came back—you came on several occasions between the 10th and 12th—you came in my shop on the 17th about an hour after I came back, and I called in a plain clothes constable—you asked me to come to York Road, and said you would refund the money—I refused to do so, and give you into custody—all the goods you have had before yon have paid me for.
the Fachia was known at the Tilbury Dock—I saw the prisoner write this paper—in my opinion his writing is similar to that on the note.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that the note was given to him, and that when the prosecutor said it was worthless he offered to return the money.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at Southwark in 1894. There were other indictments against the prisoner for forging another note, and for obtaining money by false pretences.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON, Prosecuted.
HARRIET PAVEY . My husband is a tobacconist—on July 17th, between one and two o'clock I served the prisoner with half-ounce of tobacco and a cigarette-book, which came to 2 1/2 d.—he gave me a half-crown—I gave him the change, and he left—I had no other half-crown—I kept it till my husband came home at five o'clock, and then took it to the Police-station and found it was bad—I gave it to Sergeant Chick—this is it—I went to the station again later on that night, and saw the prisoner with others and picked him out.
MATTHEW CHICK (Police-sergeant L.). On July 17th I was in the Was worth Road, and saw the prisoner and another man—they went under a railway arch, and the prisoner took something from his pocket and gave it to the other man, who went to a shop—I chased the prisoner and said, "What is that you gave that man?"—he said, "Nothing"—I searched him and found these florins wrapped up separately, with paper between them, and a half-crown loose, and in another pocket a good shilling—he said, "I picked them up on the towing-path"—I took him to the station, and he was charged with possession—he made no answer—Mrs. Pavey came to the station about 8 p.m. and brought a bad half-crown—the prisoner was placed with ten other men and she identified him—he said nothing—I went to several tobacconists.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that he met two men on a canal bank, one of whom gave him a parcel to put in his pocket, and gave him a half-crown, and sent him to buy some tobacco and cigarette papers, and to wait till he came back, and the policeman took him, and found the coins and the paper with the tobacconist's address.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
EDITH CLEVERLEY . I live with my grandfather, a confectioner, and assist him—on a Saturday about a fortnight before July 26th the prisoner came in for some sweets and gave me a shilling—I passed it to my grandfather—about a week afterwards he came again—I afterwards picked him out at the station—he was with three other boys.
EDMUND CLEVERLEY . I am a confectioner, of 60, Lechmere Road—on June 8th my granddaughter gave me a shilling, and said, "Change for a shilling"—I held it a few minutes, and then gave the change, and threw it into the till, where there were no other shillings—I examined it five minutes afterwards, and found it bad—the boy had run out of the shop—I put it to my teeth, broke it in half, and handed it to the police.
ELIZA THORPE . I live at 12, Winders Road, Battersea—on June 27th I was at a coffee-stall kept by my son Edmond—some boys came up, the prisoner was one of them; he asked my son for two cups of coffee and two pieces of bread—my son handed this shilling to me—I examined it, and said, "This is a bad one"—the prisoner said it belonged to his brother—on the 29th I went to the stall again, and my son handed a coin to me—I handed it to a detective.
By the COURT. No other boy was with the prisoner on the 27th, Thursday—I did not change it; I gave it back to him.
EDMUND GEORGE BUCKMAN . I keep a coffee-stall and live at 12, Winders Road, Battersea—on June 29th I was at the stall, and the prisoner and Robertson came there—the prisoner asked for two cups of coffee and two pieces of cake, and gave me 1s.—I put it in a cup where I had no other silver, and gave him the change—I afterwards took it down to my mother, who said it was had—I saw the prisoner two or three weeks afterwards, and accused him of giving me a bad shilling; he said at first that he did, and afterwards that he did not.
JOHN WINZAR (Detective-sergeant V). On the evening of July 14th I went to 101, Lechmere Road, where the prisoner lives with his father—I took him in custody, and he was charged with two other boys, who were discharged by the Magistrate (The Witness here read a conversation between the boys).
Prisoner's defence: "The bad money I passed was given me by Robinson to change for him. The only benefit I derived was keeping the small things I purchased, while Robinson received the change. I have never been in trouble before, and have always been at work since I left school."
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his youth. Discharged on his own recognisances.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
did not examine it, I went with it to my husband, who came into the shop.
JAMES RUDD . My wife called me, and I found a young man named Lane in the shop—my wife handed me this half-crown, which she said she took from him—I said, "This is a bad one," and took back the sausage which my wife had given him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I asked Lane where he got it; he said someone had done him with it—I did not see you there.
ALFRED LANE . I live at 8, Sale Terrace, Southwark—I became acquainted with the prisoner on the last Saturday in June at St. George's Road, Southwark, and on the following Monday I saw him at Lambeth Police-court, because there was a fight in St. George's Road on the Saturday—I next saw him on July 17th at the corner of Markhain Street, and he took me into Pearce's dining-rooms; he paid for the refreshment I had, and asked if I would meet him at six next morning to look for work—I met him at 6.40, and we went through a turning into East Lane—he said, "I am going to breakfast now, run in there and get me two eggs, or anything you can think of," pointing out a little shop; the name was Hill—he gave me a half-crown, which he took out of a paper-packet, in which there were about ten mote half-crowns folded up in tissue paper in a row with paper between them—I went to Mr. Rudd's shop, and asked for two eggs and a German sausage, price 1d., and put down the half-crown; Mrs. Rudd took it up—I left and was afterwards taken in custody.
Cross-examined. I did not tell the detective that when you gave it to me I thought it was bad.
CHARLES GARNER (Detective P). On July 17th I was in the Albert Road—Mr. Rudd spoke to me, and I saw Lane leaving the shop; I followed him through several streets, and saw the prisoner pass him—I arrested Lane, and while I had him in custody the prisoner passed again—I searched Lane, and found this half-crown in his waistcoat pocket—on the 29th he was charged before a Magistrate, and in consequence of information I arrested the prisoner at 128, Walworth Road, a common lodging-house—I said, "I want you"—he said, "Where are you going to take me, Peckham?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I know him, he is a beauty, I will give him a stretch, you did not see me with him; this means eighteen months, if I get more I will knock half his face off"—he was charged, and said, "I will prove it is not the first he uttered later on"—Lane was at the station at that time, he said in the prisoner's presence "I met this man in George Street, Southwark, at 8 p.m., the night before he took me to Pearce's coffee-house and gave me tea and bread and butter, and asked me to go home with him, and to meet him at six the following morning; I did so, and he handed me a half-crown, and told me to go into a shop and buy some eggs; and the man in the shop said it was bad; the man said, 'Look out, you take the first turning to the right,' and he arrested me"—the prisoner said, "He uttered it; I did not, I will prove it is not the first he uttered later on."
Cross-examined. I did not ask Lane where he got it.
The Prisoners statement before the Magistrate:—"Cannot you settle it here, sir?"
Prisoner's defence: "I have known this man a long while—he is the utterer of counterfeit coin. He said to me, 'I know you, I will put you away'—he swears I did not tell him it was bad, and the detective says I did. I was not with them; I refused, and told them I had a situation and wanted to get an honest living. He says that I gave it to him in order to ruin his character."
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, OCTOBER 21ST, 1895.