CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 21ST, 1895.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ., Q.C.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, October 21st, 1895, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR JOSEPH RENALS, Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir WILLIAM GRANTHAM , Knt., and the Hon. Sir GAINSFORD BRUCE, Knt., two of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir STUART KNILL , Bart., and Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M.P., Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., Sir JOHN VOCE MOORE, Knt., JAMES THOMSON RITCHIE , Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., JOHN CHARLES BELL , Esq., and GEORGE WYATT TRUSCOTT , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CLARENCE BECKFORD, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
RENALS, MAYOR. TWELFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 21st, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. DRUMMOND Prosecuted.
WILLIAM WILSHIRE . I live at Bush-hill Park, Enfield—on 27th September, between eight and nine, I was. in Brick Lane—I saw the two prisoners there; I said nothing to them, or they to me—Clarke hit me in the chest and knocked me down, and took all the money I had in my pocket—Clarke put his hand in my right-hand trousers pocket, and took four half-crowns, and Douglas put his hand in the left-hand pocket, where I had nine shillings and some coppers—that was after I had been knocked down—two policemen came up, and as soon as they saw them they jumped up and ran away; the constables followed; I saw Clarke caught, not Douglas; they were both taken to the station—I am quite sure the prisoners are the men that robbed me; it was a very severe blow that knocked me down.
Cross-examined by Douglas. I did not see you till you came up and I was knocked down; you both came up together, one on one side and one on the other—I told the inspector I had not seen you before that night.
Cross-examined by Clarke. I did not come up to you at the corner of Fashion Street and ask you the way—nothing was said about a woman and your losing money—I did not fall down, nor did you pick me up and put me against a post.
ROBERT FRASER (352 H). On 27th September, about half-past eight, I was in Brick Lane, Spitalfields, and saw the prosecutor, and in a few seconds the two prisoners go up to him, and, as it seemed to me, claime I
acquaintance with him; they spoke to him and half embraced him, and kind of danced round him—I was with another officer, Tilley, we were both in plain clothes—we followed the prisoners—they went up to the prosecutor a second time and made their claim rather more forcibly, they took hold of him—Clarke held his left hand firmly, and put his right hand into the prosecutor's left-hand pocket—Douglas held his right hand, and with his left hand emptied the prosecutor's left-hand pocket, when they withdrew their hands from the pockets the lining hung out—Clarke then put his right foot behind the prosecutor and struck him a severe blow with his left hand, and knocked him into the road; they then walked on as if they had done nothing, and turning round they saw me, and then made off as fast as they could—they both ran, Douglas fell after running about twenty or thirty yards—as soon as he fell I was on the top of him, I was only about four or five yards from him—in falling he tore his trousers—Clarke ran on, Tilley followed him—when I took Douglas I told him I was a police officer and I should take him for robbing that man, the prosecutor—he was taken to the station and searched, and in his pocket I found three half crowns—I did not lose sight of either of the prisoners—I did not lose sight of Douglas—Tilley had about half a mile's chase after Clarke—I was about four yards from him when I saw his hand in the prosecutor's pocket—I had been following him in private clothes as one of the public—the street was pretty busy—I think the prosecutor knew what he was doing, he was not exactly sober or drunk—it was a violent blow that knocked the prosecutor down—I could not say whether he was the worse for it—he said he felt it.
Cross-examined by Douglas. I saw you before the robbery—I was about twenty yards from you—I have not said that I saw you in Fashion Street, I said Flower and Dean Street.
WILLIAM TILLEY (433 H). On the 27th, about a quarter-past eight, I was with the last witness in Brick Lane, in plain clothes—I saw the two prisoners and the prosecutor—they claimed acquaintance with him—we followed them, when they got to the corner of Fornier Street they seized him, Clarke put his right hand into the prosecutor's left-hand pocket, and Donglas put his left hand into the prosecutor's right-hand pocket—they saw us and ran away—Clarke put his heel behind the prosecutor and struck him a severe blow, and knocked him down—when they fetched their hands out of his pockets they turned the linings inside out—Douglas ran about fifty yards and fell—I followed Clarke through several streets, he threw some money away—I followed him about half a mile, I seized him as he was about to enter a public-house—I never lost sight of him—I told him I was a police officer and should take him—he said, "You have got me, now take me"—he became very violent—we both fell to the ground, and rolled along before I could get assistance; when I did I took him to the station and he was charged—he made no reply—nothing was found on him.
Douglas's defence. I was going along Fornier Street when the officer Fraser seized me by the back of the neck and knocked me down—the other constable came up and charged with me robbing the prosecutor—at the station I was put in the dock with Clarke—the prosecutor came in, the inspector said to him "What do you know of these men," and he said
"Nothing"—I was searched and three half-crowns were found in my waist coat pocket.
Clarke's defence. I was standing at the corner of Fashion Street when the prosecutor came up and asked me the nearest way to some street—he went on about fifty yards, I walking behind him—he slipped off the kerb into the street, I picked him up and walked on, and the constable came behind me and charged me—at the station he was asked who robbed him, and he said "that man."
DOUGLAS was further charged with having been previously convicted, to which he
PLEADED NOT GUILTY.
Other convictions were proved against the prisoners. DOUGLAS— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. CLARKE— Nine Months and Fifteen Strokes with the Cat.
MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted.
SIR FRANCIS LEOPOLD MCCLINTOCK . I am an Admiral in Her Majesty's service—I live at 8, Athelstane Terrace, South Kensington—on August 29th, when I was staying at Rye, I received this letter, dated August 28th, purporting to come from 14, Cursitor Street, and signed Algernon W. J. C. Skeffington. (The letter stated that the nature of his communication was so embarrassing that he wrote instead of calling; that he had come to town for a short holiday and overstepped his means; that he had been ordered to rejoin his regiment, and requested £5 by return of post to help him out of his difficulty.) I know an Algernon Skeffington; the prisoner is not he—I sent this cheque for £7, on the London and Westminster Bank, to the writer of the letter, addressing it to 14, Cursitor Street—I preceded it by a telegram to say that I was sending the money—on September 10th I received a telegram asking for another £5; a few days afterwards I made inquiries and found that Mr. Skeffington. had not been in or near London about that time—I received the cheque from my bankers on the 17th, and I traced it to the Cheshire Cheese; and on the 18th I put the matter in the hands of the police.
THOMAS WILLIAM CLARK . I am a financial agent; I live at 11, St. Paul's Road, Kennington—I have known the prisoner for four or five years—he goes by the name of "The Baron"—on August 31st at the Cheshire Cheese, Fleet Street, he gave me this cheque for £7—I saw the endorsement was on it—I asked him where he got it from—he said from Sir Leopold McClintock—I asked him what for—he said for literary work—I handed him £1 at the time, and on Tuesday I gave him the balance—I never knew the prisoner's name; I only knew him as "The Baron.'
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had known you for six years—you gave me 5s. for commission.
ALGERNON SKEFFINGTON . I am an officer in the 17th Lancers—I am now quartered at York—the endorsement on this cheque is not mine—I did not sign this letter—I did not send any telegram to Admiral McClintock on 10th September.
ELIZABETH WATSON . I am the wife of Thomas Watson, newsagent, 14, Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane—the prisoner came there, and asked us to take in letters for him, and handed this paper, with the name of "Skeffington" on it—the prisoner afterwards called and had one letter—he called again, but there was no letter for him then—next day a letter came; someone else came for it, but we gave it to the police.
JOHN DAVIDSON (Detective Inspector, City). About seven p.m. on 25th September I saw the prisoner with Clark at Wine Office Court, Fleet Street—I said to the prisoner, "My name is Davidson; I am an officer in the City Police. I have been making inquiries respecting a cheque for £7 obtained from Admiral McClintock. I have traced this cheque as being cashed by this man" (pointing to Clark). "He says he received it from you. What have you got to say about it?"—the prisoner said, "I say nothing"—I said, "The cheque now bears a forged endorsement. You must consider yourself in custody on a charge of forging that endorsement and uttering the cheque"—he said, "Well proceed"—I conveyed him to Snow Hill Police-station, where he was charged—he made no reply—when asked his address, he said, "No fixed abode"—he was searched; a number of memoranda were found in his possession, and among them was one, "Dr. von Hohnfeldt, B.A., 14, Cursitor Street"—I went to the paper shop and found another letter there from Admiral McClintock—I returned it to him—I find the signatures on the slip of paper and the letter, and the endorsement on the cheque, tally.
The prisoner, in a written defence, stated that a man he knew as Skeffington asked him to call for the letter; that he did so, and handed the letter and telegram he received to the man, who opened the letter and said he had received a remittance from a relative, and that, at the man's request, he had cashed the cheque for him, and handed him the money, receiving 5s. for his trouble
Detective Sergeant Bryant stated that the prisoner was connected with a gang of men who obtained money from clergymen by begging letters and other false pretences.
Three Years' Penal Servitude.
758. EDWARD BYRNE (26) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a post letter and two postal orders, and six penny stamps, the property of the Postmaster-General.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
759. JOHN ROBERT WALKER (27) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a post letter and four postal orders, and six penny postage-stamps, the property of the Postmaster-General; also to stealing a letter and three postal orders.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 21st, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
JOHN TAYLOR . I am an omnibus conductor, No. 905—on September 12th, about 10.50 p.m., the prisoner hailed my omnibus and got on the roof—I went up and asked him for his fare—he gave me Is.—it is a penny fare—I at once detected that it was bad—I did not give him the change or speak a word—when we had gone on about 200 yards I saw Sergeant Clifford and called him—I stopped the omnibus and called the prisoner down, and said, "This man has given me a bad shilling," and handed it to him—the prisoner said that some one had given it to him an hour before—I asked if he had any more money—he said, "No"—he was searched, and several bad coins were found on him—I afterwards went to the top of the omnibus and found two half-crowns, two florins, and three shillings under the seat where he had been sitting—I took them to the police-station at Barnsbury.
FREDERICK CLIFFORD (Police Sergeant 22 Y). Taylor called me and gave the prisoner into my custody with this shilling—he said, "The coin is good"—I told him the coin was counterfeit, and asked if he had any other money—he said, "No"—I searched him and found two half-crowns, two florins, and a shilling, all counterfeit—I asked how he accounted for them, he made no reply—Taylor afterwards handed me a half-crown, one shilling, and eight pence, which I gave to Inspector Wright at the station—I searched him further at the station and found a bill head and three keys—he refused to give any account of himself or his address, but I found it and went next day with Murray to 71, Shoe Lane, to a room on the first-floor back, and unlocked the door with one of the keys found on the prisoner—I made a search there and found a battery, a bottle of chemicals, a bottle of methylated spirits, spirit lamp, brushes, lead, a quantity of wire, potass, nitrate of silver, cyanide of potassium, Epsom salts, sand paper, a square of glass, matches, two farthings partly gilt, forty-six pieces of solder, a counterfeit florin, four counterfeit shillings, and six moulds for shillings, four of which were under the floor—the shilling found in the prisoner's possession corresponds with one of the moulds—there was no furniture in the room but one chair.
HENRY WILLIAM NEVE . I live at 71, Shoe Lane—the prisoner took my second-floor back room at 5s. a week five or six weeks ago—he did not sleep there—I did not go into the room after he took possession—he applied to my master for the room, but he paid me the rent—he said that he was editor of the Field and other newspapers—I saw no other person there—I last saw him there on the morning of the day he was arrested—I was in the shop, and he spoke to me as he went out—I am a basket-maker.
Cross-examined. You told my governor what you were when I was in the shop.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (Police Inspector Y). On September 18th I charged the prisoner with the possession of moulds—he said, "I did not make it for myself, I simply made it for other people; you may easily know I cannot, as I have only one hand."
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—I have examined these parts of moulds—one mould is complete, that is for a shilling, with the obverse and reverse—all these things are the stock-in-trade of a coiner—this battery may be used for plating—there are no coins from any of these moulds—these parts of moulds are failures.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:—"I wish to say that I hired the room at the instigation of another, who was to pay 25s. a week. He made the moulds and I did the work, and showed me how to use the battery, and when I had made the coins I was to take them to Kings Cross, to the Centurion, and I was on my way there when I was arrested." He repeated the same statement in his defence and said he had lost the use of his left arm.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
762. FREDERICK PARKINSON (30) , to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences, three fowls and other articles of Mr. Charles Mills with intent to defraud.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
764. FRANK BROWNAN (30) , to five indictments for forging and uttering endorsements to orders for £5 15s., £7 2s, and other sums, with intent to defraud.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
765. JOHN CARROLL (19) , to stealing a purse and 4s. 7d. of Esther Haley from her person. Nine summary convictions were proved against him.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT—Tuesday, October 22nd, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
The prisoner stated that Miss Schilling knew that he had a wife living when she married him. This she denied, and accused him of treating her with great brutality during the time they lived together, and neglecting her and her three children.— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. H. C. RICHARDS and SOPER Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON appeared for Barnes, and MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and E. PERCIVAL CLARKE for King.
FREDERICK WILLIAM HILDITCH . I am managing clerk to Messrs. Tully and Co., of Queen Street, Cardiff—on January 25th last year I drew this cheque for £23 2s. 6d., and signed it—I dictated this letter to a shorthand clerk, put it in an envelope and directed it to Tayton, 54, Broad Street, London, E.C., and gave it to a clerk to post.
ALFRED FRANK MCCLELLAN . In January and February last year, I was employed as a clerk to the London Bank of Exchange, Lombard Street—this cheque for £23 2s. 6d. was brought to our office somewhere in February, 1894, by a Mr. King; I can't exactly fix the date—to the best of my belief it was brought by the prisoner King—he asked if we would clear the cheque for him—it was crossed—I told him it was an unusual thing for us to clear crossed cheques, but we would put it through his principal's account said he could not do that as his principal was away—the cheque was endorsed as it is now—he saw our manager, but I was not present at the interview—I saw him a second time that day—the cheque was left—I next saw King, he introduced the prisoner Barnes in the name of Mann, and I paid the money—only Mann was present when I paid it, and he signed this receipt in the name of John Mann.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Ours is a money change and a bank—I should not clear a crossed cheque for a stranger; I should want to know something about him—the International and Commercial Agency are customers of ours—King's brother is a clerk in that company—I could swear that the prisoner King was the King that called at our establishment—I am not prepared to deny that it was not his brother—I know them both—the prisoner used to come in and pay in for the International and Commercial—there is a strong resemblance between the brothers—a person not acquainted with them might mistake one for the other (the brother was called in)—I am not prepared to say it was not that one.
Re-examined. To the best of my belief they were in the same firm—I did not make a note of the time King first called.
WILLIAM HALL . I am clerk to John Nicholls, a solicitor, of Mansion House Chambers—I have known both the prisoners for a long time; I was lodging with both of them at 15, Devonshire Road, Holloway, in January last year, and saw them daily—the other King did not lodge in the house, only the prisoner—in February, 1894, the prisoner King called me into his front parlour—he said, "Where is Salmon?"—I said, "In the City"—he said, "When he asks you if you have seen Barnes
say 'No, he has not been home all night'"—I said, "Yes; I walk down to the City every morning; that was why I should see Salmon?"—he used to go about with Barnes travelling in the indiarubber line—King also said, "There is a little business on which he would tell me about later on, within a day or two"—he did so—he said, "A cheque has been found in London Wall, and we shall be all right; in a few days we shall have plenty of money: in the meantime Barnes must not go out for at least a fortnight. You have plenty of books upstairs. I wish you would lend him a few to keep his mind occupied"—I did so—Barnes did not go out for some little time; he used to go out after dark; King used to take him out; not in the day-time—two or three days after, as King and I were walking down to the City together, he said to me, "You are no fool, you must think there is something up at home; I will tell you all about it; we have had the money for the cheque, £20, and I had £19 of it"—I do not think we had any further conversation on the subject—King and I were always referring to it, ever since the thing took place—I never knew Barnes by the name of Mann.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Mr. Nicholls is defending Clarke—Barnes and I have never been fellow-clerks together—Clarke has been employed by Mr. Nicholls—when pressed we have got him to do odd jobs, as a clerk—that has been for about seven months—I have known him about three years—I have been friendly with him—I have not been so friendly with King—I know Mrs. King, and knew where she was living—I never visited her and Barnes—I did not know that she and Barnes, were living together nine months—I did not become a reference for Barnes, or for Grant—I know now that Barnes was passing as Grant; I only knew it lately—I was present at the North London Police-court when Mrs. King took proceedings against her husband for maintenance; it was then alleged that he had deserted her—I gave evidence as to King's means—on 10th September I read in the paper that her application was refused, on the ground that Mrs. King and Barnes were living together in adultery—I gave a reference for Mrs. King—I knew that she was living apart from her husband—I did not know that Barnes used to visit her—I did not visit them—when Barnes was told to keep in, King went out as usual—I did not think this was an honest transaction—I thought it was dishonest—I mentioned this to the officials of the Post-office, I cannot say when; they came to me about it on September 26th, I believe—from 1894 to last September I kept it locked up in my own breast—I did tell Salmon that Barnes had not come home that night—Barnes was not in employment at that time—King told me that he had had nineteen of such cases—I knew nothing of this transaction—Barnes paid £19 over to King.
WILLIAM EAGLE REED . I am in the Confidential Department of the General Post Office—on 27th September I saw the prisoners together, I showed this £23 cheque first to King—I had seen Barnes the day before, he was then under the influence of liquor, and I arranged to see him next day—then I saw both the prisoners in one room at the Post-office—I said to King "Barnes told me that you had cashed the cheque. Do you know anything about it?"—he said, "No"—I told him to write his name, and I asked Barnes also to write his, and also the name of John Mann, the endorsee to the cheque—these produced are the two pieces of
paper upon which they wrote those names—I think I then told King that he had better come with me to see his brother—I asked him about the cheque—he said he knew nothing about the cheque—he did say that he had had some money from Barnes, but that Barnes owed him money for rent—I said to Barnes in King's presence, "I saw you yesterday; now what have you got to say about this cheque?"—he said, "I picked it up in Broad Street in a letter, and King and I cashed it"—I am not sure that he mentioned the date when it was cashed, or when he picked it up—shortly afterwards I went with King to see his brother Anthony—I had had certain information about him—the brother said he had had so many transactions of that kind he could not remember; he had taken so many persons to be introduced to the officers of this bank at the Exchange—finding that he could not or would not give me any information on the matter I left, and the prisoner and I then went to the money-changer's and saw Mr. McClellan, and King left us there—I saw Barnes later that afternoon; he had remained at the Post Office—he then made a long statement to me, which I gave in evidence at Bow Street—I did not write it down—I again showed him the cheque, and said, "You have seen this cheque before"—he said, "I picked that cheque up in Broad Street in a letter which was open, towards the end of January, 1894—I tried to find the person to whom the letter was going, but I failed to do so; later in the day I saw A. W. King; I showed him the letter or cheque "(I knew that he lodged with him); I gave him the letter and cheque, and suggested as he was better dressed than I was—he should try and find the owner, and he might get 5s. while I should only get half a crown; some days passed over; I spoke to him again, and asked him if he had done anything about the cheque—he said, "No"—he had been busy; he had not had time to attend to it; then he said he was hard up; he was expecting the bailiffs in his house, and the money would be very useful to him, and proposed that we should cash the cheque; that he and Barnes should cash it—Barnes said he was unwilling to do such a thing, but eventually, on the morning of 30th January, he consented—King said he knew a money-changer in the City who would change it for them, and in the morning King signed the cheque in his presence with the endorsement it now bears—that is what Barnes said to me; he said that King gave it back to him, and went with him into the City; that King introduced him to the money-changer; he did not say in what name; he was asked what name, and he gave the name of Mann; that he came out, and missed King, and wondered what had become of him; that he saw him later in the day, and said to him, "Whatever did you leave me for?" and he said, "Because I knew you had the money to pay," and I had not, and he said he eventually got it on the 1st of February, and signed in the name of John Mann, and he told him to be careful, as he might be watched, and advised him to go up and down the lift—he said that he saw Outram sitting in the office of the money-changer's, and that frightened him; that he saw King afterwards, and gave him £21 of the money, and King told him that he had better keep quietly at home for some time—Barnes went on to say that they were to be partners in the City, but it was a failure; they never had a customer; that King told him he had destroyed the letter; he did not think it was safe to keep it—After that I gave Barnes into custody—I afterwards saw King on the
morning of the 3rd of this month; I saw him first in the office of an Insurance Company, where he was employed, and afterwards at the General Post Office—I told him what Barnes had said to me, as I have stated now; he replied, "I never saw the cheque until you showed it to me"—Barnes said, "I sent him money from the country; and some of the money he owed me for rent."
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The two statements Barnes made varied in some respects—on the morning of the day he said, "I should be very sorry to mislead you," or words to that effect—when I asked King if he knew anything about the cheque he said, "No, in the first instance"—later on in the day that I got Barnes's statement and signature I arrested Barnes—I then had King's signature—I arrested King a week all but a day afterwards—I saw Hall on the 27th, the day I gave Barnes into custody—Hall made a statement to me—although I had Hall's and Barnes's statements, and King's signature, King was not arrested till several days afterwards—I was told that King and his brother had each gone to the bank with reference to this particular transaction.
MATHEW TOWER (Police Constable, General Post Office). On 27th September Barnes was given into my custody, and I charged him; he made no reply—on 3rd October, about 9.30, I saw King in Isledon Road, Finsbury Park, and I asked him to accompany me to the Post Office—about 5.30 the same day he was given into my custody—I charged him with conspiring with Barnes, and obtaining the sum of £23 2s. 6d. by means of forgery; he made no reply.
Cross-examined. This matter was put into my hands in February, 1894—I know that King was proceeded against in a Police-court, and an order made against him for maintenance—I did not know it at the time, Witness for King.
ANTHONY HERBERT KING . I am the prisoner's brother; I have been a clerk in the employment of the International Commercial Company for about six years—Barnes came to my employer's bank in the City at about 10.30 a.m. about seventeen months ago, and asked me if I could change a cheque for him—I was busy, and told him that if he went to the London and Continental Bank they would change it for him—I walked round with him between three and four, and we went in, and I said, "My friend wants to get a small cheque changed," and they said as soon as the cheque was passed through he would receive the coin.
Cross-examined. When the detectives came to see me I told them that I had passed several cheques through the London and Continental Bank, and that at the time I could not exactly say that I took round that certain cheque—I did not mean that I had passed through several cheques for Barnes; I have changed there several cheques which have been sent to me and to two or three of my friends—I did not get them cashed through my employers—I told the detective I did not distinctly remember taking round that cheque—my brother was employed at the same office as I am in January, 1894—I know my brother's writing, and Barnes's writing—I cannot say I took any heed whether the cheque was endorsed when I took Barnes round—so far as I know my brother did not go round that day to the London and Continental—I knew Barnes and he lived together—I recognise my brother's writing on these two
sheets of paper—I should not like to say whose writing the endorsement of the cheque is in.
By the COURT. I heard Tower give his evidence here—I heard him say that when he asked me I said I had taken so many cheques round that I could not remember; that is not correct; we had a fairly long talk, and I told him that, although I might very possibly have taken that cheque, at the same time I was not perfectly sure.
A. F. MCCLELLAN (Re-examined by the COURT). The man who introduced Barnes to me did not stammer.
R. H. TAYTON (Re-examined by the COURT). I am not certain that my name is in the Directory, as I merely hold a public office.
A Solicitor, in whose employment Barnes had been, deposed to his good character.
Judgment respited ,
MR. GBOGHEGAN Prosecuted, and MR. ELLIOT Defended.
The prisoner, in the hearing of the JURY, stated that he was guilty of unlawfully wounding, and the JURY thereupon found him GUILTY of Unlawfully Wounding. —He received an excellent character.— Discharged on recognisances.
ARTHUR EDWARD LEE was further indicted for forging and uttering a receipt for the payment of £10.
MR. RICHARDS Prosecuted.
HARRY ROSIER . I lived at 10, Haldane Road, Fulham, in the same room as the prisoner—in July I missed my Post-office book, which I kept in an iron box in my room—I last saw it on July 31st—I communicated with the Post Office—this notice of withdrawal and this receipt are not in my writing.
ELIZABETH BRIDGE. I am a clerk in the Holloway Post Office—this notice of withdrawal for £10 was handed to me on August 2nd by the prisoner to the best of my belief—I telegraphed to the Savings' Bank Department for instruction, and prepared this receipt—later in the day the same person called again and signed this receipt—I am sure that the same person who signed the notice of withdrawal signed the receipt—the receipt was signed in the wrong place, and I requested a fresh signature—I then handed the book and £10 in gold to the prisoner—I am sure I handed the money to the man who brought the withdrawal notice.
EDWARD MACDONALD . I am in the confidential department of the Savings' Bank Department—I saw the prisoner in the vicinity of this Court on December 17th—I asked him his name—he said Lee—I said I wished to show him some documents and ask him some questions, and requested him to come with me to the Post Office—he came, and on the way he said he knew what it was about; it was about that Post Office affair—at the Post Office I showed him this notice of withdrawal, and asked him if he had written this name, H. Rosier—he said, "Yes"—I showed him the receipt, and asked him if he had signed it and got the
money—he said he did—I said, "What did you do with the depositbook?"—he said, "I destroyed it"—I asked him if he wished to make a statement about the matter—he said he had found the book in the front garden of the house where they lived; that he had been swindled out of money by Moran, who had just been convicted at the Old Bailey, and that he was in want when he committed this offence.
WILLIAM LORD. I am a constable in the General Post Office—I received the prisoner in charge on September 17th from Mr. Macdonald—I charged him with forging and uttering a receipt for money well knowing the same to be forged—the charge was read, and he made no reply—I found this Post Office Savings' Bank book at his room, made out in his own name, in which about 2s. stood to his credit—(the book showed that on August 2nd £2 14s. 10d. was standing to his credit at the Saving' Bank, some of which had since been withdrawn).
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he borrowed the money to get a situation, and had been unable to repay it.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
EVANS PLEADED GUILTY to stealing the watch-chain.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
HENRY GOMM . I am a mineral water manufacturer, at 18, Walter Street, Bethnal Green—on the early morning of September 10th I was awakened by a noise and went downstairs to the gate of my factory and into the street where I saw the prisoners—they said they came after a man named Slade—I said he did not work there; he had gone—the prisoners began making a row—I said I should have to fetch a policeman, and they threatened me, and one of then struck me on the forehead; and one pinned my arms behind me, and they took my chain, leaving me only a little piece of it—some time afterwards I went to the Police-station and I recognised Estell as one of the men who had robbed me; I had seen him before—I don't know which man struck me.
By the COURT. I knew Estell by sight before this, but not Evans—it was not a very hard blow I had on the forehead; he only just struck me with his left hand.
MARY ANN GOMM . I am the wife of the last witness—on the morning of September 10th I was awakened by a noise at our gate—I looked out of window and saw the two prisoners—I asked them what they were doing—they said they wanted a man named Jack Slade; they intended to kill him—I said he was not there—they said they would burst the door open—I went down and told Mr. Gomm—he went and told the prisoners to go away; they began to push him about and to fight, I believe—I was only in my dressing-gown and I could not go out to see—I heard my husband say, "My chain is gone"—the prisoners used some dreadful language to me.
ALFRED TINEY . I am a sawyer, of 66, Usk Street—I was at the corner of our street about 12.30 on September 10th, not ten yards from Mr. Gomm's, when the prisoners came running down the street and wanted Slade—I told them Slade did not work there—I knew one of the prisoners for three months, and the other one for a long while by sight—Mr. Gomm
came out, and as soon as he went against his gate, one of the prisoners made a blow at him and then they both had a go at him—I could not say which one struck him first, because it was in the dark—I went over to prevent them paying Mr. Gomm, and I got two or three punches—the prisoners ran away—I have known Estell well for three months or more; I am sure he was there—at the Police-court he said he had known me for years.
Cross-examined by Evans. I cannot say who it was who struck the prosecutor.
FREDERICK WALTON (568 J). I was on duty in Walter Street—shortly After midnight on September 12th, about 200 yards from Walter Street, I saw Evans and Estell in company going in the direction of Walter Street—I know Estell well by sight.
ARTHUR BUDD (Sergeant 9 J). Shortly after 12.30a.m. on September 12th, the prosecutor came to the Police-station, and gave a description—I afterwards went to Collins Place, Green Street, not quite half a mile off—I there saw Estell lying on the pavement; he appeared to be drunk and helpless—I raised him and said I should take him into custody for being concerned with another man with robbery with violence—he became very violent—I said I should take him to the station—he said he would not go with me and struggled violently—after a few minutes another constable joined me and then the prisoner went quietly—he walked to the station as a perfectly sober man—he was placed with others and identified by the prosecutor—he was charged, and said he was not there; but was in Whitechapel Road, where he had been assaulted by some men—he was perfectly sober.
GUILTY of Robbery.
EVANS** then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in July, 1893.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
The police stated that they believed that Estell had hither to borne a good character.— Discharged on Recognisances.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 22nd, 1895,
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
773. EVELYN THORNLEIGH** (25) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing three books, the goods of the Army and Navy Stores; also to stealing a blouse and a jacket of the Civil Service Supply Association; also to stealing a bodice and skirt the goods of Peter Robinson. Several convictions were proved against her.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
774. JEREMIAH CARROLL** (47) , to stealing in the counting-house of Reginald Olsson a coat and waistcoat, and afterwards breaking out, having been convicted on August 10th, 1885.— Ten Month's Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
775. GEORGE SMITH** (22) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Emma Parsley, and staling a bag and other articles, her property, having been convicted at Westminster on November 17th, 1894.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
at Guildhall on April 16th, 1895.— Four Years Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
777. WILLIAM RILEY** (30) , to stealing two rings the property of Arthur Grainger, also to stealing a watch and chain of William Conquest, also to burglary and stealing a watch and other articles and £5 in money of Henry Lawrence.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
778. GEORGE MORGAN* (20), FRANK CHAPPELL** (22) and LUCIEN HYPOLITE** (20) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Hugh Stevenson, and stealing 18s. 6d., his money; having been previously convicted, Morgan at Clerkenwell on November 20th, 1893; Chappell at Marlborough Street on November 13th, 1894; and Hypolite at Clerkenwell on November 6th. 1893. MORGAN— Eight Months' Hard Labour. CHAPPELL— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. HYPOLITE— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
779. HARRY JEFFREYS (25) and CHARLES JAMES (21) , to being found at night with an implement of housebreaking in their possession; Jeffreys having been convicted at this Court, in the name of Hand; and James at this Court in February, 1895, also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick Charles Robinson, with intent to steal.
JEFFREYS— Twelve Months Hard Labour. JAMES— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. HALL for the prosecution offered no evidence against VARY.
NOT GUILTY .
CHARLES HUDSON . I am a painter's labourer, of 53, Stebbing Street, Latimer Road—on Sunday, September, 15th, about 12.30 a.m. I was coming from Notting Hill Gate, with my friend Height—when we got to Uxbridge Road, the three prisoners and another man were there, and Donovan pushed against me—I told them to straighten themselves up and go home—they were sober—we went about twelve yards, and at the corner of Ladbroke Grove they turned back and pounced on us, and knocked my friend down; I turned round and faced them, and Canter gave me a blow on my nose, and I got several blows on the back of my head—Riley took a halfpenny out of my left trousers pocket—they left my friend and all four were upon me—they punched my head and face, and Donovan took fourpence from my right pocket—the only one I can swear to as doing violence is Canter; I saw him give me a few blows on my head—I left Height in the road and ran after them shouting "Police"—Constable Daniel caught Riley; Donovan ran in the opposite direction and was taken by Brown, he and Canter were taken on the following Friday—Riley was the only one taken that night.
Cross-examined by Riley. When the constable came up I was in the gutter—I never lost sight of you. I was close behind you when the constable stopped you.
Cross-examined by Donovan. I do not think you were drunk, you were trying to pick a quarrel with us—I did not call you names when you knocked up against us.
Donovan. I plead guilty to taking the fourpence, but not to the violence.
FERDINAND HEIGHT. I live at 11, Johnson Street, Notting Hill Gate—I was with Hudson and was knocked down by four fellows, and while I was on the ground my trousers pockets were rifled, but my week's wages were in my waistcoat.
Cross-examined by Riley. I did not identify you at the station.
JAMES DOWNEY (228 F). On September 25th I was on duty in bridge Road at 12.20, and saw the three prisoners running towards me; when they saw me they walked—Hudson was some distance behind them—I caught hold of Riley and Canter, but Canter got away—I took Riley. Another man said, "Here you are, take your b——fourpence halfpenny"—Hudson's nose was bleeding very much.
JAMES BROWN (Police Sergeant X). I arrested Donovan on September 1st at 33, Bank Austin—he at first said that he was innocent—afterwards he said, "I am guilty, but John Vary" who had been committed for trial "was not there."
Riley's defence: I never touched either of them.
Donovan's defence: I plead guilty to the robbery, but not to the violence.
Canter's defence: I never knew anything about the robbery till ten minutes afterwards, when I saw a man running. I asked him what was the matter. He said, "I have robbed a man."
GUILTY .—Riley and Donovan then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, Riley at Lambeth on July 5th, 1884, and Donovan at Winchester on June 23rd, 1894. Several other convictions were proved against Donovan and Riley RILEY— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. DONOVAN— Twenty Months' Hard Labour. CANTER— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. CAMPBELL Defended.
LEWIS HART . I keep the Wentworth Arms, Mile End—the prisoner was my potman for about five months—I had no character with him—he said he had been a potman—there is no private door—the first floor contains the kitchen and the prisoner's bedroom—he took his meals in the back kitchen—there are two more bedrooms; one was occupied by a servant, when we had one, but on September 17th my wife and I and the prisoner were the only occupants of the house—the prisoner had given me notice on September 17th that he was going to leave, and start in business for himself in the coke and vegetable line, and was going to have a horse and van; I asked how he was going to start; he said he would manage that—I had about £20 in gold in a cash-box and some silver in a bag; about £46 altogether—the cash-box was locked and was kept by the side of the bed in my bedroom on the top floor—I last saw it safe at five p.m., when I put some money into it, locked it, and put the key in my
pocket, and went down and gave it to my wife—it was past seven o'clock when the prisoner went to tea in the kitchen—his usual time is half-anhour, and he was away a little over that—he had it alone—it was made ready for him—my wife went out at 7.15 after giving me the key of my bedroom, but I did not go up there after she went out—the prisoner had a rest before his tea and walked into the street and I did not see him for half-an-hour—he does not serve behind the bar, he is only potman—he went out for three-quarters of an hour after his tea; he came in again, looked round at the glasses and pots, and went out into the street again; he came in in about half-an hour, looked round and went out again; he does not stop in the bar—he collects the glasses and hands them to me—he has his supper in the kitchen at ten o'clock—my wife had come in—he was about half an hour over his supper, and then came into the bar as usual—my house closed at 12.30 and my wife and I went upstairs together at 12.45—she tried to unlock the door and could not—I tried and found it was. open, and the cash box was on the bed broken open, the money gone, and the papers scattered about the bed—two watches which were kept in that room were not disturbed—I called the police and Corney came—I did not find that any entrance had been effected from the outside—I had never left the bar from 5.30 to 12.30—nobody but my wife and the prisoner went in at the door that leads into the private house—after going over the house, Corney and I went into the prisoner's bed-room—he went to bed about 12.30, we found him in bed—I said, "Bill, get up, I have been done"—he said, "How much money have they taken, governor?"—the sergeant said, "How do you know it was money?"—he said, "Because the governor said he had been done"—the sergeant said, "How do you know it was not something else?" he made no reply—after we had thoroughly searched the house we went back to his room, and I gave him in custody for stealing my money—he said, "I did not take it; it looks very suspicious against me for no body else can get up here, I have not got the money"—he was searched in my presence, but no money was found on him or in his room, nor any tools.—he was taken to the station—this chopper was kept on the top of the copper in the pot-house, he used it for breaking coke and wood—you get to the yard through the tap-room; you do not go out of the house—you would not go through the bar to get there—my bedroom window looks to the front—there is no exit from the yard to the street—next day, about ten a.m., I found the chopper in the sawdust-bin in the top room—I could not see it when I opened the bin—I gave it to Sergeant Reid the same day, and he pointed out some marks on it—Storer and Lander are customers at my house sometimes; Glover is a labourer and Lander a chimney-sweep—no part of my house was disturbed by the robber.
Cross-examined. I have heard it said that Storey was once a potman in my house—I have known him about nine months—I know his father-inlaw, Brown; he is a customer—Lander has never done any business for me in my house—Clutterbuck swept chimneys the first day I was in the house; he is a frequent customer, and the other three men—they were drinking in my bar on September 17th—there is an urinal in the yard, where customers go—I did not go there—the copper" is in that yard, so that persons going into the yard would be able to get at the hatchet, but I do
not think they would notice it—the passage window looks out onto the yard—a person could not step on to the copper and from there to the top of the bar parlour, because the roof is all glass—the window is a good height higher than I am, from the lobby; it was not open that evening; I do not remember the prisoner telling me that it was open, and my laughing at it; I always bolted it myself when I came down, because I have not a chance of going up again—it was not very hot weather, and if it was I should not leave it open after five o'clock—when you are in the yard the lobby window looks on to the top of the bar, which is glass—you could not get from the lobby window without walking over the glass—the prisoner went to the bar again before he went to his tea—he was away about half-an-hour—I did not say on the first occasion that after he came down from his tea he went into the house, and did not come down till ten o'clock—by "the house" I do not mean the public-house, but the residential part of the house—there were people in the bar; I heard no noise; it was not his duty to be out in the street; I did tell him he was neglecting his duty; he ought to be in front of the bar—I had a charwoman there about once in three weeks—I had not had one just before the 17th—Mr. Storey has never done any work for me; his brother did three months ago, and he worked with him—he had a board across to put some putty on.
LILY HART . I am the wife of the last witness—on September 17th I left home at 6.45—I locked the bedroom door, took the key down and gave it to my husband—while I was in my bedroom, the prisoner was in his bedroom, and he sneezed—I did not know it was the prisoner, but it was in his room—I went out about 7.15, and returned at 9.15—I took my hat off in the bar parlour, and stayed in the bar with my husband—I prepared the prisoner's supper at two or three minutes before ten, but the bread was not eaten—I did not see any cheese, it had gone away—he had nothing but bread and butter at tea, and some watercresses, and none of the bread was eaten—I went up with my husband and found the room broken open, and the cash-box lying about.
Cross-examined. I prepared his tea about 5.30, and left it on the hob—he had four meals a day—when I came in I served in the bar with my husband—I did not hear anyone smashing a door or a box with a hatchet, it is a very high house, and there are three doors before you can get upstairs.
Re-examined. He took a rest for an hour or an hour and a-half—he went to lie down about 5.30.
WALTER CORNEY (Police Sergeant 93 K). On September 18th, precisely at 1 a.m., I was called to the prosecutor's house—I examined all the windows—they were closed and I saw the cash-box broken on the bed—he took me into the prisoner's bedroom, and said, "Now, Bill, you had better get up, somebody has done me"—the prisoner said, "How much money have they taken?"—I told him it was strange he should say anything about money, as money was not mentioned—he said, "I am not allowed in the bedroom when the governor is not present"—I examined the house afterwards with Sergeant Reid, and found no trace of breaking in from the outside—I found no property disturbed in any other part of the house—a gold watch and a silver one were hanging over the prosecutor's bed.
Cross-examined. There is only a small yard covered in with a wooden
roof; that is where the copper is—there is a lobby window, looking into the yard—the bar parlour roof is slates—there is a small room as you go upstairs, and above that is the potman's bedroom—if you got out at the lobby window you would get into the street, not on to the glass skylight—that window is as high as the bottom of the rails from the skylight—a person who stepped on the copper could not get on to the bar parlour roof, unless he had a ladder—there is no ladder in the yard—the roof covering the yard is as high as the potman's bedroom; there are walls built up in the roof, and standing in the yard you can touch the roof: I saw no skylight over the bar—I did not tell the prisoner after he was charged that I had noticed the window opening into the yard, and had shut it.
WILLIAM REID (Detective Sergeant H). At two a.m. I was called to the Wentworth Arms and saw the broken boxes—the watches were hanging there—the bedroom door had been hacked about by some blunt instrument and forced open—I went into the next room; that had not been broken—all the window fastenings were secure, and no property disturbed except in the one room—the prisoner said, "I know nothing about it, it looks very black against me as no one could get up here without going through the bar, but I have not got the money"—no tools were found—I lifted the landing window up, it is about eight feet to the glass roof of the out-house; I did not measure it, it covers the bar and the yard—you get into the yard from the tap-room; there is no other way in; it is impossible for anybody to go over the glass without a plank—I saw no plank there—a chopper was shown me two days afterwards, and I noticed some black enamel on it similar to the enamel on the box, and the edge of it was bright—it corresponded exactly with the marks—considerable violence had been used.
Cross-examined. It was not till the second examination that the prisoner said that he noticed the lobby window open earlier in the evening and had closed it; that was after I said that I had opened it—the yard is about five feet by three, partly covered by the roof—a person standing on it would fall through, it is very slight framework and would not bear a man—I did not venture down on it.
By the COURT. The only way of getting upstairs is through the bar—there are three bars, but only one flap—the bar parlour is at the back; you do not have to go through it to get upstairs, because there is a door to the staircase—if the landlord was in the bar parlour he could see anyone go in by the flap; it commands the whole of the bar—I know Clutterbuck, Lander, Brown, and Storey; they are all respectable men.
Re-examined. The glass was rather dirty, but there was no trace of any person going over it, not even a cat; if anything had passed over it it would remove the dust—it had not been recently repaired.
ALFRED LANDER . I am a chimney-sweep, of 177, Bow Common Lane—I have lived there about eighteen months—I know the prisoner—I remember being at the Wentworth Arms with Clutterbuck and Brown some time in August—we were playing at cards, and the prisoner said, "Your work is black; I know where there is £200 or £300 if you like to go and get it"—Clutterbuck said, "Well, we have never done anything like that, and we are not going to start now"—I said, "I am sure not"—that
ended the matter—Clutterbuck was at the Police-court, but was not called in.
Cross-examined. I was surprised—I must have thought he meant me to go and steal £200 or £300—I did not want to know where the treasure was—Brown does not frequent the house very much; he is a sword instructor—I believe Clutterbuck has worked for him—I mentioned this to Sergeant Reid the second day after the prisoner was taken—I told the magistrate what Clutterbuck said.
WILLIAM STOREY . I am a labourer in the building trade, of 40, Brantwich Street—on September 17th I saw the prisoner near the Wentworth Arms—he asked me if I saw the mistress go out—I said, "No,"—he said, "I believe she has," and walked away into the house—that was between 7.30 and 8.
Cross-examined. I went into the public-house after the prisoner—I did not see Lander there, or Clutterbuck—I was potman in this very house some months ago—I do not remember Brown doing some work on the roof of the bar parlour—he is my father-in-law, and is a builder—I do not know whether he has done work on that bar parlour or that he has not.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am not guilty—I know nothing about it."
L. HART (Re-examined). When I went up to bed at 12.45 I found the boxes broken—I was about ten minutes in my room before my wife—I went to the station, and it was About ten minutes before the policeman came—the prisoner went up to bed a quarter of an hour before I did—I do not know whether he knew that the money was in the box, I never told him so—I bought those boxes when I went to the house—I did not have them at my previous house, I was only manager there; nobody knew it was there but my wife.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 23rd, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE
ELLEN HAMMERTON . I am fourteen years old—I am a daughter of the prisoner, and lived with him and my mother at Holly Cottage, Holly Road, Twickenham—on Tuesday, September 10th, about three in the afternoon, my father and mother were in the kitchen quarrelling—she wanted him to come downstairs, he was telling her she had been out getting drunk—she was drunk—he called her a bad name—I did not hear him say anything more—there was a kettle on the hob—father said, "If you come near me I will put the kettle about you"—he picked it up and went across the room with it—mother ran out of the kitchen into the back
room—she stayed out about ten minutes, and father went and put the kettle back in its place—when mother came back she began to abuse father—he said nothing—he was on a chair—she was swearing at him, because he came down and threatened to put the kettle about her—she said she would douse father with water—she sat down on the sofa and began crying out, "Father"—she kept talking to him—she sat a little while on the sofa, and then went out into the yard to wash some clothes—I saw her washing there for about a quarter of an hour—she then came back to the kitchen—my sister came in to write a letter, and my mother wanted her to put something in it which father thought was not right—mother went on at father again, to interrupt him—that lasted about a quarter of an hour—father listened, but said nothing—he objected to what mother told her to put in; I do not remember what it was—the letter was to another sister, from my sister Elizabeth—mother told me afterwards what it was about; I did not hear it; I was out at the back at the time helping the washing—I came back at half-past seven—mother remained out a little longer—my sister had gone home then—when I left the kitchen both father and mother were in the kitchen—we had no tea that night—we generally have tea at half-past four or a quarter to five—father was reading the paper—at half-past eight I came in and found mother lying on the floor, near the fender, on the hearthrug, with her head bleeding—she was unconscious—I went at once and called Mrs. Rednap, a neighbour—I did not move mother at all before Mrs. Rednap came in—she helped to put mother on the sofa, and sent for the police, and I went for the doctor—when I returned I saw father on the stairs, coming down from his bedroom—he said to Mrs. Rednap, they had all been out drinking together; they were all a bad lot—I fetched my brother Edward, and he told my father to get back to bed—I don't know what my father said to that; I was getting water for Mrs. Rednap—my brother took father up to bed; I went for a doctor, and Dr. McDonna came—after he had put some cold water rags on her she was put to bed; not in the same room where father was—I slept with mother that night—the policeman had been before she was put to bed—next morning I got up at seven: mother was then groaning, I had been asleep—I got up and went downstairs; about nine I sent my sister Clara up to her—she came down and told roe something, and I went upstairs and found that mother was dead—I then called Mrs. Rednap in again—I went into father's room and told him mother was dead—he got up from his bed and went into her room; he said nothing while I was there—I went to tell my brother—mother had been out drinking two or three times that day, nobody was with her—she had three pints of beer brought in—she was washing on and off all day, washing clothes belonging to the house—father and I had some of the beer that was brought in, a pint at a time—when I came back at half-past eight the kettle was on the hob—it was not used that night as far as I know; it was used in the morning for getting breakfast.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Rednap lives next door to us, her back window faces our front door—there are also cottages facing us—when I went out about seven or eight, I left father and mother in the kitchen—I don't remember whether the doctor was there before my brother—when
father came downstairs, the doctor, Mrs. Rednap, and my brother were in the kitchen—the stairs come down right into the kitchen—father is always at home now—he does no work—he is in a delicate state of health—he usually comes down rather late, and goes to bed between eight and nine—at three o'clock that day mother was rather excited and quarrelsome—when father said he would put the kettle about her, he was sitting in his chair—I said before the Coroner that I thought he did not intend to hit her—I still think so—he lifted the kettle and put it back again—mother had been drinking—when she went out into the yard where the washing took place, she staggered—I assisted her in the washing—about four I took the poker out into the yard to use in the furnace for the washing—at eight o'clock my sister Bessie was writing to a married sister abroad—she had married pretty well—mother told Bessie to thank her for the money she had sent her, and father objected—mother went out with Bessie—about a quarter-past seven she came back—father was then sitting on a chair reading, and she was sitting on the sofa—I attended to some work in the kitchen—the kettle was on the hob—it contained about a pint of water—I left it full in the morning when I washed up the breakfast things—I knew how much was left in it—when I found mother on the floor, the kettle was still on the hob—when Mrs. Rednap came in, mother had come to herself—she put up her head, saying, "What have I done?"—I saw no black mark on her face.
Re-examined. When father said he would put the kettle about her, he was sitting in the chair by the side of the fire—he got up and took the kettle in his hand, and went from the room to where she was—she ran out, and then he put the kettle back on the hob—beer was first brought in at eleven in the morning, the second time at one, and the third at some time during the afternoon—my father and I had some of it, except in the afternoon, he did not—it was drunk in the kitchen—mother and I did the washing; that was over about four, as soon as my sister came into the room to write the letter for mother; mother was telling her what to put in it—I went out for a walk, and was out about two hours, it was about half-past seven—it was half-past eight when I found mother lying on the floor—I called to her; she did not answer me; a little girl went for a policeman—the kettle had not been used since breakfast—when I found mother lying on the floor she was on her side; her feet were towards the sofa and her head towards the fender; there was a pool of blood by her head; the stairs come into the kitchen opposite the fireplace—there are five rooms to the house, a front room and a kitchen on the ground floor, and three bedrooms upstairs—mother did not sleep in the same room as father; they generally slept in separate rooms—we usually had tea in the afternoon; I don't know why we had no tea that afternoon—father usually sat in the kitchen during the day, in the same place in the corner—I saw the policeman when he came—I saw the policeman next day, and he took a statement from me.
By the COURT. We had had dinner that day about one; that was when the second pint of beer was brought in—mother, father, my sister and I had dinner together.
seven in the evening in the passage—about nine Ellen, the prisoner's daughter, came to me, and said something to me, I at once rushed to the house and went into the kitchen—I saw the deceased lying on the floor, with blood about her, running from her head; she was lying on the corner of a piece of carpet which was used as a hearthrug, in the direction of the fireplace, the body was lying across the room, by the side of the sofa—there was a table on the other side of the room—her head was beyond the last leg of the sofa; there was a space between her head and the fender—her body lay straight between the sofa and the table; the feet were towards me as I went in—there was a pool of blood round the bosom of the woman—I got a bowl of water and bathed and washed her; I got her on the edge of the sofa—she then spoke, and said, "What have I done?"—she lifted her hand from her head—she had blood on her hand—I sent for the doctor and the police—the policeman came and spoke to her—she answered him—that was the only time she spoke to me—the doctor followed the policeman—he washed her head and put a wet rag on it—I saw the prisoner come down to the foot of the stairs, and he said in the presence of the doctor that they were all a bad lot, and that she had been drinking in the neighbour's house the whole of the day, meaning my house—that was all I heard. I left the house—Ned, the son, came in while the doctor was there; I did not see him come in—next morning Nelly came to me again, and I went in and saw the deceased lying in bed in a pool of blood—I saw the prisoner then, I took him by the arm and led him to his room—he never spoke to me—he was standing at his wife's side, as she laid on her bed.
Cross-examined. When I went in there was no one there—Ellen had gone for the doctor and the police—I did not leave the room till the doctor came—there is a yard in front of the house—the doctor was there when the prisoner came down the stairs—when the prisoner came on the stairs, I put the deceased on the stairs and wiped her face—there was no black on her face, only a bruise—the place was not dark, there was light enough to see—the doctor washed the top of the head.
STEPHEN LANE (874). On the night of 10th September, about half-past eight, I was called to Holly Cottages—I saw the deceased sitting on the couch—Mrs. Rednap was bathing her head—she made a, statement to me—I was there about five minutes, then I went away.
WILLIAM FREDERICK McDONNA . I am a M.R.C.S. of England—on the evening of 10th September I went to Holly Cottage about a quarter to ten—I found the deceased sitting on the sofa; I found a very large swelling about three inches long from the right to the left side of the head—there were five wounds on that swelling, the largest wound was a triangular one in the middle of the back of the head—none of the others were a quarter of an inch in extent—there was a pool of blood on the floor by the leg of the table about six to eight inches in diameter; I had to step on one side to avoid it—I saw no other pool of blood—there was a pool of blood upon her, but not on the articles on the floor, or on the floor—I told them to put cold water rags on, and I left one on—I washed all over the bruise and back of the head—I washed and wiped all the blood out of the hair—she had a, great deal of hair—the prisoner said they were a bad lot, she came in
in drink, and fell down—one of the neighbours said he had hit her over the head with a poker. I feel sure that the prisoner heard that—I did not see Constable Lane there, he must have gone before I arrived—I did not pass him in going there—I saw the son, Edward, there—he did not speak to his father while I was there—I washed my hands and told them to get her to bed as quickly as possible, to keep her quiet, and not to quarrel any more—I next went there on September 11th, at half-past ten, she was then dead, lying on the bed—she had been bleeding in the night; there was a considerable pool of blood on the pillow, where her head had lain—the body was not cold—I made a post-mortem examination next day—she had been dead at least four hours, or longer—I made the examination first alone, subsequently it was made by Professor Pepper, in my presence, and Dr. Ward's, on the 17th—I gave evidence before the Coroner—that evidence was given before the second post-mortem—there was a fracture of the processes of the spine, which I had not noticed—in my opinion the cause of death was the oozing of blood on the surface of the brain, that was the consequence of the injury to the head.
Cross-examined. I have attended these people for the last four or five years—I have never attended the prisoner—I was called to him once, a long time ago—I have seen his wife now and again—I can't say whether I have seen any of the children—I knew Mrs. Rednap and her husband living next door—the Hammerton's house was in an alley about three feet wide—the stairs were steep leading to the kitchen—the space between. the table and the sofa would be under three feet—I think it was Mrs. Rednap's daughter that said the prisoner had hit his wife on the head with the poker—the prisoner did not come into the kitchen till I had been in the room about three minutes—Mrs. Rednap was facing the stairs—when the girl made her statement the prisoner at once said, "I did not hit her"—I did not see any soot on the wounds—I counted four or five wounds on the head—the triangular wound was one you could put your little finger in; the other wounds did not show as I found them at the second post-mortem—I tore them open in my examination—I left two wounds at the back of the head instead of four or five little ones—I could not ascertain that any of them went down to the bone, they were only skin deep—I have said that in my opinion they could be caused by hitting or kicking; I am still of that opinion—the pressure of the blood on the brain might have been caused by hitting or kicking—I have also stated that the wound might have been caused by a fall against the leg of the sofa or table—I say so still—I made those statements after the second post-mortem—I donot think they were caused by the poker—a kettle might have caused the triangular wound to the head—I don't think the wounds were caused by a fall downstairs; I don't think it possible, not by a fall on a flat surface. It is possible the injury to the spine might have been caused by a fall if it struck against something hard at the bottom; the step of a stair would be hard—I did not examine the spine carefully, the examination was out of my hands, the injury was to the three vertebrae; there must have been considerable force—I have said that a fall might have caused the four or five wounds on the top of the head; I said that after the examination by Professor Pepper, and I think so now; if she fell on something striking the back of the head and face at the same time—I
noticed that the cheek was grazed on the first examination, the left eye was discoloured—I gave it as my opinion that she met her death by falling on her face on the floor and striking against a piece of furniture—I am of opinion that the blood clot on the brain was the cause of death—I had been treating her for rheumatism and indigestion due to alcoholdrinking habits, which cause the arteries to become weak and would give rise to effusion; effusion of blood on the brain might be caused by a fall, and would cause death—she had been vomiting during the night—the appearances I observed were not inconsistent with suffocation—vomit shows that the fracture did not produce paralysis; it would be a symptom of brain injury—I did not open the gullet—I watched the details of the second post-mortem, but I did not handle the parts—during the conversation among the people there was no mention of injuries by the kettle.
Re-examined. I point out on the photograph the spot where the blood was—the deceased was a middle-aged woman, going on for sixty, I should say, heavy and rather clumsy, weighing about ten or eleven stone—if she fell, striking her head against the leg of the sofa, that might cause a great many wounds—I think the injury to the spinal cord must have been done by a blow.
By MR. DRAKE. I do not think the rupture of the artery would be caused by the violence of the vomiting.
By the COURT. The wound on the top of the head was a serious one; It was one blow, upon which were five wounds—they could not all have been caused by one blow; there must have been repeated blows—falling against the leg of the table would cause the injuries—I found no blood-marks on the leg of the sofa—I said to the inspector that I must abandon the idea of the leg of the sofa, but not against the leg of the table—I thought at first that she had hit the back of her head against the under part of the sofa.
AUGUSTUS JOSEPH PEPPER . I am a master in surgery, and surgeon of St. Mary's Hospital—I have had considerable experience in post-mortem examinations—on 17th September I made a post-mortem examination of the deceased woman in the presence of Dr. McDonna and Dr. Ward—a post-mortem examination had been previously made—I found the hair had not been cut from the scalp at the previous examination—that is necessary to enable one to appreciate the character of the wounds on the scalp—having removed the hair, I found two wounds, one an inch and an eighth from side to side, and one half an inch in diameter, three-quarter inch from fore to back, and exactly between the most prominent part of the head and the middle line of the skull—there was extensive haemorrhage in the scalp in the neighbourhood of the wounds, the margin of each wound was composed of scalp tissues which had been pulped—the skull was half inch thick in its thickest part—that accounts for its not being fractured—at the age of deceased the space between the two bones forming the skull is filled in with dense bone, instead of the soft porous material of earlier life—that is in consequence of the change incidental to age—the skull would strengthen very much—I did not observe the clot said to have been present on the left side of the brain; it had been removed by the previous examination, but I have an accurate description which I took down from Dr. McDonna, and I had read the coroner's deposition—there was no fracture of the skull, and no hæmorrhage into the substance of the brain;
the arteries of the brain were singularly healthy for a person of that age—the left eye-lids were blackened as an ordinary black eye, quite separate from the injury on the cheek—there was a superficial bruise on the right side of the mouth, a bruise over the left cheek bone an inch in width—the hemorrhage beneath these had extended close to the upper part of the mouth, that is to say, there had been severe injury—it was not simply a superficial bruise; there were two smaller bruises between the left cheek bone and the ear on the left side—there had been no bleeding from either ear, as sometimes happens in similar cases—there was a large bruise over the lower part of the back of the neck, just above the shoulder, where you begin to feel the prominence of the bone—there was extensive haemorrhage under the bruises in all the tissues down to the bone, and immediately beneath I found a fracture of the fifth cervical of the vertebrae, and a slight one of the sixth—on opening the spinal canal at the seat of injury I found haemorrhage on the surface of the spinal cord—there was a bruise three inches by two inches over the small of the back, a small bruise in the left flank, and a bruise covering the whole of the back of the left wrist, but excluding the fingers—I have one or two other notes with regard to the organs, but they have no bearing on the case—the organs were fairly healthy—there was a slight hardening of the liver frequently found in a person who has taken too much alcohol, but for a person of her age they were healthy, practically normal—all the injuries were quite recent—the more important, because more severe, wounds were caused before death, because there was very much more haemorrhage than would have been from an injury after death—the cause of death was shock, due considerably to haemorrhage from the scalp wounds on to the surface of the brain and to the injury to the spine, in other words to the injuries I have spoken of. I examined the room and saw the kettle and the poker produced. I cannot conceive that the injuries were caused by a fall. There must have been more than one fall to have caused the different injuries—two or three would not have done it—I cannot conceive any kind of fall that could have produced the injury to the spine—some of the injuries might have been produced by the poker—all might have been produced by the kettle—the injury to the back of the hand could only have been produced by putting the hand to the neck to protect it; it is only the back of the left hand that is struck, and that with an instrument with a broad surface, taking a very considerable area—it certainly could not have been done with the poker; it was equally severe over the entire surface that covered the back of the hand—the injury to the spine must have been produced by a blow—it is possible a fall might do it—but in that degree I think it is improbable—I saw nothing in the room to have produced it.
Cross-examined. I went to the top of the stairs, but not into either of the rooms upstairs—I simply walked to the landing—it was suggested a fall downstairs might have caused some of the injuries—the stairs are rather steep—it would take two or three blows to produce the wounds on the face; at least two to have produced those on the scalp that I found (Dr. McDonna, in his examination, has converted two or three into one, out there were four or five originally. I am adopting the word "blow"); another to have caused that over the small of the back; another that over the back of the hand, and another the bruise on the left flank, the
blow below the waist—all the wounds might have been caused by the kettle—I believe some of the slighter ones on the face were not—nine wounds may have been caused by the kettle—the two on the scalp might have been caused by the poker, and the one on the cheek-bone, but the one on the back of the neck could not have been—several smaller wounds, on the face might have been caused by the poker—I will give you categorically those which could not have been produced by the poker: the wound on the spine, and the wound on the lower part of the back; the wounds on the back of the head could; a fall may have produced the wounds of the scalp, but not at the same time as the injury to the spine and back—I should say the deceased was about eleven stone in weight—I cannot conceive her producing the wounds successively from step to step in falling down the stairs—it is impossible for the wounds in the back to have been caused by striking against the edge of the sofa; the bruise would not have been circular three inches in diameter; it would hare indicated the nature of the body against which the person struck—I am taking the three wounds to the head and the back in order—the head striking on the flat surface of the next step would make it more impossible still to cause those three wounds—the two wounds on the back could not be caused by coming in contact with the step or any flat surface; they most have been caused by something projecting, which practically cut into those wounds—the wounds were pulpy—I should not deduce from that that they were caused by coming in contact with a flat surface—I should expect the wounds to be pulpy no matter whether the blow was direct or indirect—those two wounds could not be produced by the body falling either on a flat surface, or on the edge of a step—I cannot admit that the two wounds were inflicted together, I admit a fall may have produced the injury to the spine—emphatically it could not have produced those wounds on the head that I found at the same time—there is no possibility of it—I cannot go further, I cannot go into imagination; that is my fixed conviction founded on considerable experience—all the blows would not be equally severe—it would not require very great exertion to injure the spine with this kettle which is very heavy—it is iron from the look of it, and there is a great deal of fur deposit in it—it would weigh 7 lb. or 8 lb.—it would require a severe blow from the kettle to produce some of the injuries, but the blow would have two components, the exertion required to wield the kettle and the weight of the kettle which would not have to fall far to produce a severe injury if merely dropped—if the hand which was wounded was put up to protect the head I would not expect the part protected to have been injured by that blow—the injury to the fifth cervical was produced within forty-eight hours before death—the blood was extravasated—I can tell that at a distance of seven days—the appearance of the spine is exactly as it would have been found an hour after death—the body was well preserved—the condition in which I found the bruises, the extravasation of the blood was tire same as if it had been found an hour after death—the wound to the spine had a very large share in causing death, a severe concussion over the spine is important in itself, it is still more so if it causes hæmorrhage on to the spinal cord, and this had—some scrapings were taken from the kettle—I examined them—there was no blood upon them—Dr. McDonna converted five wounds originally
into two—that did not alter the character of the wounds—it did not interfere with my observation and inference, except as to the fact of the number of wounds—the vomiting could not cause the effusion of blood spoken to by Dr. McDonna.
Re-examined. If instead of the two wounds I saw to the head there had been four or five that would make me all the more positive they could not have been produced by a fall—I had the Coroner's deposition, and knew something of the case, and I came to the conclusion that all the wounds on the face were produced by a person knocking it against the floor, with the face on the ground at the time—assuming that you have a full explanation of the series of injuries, firstly to the back of the head, and the top, secondly to the back of the neck, and thirdly to the back and spine lower down; in all the injuries I found, I do not think there need be traces of blood on the kettle; the blood may not get on to it, through the hair intervening.
MARTINDALE KINSLADE WARD . I am a doctor of medicine, master in surgery, a member of the College of Surgeons, and a surgeon of the Metropolitan Police—I saw the deceased on 11th—I ordered her removal to the mortuary—I was present when Professor Pepper made the post-mortem examination, and took part in it—I have heard his account of the appearances and agree entirely—the cause of death, as I said before the coroner, was from injuries from blows by some blunt instrument—this kettle would produce them.
Cross-examined. I do not think I said before the coroner: "I do not think it could have been caused by a fall, but it might have been caused by a fall or a blow"—my statement was not read over; I did not sign it—the blows that caused the injuries would be very severe—this kettle would require strength to be used to inflict them—not considerable strength.
Re-examined. The force necessary to inflict the injuries would be affected by the weight of the instrument—its own weight would add to the force.
ALFRED HENRY SCOTT . I am a photographer of 57, London Road, Twickenham—on September 14th I took the photographs produced of the room—one is taken from the kitchen door from the yard nearly opposite the fireplace; the other from the sitting-room door, which is jambed, and the photograph is taken at a side angle because you could not get the camera in the room. (The witness marked the spots where the photographs were taken.)
EDWARD HAMMERTON . I live at Twickenham; my father and mother lived at Holly Cottage—I used to live with them now and again—on 10th September I was living away—my sister called me that evening—I found my mother on the sofa, and a wet rag was on her head—my father was at the bottom of the stairs; he said mother had come in and pitched on the floor drunk; he went upstairs to his room—Dr. McDonna was in the room—afterwards I attended an inquest and before the magistrate—I instructed a solicitor for my father.
Cross-examined. My father is nearly sixty—he has been captain of a barge and Queen's Waterman on the river—I have eleven brothers and sisters; I am about the seventh; my eldest brother would be about forty—my father has always been kind to his wife—I have never seen him the worse for drink—through an accident I lost my forefinger, and a rope got
round his leg at the same time, on the river; we were towing behind a tug, and I got my finger between the rope and the barge, and the rope tore my father's calf away—he was bedridden for over three years; he has had to stay indoors, except about a year ago he went to Teddington in a trap—he has been very weak and shaky and has had to catch hold of something going up and downstairs—I do not think he could lift and use that kettle—he has always been kind to me.
Re-examined. The accident happened ten years ago—nothing has happened to his arms—he has been weak and bad in one of his eyes—he had it poisoned.
WILLIAM ALTON (Sergeant 8 T). I was called about 9.30 a.m. on September 11th to the prisoner's house—I saw the deceased in the back bedroom—I called the doctor, and afterwards took the prisoner into custody—I charged him with the wilful murder of his wife by striking her on the head with some blunt instrument—I read over the charge to him—he made no reply.
GUILTY of Manslaughter. — Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 23rd, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
ALFRED PELLATT . I am a salesman in the employ of the Humber Bicycle Company, Holborn Viaduct—the prisoner came there and produced a card, which has been destroyed—it had on it "A. H. Armour, agent for the Bristol Bicycle Company"—he said he wanted three bicycles to complete forty, which must go off that night, and that his was the Nimrod Company—the bicycles came to £46 10s.; he said he would go to the bank, get the cash, and pay the carman on delivery—they were to be sent to Fulham Palace Road at 7.30, and he would be there to meet them—Townsend was the packer; he handed me this bill for £46 10s. the next day, drawn on the National Bank of Scotland at three days, and signed "A. H. Armour and Co."—when I sent them I believed the prisoner was an agent of the Nimrod Company—I received this letter on the 18th, saying "The three machines were delivered in a very bad condition, the saddles were damaged, and one machine was damaged. Can you deliver more?"—I sent a verbal message back, and the prisoner called in the afternoon—I said, "You went away from your arrangement, which was to pay cash, and you gave a bill; that won't do in any future transaction"—he said, "I gave a bill because Mr. Armour likes to have things brought under his notice"—I negotiated with him for six more machines, value £92—I sent them, thinking from his note paper he was the agent of the Nimrod Company, and because he said that the previous bill had been paid—on September 30th I saw two of the three bicycles at the shop of Mr. Ayres, a pawnbroker, and identified them—on October 2nd I went to Snow Hill Police Station and saw five of the six machines delivered to the prisoner on the 18th, and the 21st I saw the remaining one in Holloway Road and
identified it—I received this bill for £92 for the second lot—that is drawn at sight—both these bills have been returned dishonoured.
WILLIAM THOMAS TOWNSEND . I am a packer in the employ of the Humber Bicycle Company—on September 23rd I delivered three bicycles to the prisoner, and received from him a sealed envelope—I broke it open and found this bill for £42 10s.—I said nothing to him about it—on the 18th I delivered six more bicycles to the prisoner and received this bill from him—he said, "You see it is crossed."
EDWIN REGINALD FAY . I am in the employ of the Nimrod Cycle Company, Bristol—they have no agent named Alphonse H. Armour—I only know them through their writing—I never saw the prisoner till he was at Guildhall; he had no authority to put "Agent to the Nimrod Company."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. This is your letter of May 4th. (Ordering four machines to be delivered at once through H. W. Bradbury, of Shortlands, on a heading of A. H. Armour and Co., agents to the Nimrod Bicycle Company.) I sent no answer, because you were not an. agent, but sent this letter: "Messrs. Armour and Co., please do not use our name on your heading, as you have done.—Yours truly." I wrote again on September 18th. (This complained again of the prisoner using their name as being their agent, and stating that if it was done again they should place the matter in their solicitor's hands.) I received no answer to that, but the prisoner wrote from Holloway Gaol.
HERBERT WILLIAM BRADBURY . I am the London representative of the Nimrod Bicycle Company—I appoint agents—in March last I got a letter from Bristol, and called on the prisoner—I said that, provided his references were all right, I should appoint him as agent—I gave him an agreement conditionally, subject to his references, but he was not appointed—I saw him in April, and told him he was not to consider himself our agent, and to take our name off his letter-paper.
Cross-examined. You told me in March that you had no ready capital, but could offer me security—you asked me the kind of agreement it would be, and I gave it to you—it was not worth while to ask for references, because certain things came to light.
JAMES CRAIG . I am chief clerk in the secretary's department,. National Bank of Scotland—on September 18th this bill was presented for payment, and dishonoured—Messrs. A. H. Armour and Co. have no account at our bank, and had no authority to draw the bill—five days afterwards this second bill was presented and dishonoured—there was no authority to draw it—on September 17th I received this letter: "147, Fulham Palace Road.—Gentlemen,—We beg to inform you that Mr. Charles King informed us last Saturday that he had paid £102 12s. 8d. to our account and beg you to pay the bill—I sent a telegram the name day and this letter (Stating that he could not trace any such sum as £102 12s. 8d. paid in by diaries King).
HARRY LINGFORD . I am assistant to Mr. Ayres, a pawnbroker of Hammersmith Road—on September 13th the prisoner came and pawned two bicycles for £12; this is the contract for them; they were two separate pledges.
Cross-examined. I have known you about six months, dealing in bicycles.
JOHN EGAN (City Detective E). On September 27th I saw the prisoner in Shepherd's Bush and I asked him if his name was Armour—he said, Yes"—he had then left Fulham Palace Road and was in furnished apartments in the name of Dimond—I asked him if he had lived in Fulham Palace Road, he said "Yes"—I told him the charge; he said, "I don't see where the fraud comes in"—I found this bill on him (For £55 16s. 3d.) on September 25th I went to the office of Mr. Clark, Tabernacle Row, and saw a machine, which Mr. Johnson identified—the prisoner has no shop at 147, Fulham Palace Road; it is an oil shop and he lodges there—there is no indication of any business being carried on.
Cross-examined. The landlord there said that you lived there, and I found his bill on you—your wife and child were there, but you went backwards and forwards.
Witness for the Defence.
GEORGE BEARSFORD . I am the son of the landlady of 147, Fulham Palace Road—it was a grocer's; it is shut up now, but I live there—the prisoner had two rooms at 8s. 6d. a week—my mother carried on the business, and I helped her—letters came there for the Nimrod Company—you showed me and my father an agreement from the Nimrod Bicycle Company—I know that you had some machines; you kept them in the shop—I do not know what became of them.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that if he had known that Mr. King had not paid in the money, he should not have ordered the bicycles.
LYONEL PERCY POCOCK . I am in the employ of the Northern Furnishing Company. Messrs. Solomon are the proprietors—the prisoner entered into an agreement with the company in February in the name of Charles Allen, 147, Fulham Palace Road—I delivered to him a piano, a Brussels carpet and a clock—he said he was a general merchant—he paid £4 10s. and left £11 and a bicycle—he got into arrears and we pressed him for payment—he said that the goods were there—by the agreement he was not to move any article without our permission—the price of the piano was £35, and the £11 was paid on the lot.
FRANK CLARK . I am salesman to the Northern Furnishing Company—I remember the piano being let to the prisoner in February on a hiring agreement—I saw it last Friday or Saturday at Mr. Sills, a pawnbroker—I saw the prisoner in Holloway Gaol, he said he had never parted with the piano; it was still in the house. I went there but could not find any of the goods—I went to him again the next day and he admitted that he had
parted with them—I searched two rooms at the top of the house and the landlady's room, as she told me she had given him permission to put them there—there was nothing in the rooms but a box.
Cross-examined. I told you at Holloway that if you would tell me where the piano was it might simplify the case for you, and the second time I went your wife had gone away to Germany; she told me she never saw them come into the room—she does not speak a word of English, but a little boy interpreted for her.
ROBERT LINTOTT . I am manager to Mr. Sills, a pawnbroker, of 90, Shepherd's Bush Road—the prisoner pawned a new piano with me on March 9th for £12—he gave me this receipt. (For £42 for the pianoforte.)
GEORGE BEARSFORD . My mother is at the same place now—this piano and goods were brought there, addressed to Charles Allen, and put into the front parlour—the prisoner asked for them to be put into my mother's room—I was out of work and was at home—the prisoner paid me for helping to take the piano in—he was there when it arrived—it came in a van—I have never put things into my mother's room before without asking where they came from—I never knew that the prisoner passed by the name of Charles Allen.
Prisoners defence. I paid £21. The manager agreed to wait till I was clear out of my trouble.
The officer Egan stated that the prisoner had obtained bicycles, value £66 13s., in Birmingham, by a worthess till, and other bicycles in December last.
Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ROWLANDS Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
HENRY KING . I am a warehouseman in the hosiery department of Spencer, Turner and Boldero, of Lisson Grove—I left on Saturday and found the window broken on Monday—I do not live on the premises—I missed five dozen men's hose, three dozen flannel shirts, four hundred blue bodices, and some knitted hose, value £7 14s. 10d.
Cross-examined. They would make a good large bundle, but not so heavy as linen.
EDWARD LEMON . I am in the employ of Spencer, Turner, and Boldero—on Saturday, September 14th, I was on duty as night watchman—I was patrolling the premises between twelve and one, and saw the prisoner close to the clock at No. 7, Duke Street—I said, "Good-morning"—she said that she has been waiting for her husband—she had no bonnet on—I had seen her before.
Cross-examined. I knew she lived in Devonshire Street, but did not know the number then—I did not know her husband—the premises extend over five or six houses.
HENRY PAYNE (Policeman). On Saturday, September 14th, I was on duty in Duke Street, Marylebone, and between 12.30 and 12.45 I saw the prisoner walk up and down Duke Street by herself several times—I Packed her out at the Police-court next morning from a number of other women.
Cross-examined. I knew her, but not her husband; I know now that she lives at 96, Devonshire Street—I knew at 1.45 that the place had been broken into, and told the inspector I had seen a woman waiting about, who I knew and could point out—I had a point at 12.45, and she passed me several times quite close—I had known her some time, but did not know who she was.
Cross-examined. I Called the sergeant's attention to it—I saw Payne on his rounds before and after I saw the window broken—it was not on his beat but mine—I saw him again when he went off duty and heard him say that he had seen a woman there.
By the COURT. I first told Payne that I had seen the window open about an hour afterwards; nothing more passed between us.
FANNY NICHOLLS . I am the wife of William Nichols of 54, Exeter Street—that is not quite the distance of this court from Duke Street—there is no obstacle between the two, I can see right down Duke Street to the Row—Duke Street is from our door to Exeter Street straight forwards, and I can see right down to the end of it—on Sunday morning, September 15th, at quarter to 1 o'clock, I was on my doorstep and saw the prisoner with her back against the window of 7, Duke Street, that is the warehouse, and heard some glass fall on the sill—I had spoken to her a few times, but not lately—I saw her put her hand in and take some things from the window, and as she drew them out some more glass dropped—she put the things under her cloak and went straight down Duke Street towards Lisson Grove, and turned round the corner to the right—the next street is Devonshire Street—she had a hat and cloak on then—she returned very shortly without a hat or cloak—I went upstairs, put my light out, and looked out at the window—she turned her back towards Exeter Street and drew some more things out of the window of No. 7, crossed over Duke Street, and came down Exeter Street opposite my window with some things in her apron—there was a lighted lamp near my house, and one at the corner where she crossed over, and another opposite—there are three or four lamps—I am absolutely certain she is the woman—I did not know much about her, but I had spoken to her—I was not very friendly with her—I identified her from a number of women at the police-court—I saw her in Devonshire Street on the following Monday—she asked me to have a glass of ale, and said she wanted to speak tome about what she had done on Saturday night, and she was very sorry she had done it, and she hoped I would not round on her—I said, "What did you do it for? Is your husband out of work, or are you hard up?"—she said, "No, I was drunk, or else I should not have done it"—I did not inform the police; I heard that afternoon that inquiries had been made about her—two constables came, and I made a communication to them.
Cross-examined. When I saw this going on I believed the prisoner was robbing Spencer and Co., and put my light out that I might see
better what was going on and not be seen—the police pass Exeter Street in the evening, but I did not see one pass—I know nobody in Spencer's employment—I saw one on the Sunday but did not speak to him—I had plenty of time on the Sunday to tell a policeman, but did not do so; I only mentioned it to my daughter—I went before the Magistrate on the Tuesday; I did not tell him at first that the prisoner said she was very sorry for what she had done on Saturday night—the case was remanded to the following Tuesday, and that was the first time I mentioned it—I did not say on the first occasion that she confessed to me, because I did not wish to say more than I could help; I did not like to press it against her, I was never in such a case before—if I was standing at my door a person breaking into Spencer's could see me easily—when I saw her on the Monday morning, my daughter, Harriett Austin, was in her company in the Hercules public-house; but I did not go in; I looked in and asked my daughter to come out—a young woman named Cole was there—I have objected to her as a companion of my daughter—she was in the same compartment of the Hercules as my daughter and the prisoner—I did not exactly ask my daughter to come out, because she was in Cole's company—she did not come out, and I went home; I had told her what had occurred—the prisoner and my daughter came and knocked at my door, and the prisoner said "I want to speak to you"—I said, "Go round to the corner of the street and I will come and speak to you"—I had told her that I saw her take the things from the window, and she said she was very sorry—very shortly after the prisoner had gone on the Sunday morning my daughter came home, carrying a bundle of the stolen things, some linen things, and I told her what I had seen—she was alone; Marshall was not with her—I do not know whether he is a dustman; I know him as a friend of my daughter; I had not seen him with her that Saturday or Sunday—he was not in the Black Man public-house.
Re-examined. When my daughter showed me the things I said "Take them back at once"—I had never visited the prisoner or been about with her.
By the COURT. Miss Austin is my daughter by a former marriage—my husband was living at home; he was in bed—I made a statement to him when I went to bed and he gave me an answer.
HARRIETT AUSTIN . I am the daughter of the last witness—on September 14th, between half-past twelve and one, I was with Marshall opposite the prisoner's door, 96, Devonshire Street; I am not engaged to him; she came along Devonshire Street, from Lisson Grove end, with something in her lap; I asked her what she had got in her lap—she said she found the things outside Spencer's on the floor, and asked me to have a few—I said, "If you have found them I will have some," and she gave me seven flannel vests, a shirt, and two pairs of stockings—I took them home and showed them to my mother and told her where I got them; she told me to take them back—I took them back to the prisoner, and told her that my mother said she took them from the window and stole them—she asked if my mother would say anything—I said that I did not know—I did not see the prisoner on the Sunday, I did on the Monday.
Cross-examined. I have known her well for some years, and have always been friendly with her—she has lived in that
neighbourhood as long as I know—she is married, and is an ironer—I only once had a quarrel with her, a good many years ago, when I was a youngster—I have not advised her since she has been on bail to throw herself into the Cut—I have seen her walking about the streets—I have not spoken to any of them—as I went out that morning she came over and asked me to have a drink, and said she was very sorry for what she had done, although I had told her my mother said she had stolen them—we went into a public: house—a young woman named Cole was there, and my mother came and told me if I did not come out she would fetch my brother who would fetch me out—that was at the Hercules, and the prisoner came to the house and asked my mother to come down to the street door and said she was very sorry for what occurred on Saturday night—my mother told her what she had seen—I had not been in the prisoner's company for a very long while before this—she did not give all the things to me; she had a lot more in her lap—I did not believe that all this linen would be dropped in the street, but I thought probably that she had picked them up.
EDWARD MARSHALL . I am a dustman, and live at 13, Devonshire Place, Lisson Grove—on Saturday night, September 14th, between 12.30 and one o'clock I was outside Messrs. Spencer's premises, opposite 96, Devonshire Street, speaking to Austin, and the prisoner came down Devonshire Street to her own street-door; she looked across, saw us, and crossed over to us—Austin said, "What have you there?"—she said, "Oh! I found these outside Spencer's premises, on the floor; they look like woollen things to me"—she asked Miss Austin if she would accept of a few; she said "Yes," and the prisoner went away—I have known the prisoner by sight for several years, and have no doubt about her being the woman—I did not inform the police.
Cross-examined. There was a sort of guernsey and some stockings—I have worked for the local contractors twelve months—I had six months' hard labour for stealing a watch three years ago—I have spoken to the prisoner once since she has been out on bail; I did not tell her I knew who was, concerned in the robbery; she simply asked me if I was going home, and I spoke to her yesterday going home; I did not tell her I knew the woman who committed the robbery—I did not say on Monday in a public-house that I did not believe she was the woman who stole the things; I was alone—I heard on Monday morning from Harriett Austin that Spencer's had been broken into—I was at the Police-court on the first Tuesday, but was not called—Harriett Austin asked me to go, not the policeman—I was not inside the Court.
Re-examined. I am twenty-two years old—I left Messrs. Hobbs' service three weeks ago, and am now in another contractor's service—at the first examination the prisoner asked me whether I was sure she was the woman who committed the robbery—I said, "I am not sure, but I am sure you are the woman who had the bundle."
JAMES HOLDER (Detective D). I took the prisoner on September 16th, and told her I should arrest her for breaking a window in the warehouse in Duke Street, and stealing a quantity of linen—she said, "Where did you say it was from?"—I said, "7, Duke Street, Spencer's warehouse"—I accompanied her home, but did not find any of the goods—I took her to the station—she was placed with other women, and the female witnesses identified her.
Cross-examined. She gave me the name of Mr. Tunbridge, a laundress, who she has worked for for six years, and I saw Mr. Williams, a dairyman, who has known her a number of years, and gave her a very good character—her husband is employed by the Telephone Company; she has been married three and a half years, and has one child—when I told her the charge she said, "I don't know what you mean."
MR. PURCELL called
ANNIE MORGAN . I live in the same house as the prisoner, and have been employed at Spencer and Co.'s fourteen years—the prisoner has lived in the house since April—I was at home when Holder came to see her on Monday night, but did not hear any conversation between them—she did not go away with him, but at ten o'clock I heard that she was locked up—I had let her in at a few minutes past twelve on the Sunday night, and heard her go right up to her room on the top floor—she had a small jug of beer with her—she asked me if I had heard her baby crying—my room is the kitchen; she could not get out without my letting her out—I was asleep.
Cross-examined. I retired to sleep at 10.30, but laid awake, waiting for my boy—he had just come in, and said, "Mother, they are just closing," that is, closing the public-houses—I do not know what public-house he had come from but I know by that that it was just 12—my clock had stopped—he is seventeen years old—three women live in the house—I do not generally take down the time when the people of the house come in—I knew on the Monday night that a charge had been brought against the prisoner.
EUGENE STAMPBURN . I live at 96, Devonshire Street—I was at home on Monday evening when Holder came—he told me that there had been a robbery on Saturday night and Mrs. Guy was charged—I was in bed on the Saturday night and did not see the prisoner, but I heard a knock at the door, and heard Mrs. Morgan let her in at about ten minutes to 12, I. heard the clock strike shortly afterwards—I heard the prisoner's voice speaking to Mrs. Morgan—she went up to the second floor, the same floor as my son sleeps on—my room is on the first floor—I heard that she went into her room. If she had gone out again I should have heard her—I was awake about half an hour—I heard nobody in her room before she went up—my husband lives in the house—he was in all the evening.
Cross-examined. We have three rooms, and Mrs. Guy sleeps in the next room to my back room—I do not make a memorandum of the time that all the lodgers come in, but I have three sons, and have to keep awake till they are all in—I never allow them a latchkey—I shall have lived there eleven years next January—I do not know any reason for my remembering at what time Mrs. Guy came in, and I did not see her that night, but I heard her voice—I slept in the first floor front room—my husband is a portmanteau maker, and I take in needlework—the prisoner has always been a respectable woman, with a hard-working husband.
ALICE PRICE . I am a boot-fitter of 14, Little Carlisle Street—I have worked six years for Mr. Adams—I heard on the Monday of the prisoner being locked up, but did not hear what for till Miss Austin told me—I think she said it was between twelve and one o'clock on Saturday night—I saw the prisoner at her window this Saturday night, just before
twelve—I had made a meet with her on the Wednesday, and I knocked at the door and got no reply—I went into the road and saw her at the window, in her night-dress—she said "I can't come down."
Cross-examined. The prisoner first spoke to me on the Monday night—on the Tuesday following I first stated at Marylebone Police-court at what time I first saw the prisoner—no one had spoken to me about it before.
JOHN COOK . I am the prisoner's brother, and am a decorator—she was employed for six years at Messrs. Tunbridge's, she has worked very hard, and injured herself—she has been married six and a-half years—her husband is in the employ of the Telephone Company—she bears a good character—my father being dead, I undertook to look after her.
Cross-examined. My father has been dead eighteen years, and she is twenty-two, and I have brought her up and her brothers—she has swollen legs through her work, and cannot stand.
MRS. NICHOLLS (Re-examined). I said to the prisoner the same evening, "Mind someone saw it besides me; I am not the only one, there are others about the street who saw it."
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, October 23rd, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
789. JEANETTE STEWART (26) , Feloniously wounding Maria Smith, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm. The prisoner, in the hearing of the JURY, stated that she was GUILTY of unlawfully wounding, and the JURY there upon found her GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
791. JOHN DOWNEY and WILLIAM TAYLOR to breaking and entering the shop of Robert Dyas and stealing £1 12s.; also to breaking and entering the same shop upon another date, and stealing £2 15s. and a cardigan jacket. Taylor also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in March, 1894. Detective Sergeant Bryant stated that he believed Taylor had led Downey into it. TAYLOR— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] DOWNEY— Judgment respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
792. ALFRED BAILEY (18) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Frank Andrews, with intent to steal therein. There was another indictment for burglary against the prisoner.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
793. CHRISTOPHER WYER (24) , to stealing a watch and pipe-case from the person of Henry Roberts.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited in order that Mr. Wheatley might have an opportunity of communicating with the prisoner.
794. GEORGE WILLIAMS , to stealing a watch and chain from the person of Coutie Lowson; also to a conviction of felony at this Court in October, 1885, in the name of Daniel Hawkins. The prisoner had served terms of Five and Seven Years' Penal Servitude for highway robbery with violence, and other sentences for assault.— Eight Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. PASMORE Prosecuted.
EMILY KEEN . I am a machinist, working at 41, Duke Street, Aldgate—about 11 a.m. on 7th September I met the prisoner on the stairs; he was coming down putting on his coat; he had this other coat on his arm, and this waistcoat and pocket-book in his hand—I asked him what his business was up there, and he said he was looking for a painter—I took the pocket-book from him—I said the house was empty, and that there was no one there—I took him by the collar and held him till the police, for whom I sent my little girl, came and took him—no one else was in the house, as it was Saturday morning, and the people there are Jews—I have charge of the premises on Saturday.
CHARLES ROBERTSON (913 City). I was called to 41, Duke Street, on this morning about eleven—I saw the last witness detaining the prisoner, and she gave him in charge—he had this coat and waistcoat on his arm—the woman handed me this pocket-book, and said she had taken it from the prisoner—I asked him what he was doing there; he said he was looking for a man doing some painting on the premises—I asked him where he got the clothes from—he said he bought them from a man in Houndsditch for 3s. 6d.—I took him to the station—I searched him and found he was wearing two coats and two waistcoats—he gave the address 40, Jamaica Street, Whitechapel—I found two pawntickets on him; one for a coat that had been pawned the day before in Mile End.
FRANCIS ALDER . I am a. painter at 14, Duke Street, Aldgate—this coat and waistcoat and pocket-book are mine—they were taken from my office—I took the coat off, as it was a warm morning, and hung it up just before going downstairs—I did not miss them till the police came to me—this other coat and waistcoat are not mine.
FREDERICK HOLMES (Police Sergeant). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—I asked him to account for this property—he said he had bought it off a man in Houndsditch for 3s. 6d.—I examined the pocket-book, and from what I saw I went to Mr. Alder at 14, Duke Street, and then Mr. Alder came and charged him—he was remanded to the 16th, and then I found the owner of the other cast and vest.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he bought the clothes in Houndsditch.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in December, 1893, in the name of Patrick McKenzie he had served five terms of penal servitude— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. The COURT commended the conduct of Mrs. Keen, and awarded her £2.
THOMAS CHARLES HARWOOD . I am a carman, of 31, Helmet Row, St. Luke's—on Sunday night, 15th September, between 11 and 11.30, I was at the corner of Tabernacle Street and Old Street, when the prisoner and four or five others walked up, and the prisoner struck me in the mouth and snatched at my chain, and got my watch and walked down the street—I said, "You cannot go"—he said, "Are you going to prosecute me? I have a wife and children to keep"—I said, "No, not if you hand me the watch back"—he said, "I have not got it"—I said, "No; you passed
it away"—he handed it to a young chap with a black coat, who struck at me with a black malacca stick with a silver cap and split my hat right through—my mouth hurt me to a certain extent, but I hung on to the prisoner, and gave him into custody—he broke the watch off the swivel—the watch is worth 30s.—it did not hurt my head when my hat was split—I did not know the prisoner before—when I went to give evidence next day one of them asked me if I had found my watch.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I gave you into custody there and then at the corner of Paul and Castle Streets.
JAMES EGGLETON (340 G). On Sunday night, 15th September, I took the prisoner into custody; the prosecutor, who was detaining him, handed him to me—the prisoner said, "Why did not you follow the other mob?"—the prosecutor charged him with stealing his watch—at the station, when charged, he made no reply—he gave a false address.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were there with the prosecutor—I asked you if you had the watch—you said, "No"—I said I should take you to the station—you there said, "Why did you not follow the other mob?"—I did not say the prosecutor was three sheets in the wind—he was not I he worse for liquor at the time.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was on his way home when the prosecutor charged him.
GUILTY of robbery only .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted.
EDWARD ALBERT UDERITZ . I am eleven years old and live at Charles Street, Stepney—on 16th August I was taking a pair of trousers for my father to someone in Gresham Street, and in Lombard Street I met the prisoner—she said, "Go up Threadneedle Street to a building in the third turning on the left and get Jack's money from Mr. Jones"—my brother Willie was with me—I said I would go, and I went, leaving the trousers with Willie—I could not find the place, and came back and found Willie, but the trousers had gone, and so had the prisoner—three weeks after, on 7th September, I saw the prisoner in Knightrider Street, and she asked me the way to Holborn Viaduct—I was by myself, carrying four pairs of trousers—I am sure she is the same woman I had seen before—I said, "Go up Queen Victoria Street"—I followed her and gave her in charge to a policeman who came up—while following her she said, "Go away; why don't you take the trousers?"
Cross-examined by the prisoner There was no other woman by when you asked me the way to Holborn Viaduct.
WILLIAM GEORGE UDERITZ . I am eleven—I am the brother of the last witness—on 16th August I was with him in Lombard Street—I was carrying a pair of trousers at the time—the prisoner asked us both, "Do you know where St. Michael's Court is?"—we did not know—then she asked us for Threadneedle Street—I told her, and she said, "You might save me the trouble"—she told Albert to go down the third turning in Threadneedle Street, and he would see a place named Jones's, and he was to go in the office and ask for Mr. Jones, and when he saw Mr. Jones he was to ask him for Jack's money—when he had gone she sent me after
him to see that he did not lose the money, and hurry him up—she said she would hold the trousers—when I came back she and the trousers had gone—I afterwards picked her out at the station from five other women at once.
JAMES LINGWOOD (610 City). I was on duty in Distaff Lane, Cannon Street, about 2.30 on Saturday, 7th September—I saw Albert Uderitz crying in Distaff Lane, and the prisoner going away from him—I stopped and asked her what was the matter with the boy—she said, "The little vagabond won't make haste home"—I said, "You had better wait a minute, and let us see what is the matter with him"—I asked him what was the matter with him—he said, "This woman stole a pair of trousers from me three or four weeks ago, and I believe she wants to get this bundle from me"—he was carrying a bundle—I said, "You hear what the boy says?"—she said, "He is telling lies; he ought to make haste home"—I asked her where she lived—she said, "At Lambeth"—I said, "What brought you this way?"—she said, "I am going to the Alhambra to see Miss Roe to get me a situation"—I said I should take her to the station—when there she said, no, she did not live at Lambeth, but she said, "You know all about it; I was going to Holborn Viaduct to meet a gentleman to get some money"—afterwards "Willie Uderitz was sent for, and picked her out from among a lot of other women.
Cross-examined. You did not say you wanted to go with the boy to see his father—you pretended to know the mother and where they lived.
The prisoner, in her defence, stated that she asked the way to Holborn of a lady, when the boy told her, and then said he meant to follow her, as she had stolen trousers from him three weeks before; that three weeks before she was nursing her dying husband, and did not leave the house.
GUILTY .—She then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in December, 1890, in the name of Edith Butler.—There was another indictment against her for stealing clothes from another person in a similar way,— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 21th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. CUNDY Defended.
ELIZA SAUNDERS . I live at 39, Dennis Street, Islington—I have a friend named Emily Martin—on the morning of 25th August, about one o'clock, I saw the prisoner standing at Martin's door—I had known him for about a fortnight—I said to Martin, "Dick is outside your door"—I had no sooner said the words than I was stabbed in the side of the ear by the prisoner, and as I bent down behind Martin he stabbed me in the back, behind the left shoulder—I was taken to the Royal Free Hospital, and was there for a month—I was not expected to live for the first fortnight; I am better now.
Cross-examined. I don't do any. work now; I did help my mother in household work.
EMILY MARTIN . I live at 20, Dennis Street, Islington—I am a house maid—on the morning of 25th August I was with Saunders—I saw the prisoner stab her in the back, and she dropped—I could not swear what he did it with—I got between them, and I got a slight cut on the head from the prisoner—Saunders and I were both taken to the hospital, and my wound was dressed—Saunders remained at the hospital, and I went to the station and charged the prisoner—I had known him about nine months—I had had no quarrel with him.
Cross-examined. This occurred on Saturday night or Sunday morning—it was dark—there were several people about—I did not see a knife, or anything in his hand—he came up in front of us—he said nothing—he was drunk.
GEORGE MARTIN . I live at 20, Dennis Street—last witness is my sister—early on Sunday morning, 25th August, I was in bed. I was awoke by a lodger; I went out and saw a crowd, and the two females in their arms—I did not see the prisoner, but someone said, "There he goes!" and I went after him; he was running—after going to the hospital with my sister I went to the station to press the charge, and on returning I found this knife in the road, with a piece of handkerchief, near where I had seen the crowd; the knife was open, and a stain of blood on it.
Cross-examined. I could not lay hold of him at first; he had the start of me, and I had no boots on; I could not run very fast—I saw him at the station; he had had drink.
JOHN MCCARTHY (Police Sergeant 20 Y). I took the prisoner into custody about half-past one on the Sunday morning, in Dennis Street—he was among a number of others, walking in the street—I said to him, "You will be charged with stabbing two young women with a pocket-knife"—he said, "I am innocent of it; I know nothing about it"—he repeated that several times on the way to the station—he was charged at the station; he made no reply to it—I saw this knife in the hands of the sergeant; there were stains of blood on the haft and on the blade—this piece of handkerchief belongs to the witness Martin—the prisoner appeared to be recovering from the effects of drink; he seemed to know what he was doing; he could walk straight—the knife is an old one.
THOMAS WADDILOVE SMITH . I was house surgeon at the Royal Free Hospital when the two females were brought there—Martin was suffering from a superficial wound; Saunders had a deep wound in the left bladebone; it would have been dangerous to probe it; she was in a certain amount of collapse; I imagine she had had some drink; she had acute inflammation of the pleura, and was in a critical condition for ten days; she was five weeks in the hospital—the wounds might have been caused by this knife.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "What can I say when I was drunk at the time?"
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of Unlawfully wounding. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, October 24th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. RICHARDS and MR. SOPER Prosecuted, MR. SELLS Defended Evans.
AMELIA LEVY . I am the wife of Louis I Levy, of 109, Lordship Road—I saw my husband draw this cheque in favour of Miss L. Cohen—I put it in an envelope and posted it to Miss Cohen, 7, City Road, at a pillar box, on May 27th, between twelve and one.
Cross-examined. I fix the date simply by remembering it—my attention was drawn to the fact that it was missing shortly after I sent it.
ELIZABETH COHEN . I am single, and live at 7, Oakly Crescent—I did not receive this cheque (produced)—the name of the bank was not written by my authority—I was expecting a cheque from Mr. and Mrs. Levy.
CHARLES JOHN HARDING . I am a dairyman's manager, employed by James Frederick Eland, 146, Green Lanes, Stoke Newington—Evans was was one of his customers—he came to the shop on May 7th, and brought a cheque and a bill made out to No. 57, and asked me to make out another bill for the lodger for 7d.—he put down the cheque and asked for the change—"Miss Louisa Cohen" was on the cheque—I gave him £1, and he came again at 6.30 with Seaward, and represented her to be his wife, and" when he said that she walked outside—he then said that he had received the cheque for work done—I said I would not give him any more change till I had seen the governor next morning—next day, in consequence of something I was told, I took the cheque to 57, Park Lane, and saw the prisoner Seaward—she asked me to leave the cheque, as "he" was not in—I said that I could not—she took it from my hand, and went upstairs, and came back in a few minutes with the cheque endorsed and the ink still wet—she asked me if I would come back again—I said "No"—I paid the cheque into the bank by Kimberon the 29th—about a month after that I went to Park Lane with Mr. Eland, and saw Seaward—we asked for Miss Cohen—she said, "I am Mias Cohen"—I said, "We have come about the cheque," and then she said she did not know anyone named Cohen—I recognised her as the woman I had seen at the shop and at Park Lane—she said her friend brought it for her, and she had not seen the man (Evans) since he had the change—Evans' name was not mentioned—she said the man owed her some money and changed it—I said, "He said you were his wife"—she said that she did not hear it—I said, "When you heard it, you walked outside the shop"—I next saw Evans at the Police-station, and had no difficulty in identifying him—I picked him out from eight or ten others.
Cross-examined. I saw a letter on June 4th; I do not produce it—two young ladies are customers of ours, and were so when we took the business—I do not know who owns the house, I heard that it is a bad house, and it was that that made me suspect Evans—he was not a customer, but
I knew where he came from, because he brought the bill—I did not know then that Miss Seaward is not his wife, but she had an account at our shop—we don't go by names, but by numbers—I credited the cheque on the strength of being customers—I have had a letter from Seaward, written in the name of Cohen, and my reply was, "No more money till we have heard from the bank"—a man working at the house brought the letter—I do not know him, I gave my letter to him—after I sent it I believed that Miss Seaward was Miss Cohen.
ELIAS BOWER (Detective Sergeant N). I saw Evans at Hornsey Road Police-station and said, "I am a police officer; I am going to take you in custody for stealing and uttering this forged cheque for £10 8s. 8 1/2 d."—I also showed him a cheque endorsed twice, "Miss Cohen" and "Miss Louisa Cohen"—he said he knew nothing about it—shortly afterwards he said, "Let me see that cheque again"—I did so—he said, "That is a woman's writing; I will show you mine if you will give me pen and ink"—I did so; he asked me how to spell Evans, and then wrote Thomas Evans—I took him to Stoke Newington Police-station—he said "How do you make this out?"—I said, "Your recent possession will prove the larceny, as it had only left the owner's hands three hours when you uttered it"—he said, "What about that woman who gave it to me?"—I cautioned him—he said, "That is the truth"—I said, "If you wish to make a statement I will write it down"—he said, "I wish you would"—I did so; he signed it—this is it: "I took the cheque to prosecutor at his shop in Green Lanes, the milk shop. It was given to me at 57, Park Lane by a woman whom I know as Brummagen Liz, who told me she had received it from a gentleman she had staying there on the Sunday night. She said, 'It is signed,' I then saw 'Miss Louisa Cohen' on the back. She also gave me her milk bill; also Mrs. Wallace's milk bill, and I took both bills with the cheque to theshop. The man gave me £1 of the balance, and gave me a receipt for 8s. and odd. The man told me to come back at five o'clock that night, and he would give me the balance. I went to the shop with another woman who also lives at 57, Park Lane. She is called Fan something, but I forget what. I have since seen Brummagen Liz at the Angel, Islington. She told me the milkman had called, and asked if she was Miss Cohen. She said, 'Yes,' and he told her to endorse the cheque again underneath the name that was on there, which she did. Since that the milkman had paid her the remainder; he brought it to her in a bag or envelope sealed up. The woman who went to the shop with me was with Brummagen Liz, when I met her at the Angel, THOMAS EVANS"—after signing that he said, "I did not receive a penny piece of the money, neither the £1 or the remainder which was paid to Brummagen Liz"—on the same evening I saw Seaward and produced the cheque—she said, "Yes; I know all about it, a man who told me his name was Cohen asked me to cash it for him at my house, 57, Park Lane."—Bower said "How did you know Cohen?"—Seaward said. "I met him in the neighbourhood and took him home with me, I could not cash it for him, and he asked me for the bills
where I dealt; I gave him two milk bills owing to the dairy in Green Lanes; he left the house and afterwards came back and told me the milkman only gave him £1, he was going to give him the rest in the morning; I went with him in the evening, he told the man I was his wife, which is wrong. The same evening the milkman came to the house with the cheque and asked if I was Miss Cohen, but I did not answer. He told me to put 'Louisa Cohen,' on the back, without the 'Miss'; I took the cheque upstairs and asked my friend, Miss Howard, to put 'Louisa Cohen' on it, which she did; I gave it to the milkman, who some time afterwards sent the balance round in a sealed envelope or bag. The same night I and Miss Howard went to Islington, met Cohen and gave him the money as I had received it, he gave us a sovereign each"—I took Evans to the station, he pointed to Howard and said, "That is the woman who gave me the cheque"—Seaward said, "What I have already told you h the truth."
Cross-examined. Both Seaward and Howard had been living in that house some time—I know the character of the house.
ALBERT WARD (Detective N). I was with Bower—I produced the cheque and Howard said, "That has nothing to do with me." Seaward said the like—Howard said, "Well, Miss Seaward asked me to put 'Louisa Cohen' on it, which I did, 'Miss Louisa Cohen' was on it at that time, I saw afterwards what I had done, but I did not think of it at the time." On the way to the station Howard said, "I never saw the man before, but after the money was brought to the house we saw Charley, meaning Evans, at Islington, and gave him the money; we had none of it excepting a few drinks with him and left him at The George."
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Evans says, "I took the cheque as I thought it was a bona fide cheque for Miss Seaward." Howard says, "This man's statement is false,"
Howard's Defence. It is not a brothel; some new married people keep the house, and the landlord is a friend of Evans.
EVANS— GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court on May 3rd, 1894, and two other convictions were proved against him.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
SEAWARD— GUILTY .—. Discharged on her own recognizances.
HOWARD— NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, October 24th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted, MR. BLACKWELL appeared for Edwards, and
MR. DRAKE for Speight.
EDITH LOUISE WEBB . I am assistant to Frederick William Buxton, a jeweller, of 10 and 11, Burlington Arcade—on September 13th I was the last to leave the shop, at about 7.30—another young lady assistant left with me—I take the key home with me, and let myself in with it in the morning—the shop-boy has no key—I left the shop securely fastened—there
are no shutters to the windows, but the blinds are pulled down—the gates at each end of the Arcade are locked, and there is a beadle—next morning, 14th, I arrived at 9.10—the shop-boy, William Power, was there some time before me; he cleans the windows on the outside—when I got there I found the place had been broken into—I have since ascertained that about £1,500 worth of jewellery had been taken—entrance was effected through the front door.
WILLIAM PURVEY . I am shop boy to the prosecutor—I am fifteen—on Friday, 13th, I left the shop before Miss Webb—on Saturday morning, 14th, I arrived at the shop about 8.10 or 8.15; I found a brooch lying just outside the doorstep, and the door was ajar—the front door had not been forced open, but opened with an ordinary key—I ran for the commissionaire.
FREDERICK IMESON . I am assistant to Charles Shapland, of 207, High Holborn, a pawnbroker—this gold watch was pawned with me on September 16th for 16s. in the name of William Stevens, 16, John Street, Hoxton—I do not recognise either of the prisoners—the watch is worth 22s.—it was an ordinary pawning.
JOHN CHURCHMAN . I live at 93, High Street, Kingsland, and am manager to Mr. Fish, a pawnbroker there—on September 17th this pin was pawned with me for 4s. in the name of Norton, of 18, Dynevor Road, Stoke Newington, by Speight, whom I know by the name of Norton—he had pawned things several times—the pin is worth about 10s.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. The trade price would be about 10s.; he asked 4s.; I was surprised at his asking such a low price—I should have expected him to ask 10s., and I should have advanced him 7s.—he generally asks the full value—it is a very common pin, such as you see in almost every jeweller's window in London; it is rather a modern kind—we average about 150 customers a day.
Re-examined. I had known the prisoner for some time—on a Thursday, about September 26th, I was in company with Inspector Hare, and I saw Speight somewhere near St. Bartholomew's, walking along between the meat market and the hospital—I pointed him out to the inspector as the person who had pawned this pin.
THOMAS EDEN . I am assistant to Mr. Smith, a pawnbroker, of 64, High Street, Kingsland—this scarf pin was pawned with me on September 17th for 5s. in the name of James Moore, of 18, Dynevor Road—I cannot say that either of the prisoners pledged it—I should think it would fetch about 18s. in the trade; I should think 5s. was all that was asked for it—I could not say.
WILLIAM FARROW . I am assistant to Daniel Robert Miller, pawnbroker, of 27 and 29, High Street, Stoke Newington—this gold pin was pledged with me, on 17th September, for 3s. 6d., by Speight, in the name of Hall, of Milton Road—I knew him before—I think he had been a customer on two or three occasions, and I had seen him passing the shop—I cannot say in what name he had pawned before—the value of the pin is about 5s. to the trade.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. Very few persons pawn in their own name—Johnson and Dimond, of King William Street, have auctions of every description of jewellery almost every day I think, four or five
times a week at any rate—it is a practice for persona to go and buy jewellery there and then pawn it.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. They afterwards dispose of the tickets—I have heard of people who buy jewellery trusting to the pawnbroker's judgment of it rather than their own—we try to leave ourselves a margin of profit, so that the pawnticket would be worth a little more than the money advanced on it.
FRANCIS FREDERICK DADD . I am a pawnbroker, of 192, Mare Street, Hackney—this gold pin was pledged on 17th September for 3s. in the name of William Gurney, of 36, Graham Road—I do not identify either prisoner—the pin could be bought retail for about 7s. 6d., or wholesale for about 6s. 6d.
GEORGE FEGAN . I am assistant to W. G. Fish, pawnbroker, of 317, Mare Street, Hackney—this gold pin was pledged with me for 3s. in the name of John Gurney, of Graham Road—it, is worth 5s. or 6s.—I do not recognise either prisoner.
SAMUEL FENN . I am assistant to Ernest Home, pawnbroker, of 214 and 216, Gray's Inn Road—this scarf pin was pledged with me on 19th September for 2s. 6d. in the name of Hall, of 3, Wells Street—on the same day this silver watch was pledged for 7s. in the name of George Clark, of 13, Wells Street—I do not identify either prisoner—those were separate pledgings—we should not give the same man two tickets in different names at the same time.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. Probably if the same man came at different times in the day and gave different names I should be suspicious if I recognised him—I should recognise a man if he came twice on the same day—two of us serve in the shop from 8.30 a.m. to 7 p.m., with half an hour off for dinner and half an hour for tea—I principally take things in—I cannot say if I took these things in; but the tickets are in my writing, and the presumption would be that I did—if I take in a pledge I write out the ticket.
STANLEY DAVEY . I live at 156, Victoria Street, S.W., and am assistant to Mr. Sutton, a pawnbroker—this pearl and diamond brooch was pledged with me by Edwards in the name of George Jones, of 10, Lupus Street, on September 20th for 30s.—I only recognise Edwards as pledging that particular brooch—I saw Edwards among others at the police-station on the second hearing when I gave evidence, and recognised him at once—I have no doubt about him—I should think the brooch cost about fifty shillings in the trade.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. He asked 30s., which was a fair pledging price—I would not have advanced more than 5s. more.
ALBERT LEES . I am assistant to Henry Dawson, a pawnbroker, of 138, Tachbrook Street, Pimlico—about 3.30 p.m. on 20th September Edwards (whom I had never seen before) came and handed me this pearl brooch, and asked me to lend £1 5s. on it—I noticed on the back the private mark of the firm—at that time I had heard by the police daily list of the burglary at the Burlington Arcade—the list was so long, occupying two lists, that it attracted my special attention—I showed it to my manager, arid then came back to the prisoner and asked him whose brooch it was, and where he got it from—he said it was his wife's, and she gave £2 for it at a jeweller's shop—meantime, in consequence of what
had passed between me and my manager, the police had been sent for—when Sergeant Woodhouse came I told him in his presence that he had offered this brooch in pledge, and that it was in the list which we believed belonged to the Burlington Arcade robbery—the prisoner made no answer—he was told he would have to go to the station, and he was taken there.
CHARLES WOODHOUSE (Sergeant 23 B). About 3.30 p.m. on 20th September I was called to Mr. Dawson's shop, where I saw the last witness and Edwards—he was told the brooch he had offered in pledge was one of a number stolen from the Burlington Arcade—he made no answer—I asked him where he got it from—he said, "I bought it"—I told him he would have to go to the station so that inquiries might be made—I took him to the station, where he said, "I bought it last Sunday morning in Duke's Place, Aldgate, for 16s."—there is a kind of Sunday fair there—jewellery dealers show there principally—he did not say from whom he bought it—he was detained, and afterwards taken to Vine Street Police-station.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I made no note of the conversation then.
ARTHUR HARE (Inspector C). About 5.30 p.m. on 20th September, I went with Mr. Buxton and Drew to the Gerald Road Police-station, where the prisoner was first detained—Mr. Buxton identified the brooch last produced—I said to Edwards, "This brooch has been identified by Mr. Buxton as one stolen from his shop between last Friday night and Saturday morning, at Burlington Arcade; do you wish to explain how you came into possession of it?"—he said, "I bought it at Gracechurch Street the other day"—I said, "Who did you buy it of there?"—he said, "I don't know"—I said, "Your story does not satisfy me; I shall take you to Vine Street Station till you can give me some better explanation"—I searched, and found on him a pawn-ticket for a gold watch bracelet, pawned on 16th September for £1 12s., in the name of William George, of Talbot Square, with Edward Saunderson, of Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square; he also had two empty purses, 1s., and some bronze—I asked his address; he refused it, and said he did not want to hurt his wife—I took him to Vine Street, where he was charged with larceny and shop-breaking; he made no answer—he gave the name of William Edwards, but still refused his address—eventually his address at a common lodging-house, at 36, Balls Pond Road, was ascertained—about 7.30 p.m. on September 26th, I was with Sergeant Shaddock and Churchman, and we saw Speight outside a public-house close to St. Bartholomew's Hospital—Churchman spoke to me, and I said to the prisoner "Mr. Norton, I want to speak to you"—he said, "My name is not Norton"—I said, "You pledged a pin on the 17th with Mr. Fish, of High Street, Kingsland"—he said, "I did not," I said, "This gentleman," pointing to Churchman, "identifies you as having pledged that pin; it was part of the property stolen from the Burlington Arcade; I shall want to know where you got it from"—he said. "I don't know what you are talking about"—I said, "We are police-officers"—we were both in plain clothes—we took him to the Vine Street Station in a cab; Churchman came with us—in the cab I said, "You will be charged with being concerned with Edwards, a man now in custody, in breaking and entering the Burlington
Arcade and stealing jewellery of the value of between £1,400 and £1,500 between the night of the 13th and morning of the 14th—he said, "Oh! thank you, I know Bill Edwards; I know this man also "(pointing to Churchman); "you say I pawned the pin; I say I did not"—at the station he was charged; he said, "Oh! very well"—he gave his correct address.
By the COURT. The gates of Burlington Arcade are closed at night; it is private property—two commissionaires are on duty every night, and each patrols half the arcade—I should say that you could carry this £,500 worth of jewellery away in the pocket of an overcoat—there is no way of getting in or out of the Arcade except through the gates—I am satisfied that on this particular morning the gate at the Burlington Garden end was opened at 7.40, and that the commissionaire who ought to have been there was not there, and I am satisfied from inquiries that the entering took place after eight a.m., and just before the boy came—the thieves must have come out almost immediately before the boy got there; they must have been well acquainted with the habits of the commissionaire and with the hours at which the gates were opened.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. Edwards wrote me a letter dated September 26th, 1895, which I received on the morning of the 27th—I arrested Norton at 7.45 p.m.—the letter may have been delivered on the night of the 26th, and I might not have seen it till the morning of the 27th; the postmark is" the 26th—it is addressed to Detective Inspector Hare, Vine Street—I brought Speight direct to Vine Street, and after charging him I left the station about 8.10 or 8.45, and was out on other business till three next morning. (The letter from Edwards stated that a person had called at the prison and told him that the man he pawned the things for was locked up about three months ago for being drunk near Victoria Station; that he had a parcel with him, and not giving a satisfactory account of it was remanded for three weeks; that he had given his right name and address; that the man had a large moustache; and a hole in the lower part of his cheek, and a great deal of colour.) That description applies to Speight—I had no conversation with Edwards as to how he had possession of the jewellery and pawntickets beyond what I have told you—he said he bought them from a man he did not know—I cannot remember that I heard from Drew that the prisoner said he had been asked to pawn them by a man whose address he did not know—I had charge of the case—Drew was making inquiries at Balls Pond Road, and what he discovered he would report to me, not necessarily conversations and things of that sort—I should think this letter was written before Speight was arrested, but on the day of the arrest—I have made inquiries about Edwards—some years ago he was in a fair way of business as a greengrocer, I think—I have heard that his business failed—his general reputation for some time past is that he has been the associate of most expert thieves—for five or six years he has been living at a common lodging-house—a common lodging-house is very often the resort of expert thieves, and a man obliged to live there is necessarily obliged to come into contact with expert thieves—there has never been any charge of dishonesty against him—he associates with thieves outside the lodging-house, in the streets and public-houses—I do not know that he has got his living by assisting bookmakers; my information
is that he has been getting his living by pawning different articles and also betting.
GEORGE CLOUD . I am assistant to E. Saunderson, a pawnbroker, of 73 and 75, Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square—on 15th September Edwards pledged this gold watch bracelet for £1 12a., in the name of William George, 7, Tolmer Square—the value of it would be about £2 10s. or £3 in the trade—I picked Edwards out from others at Vine Street Station the day he was arrested.
MARY ELDRIDGE . I am a widow; I manage a common lodging-house at 36, Balls Pond Road—when I came into the management about twelve months ago Edwards was a lodger there, and he h is lodged there ever since—there are certain permanent lodgers—he had a bed No. 12 in a room in which there were four beds—there is a cupboard in the room for the use of the four lodgers; there is one key to the cupboard; it hangs at the back of the washstand—I did not notice which shelf Edwards used.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. He has been a regular lodger during the time I was there, coming in regularly every night, and behaving as a respectable man—any of the persons who lodged there could open the cupboard and see what was in it—none of the bedroom doors are locked—there were occasional changes in the occupiers of the room, though Edwards remained there the whole time.
JAMES FLACK . I am night porter at 36, Ball's Pond Road—one morning I saw Edwards using the second shelf from the top of the cupboard in the room in which he slept—there are three shelves—all the persons in the room have been permanent lodgers.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. They change sometimes—all the lodgers in the room know where the key is kept; any of them can open the cupboard.
EDWARD DREW (Detective Sergeant C). On the 20th September I went to the lodging-house, 36, Balls Pond Road, where I saw Mrs. Eldridge and Flack—I went to the back room on the first floor in which is bed No. 12—in the cupboard there are three shelves and the bottom—on the second shelf from the top I found these 32 pawntickets, eight of which relate to property produced to-day—the other 24 relate to property pawned within the last two months, but have nothing to do with this case—rolled up in a blanket between the mattress and bed of No. 12 bed I found these seven other pawntickets; none of those relate to this indictment—before I went to Balls Pond Road I had been present at Vine Street when an officer identified Edwards—he did not say anything then in my presence about his address—after finding the pawntickets I went back to Vine Street, about one a.m. on the 21st, and said to Edwards that I had found he was living at the lodging-house, and I had been to his lodgings, 36, Balls Pond Road, a lodging-house, and I had found thirty-nine pawntickets there, and I asked him if he wished to give any information with reference to them—he said they belonged to a man he had been pawning for—I told him that if he gave me any information respecting this person every effort would be made to trace him—he said, "I don't know where he lives"—I went through the tickets, and pointed out to him that the majority were in reference to the pledging of jewellery at quite a recent date, and I said that they might form the subject of other charges, and
told him the necessity of giving me information of the other man from whom he got it—he said, "I shall have to put up with it"—I had made inquiries respecting the prisoner that same night—between that time and the arrest of the other prisoner he told me that the man's name was Charlie Newton, who lived in a street off Church Road, Stoke Newington—that was after he was identified by a pawnbroker, and when he went before the Magistrate on the morning of the 21st—that is not the address of the other prisoner—there are a number of streets going off Church Road—we have made inquiries, but we have failed to find anyone—he gave me no further information between that time and the other prisoner's arrest.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I am quite sure he said Newton and not Norton—I made no note—I told him there was not much to go upon—I told Hare that Edwards said he had been pawning for Newton—we did not attach much importance to the information, as we regarded it as indefinite—I asked him for a description of the man—he said he was a middle-aged man of medium height, with a heavy moustache—that could be construed into a correct description of Speight—he did not mention the hole in his cheek—I have seen the letter he wrote to Hare.
Re-examined. Church Street, Stoke Newington, is a long road—Speight's address is Monson Road, Blackstoke Road, Stoke Newington, it is in the neighbourhood, but about half a mile from Church Road.
FREDERICK PERCY BUXTON . I live at 14, Wandsworth Bridge Road—I am son of, and assistant to, Frederick William Buxton, the proprietor of this shop in the Burlington Arcade—I arrived at the shop about 10.30 a.m. on the 14th—I found that goods to the value of £1,500 were missing—all this property produced is my father's, with the exception of this silver watch—the brooch which Edwards was attempting to pawn when he was taken into custody we should sell at £3 5s.; its trade value is £1 16s. 6d.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. The trade value of this pin, pawned at Fish's, is 18s!; that and the one pawned at Miller's are both a very common description of pin; they are made in Birmingham—we have two assistants, both women; they have been with us over four years; the only male assistant is the boy—we have discharged no one for the past six years—I have no idea how the robbery took place—all the shops are left unattended at night with the exception of one, a diamond dealer's, where a commissionaire sleeps all night; the gates at both ends are opened at eight o'clock, and then the Arcade becomes a public thoroughfare—the boys are supposed to arrive to clean the windows between 8 and 8,15; most of the shops have boys to clean the windows—the moment the gates are open a number of persons would be coming in and going out, so that after eight it is a busy thoroughfare—the commissionaire's box is supposed to be removed about 8 am.—it would be an unusual occurrence for me or my assistants to be at the shop at 8 a.m.—the thieves took every pin in my place; they emptied one window entirely, with the exception of a few things strewn about the floor, which evidently fell out of the bag in the hurry—we do not undress the windows every night, only pull down the blinds—probably we should sell fifty pins of this kind in the course of the year—we put a mark on every pin when we buy it, and another mark when we sell it.
Re-examined. These pins have not been sold—this jewellery contains our mark when we bought it, and enables me to identify it as part of our stock, but it has no sale mark.
Witnesses for Edwards,
ROBERT KIPLING . I live at 127, Englefield Road, Islington, and am a tailor's cutter—in September Speight asked me if I would pawn a gold watch for him, and he would give me 2s. for doing it—he said I was to ask 25s. and not take less than £1—I went to two pawnshops, and could not get £1—I returned the watch to Speight at the Star and Garter, Balls Pond Road, and told him I could not get the money he asked for it—Edwards was there when the watch was given to me, and when I brought it back—Speight then asked Edwards to pawn it, and he said, "Why don't you pawn it yourself?"—Speight said, "Because they know me in the trade as a dealer, and they lend more money to a stranger than myself"—he handed the watch to Edwards and they went away together—I had seen Speight before in a public-house—I only knew him as a dealer in jewellery.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I have lived at 127, Englefield Road, a common lodging-house, for between two and three months—previous to that I lived at 36, Ball's Pond Road; I was one of the four in the room where Edwards slept—the conversation about the watch at the Star and Garter was a few days before Edwards' arrest—Edwards was in the same compartment—I was not living in the same lodging-house with him at that time—I saw Edwards and Speight in the bar when I went in—I first told this story to a solicitor, who came to me nearly a fortnight ago I should think, since this case was at the Police-court—I read about the Police-court proceedings—I did not go there, because I was not asked—I did not know I was required.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. This was a lady's gold watch, not a bracelet watch.
Re-examined. I had no acquaintance with Edwards beyond what I made in the lodging-house—I have no desire except to do justice.
WALTER BODDINGTON . I am a clerk to Mr. Wisby, the solicitor for Edwards—I was at Marlborough Street instructing Mr. Blackwell, on behalf of Edwards, on September 28th—by the magistrate's permission I went to see Edwards before he was brought into Court—he and Speight were in the same cell—I spoke to Edwards through the little hole in the door—I did not see Speight in the first instance; but he heard our conversation—I said to Edwards, "Are you aware another man has been charged with this affair?"—he said, "Yes; he is here now"—I said, "Is that the same man, Norton, who you have instructed us, has handed you the goods to pawn?"—Speight then came up to the hole and said, "It's quite right, I did hand him the goods to pawn, and the greater portion of the tickets found at his place are mine. Do you know my solicitor, Mr. Porteous?"—I said, "I have not seen him in Court to-day, I wrote to him to be in attendance"—he said, "Don't make it too hot"—I said, "I have to look after the prisoner Edwards."
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. My principal's offices are at 114, London Wall, and 8, Albion Road, Kingsland—he is not here to-day—he
has acted in this matter on several occasions—he has taken his instructions in the ordinary way of business—I cannot tell you where—his name is not in the Law List, but I have brought his certificate—I saw the prisoners in the same cell, and I knew they were charged with the same offence—I saw them in the cell before I saw them in the Court—I asked Edwards, "Do you know another man has been charged with this affair?" knowing they were both charged with it, because my instructions were the same from the very commencement—I was not anxious to get the defence of Speight—he had told me he was defended by Mr. Porteous, and I never asked him to let me defend him—one of the prisoners stood on one side of the aperture, and one on the other, and I saw them both—I did not give this statement at the Police-court—I am acting under the advice of counsel—I told Counsel what had taken place, and he told the magistrate that he had witnesses to call—I keep a diary—it is not here—I made a note that I had attended the Police-court, not of the conversation—I have been with Mr. Wisby for more than three months—80, Albion Road, is Mr. Wisby's house—I do not live there—he is a solicitor on the rolls.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I heard Mr. Newton say that he should send the case for trial, and the prisoner's counsel then said that he should reserve his defence—I came back from the cell to the Court, and instructed counsel what had taken place.
EDWARDS received a good character. GUILTY of Receiving. Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
SPEIGHT— GUILTY of receiving. — Three Years' Penal Servitude. — He was again indicted for breaking and entering the shop of Stanley Spiller, and stealing a watch and other articles. MR. BURNIE offered no evidence.
OLD COURT.—Friday, October 25th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted.
JANE WEST . My name is Jane Elizabeth Lemon—I am not the prisoner's wife; I have always passed as such—I have lived with him seventeen years as near as I can remember—I have had four children; I can't say why we were not married—I put up the banns myself in Old Street, before my first child was born, and had saved enough money to pay the expenses—I asked him to marry me, and went on my knees and cried to him—he is a bootmaker, living in Well Street, Hackney, at this time, not when I first knew him—on September 21st, at three in the afternoon, I was at 58, Ash Grove, Hackney, at work—I was in the habit of going there to work at a sewing machine in the room of Mr. Berry—his daughter, Minnie Bligh, used to work there too, she used to assist me—about half-past three we were going into the room—the prisoner followed me into the house from the Canal Bridge—on the way he called me a dirty thing, and said, "Why did you not hold your frock up"—I said,
"Mind your own business," that was all that passed in the room—I was just turning the clothes, to get over to the mangle, when the prisoner came behind me and said, "There, I have done it now;" he gave me one pinch in the back as I thought till I felt the blood running down my back, and he tried to cut his own throat—he tried to wipe the knife on his coat; it was a table knife, but he had made it into a shoemaker's knife—some of the clothes I was turning belonged to Mrs. Bligh, some to a friend of mine, and some to Mr. Berry—I ran out to a doctor's; the prisoner was not sober, or he would never have done it: when sober he was very kind and very fond of his children—he has threatened me a good many times when drunk, not when sober—he always threatened me that he would cut my throat.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You have done so several times—there was no machine there at this time, there had been, but it was in pawn, the stand was there—I was washing and doing needlework,—you did not on one occasion find me there with Mr. Berry undressed; he had his coat and waistcoat off, as he was very tired and lay down outside the bed—you have accused me of being out all night, I was at a friend's at Edmonton, not with Mr. Berry, I was alone; I did all I could to help my dear little children, you never tried to do so.
MINNIE BLIGH . I am a widow, and did live at 5, Brandon Road—on the afternoon of September 21st, about half-past three, I was at 58, Ash Grove—I came home with the last witness; the prisoner followed us—she took off her jacket and went to the clothes'-horse to turn some clothes—I saw the prisoner, as I thought, pinch her—he said, "Now I have done it"—I said, "Done what?"—he said, "Stabbed her"—I saw the knife in his hand; this is it (produced); he had got it to his own throat—I said, "Go out of the room," and he did—the prosecutrix said "Oh!" three times, and went out—I have known her between three and four years—she worked in Jewin Crescent when I first knew her, and then she used to come to my father's to work, as she could not earn sufficient; she was willing to do anything to make both ends meet; she had no machine at home—I have seen the prisoner nearly every day—I think he was sober—I did not often see him the worse for drink, and when he was it seemed more like weakness, not exactly like temper; he was very simple in lots of things—he did not seem as if he could ever do anything like this—when it came on he was more like mad—I could not tell whether it was from drink; sometimes he looked very strange—he complained of his head; he would say, "My head is bad," and would say he did not know what was the matter, and sometimes he said he did not know what he was doing—I have seen him holding his head lots of times.
FREDERICK MEADOWS BERRY . I am a possession man, and live at 58, Ash Grove, Hackney—on the afternoon of September 21st I was sitting by the fire in my room, when the prosecutrix and my daughter came in, and the prisoner behind them—after the prosecutrix had taken off her jacket and gone to the clothes-horse, the prisoner came up behind her, and as I thought, struck her in the back—I heard him say "I have done it"—she said "Oh my back"—I thought from the state they were in I had better go and get a constable—I certainly thought he had had something to drink, his eyes were protruding—I have seen him in drink—I
went out to get a constable, and as I came back I saw the prosecutrix going towards the doctor's.
Cross-examined. You did not on one occasion come to my place and find me undressed and going to bed, and find the prosecutrix sitting at the machine—you did not find her there at half-past two on a Sunday morning—on one occasion you broke a window at my room—I don't know why—I believe at times you are not accountable—sometimes when I have been "in possession" she has gone and got up money for me—she has done marketing for me, and has had dinner with me on a Sunday morning—and I have cut off a dinner for you and your children as well.
ALICE OGLE . I am the wife of Montague Ogle, of 92, Paul Street, Finsbury—the prisoner's nephew lodged in the same house—on the evening of September 21st, the prisoner called to see his nephew—he told him that his wife was dying—I saw him when he came downstairs, and said I was sorry to hear his wife was dying, and asked what was the matter; "it is very sudden"—he said, "Yes, very sudden"—I said, "She was here yesterday; is it smallpox or fever?"—he said, "No, I have murdered her"—I said, "What for?"—he said, "Because she has been unfaithful to me"—then he went away.
GEORGE SUTTON (32 J R). I was in Mare Street, Hackney, on September 21st, about 6 p.m., and watched the prisoner—I saw him outside the Crown public-house, in Leonard Street, Finsbury, at 9.13—I said, "Is your name West?"—he said, "Perhaps it is"—I cautioned him, and said, "I am going to take you into custody for stabbing your wife with a shoemaker's knife this afternoon"—he said, "I shall say nothing; someone else is responsible for this; I stabbed her, I tried to cut my throat, I meant to do for her and myself"—he had his throat tied up with a white wrapper—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. I had your boy with me; that was how I found you—he pointed you out; he is a lad about sixteen—he goes to work—yon were rather excited, but sober.
THOMAS FITZGERALD (Inspector J). The prisoner was brought to the station—I told him he would be charged with cutting and wounding his wife, and attempting to commit suicide—he said, "That is quite right, I have done it: I did intend to kill her and myself too. I don't wish to give you any trouble; I threw the knife into a timber-yard by the second post in a passage that runs from Cambridge Heath Bridge to the Oval"—I went to that place, and found this knife—I returned to the station and the divisional surgeon saw both the prosecutrix and the prisoner.
PAUL PLEWS , L.R.C.P. I practise at 5, Bishop's Road, Cambridge Heath—the prosecutrix came to my surgery about four in the afternoon on September 21st—I examined her, and found an incised wound between her shoulders about three-quarters of an inch long, and half an inch deep, bleeding profusely; it was not in itself dangerous; it might have been inflicted with this knife—I dressed it, and sent her home.
JOHN WHITE , M.D. I am divisional surgeon, Lower Clapton Road—I saw the prosecutrix at the station between ten and eleven on the night of September 21st—I concur in Mr. Plews' evidence—at the same time I saw the prisoner, I found three or four incised wounds on each side of the neck; two were skin deep, and the others mere scratches—they might have been caused by this knife—he seemed quite sober—he was in
a very wretched condition of health, and in a very weak and nervous state, more like a man after an epileptic fit—he is now so improved that one could hardly recognise him—I saw no signs of drink—I had never seen him before.
MR. PLEWS (Re-called). They tell me that I saw him once in order to obtain his admission to the infirmary, but I do not recollect it.
T. M. BERRY (Re-called). He had a serious illness two or three years ago, and was in the infirmary at Bethnal Green two months—I got him there through Dr. Plews—at times he seems as if he was not accountable—there is a funny look about his eyes—I have seen him several times the worse for drink, but I don't think it was brought on by drink—they have not been living happily—he attributes it to me—he is a very jealous man—I and my daughter have done all we can to assist his wife and children.
The prisoner, in his defence, read a statement, in which he complained of his wife's late hours, and being so much in Berry's company, and also of his own weak state of health.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. KYD Prosecuted.
EDWARD RICHARDSON . I am a porter, of 6, Seager Road, Walham Green—I have known the prisoner some little time—he was lodging at Mrs. Wright's, 27, Grove Avenue, for about two years—on August 24th I went to call on Mrs. Wright in the evening; she was in the basement with her son—about nine she asked me to go upstairs and see Mr. Mussy—I knocked at his door—he asked me to come in—the door was locked; he opened it—I went in—he was sitting on his bed—I walked towards the end of the bed to speak to him, and I asked him if he had any money for Mrs. Wright for her rent—he said, "No, no," and deliberately fell back on the bed, took a revolver from under the pillow with his left hand, and fired at me—I was standing at the foot of the bed—I was not hit—I bobbed down or I might have been—I saw him point the revolver at me with his left hand—he fired a second shot—I bobbed down again, and it went over my head—the way he pointed the revolver seemed as though it could hit me in the face, behind me was a broken window pasted up with brown paper—I could not say whether the paper was perfect—it was dark, there was no light in the room—I saw the flash, and heard the report—I did not feel anything passing me—I was rather excited at the time—Miss Hazell, a lodger had just come down and was standing at the door with a light—after being fired at twice I pulled myself up towards the prisoner and pulled the revolver away from him—I had no difficulty in doing so, he almost dropped it when I caught hold of it—I had not had any quarrel with him.
Prisoner. I gave him the revolver. I did not intend to shoot him. I thought of shooting myself.
MARY HAZELL . I live at Mrs. Wright's—I was outside the prisoner's room when Richardson went in—I heard him ask the prisoner for his rent—he replied, "No, no, no," he had not got any for himself, he put out
his had and turned his pockets out—there was no light, and I took my candle to light him—he went to his box which was before the window, close to the bed—I could not see what he did to the box—he then went from his box to his bed, and took the revolver from under his pillow—Richardson was standing at the foot of the bed—the prisoner put his hand that was paralysed to his chest so, and fired at Richardson, aiming at him, not firing at himself—he fired a second time—I was in the room when he fired both shots—I then ran down the kitchen stairs—I have lived in the house just twelve months—the prisoner has been there some time—I believe he has a small pension, he has it at the beginning and end of the month—I do not know anything about his habits—I have nothing to do with him—I live with a friend who keeps part of the house—I only just speak to the prisoner as I pass—I never talked to him; I don't know what he does—he used to go in and out several times in a day, and when he came in he locked himself in—nobody did anything for him, only when the sanitary inspector came—his wife died at Christmas Eve—she was living with him at one time—the inspector came in June or July because the place was in such a dirty con+ dition—he only had one room—paid a woman then to have it cleaned out—he used to buy his food and cook it himself—Mrs. Wright had nothing to do but take his rent—he paid 3s. a week for the rent room.
Prisoner. Since my wife died a woman did the cleaning—I am paralysed, and could not do the cleaning—I could not pay a woman to come every day—I had no money.
THOMAS COMBER (136 T). On August 24th, at nine at night, I was called to 27, Ash Grove by the last witness—I saw Mr. Richardson standing on the steps—he gave me this revolver—I went upstairs, and saw the prisoner in bed—I told him to get up and dress; he would be charged with shooting at Richardson—he said, "No, no"—he perfectly understood me—the inspector came; I handed the revolver to him, and the prisoner was taken to the station.
EDWARD HOLTON (Inspector T). I was called to the house—Comber gave me this revolver; it has six chambers; two were loaded and two had spent cartridge-cases; I should say they had been recently fired—I took the prisoner to the station, and charged him with shooting at Richardson, with intent to murder—he said, "No, no"—I went back and examined the room—at the foot of the bed where Richardson had been standing there was a large window, which had been broken, and was patched up with brown paper, which was torn and hanging down, and I should judge it had been in the direct line of fire—I could not find any bullets in the room; a bullet may have passed through the window—the paper was all jagged and torn about eight inches by twelve—I had seen it some nights before, and it was jagged then—in the course of my patrol I had to pass the house—there was no glass; the bullet might have passed through the open space where there was no paper—there are houses right opposite, but no road, only a footway.
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I am medical officer of Holloway Prison—I have had the prisoner under my observation since August 26th—he has been in hospital the whole of that time—in my opinion he is in a state of senile dementia brought on by an attack of apoplexy, from which
he had evidently suffered at a recent period; he is partially paralysed in one part of his body, his age is given as sixty, he looks over seventy—I should think that at the time he did this he did not know what he was doing—his condition now is worse than it was when he came under my observation—I did not think he would live, he was at death's door while he was in prison.
MRS. WRIGHT. The prisoner had a room at my house for about two and a-half years; he paid me 3s. 6d.—the windows were kept clean when my husband was alive—the prisoner's wife died last Christmas—her son used to send her money every week from Germany, 15s. and £1 at a time—the prisoner had enough to live comfortably, he has paid up to three weeks before she was taken to the Infirmary—since then he has paid me nothing, only fivepence-halfpenny, a shilling, and I think sevenpence—he owes me for quite six months—he always made out that he had money coming—he spoke so as I could understand him—he used to point, and say "No, no"—he had a small pension from someone in Broad Street, I think 4s. a week; that was sent to him—as far as I knew he was aware of what was going on, and knew what he was doing; I told him I must have my rent, as I had no money, and he must go—he said, "No, no"—he would not listen to that—every time I asked him for his rent he kept telling me with his fingers—he always paid me when his wife was alive.
Prisoner. I am paralysed; I cannot put my hand up to my head, if I could I would have shot myself.
GUILTY of the act, being insane at the time .— To be detained ina Criminal Lunatic Asylum until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
MR. KENRICK Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
FANNY WYTHE . I am the widow of the deceased—I live at 17, Brown-hill Street, Queen's Road, Haggerston—on October 10th my husband was at home till about 9 p.m., when he left the house—he was then perfectly well and sober; about 11.15 I heard a knock at the door; I went out and found him lying on the pavement about two doors from the house—Beck and a stranger brought him in; he was insensible; he never rallied; he died on Thursday, a little after two o'clock—as the prisoner was going I asked a party to stop him, as he had done it; he had threatened my husband before—the prisoner said, "All right, I'll stop;" or something to that effect.
JOHN CUNNINGHAM, M.D . I practice at Queen's Road, Dalston—the deceased was my patient—on October 10th I was called to his house between 10 and 11 p.m.—I found him unconscious, and bleeding from his right ear—I found no external marks on his face, but there was a slight abrasion of the skin at the back of his head—death was due to fracture of the skull and effusion of blood to the surface of the brain—I attended him till he died, on October 12th; I made a post-mortem examination; I found a contusion on the back of his head, and a fracture of the skull leading to the base of the brain through the right ear; also a large clot of blood on the surface of the brain; the effusion of blood corresponded with the fracture—death was caused by pressure on the brain from
the fracture; the injury was likely to have been occasioned by a fall and his head coming in contact with the pavement.
Cross-examined. I noticed no sign of direct violence except the bruise on the back of the skull—the fall was sufficient to cause the injury—I did not before the Magistrate use the expression "abnormal"—I said the skull was somewhat thin and brittle—in saying "It would have taken a crow-bar to have produced similar injuries on some skulls" I mean it would have taken a heavy instrument—the deceased was 11 1/2 to 12 stone in weight.
WILLIAM JAMES TAPLIN . I am a coachman, of 19, The Oval, Hackney Road—on the 10th October I was in the Brownlow public-house about three-quarters of an hour—I saw the prisoner with William Wythe—I do not remember having seen the prisoner before—alluding to William Wythe, the prisoner said he had been done out of £200 in twelve months, and he would make him "sit up," or something to that effect—I went out and left him talking to a man that was reciting, telling him his faults and joking—I heard Beck say to the deceased, "Come and have a drink and settle up"—I went back to the Brownlow and spoke to my brother coachman, and the second time I went out I heard Beck say something which I took to mean that I was to go away, and I went away about eight or ten steps—I heard the accused say, "Hold his mouth," and then he said, "that's all right"—when I left I heard a thud, a sound of falling.
Cross-examined. It had been raining about eight o'clock—they were standing close to an iron grating—the men were holding one another by the collar on both occasions—my impression was that the prisoner was trying to turn Wythe round to have a drink—Wythe was resisting—the prisoner's back was towards me at the time he spoke.
GEORGE SUTTON (Detective J.)I produce plan drawn by myself of Brownlow Street and neigbourhood, also an accurate scale plan of the scene the subject of this charge—opposite No. 15 is an iron grating about four feet square—it was defective, it had. been worn and had been repaired with a piece of zinc, and one bar projected higher than the others.
Cross-examined. It was a round bar—I have heard that the London County Council have condemned the grating—persons might easily slip upon the zinc—it is about fifty yards from the public-house—the plan merely shows the house opposite which he fell.
ARTHUR DYER . I live at 9, Brunswick Grove, Hollo way—I am a brass finisher—about 11.10 on the 10th inst., I was coining down Brownlow Street, with a young woman—I saw the prisoner and another man who seemed to be in his company—I did not know them—the prisoner seemed to be hustling the deceased about—they were having high words which I could not catch—Beck seemed to catch hold of Wythe by the shoulders—all of a sudden he hit him on the side of the head or face, and said, "Take that, you old b" in an angry tone—I was then within eight or nine yards of them—the blow was quick—the deceased fell flat on the pavement, with his face towards the Brownlow, downwards—it was a terrific blow—I heard a thud—the deceased appeared unconscious when he was picked up—before that the prisoner said to the man who appeared to be in his company, "You turn your head," and the other man went away—I saw no more of him—the deceased was not fighting; merely trying to get
away from the prisoner—to a man coming from the other side of the road the prisoner said, "He has hit me in the 6——mouth," at the same time putting his hand to his mouth—a woman, I have since heard was Mrs. Flowers, came out from a house two or three houses lower down, and said, "I know who it is; it is Mr. Wythe"—she knocked at "Mr. Wythe's door—the prisoner said, "Now I have knocked him down I will pick him up," and with the assistance of this other man he carried him to his house.
Cross-examined. Before the Coroner I gave my address as 23, Cromer Street—before the Magistrate as 9, Brunswick Road, Holloway—I never lived at 23, Cromer Street—I never went there—my real name is Arthur Dyer—I have gone by the name of Brown—my real name is Brown—when I gave my evidence before the Magistrate I was living at 9, Brunswick Road, 'Windsor Road, Holloway—and before that—I said, "I have changed my address"—I changed it in my own mind, because I gave a false address at first—I was on my oath when I gave my name and address—I gave the wrong name and address because I did not want to be brought into the case; I did not intend to turn up—when I did turn up I stuck to the name I had given—I called at the deceased's house the next night after the occurrence—I said I would like to serve the prisoner the same—I used a stronger expression—I said I would like to serve the b——the same—I was examined by the Coroner—I was cross-examined—I mentioned Beck's expression, "Take that," etc., before the Coroner—I will not swear I did—I do not know young Wythe, the deceased's son—I talked about the matter coming to the Courts—I have not seen him since—I have seen him every day since waiting here—I live a good distance from where he lives—Taplin was as close to the prisoner as I was—he was facing him—I was facing the prisoner—the prisoner struck the deceased with the left hand—I will not swear that—by the position they were standing I should say so—although they were holding each other by the shoulder—I did not hear the prisoner say to the deceased, "Come along, old fellow; have a drink and settle up"—what I said before the magistrate is true: "It was a dark night; he did not twist the deceased round, the deceased twisted round as he fell"—it was a swinging blow; I do not think the prisoner intended to hurt the man at all—what I mean is, I did not take much notice of the thing itself, because it had nothing at all to do with me.
Re-examined. I gave a false name and address because I did not want to lose my work—you do not get paid too much for expenses for coming here, and I did not intend to turn up—I did not want to be mixed up in the matter—I am a brass-finisher—I have accurately described what I saw.
ELIZA FLOWERS . I am the wife of Christopher George Flowers, of 15, Brownlow Street—on the night of this occurrence I was in my parlour—I heard people quarreling outside my window—I went to the street-door to see what was the matter—on opening the door I saw the man fall—I pushed the door to and opened it again—I recognised the man that fell as Mr. Wythe—he was about two feet from my doorstep—he was facing me exactly opposite my door—I saw Mr. Beck at the side of him—I heard the prisoner repeat, "Now I have knocked him down I will pick him up"—I ran for Mrs. Wythe.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate, "I heard voices louder than usual"—I never knew Wythe was deaf—I saw no blows struck—the prisoner had his glasses on at the time.
WILLAM HENRY WYTHE . I am a builder, of 17, Brownlow Street—I am the deceased's son—there was a dispute between the deceased and the prisoner about some plumbing work the prisoner had done about June 1894—I have words between them—the deceased refused to pay the prisoner for some work, he owed him some money—a correspondence took place—on the evening of 10th, I was indoors when my father was brought in—he was insensible—we accused the prisoner of doing it—my mother said, "You have done this"—he said, "No, I did not, I only pulled him about and asked him to have a drink"—mother said, "You know you were not friends"—the prisoner said, "I did it, and he never touched me; send for a doctor."
Cross-examined. My mother, Dr. Cunningham, and my sister were present when the prisoner said, "I hit him"—I did not notice whether the prisoner seemed sorry—the Coroner's verdict was, "Death by misad venture"—I did not say what the prisoner said before the Coroner—I did before the Magistrate—I was stopped, I did not get so far as that—the Coroner stopped me—I had a solicitor—he asked no questions—I told my solicitor what I have said here—I said my father's lips were very much swollen—as if he had received a severe blow on the mouth—Dr. Cunningham said his lips were puffed up beyond their natural size.
FREDERICK WYTHES . I am a house decorator, of 9, Elizabeth Place, Pearson Street—I am the deceased's brother—about seven or eight weeks previous to this occurrence I saw the prisoner in Middleton Road—he asked me whether I was one of the Wythes—I said, "Yes"—we walked as far as the Fox—he asked me to have a drink, and we went in and got talking about my brother—I said, "I have not been friendly with my brother these two years"—he said, "I should like to give him a hiding"—I had not seen him before that to my knowledge.
Cross-examined. I went into the Coroner's Court when the case was nearly over—I heard the Jury return a verdict of "Death by misadventure"—I did not then say to the prisoner, "You won't have it all your own way at the other place"—coming out of the Magistrate's Court I made that remark—I did not intend to make it hot for him there—I did not approve of the verdict; and the zinc on the grating being mentioned—it was lead, which is more pliable to our feet than zinc.
FREDERICK BROWN (J 2). On 10th October, about 11.30 p.m., I was called to 15, Brownlow Street—I found the deceased sitting in an armchair, and Beck and the deceased's relatives in the same room—Dr Cunningham was attending him—the prisoner said, "I did it, and I am extremely sorry for it. If there is anything I can do I will willingly do it I will tell you how it happened. I saw Wythe in Brownlow Street, and I said to him,' I have some work for you, will you come and have a drink"? He declined. I said to him again, 'Come and have a drink.' At the same time I took hold of him by the shoulders, and twisted him around. He slipped up, and fell headlong on the pavement. I called the man who was standing near. I said to him, 'I have knocked the old man down, let us take him inside,' and we brought him home. It was a pure accident"—I took him into
custody—he was charged—I did not ask him to make any statement—he was sorrowfully affected—he was quite sober—he is a very respectable man—at the police-station, when the prisoner was in the room, Dyer said "To the best of my belief, I saw the prisoner strike him with his hand," he could not tell which one, "on the side of the face"—I do not recollect hardly what he did say; I do not take down what a witness says—at the house, Dyer said, in the passage, he would like to serve the prisoner like it—the prisoner was present.
Cross-examined. The deceased's son was present—the prisoner was almost crying—I have made inquiries about the prisoner—he bears the character of a thoroughly respectable, peaceable, quiet, and sober man—I know he sent the doctor to attend the deceased—he was not in tears in my presence.
The prisoner received an excellent character.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, October 25th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
JOHN PARSONS . I am a news-agent, of 49, Thomas Street, Limehouse—on September 28th, at 9.30, I locked up my shop and bolted it—it communicates with the dwelling-house—about twelve o'clock I heard the prisoners' voices in the street—I have known their voices for the last two years—they are neighbours—about a quarter of an hour afterwards I heard something, went down, went outside, I found the the window broken—a box of sweets had been taken away, which I found at the corner of the street—Groom came in next day and said that he thought his mother could prove that he did not do it—I had not accused him—Burgess Street is only about fifteen yards from my shop—before I opened the door I heard Mr. and Mrs. Harrison's voices.
JAMES BROWN . I live at 15, Chelsea Street, and know the prisoner—on Saturday night, September 28th, I was waiting for my father outside the Canterbury public-house; that is on the other side of the road from Mr. Parson's shop—I saw Groom take down the shutters and open the window—the others were looking out—they all ran up Selsea Street—when my father came I went to the station and told the police.
By the COURT. None of the prisoners' relatives have spoken to me since I gave evidence—I ran away when the police came to ask me to give evidence, because I did not like to come—my father is here; I went home with him—I said before the Magistrate: "I am waiting for my father to come home; I went to the Police-station and told them before I went home with my father; no one has asked me to conceal that—the police came to me two days this week to come and give evidence, and I ran away—I did not hear my father say that I was not at home.
Cross-examined by Williams. Jim Barlow gave me 4d. to say that I had been told to tell an untruth—he is a young man; I am 11.
borrowed a bicycle, and let there at 1.30, at night, to met my father"—he did not say it was his shop; it was the shop next door—he said he knew nothing about it—I took Williams at 7.30 a.m., and told him it was for breaking and entering with two others—he used filthy language—the putty of the window had been broken and the glass removed.
Cross-examined by Williams. I wrote your language down at the time.
Grooms statement before the Magistrate. "I can prove I was at the Iron Bridge at 12.30 a.m."
Witnesses for the defence.
SARAH GROOM . I am the mother of the prisoner Groom—I am married—I live at 16, St. James's Road, Roebuck Road, more than a mile from his shop—about six o'clock on Saturday my son washed himself and went out to meet his father and returned home at two o'clock.
B. MORGAN (Re-examined by the COURT). Burchett called his mother before the Magistrate—a message was sent to his father during these Sessions; I took it and the father told me he had left, and the same on Tuesday, but on Wednesday the father procured the boy, and I brought him her yesterday.
ELIZABETH BURCHETT . My husband is a painter and works for the London Dock Company—I am Burchett's mother—he was in bed on this night by 12.30—he came in with me about 12.5; he joined me at my door but he came from a public-house—I went into my bedroom about 12.15; I was partly undressed at 12.30 when I heard the smash of glass—I know the time by the clock, and I had a lamp—I lifted up the window, and I heard a man run by—I only heard of one window being broken that night—my son got up on Sunday morning, and after he had his breakfast a man came and told me something—I gave his name to the police; that is the policeman (Pointing to one)—I did not tell the Magistrate that I was at the public-house till closing time, and came home at 12.10—this is my signature to my deposition. (The statement appeared in the deposition).
GUILTY .—WILLIAMS then PLEADED GUILTY**to a conviction at the Thames Police Court on December 7th, 1894.— Discharged on Recognisances. BURCHETT and GROOM— Discharged on their own Recognisances.
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted.
ALFRED BLAKE CANNOL . I am clerk to Osborne and Co., of 19, Knightrider Street—they deal with the prosecutor for bread, and 5s. 7 1/2 d. was owning—the prisoner came on August 12th, produced the book, and I paid him 5s. 7 1/2 d.—he took the bill away, and I have not seen it since.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. It was about two weeks ago—it was not usual to let the bill go to £1—I used to pay you when I saw you—you always took the receipt away with you, it was customary—you made the
book up every week, and if I was in I paid it, if not I paid for two weeks—sometimes you left the book for two or three days—you have got the receipt—I saw you sign it.
CHARLES WHEELER I live at 1, Burgon Street, Carter Lane the prisoner was in my employment—he was paid £1 a week—he had to deliver bread, and receive payments from customers and deliver the book to me on the same day—Osborne and Hardy had weekly account my wife spoke to them—I have not seen the book since August 12th—he never gave me 5s. 7 1/2 d. from them—he remained in my employ till the 22nd, and then left with wages owing to him—when I asked him for the book he said he could not find it—I had no character with him.
Cross-examined. You only had three accounts to collect; some days you did not bring in a shilling—I asked you several times to bring the book and on each occasion you said they could not find it—I lent you five shillings on August 12th out of your wages.
By the COURT. I did not know he was going to leave; he left some of his clothes in my shop—I gave information to the police, but did not see him a gain till October 3rd.
ARTHUR PENTON (City Detective Sergeant). On October 3rd I was in Clerkenwell and saw the prisoner—I told him I had a warrant for his wrest for embezzling 5s. 7 1/2 d, the money of his employer—he said "I know nothing about it"—he was taken to Bridewell Station and said, "I don't know what you mean by embezzling"; I said, "It means, that you have been paid 5s. 7 1/2 d. and have not accounted for it"—he said, "Well, if they will produce my receipt I will give in to it;" and he repeated that at the Mansion House.
Cross-examined. When I arrested you, you were applying for a situation as a baker in Clerkenwell.
CHARLES WHEELER . It was the prisoner's duty to assist in making the bread—on August I have him the key of the shop to come back with early next morning—I left the shop secure at 11.30 p.m.—I had the only key of the safe—on August 24th I went to the shop at 4.30; the prisoner was not there, nor should he have been; he did not appear at 10 a.m.—I opened the safe with my key and missed an Albert chain with money attached, a silver cigarette case, two watches two chains, three cold brooches, four gold studs, a bracelet, a locket, and a cashbox containing twenty-five insurance polices—I cannot tell how the safe was opened; there was no violence on it or of breaking and entering the shop—there was a book therein which address were kept his own among others; that book was complete the night before; I used it—when I looked at it again I found the page containing his address was torn out—on August 27th a workman found the cash box in the water tank; the money was not in it—the prisoner left two coats behind him—15s. was due to him up to the time of his leaving, but he had had 5s.
Cross-examined. You were in my employ nine months and a fortnight—I did not find you dishonest—I do not admit having a quarrel with you. I told you to clear out, but you begged me to keep you on
account of your wife and children—you left my shop at 1.30, and I saw you next at the Mansion House—there were seven or eight workmen upstairs, but they could not get into the shop; everything was secure when I left—the door was locked in the morning—there were four lodgers in the house, but I have only the shop and basement; I have not had quarrels with them about the side door being left open.
ARTHUR PENTON (City Detective Sergeant). On October 3rd, about 10.30 a.m., I took the prisoner and told him I had a warrant for him, and he would also be charged with stealing a quantity of jewellery—he said, "I don't know anything about that"—when he was charged he said, "As regards those other goods, you ought to have a warrant for another fellow. I heard of that job, but I did not have a share in it; I know it is a very awkward job for me, and I went down to Birmingham"—I read the warrant in the second charge to him, and he said, "I am going to ask the Magistrate to commit me to the Old Bailey for that"—I have had the warrant six weeks—I found him in a situation in Clerkenwell in his own name.
THOMAS WILLIAMS (City 440). I examined these premises but found no mark of violence nor on the safe—I went to Queen Street, Kingsland Road, but could not find prisoner—I found his wife, but he had not been there since Friday morning, the 23rd—he left his lodgings the very night the robbery was committed.
The prisoner produced a written defence, stating that the prosecutor owed him money, and he resolved to go to Birmingham to explain his position to his brother, but he had gone to Blackpool; That the clothes h e had left behind him were not fit to wear; that when he left the shop there were upwards of eight workmen at work and three lodgers, and these proceedings were taken to spite him, and that the prosecutor had also refused to pay his wife for some work which she had done.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of burglary at Hertford on December 7th, 1892, and three other convictions were proved against him.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Friday and Saturday, October 25th and 26th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
807. WALTER DURRANT PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling £7 16s., £3 18s. 3d., and £2 1s. 3d., received by him for, and on account of, H. D. Rawlings and others, his masters, and to another indictment for embezzling other sums.— Judgment respited.
808. ERNICH FRIEDRICH THOMAS VON ALT LEININGEN WESTERBURG , and OLGA BAUERNFIEND , conspiring to procure Lizette Schweighoeffer, a girl under 16, to become a common prostitute; other Counts for Unlawfully procuring the same person, a girl under 21, to have unlawful carnal connection with William Frederich Von Gellern, and other persons.
MESSRS. BODKIN, HODSON, and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted. MR. ROBERTS appeared for Westerburg, and MR. HARDY for Bauernfiend.
MESSRS. BODKIN, HODSON,and GUY STEIEENSON Prosecuted. MR.ROBERTS appeared for Westerburg, MR. HARDY for Bauernfiend, and MR. HUTTON for Von Gellern.
GUILTY .—WESTERBURG— Two Years' Hard Labour, BAUERNFIEND— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. VON GELLERN— Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, October 26th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted, MR. ROOTH Defended Baudach, and MR. RANDOLPH Defended Huster.
GUILTY .—BAUDACH— Five Years' Penal Servitude. HUSTER— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, October 26th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder,
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.
DAVID THOMAS ROBERTS , I am a clerk, of Marland Terrace, Finsbury Park—on September 28th I was walking towards King's Cross with Mr. Evans and Miss Houghton, who were walking side by side, and Mr. Doswell and I were walking after them—I saw a crowd of about four round Mr. Evans and he was in the act of striking some one—I went up and said, "What is your game?"—the prisoner said, "You are drunk, man," and caught hold of my chain and passed his hand behind him to some one, who, I presume, got my chain—losing my chain staggered me for a moment, and then I went up to the prisoner, caught him on the side of the arm and said, "You have stolen my watch"—he attempted to strike me, I avoided the blow; he then struck me and I fell—I did not hit him with my stick—a policeman came—I did not lose my watch—Mr. Evans was injured and was not able to attend before the magistrate.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were very close to Mr. Evans—you were trying to hide yourself behind a cab—I did not hit you with my stick—I was perfectly sober—you pushed me down, and as I was getting up I saw that the policeman had you.
DAVID CHARLES EVANS . I am a schoolmaster, of 29, College Street, Barnsbury—I was walking with Miss Houghton in Euston Road, and Mr. Roberts was walking with another gentleman—I was attacked by several men; three were on to me, and one tried to snatch my watch—I
stuck to it, but he got a piece of the chain—one of them gave me a blow behind my head, and I was struck on my nose, which bled.
PERCY CHARLES DOSWELL . I am a schoolmaster, of 32, Wharton Street, Clerkenwell—I was walking with Mr. Roberts behind Mr. Evans and Miss Houghton—I saw a scuffle, went up to Mr. Evans and saw the prisoner standing behind him—Evans said in his hearing, "My guard has gone"—I saw. Mr. Evans struck by a short man, but did not see the prisoner kick him—Evans' nose was bleeding—the prisoner ran to the side of the road, and I saw him captured—I saw the prisoner knock Evans down.
Cross-examined. Mr. Evans struck one man and knocked him against me—you went across the road and Mr. Roberts after you, and I saw Roberts knocked down.
JESSIE HOUGHTON . I live at 19, Winchester Street, Caledonian Road—I was walking with Mr. Evans in Euston Road, and four men struck him; the prisoner was one of them—he struck Mr. Evans behind hit head—Mr. Roberts came up, and the prisoner knocked him over.
Cross-examined. This was about two minutes afterwards—he said "What is your game?"—he afterwards caught hold of you behind a cab.
GEORGE RICHARDSON (547 W). On December 28th, at 1 a.m., I was on duty in Euston Road and heard shouts of "Police"—I ran to the spotand saw the prisoner strike Mr. Roberts and knock him to the ground—I seized the prisoner and had to throw him to secure him—the others ran away—the prisoner was charged with assaulting and robbing Roberts; he said "Very well"—I found a pair of scissors on him.
812. JOHN DALEY was again indicted for Robbery with violence on David Thomas Roberts, and stealing a watch and chain, his property. The witnesses repeated their former evidence.— GUILTY .He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on October 22 nd, 1894, having then been before convicted.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat.
EDLER PLEADED GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour. MR. BULLER Prosecuted, and the evidence was interpreted to Row.
ROW— NOT GUILTY.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 28th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATTHEWS and BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
and there saw her dead body—she was about forty-three years of age and unmarried.
JOSEPH TADMAN . I live at 31, St. Margaret's Road—on Saturday evening, August 31st, I was at the Plough Inn, about half-past eleven—I saw there a man named Batley, the prisoner, a man named Blay, and a woman named Eagle—I did not then know her name—Batley owed Blay some coppers and he handed over a shilling to him—it dropped in the sawdust and got lost; it was searched for and could not be found—the prisoner was there at the time, I did not see him look for it; I did not hear anyone accused of having it—on the next Tuesday evening, the 3rd September, about a quarter-past twelve, I went to the Plough again—I saw the prisoner there—the shilling was mentioned, I think by the prisoner, and I told him it was a dirty mean trick of him to take it if he did have it; if he wanted a shilling we would give him one—he took some bitter oaths that he had never had it; he said God strike him blind he never had it—after that I was going out, and he caught me up and we went along the Harrow Road, that was my way home—going along I saw Eagle on a seat, she appeared to be dozing—the prisoner was walking along by the side of me, and said to her, "You b——y f——g cow, you say I had that shilling;" she got up and looked up in his face, and said, "Yes, you did have it"—he said she was a b——y liar, or something to that effect, and he would either knock her head off, or kick it off, I would not be sure which—she got off the seat, and said, "I will go and fetch him," and walked down the road in the direction of the Big Plough—nobody's name had been mentioned while I was there—I said to the prisoner, "You shan't shame the woman, I would have a fight with you"—he said he did not want to fight me, and wanted me to shake hands with him—I said, I did not want to shake hands with him; I said "Good-night," and went home—he said, "Just to save a row I will give a shilling if I can get one, and pay it back"—on Sunday morning, the 8th, about half-past nine, I went out to see where the murder had been done and saw the prisoner there with three or four other men, right at the bottom of the road leading to Kensal Green Station; they were just going by there as I came up.
Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner about five or six weeks, I had met him about three times—I have not seen him drinking.
THOMAS BLAY . I am a gravedigger, of 368, Blagrove Road—I know the prisoner by the name of "Doughy"—on Saturday night, 31st August, I was at the Plough public-house—I saw Batley there to give him a shilling; he threw it at me, and I threw it back, and he tossed it to me again, and it fell on the floor—a search was made for it, but it was not found—the prisoner made a search for it—I left soon after.
WILLIAM BATLEY . I am a labourer, and live in Church Place, Kensal Green—I have known the prisoner twenty-five years; he was in the Army at one time, in the Field Artillery—I don't know when he got his discharge—I knew Eagle by sight only—on Saturday, August 31st, I was in the Plough public-house in the early part of the evening—the prisoner was not there then—later on I was there when Eagle was there, and the prisoner and Blay—I owed Blay 2 1/2 d., and I threw a shilling across to him; he threw it back at me, I threw it back again, and it dropped on the
floor—as soon as it was dropped, Eagle said to the prisoner, "Take it up and put it in your pocket"—the prisoner said he had not done it—I took no more notice of it; I left, and went home, leaving the others behind—after that I saw the prisoner now and again in the following week—on Sunday morning, 8th September, about half-past nine, I saw him outside the place and went for a walk with him and four others (I had heard of the murder before that from my landlady)—we walked to the Rising Sun at Willesden—there were six of us altogether—something was said that it was a bad job that the woman was murdered, and I asked who it was—I did not hear any name—I think we had four pots of beer between the six of us—we then walked back to the Grey Horse in Regent Street, Kensal Green, and had three pots there, and from there we entered the Big Plough, about a quarter-past one—I had a drop there—the prisoner and Fraser had something, I don't know what—we were all in the bar together—I stopped there till shutting-up time—I believe the prisoner went away about two o'clock, and I saw no more of him.
Cross-examined. I can't say that a small quantity of drink has an effect on the prisoner—if he has much it takes effect on him—I have said if he takes a little drink he does not know what he is doing—that is true—before this occurrence he had been drinking a good deal, on and off—I was not about with him a good deal for some days before, I was at work—I was with him at the Plough in the evening—from what I saw of the man he would drink all he could get hold of—he was not drawing his full pay—before he drew his money he lived with his aunt—he told me that he had served in Africa and the West Indies—he told me when in India he fell off a cart, and that a big gun fell across his throat—on our walk on the Sunday morning he did not look as if he had been drunk the night before; he seemed all right—I don't think I said so at the Police-court—I think he left the Army six or nine months ago—I have known some of his relations a long time by seeing them—I don't think I knew his brother Frederick—I knew one named Dick—I don't know what became of Frederick or his grandmother.
Re-examined. I think he had two brothers, or half-brothers; they are still alive—on the night the shilling was lost the prisoner seemed to have had a decent wet, not more than he ought to have had; he was about half drunk—on the Sunday morning, when we had our walk, he seemed sober.
By the COURT. On the Sunday morning I only had 9d.; I paid the other away—I am not married.
MARY ANN NEWMAN . I am at present an inmate in Kensington Workhouse; I knew Jane Eagle for about three weeks before the beginning of September—I saw her once in the prisoner's company; that was in Kensal Green, in or about the place where she was murdered—I know the place well, in the open piece of ground—on the Saturday, the day before the murder, I was sitting on a seat under the cemetery wall in company with Jane Eagle—we were together, as near as I can remember, from eight till past eleven—two men were sitting on the seat at the time and a young woman named Flint, she came later on—Eagle got up and went away down the Harrow Road, the two men went with her; they looked like working-men—she promised to come back to me, and I waited for her, but she did not come back—that was the last I saw of her.
ARTHUR CLASSY . I live with Mr. Jones, a pawnbroker, in Kensal Town—on July 29th a jacket was pledged with me for 3s. in the name of James Fowler, 76, St. Urban's Road—it remained with me down to Saturday evening, September 17th.
MADELINE FENDER . I am the wife of George Fender, the manager of a common lodging-house at 119, Kensal Green—the prisoner has lodged there off and on from April to September last year—he gave me this pawnbroker's duplicate to mind for him, dated July 29th—I gave it back to him on the 7th September, between four and five in the day—he brought a gun to me, and asked if I would mind it—he went down to the kitchen, and came back and asked me for the gun, and also for the ticket of the jacket; he was going to get the jacket out—I saw him again about half-past seven that evening; he paid me 4d. for his Saturday night's lodging; he was then wearing this jacket.
GEORGE BURNIE (337 X). In the early morning of Sunday, September 8th, or about half-past twelve on Saturday night, I saw the prisoner outside the Plough at Kensal Green—he came up and said, "Hullo, old chap, are you from the north?"—I said, "No"—he said, "I thought you was in the Army with me"—I said, "No"—nothing more was said—he had on a cord waistcoat similar to the one produced—he seemed all right; I did not take much notice of him—I went off duty at one; I left him outside the Plough; he stood there with his hands in his pockets.
CHARLES JENNINGS . I was deputy of the common lodging-house in Kensal Green Road—the prisoner lodged there for two or three months—on Saturday evening, September 7th, I saw him at eleven; I went with him to the Portobello public-house—I remained there about half an hour and then went back to my work—I left him there talking—he came home about quarter to four next morning—the lodging-house door was open: it was latched—he walked straight downstairs and slammed the door to after him—I went into the area and called out, "Come and open the door"—he turned round, came upstairs and opened it to let me in—I said, "Where have you been to? along with those beastly old women again?"—he gave me a nasty answer, with disgusting language, as he always used to me when I spoke to him—then he laid on the table a few minutes in the kitchen, then he got off and laid on a form by the side of the fire—he remained there till half-past seven on the Sunday morning—then he went out, wearing the same clothes be had on when he came in—he had slept in that same way before occasionally if he had a drop of drink—he seemed just about the same as he always did when he came in at a quarter to four—he seemed sober enough.
Cross-examined. He used generally to come in early in the morning, between three and four very often, and generally the worse for drink, more often than not.
Re-examined. He was not the worse for drink on this morning.
THOMAS WYARD . I live at 68, Buckingham Road, Harlesden—about six on the morning of 8th September, I went by the piece of waste ground near the railway—I saw something on the ground on the spot indicated on the plan, on the right-hand side coming from Kensal Rise—I went and
fetched the police—when I came back I found a number of persons near the body, and among them Sergeant Osborn.
FRANK OSBORN (Police Sergeant 4 X). In consequence of information, about half-past six on Sunday morning, 8th September, I went to this piece of waste ground—I there saw the dead body of a woman, lying on her back, with her throat cut, and a wound on her head—she was lying with her head towards Wakeman Road and her feet towards the Railway, her right arm lying by her side and her left extended towards the Harrow Road, her legs slightly apart, her bodice unfastened, except at one hook, the third from the neck—a woman's cap was twisted round the left hand, and by the left hip I found this stone—there was a stain on it at the time I found it—I sent for medical assistance as well as for an inspector—I remained by the body till they arrived—I saw a wound on the top of her head, by the forehead—there was no interference with the body until the doctors arrived—by their order it was taken to the mortuary; I accompanied it—I examined the spot where I found the body—there was no appearance of any struggle having taken place there—the ground was very dry; there might have been one without any sign of it, being a very dry morning, and the grass was worn down—it is open land, the public have access to it.
GEORGE ROBERTSON . I am Divisional Surgeon of Police; I live at 150, Kilburn Park Road—on the morning of September 8th I was called to the body of this woman, it was lying on a piece of waste ground, between the footpath and the railway, off Wakeman Road, flat on her back with the throat cut, six inches long and chiefly on the right of the neck—I came to the conclusion, as there was no blood on the dress, that the wound had been inflicted when she was on her back—the left side of the wound was jagged, the edges pointing to the right side—the skin was scratched on the left side, beyond the margin of the wound—it was such a wound as might be inflicted with this knife, with great force—I did not at that time notice the depth of the wound, it was full of blood—at one p.m. I found it was an inch and a-half deep; it penetrated the windpipe and the gullet; with the exception of a few strands of muscle at the back it cut through all the large vessels, including the common carotid on the right side of the neck, and the jugular vein on the left—there was a wound an inch and a-half in length on the top of the right side of the forehead, in the hair—this stone is such an instrument as might produce such an injury—there was also a jagged and lacerated wound two inches in length above the left eye; that might have been done by this stone, or by a kick—the arms and hands were free from blood—I saw nothing about her to lead me to suppose that any struggle had taken place—life was entirely extinct when I came up; the body was slightly warm; rigor mortis had not commenced, except in the lower jaw—as far as I could judge she seemed to have been dead about four hours—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination with Dr. Whitlock—the actual cause of death was the cutting of the throat; there was no injury to the skull or brain—the blow on the head with the stone would stun her, make her insensible.
Cross-examined. I am a qualified surgeon, and have been thirty-four years in practice—I have been a divisional surgeon seven or eight years—I have seen a good deal of insanity in hospitals—I was twenty-one years
in the Royal Navy—I have not studied it—I have been brought in contact with insane persons—if I found that the relatives of a man accused of a crime had died in asylums I should think that a matter worth considering—drinking might or might not have an influence on such a man—it is purely speculative; it might be likely to bring it on—if the man had twice attempted to commit suicide I should consider that an important factor; and the extreme violence and brutality of the act is a matter worth taking into consideration—if a man had served in Africa or other hot climates, his symptoms would have to be inquired into to make that of any importance—unless I knew something of the case, I don't think climate has necessarily any influence—I have served in those countries and know what it is—I know there is a species of insanity known as homicidal mania—that takes the form of an attempt on a man's own life or the life of another person—that may break out in either or both ways, and in the case of a man who had not been previously suspected of being insane—he may recover completely after the attack, and may or may not have any recollection of it—it is impossible to say where insanity begins; the border line is very narrow—I should not dispute the definition of insanity that it is a morbid growth from a diseased germ—fatigue, restlessness, and sleeplessness in the case of a man whose relatives had died in an asylum are matters that would have to be taken into consideration, with other facts insane persons show great cunning and in planning and often show a spirit of hevenge.
By the COURT. If they did an act from revenge it would show that they knew they were doing wrong.
JOHN WHITLOCK . I am a medical practitioner of 17, Behring'a Road—I was called to the body with Mr. Robertson—I was there an hour before—I live close by—I was there when he came up, I waited for him—I did not touch the body till he came up, I heard that a police-surgeon had been sent for—I examined the body and afterwards assisted at the post-mortem—I am acquainted with the evidence he has given and agree with the conclusions he has drawn.
WILLIAM NASH (Detective Inspector X). I received information on the early morning of September 8th, and went to where the woman lay—I was there when the doctors came—I caused inquiry to be made as to who the woman was—I received the knife and the clothes the prisoner was wearing and sent all of them to Dr. Luff for examination—the stone was given to me by Sergeant Osborn.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries in this case, and presented a report to the Treasury—the report stated that the prisoner's brother Frederick committed suicide at Bishop Auckland on December 16th, 1892, by cutting his throat—his grandmother, Mary Wingrove, died in, Hanwell Asylum in May, 1883; she had been an inmate there three years—Constable Conway reported to me that the prisoner had attempted suicide—he left the army in January, 1895.
THOMAS HAWTHORN . I am keeper of the mortuary at Salisbury Road, Kilburn—the body of the deceased was brought there about half-past eight on Sunday morning, but it was not identified till about six that day.
DR. ROBERTSON (Re-examined). I find that I attended the prisoner when he attempted suicide with oxalic acid on March 26th, 1895, at
two a.m., at Harrow Road Police-station—he had apparently taken very little—he made no complaint, or gave any reason why ho had taken it—he was discharged next morning—oxalic acid burns—I saw the glass on the mantelpiece, with crystals of oxalic acid in it—I examined his mouth; I saw no signs of injury; if he had taken any, he would have been suffering acutely—I saw no signs of insanity then—I did not hear insanity suggested.
THOMAS WILLIAM GLAYSHIER . I live at 4, Church Place, Harrow Road—I am a ground workman—on Sunday, September 1st, I was with the prisoner, Batley, Blay, and deceased at the Plough—I heard Eagle say that the prisoner was the man that picked up the shilling—the prisoner denied it—Batley also accused him of it—there was a bit of swearing about it, that was all—on the following Tuesday evening I saw the prisoner at the Plough; Batley, Tadman and another man were there—Tadman accused the prisoner of picking up the shilling—the prisoner denied it—Tadman said he would bring the man to-morrow night to prove it—the prisoner said, "Will you? Then he will have to go through the mill"—on Sunday, 8th September, about twenty minutes to twelve, I saw the prisoner outside the Grey Horse with three or four others; we went on to the Plough; there was a general talk about the murder; I had heard of it at that time—the prisoner said, "I am the man that done that job"—I said, "Don't talk like that"—he said, "I am, and if I get off I will serve him the same; I may as well be hung for two as one"—I then left and went home—I went back to the Plough and had some beer, and he said, "Good afternoon," and went away, and I saw him no more.
SAMUEL ROSS (13 X). A little after 2 p.m. on Sunday, September 8th, I was on point duty at Elgin Avenue—Wingrove came and made a statement of which I made this note: "I am the man that killed that woman. last night. Blind me, I meant to kill the other"—then he used a bad word: he said, "Come and take me to the station"—he did not say who the other was—I told him to be careful what he said, as I might use it in evidence against him—he then said "I killed her and I do not want anyone blamed for what I have done"—I took him to Harrow Road Police-station, where he saw Inspector Burridge—he was sober.
CHARLES BURRIDGE (Inspector X). I am stationed at the Harrow Road Police-station—on Sunday, September 8th, about 2.7 p.m., the prisoner was brought to the station by Ross, who made a statement in his presence, in consequence of which I cautioned the prisoner—he afterwards made this statement, which I took down in writing and read to him—he signed it—"At 2.10 p.m. this morning I went across the fields at Kensal Rise. I met the woman near the railway. I went that way for the purpose of meeting her, as she had accused me of stealing a shilling about a week previous. I had a few words with her and she called me a b—y thief and a lot of other names I cannot remember. I then picked up a big stone and hit her on the head just for friendship. She dropped on the grass and I pulled out my knife and cut her throat. I heard she is dead, she should have been dead weeks ago. I give you the knife that I cut her throat with. "He threw down the knife on the desk and said, "That is the knife I did it with." The knife was sent to Dr. Luff to be examined—after
he signed the statement he said, "Yes, she went down like a f——g log, it was the biggest b——g stone I could get; it weighed about 3 lbs. I should think, and I would have killed the other f——r if I could have got hold of him"—I took the charge against him—he was formally charged—on reading over the charge he replied, "That is it, I meant to kill the other f——r too"—he was detained in custody.
AMOS ATKINSON (Detective Sergeant X). About 4.30 on Sunday, September 8th, I went to the cell in which Wingrove was confined—I said, "I want your clothes, take them off"—he sat on a seat, he was in a stooping position—he said, "It was not so much her I wanted as that f——g Batley"—he paused, and then looked at me and said, "you know him right enough"—I said, "I do not"—he said, "He works at that tar-paving place"—he took a fearful oath, and said, "I should do for him if I got him; I have spent £50 with the f——," then "on Saturday night week he accused me of stealing a shilling in the Plough public-house, and so did she"—he began to cry and use fearful oaths—about 8.30 the same evening Batley came to the police-station and identified the prisoner from ten or eleven others—he touched him on the shoulder and said, "That is the man I went for a walk across the fields with this morning"—I said, "Is it the man you went with to the public-house when you lost the shilling?"—Batley said, "Yes, but I did not accuse him of stealing it"—the prisoner said, "You are a f—g liar, you did"—these are the clothes I took from him, which were afterwards submitted to an examination; this is the jacket at any rate I took off him—this is the shirt he was wearing.
ARTHUR PEARSON LUFF , M.D. I am a Physician and Lecturer on Medical Jurisprudence at St. Mary's Hospital, and one of the Official Analysts for the Home Office—on September 11th I received from Inspector Nash a number of articles of clothing, which I examined—among them I examined microscopically this white jacket—on it I found six blood stains; the first on the front on the left side, the second on the left edge of the outside pocket, the third below the top outside pocket, the fourth inside the lower edge of the jacket on the inside, the fifth on the inner edge of the left cuff, and the sixth inside the left cuff—on the shirt I found one blood stain on the left cuff—the knife was handed to me—on the blade I found bloodstains in the finger notch, in the lower part of the blade and on the hinge inside—the stone was submitted to me—I found one large stain and a series of smaller stains of blood.
ARTHUR PEARSON LUFF (Recalled and cross-examined). I have written a work on Forensic Medicine which includes the subject of insanity—I have studied that subject—in investigating a case of insanity the fact that a relative of a man accused of murder had died in an asylum would be a factor—I should not say an important one—the fact that a brother had committed suicide would be a factor of less importance—if the man had taken oxalic acid and been charged with attempting to commit suicide that would be of even less importance—suicide is not often a mark of insanity, it is a mark, speaking from my own experience, and I see many cases of attempted suicide in my hospital—I have heard the
Evidence and have noticed that this deed was committed with great brutality and violence—I do not attach much importance to that in itself as a factor of insanity—frequently there is great brutality and violence in murders committed by admittedly insane people—I do not say as a rule; I have no statistics—I have come across cases of masked epilepsy—a sudden attack of violence against the man's own life, or the life of another, is one of its forms—insane people in an saylum commit crimes—they may or may not understand that the crime is wrong, although they do not understand its nature—I have known of one similar case where a person who could in any way be considered insane has given himself up—the fact of a man making no attempt to escape, but giving himself up, is a factor of very little importance except as indicating callousness in the man's mind—the amount of drink the prisoner took I do not consider would be a factor of practically any importance—I heard Batley say the prisoner had "all the drink he could get"—I heard the lodging house deputy say the prisoner was most evenings the worse for drink—in connection with the history of drinking that I heard, I do not think the attempt on his own life, or the brother's suicide, and committal to an asylum, would be sufficient to become an important factor—it would not be a factor worth considering—I gathered not that he was drunk, but that he was generally fuddled—that would not bring out the latent disease—I should have taken his expression about spending £50 on Batley as an exaggeration rather than a delusion—I should not call his stating a person had accused him a delusion of any importance—an hereditary taint and service in a hot climate might have an injurious effect upon him, but that is not an important factor; many such people serve their course without mental trouble—I do not know that it is a general rule, but I know soldiers are cautioned not to drink when they come from a hot climate—a person may have homicidal mania, being sane in other respects—if he made two homicidal attempts, that would influence my opinion very differently, or if this deed had been a violent act of insanity—undoubtedly it was sudden—there is often a sudden seizure in impulsive insanity—I should say the line between a sane and an insane person is almost indistinguishable—in ordinary epilepsy there are unconscious convulsions—masked epilepsy is where in place of an epileptic fit any action may be done unconsciously—the effect of his loss of rest by coming home late at night would depend on the amount of rest he could take at other times—by itself it would not be a factor at all—an overwhelming anxiety to commit the crime would apply to impulsive insanity, but I do not think it would apply to all forms of insanity—it is impossible for me to say there is mental relief when the deed is done—we sometimes hear from the individual who committed the act that is so—all we can judge from is their observations and manner.
Re-examined. Having carefully examined and considered the evidence, I have not discovered that the prisoner has suffered from epilepsy in any of its forms—I am merely speaking, of course, of the evidence I have heard to-day—I see no evidence that the prisoner has at any time suffered from delusions—I cannot find the slightest trace of insanity in anything that I have heard—this knife is not in the condition I received it—I broke it up examine it for the stains.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 28th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. WHITE Prosecuted.
KUND HELLAND . I am a merchant of 31, Clarence Street, Islington—on Saturday night, October 5th, about midnight I was coming along Duncan Street alone; the prisoner Harris came up to me and asked if he was going in a right direction for Duncan Terrace—I said, "Yes," and walked on slowly—he put his right arm round my neck and got me into a bent position, and a man, who I think is Baker, caught hold of my left hand—they forced me down on my knees and brought my face to the ground, and drew blood from my face, and two teeth came out next day—both my hands were injured against the palings; here is the scar—I felt them clearing my pockets out—I had about 9s.; one pocket was partly torn; my watch was taken and a bunch of keys—they then ran away—I got up and cried, "Stop thief"—I am satisfied of the prisoners' identity—I had had a few glasses; it would not be true to say that I was drunk—I knew what I was doing.
Cross-examined by Harris. I had a latch-key in my pocket, not on the bunch, and the inspector held up a latch-key and asked if it was mine.
Cross-examined by Baker. The constable did not say to me, "Do you know this man?"—he did not suggest in any way which man it was; he told me to look carefully round—I had been to the Stapleton Arms, and left there a little after eleven—the last house I was at I left about twelve o'clock, about closing time—when Harris's house was searched another key was found, and I said, "It may be mine"—it turned out not to be my key; I have not been able to find mine.
ALBERT CECIL INGRAM . I am a clerk, of 46, Duncan Terrace, Islington—on this Saturday night, at a few minutes past twelve, I was with a friend on Duncan Terrace, two or three yards from Duncan Street, and heard a laugh—I saw them come round the corner, and the prosecutor called" Police!"—we went to him—he said he had been robbed—there was blood and mud on his clothes—we ran after the prisoner Harris—when we got up I saw two—that was about a hundred yards from Duncan Street—we passed the prisoners stooping down in the gutter, and I walked very fast into the City Road and told a policeman what I had seen, and came back and gave them in charge—the prosecutor said, "I have been knocked down and robbed"—the policeman said, "Can you identify anybody?"—I said "Yes," and pointed out the two prisoners, and said, "Those are the men"—Baker said that I had made a mistake.
Cross-examined by Baker. The prosecutor was not quite sober, but he seemed to know what he was doing.
ERNEST JAMES HOPPER . I am a clerk, of 46, Duncan Terrace, Islington—on October 5th, about midnight, I was with Ingram on Duncan Terrace—I heard a scuffling, and saw the two prisoners running round the corner, and then they walked—I heard somebody calling "Police!"—we ran after them as hard as we could, and passed them, and ran to the
Angel, and when I got back I found a policeman just taking them in custody—I noticed blood on Harris's right hand—there was no one else on Duncan Terrace at the time—I did not lose sight of the prisoners more than a minute before I saw them again—I am sure they are the two men I saw running round the corner—we passed them in such a way that they should not suspect us till we got in front of them.
Cross-examined by Baker. When the constable arrested you, you denied being the man who had done it.
WILLIAM WEBB (Policeman G). On Saturday night, October 5th, at a little after twelve o'clock, I was on point duty outside the Bluecoat Boy, and two of the witnesses ran up to me and told me something; I went to the spot and saw the two prisoners—before I spoke to them they said, "You have made a mistake, it is not us"—I said that I should take them in custody for knocking a man down—I took them 200 yards, and found the prosecutor with several persons round him—I asked him what was the matter—he said, "I have been knocked down and robbed"—I asked if he could identify the men—he said, "Yes"—I said, "See, if there is anyone here you know?"—he had a good look at them, and identified first one prisoner and then the other—I took them to the station, and, before being charged, Harris said, "I was at the York Regent having a drink, and I asked for my linen at the laundry; we had just come from the York public-house, and were going to the Bluecoat Boy"—I found on Harris six pawntickets, 10s. in silver, and a latch-key, and on Baker four or five shillings, and a pocket-knife—the prosecutor had had a glass or two, but he was excited from the blows he had received—he was bleeding from his mouth and hands—a doctor attended him—he said that the latch-key might be his, but he did not have it in his hand—the inspector showed it to him; he was about three yards off.
Cross-examined by Harris. I wrote down what you said—there was a slight scratch of blood on your hands—I went to the landlady—this ring belongs to her—she said that you were in the house at nine, and brought a shirt, and had not been since.
Cross-examined by Baker. I did not hear the prosecutor say anything about eleven o'clock, nor did I hear Brooks mention it—the Inspector said, "What time was it you brought these men in?"—I told him about 12.30—he told you both to hold your noise, as he was speaking to me—while the doctor was examining the prosecutor's wounds he said he should not know his key because he had not examined it, he did not take it into his hand.
Re-examined. He said he had been to buy some handkerchiefs, collars, and socks—I found the socks and a new handkerchief on him.
Harris's defence: They contradict each other; one says he saw us going to the Angel, and one to the Bluecoat Boy.
They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions at Clerkenwell, Harris on May 24th, 1895, and Baker on July 1st, 1895, and several other convictions were proved against them.
Twenty Months' Hard Labour, and Twenty Strokes with the cat each ,
MR. KENRICK Prosecuted.
ANNE GOURIEL . I am the wife of George Alfred Gouriel, of 21, Albert Street, Islington—the prisoner lives on the same floor, the second floor—she had been at home to grievances against me before, but I never spoke to her—there was a quarrel about the children six months ago, but nothing serious occurred—on October 1st, about 6.30 p.m., my door was shut, but not locked—the panel was kicked in, and the prisoner came in and said she could pay me what she owed me—I do not know what she meant—my children were in bed—I tried to shut the door, and there was never a word till she picked up a knife off the table and put it in my forehead—I called the police and gave her in charge.
By the COURT. She said nothing about her husband—when she came into the room; she said she had an old grievance against me—she said when she burst the door open that everybody was after her husband, and she said it again going to the station—I did not go into her room before that—I ask the Jury to believe that she did this without any provocation whatever—I did not strike her—when I tried to shut the door she was on the landing just outside—I shut it the first time when she came to know if her Jack was there—I told her "No," and she went away and came back again—she did not come in—she asked me with a kick—I asked her to go away, and she would not—I opened the door, and asked her to go into her own room—I had no angry words with her, but she burst the panel in—that was on the first occasion when she asked if her Jack was there, and then I told her to go to her own room, and said, "If you do it again I will have you locked up," and she rushed into the room and took the knife up—she was standing just inside my door when I pushed her—when we had the quarrel before we did not come to blows, only words.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not seize you by your hair and scratch your face—your face was not scratched when the policeman came—I did not say, "Now I will pay you; now I will strike you"—I did nothing to defend myself; my children were so terrified, they were clinging to me.
ERNEST LIGHT (318 M). On October 20th I was in Grosvenor Street—a boy called me, and the prosecutrix said she had been stabbed by the prisoner—she was bleeding from her right eye—I found the prisoner on the second floor; her face was not scratched; her hair was rough—she had no mark on her.
BERNARD MEREDITH ROWE , M.R.C.S. I live at 12, Gibson Square—I examined the prosecutrix at the Police-station—she had a wound above her right eye, rather more than an inch long and nearly half an inch deep just above her eyebrow—it went down to the bone, I saw the bone—the edges were not bruised at all—it was a clean-incised wound, and could not have been done by anything but a clean cutting instrument—the edges were perfectly clean—there is sometimes erysipelas from wounds of the scalp, and if it had been half an inch lower the eye would have been lost.
JAMES BUCKLE (Detective Sergeant). On October 1st I went to Mrs. Gouriel's room, and saw a patch of blood on the floor by the bedstead, and three spots of blood on the table; also some spots of blood towards the landing, but not on the landing—I found this knife (produced)—I examined the prisoner's room, there were no blood spots there—I found blood
on the handle of the knife—it was lying on the table, and appeared as if some one bleeding had leaned over it.
Cross-examined. The panel was not broken in—her face was not scratched, she made no complaint at the station.
DR. ROWE (Re-examined). I do not think it was done with this knife—the wound being deeper at the upper part I conclude that it was done with a knife sharp at the point or worn at the point—a hair-pin would not do it; it could not have been done by the sharp part of a bedstead—the edges were clean cut, just as if I had made a post-mortem examination.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JAMES HOOPER . I live at 21, Grosvenor Street, Islington, and work at Wood's, Edger Place—the prisoner is my mother by her first husband—I came home at 7.30, and my mother was not in—the prosecutrix was there drunk, she abused me, and kept on banging at my mother's door—I have got the poker in my pocket—I opened the door, and she threw it in, it belongs to the prosecutrix—the prosecutrix had a quarrel with my stepfather about six months ago, and she used this poker (another) on him—she quarrelled with mother as well, but they did not come to blows—when she threw the poker in at the door my mother was coming up the stairs, she had just got on to the landing, the prisoner made a rush at her, and I pushed her over—she had not touched me—she knocked her head against the bedstead, and came out and bathed her head, and then called a policeman—when she came out of our room she made a stroke at me with a poker—I said before the Magistrate that the prosecutrix came out of the room and struck me on the head with something, that was before my mother came, it just gave me a graze, the mark was there then, but not now.
Cross-examined. I showed Constable Light the mark on my head in the Police-station—I did not mention it when the constable arrived—I did not show the mark to the constable, because he came into the yard, and charged my mother with stabbing—I told the constable this story, but did not explain the matter till I got to the station—when I went in at 7.30 I sat in the room reading the paper, and the prosecutrix came and banged at the door, and at eight o'clock she banged at the door again, and threw the poker in—she is very violent when she gets drunk—I said at the Police-court "She was going to hit my mother"—I thought so because she came over to strike my mother and I pushed her over, she was very drunk and fell against the bedstead, and that is how the wound was caused—she laid on the floor about ten seconds, and then went to the window and called "Police"—the sharp edge of the bedstead, where the laths are fixed, made the cut.
ERNEST LIGHT (Re-examined). I cannot say whether the prosecutrix seemed to have been drinking when she gave the prisoner in charge; they were all very much excited—I searched but did not find a knife or any instrument to do it—the prisoner's son did not tell me that she fell against the bed, but he told the Magistrate, and he said so at the station the same night—blood was found on the floor just beside the bed.
DR. ROWE (Re-examined). The prosecutrix was very much excited, and I smelt her breath of drink when I was stooping over her; she was not drunk, but she was excited—it is utterly impossible that it could
be done by the bedstead; a cut like that could only be done with a knife—there is no bruise now, only a scar such as would have been produced by an operation.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted.
EDWARD TRIMMER . I am secretary of the Royal College of Surgeons—on October 2nd, about 6 p m., I was going towards the south-west corner of Lincoln's Inn Fields, wearing a chain across my waistcoat exposed as it is now—when I had passed Bear Yard Passage a young man rushed across and snatched my chain and seal—I saw two men partly concealed in a doorway as I went in pursuit—I was pushed down on my face by another man, cutting my face, nose and knees, and my forehead was cut to the bone, I had to have it sewn up at King's College Hospital—I have not seen my chain since—it was worth £8 or £10—I went to the station on the 14th and saw a number of men arranged, and picked out the prisoner as the man who tripped me up—the mark is still visible on my forehead and another on my nose—I saw the man who tripped me up; it was daylight—to the best of my belief the prisoner is the man; I will not swear positively.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I picked out another man at Bow Street as one of the three.
Re-examined. I do not think the prisoner called any witnesses before the Magistrate to prove an alibi.
ALBERT PEDDER (Police Sergeant E). The prisoner was taken into custody on October 5th—on the 14th he was placed with nine others, and Mr. Trimmer pointed him out and picked out another man who he said was with him—I told him the charge—he said, "I am innocent of this."
Witnesses for the Defence.
ELIZABETH TILLIMAN . I am a washer—the prisoner is my son—his name is Tilliman—on Wednesday, October 2nd, he was having a cup of tea with me, about 6.30—he had been at home all day; I was mending his coat—he had only come on July 2nd, as he had been in trouble.
Cross-examined. I live at 6, Bath Road, Hackney Road, very near Cambridge Heath, five minutes' walk from the station—I can come to London by penny tram, and can get to Shoreditch Church in twenty minutes—he has lived with me ever since he came home on July 2nd—he never went out that day, Tuesday, and, indeed, on Wednesday—I know the Saturday, because he was arrested—he wont out on Thursday, and came back at night—all I know is, I was mending his coat for him to go out with—he went out on Wednesday, about 6.30, by the right time.
By the COURT. The landlady saw my son at my house that Wednesday afternoon—I did not go and see him in gaol before the examination took place before the Magistrate; I did not know it till Monday afternoon, as he was taken on Saturday night—he was not examined until October 7th, I was in Court then and on October 14th, when Mr. Trimmer's charge was taken, but I thought it referred to the 2nd—I have tea at 5.30 or 6.
Prisoner's Defence: I was remanded for a week and put with nine men, and the prosecutor came and passed me, and he came back and stopped at me—he said at first that it was me, and then that he simply believed it was me.— GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Guildhall on April 16th, 1895, and ten other convictions were proved against him.— Four Years' Penal Servitude ,
MR. HODGSON Prosecuted.
ALBERT WARMBATH . I am a chiropodist of Conduit Street—on April 11th, about 4.30, the prisoner came to me—I attended to his foot and did not make any charge—he asked me to change this cheque for £5 5s. which he had received from his governor, as he was too late for the bank—he said he had received it for himself and the other clerks to pay them before Easter—this was the day before Good Friday—I got it changed by a neighbour, and gave him the money, and handed the cheque to another neighbour, who passed it through his bank—it came back marked "Not provided for, signature differs"—I took it to the prisoner—he said that there was some mistake, and he would wire to Mr. Harcourt, and ask him to come to town—it was "Come up to-morrow, utmost importance," that was on Tuesday, April 16th—I went to the bank and from what I heard I communicated with my solicitor—I believed the cheque was genuine, and that it was a bona fide cheque sent to him.
SHIRLEY COTES . I am a house agent of 11A, Berners Street—the prisoner was in my employ two months up to April 11th—this cheque is not signed by me or by my authority—it is the prisoner's writing, he writes all my letters—the endorsement is his also—it is signed E. Harcourt and Co.—the cheque-book was kept in a cabinet in my desk, a very old one, and if you shut it it comes open—I left on April 11th—the counterfoil of cheque 1,692 is not here, but cheques 1,691 and 1,693 are—on April 17th I was at Hayling Island and received a telegram from the prisoner, "Come to town at once"—I came up on Thursday, the 18th, and saw the prisoner in Oxford Street; he showed me a letter written by a solicitor, drawing attention to two cheques, which he said had been presented to Mr. Warmbath and cashed, and sent back and returned—I asked him what made him do it; he said he could not account for it, he did it on the spur of the moment—I asked him if he was able to pay the money; he said that he thought so—the same day, at 2.30, I told him to take what he had got out of the office—he had no authority to sign cheques for me.
Cross-examined. I said that if I had the money I would take the cheques up—you declared that there were only two cheques, but I found there were five—I did not endeavour to redeem the cheques before the warrant was issued—you were a clerk at £1 a week—I have given you authority to sign my name on one or two occasions, but all the letters I can find are signed E. Harcourt, with your initials underneath—I did not say that you must consider yourself as Mr. Harcourt on all occasions during my absence—I did not say you were to sign my name to all letters and documents.
ALFRED JOSEPH CRAWLEY . I am a clerk at the City Bank, Oxford Street—Mr. Cotes had an account there in April, trading as Edward Harcourt and Co.—this (produced) is a copy of the account—this cheque was presented, and returned because the signature differed.
EDWARD DREW (Detective Sergeant C). On April 20th I received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest, and on September 20th I saw him in Oxford Circus; asked him if his name was Sewell, and said that I had a warrant for his arrest for obtaining eleven guineas from Mr. Warmbath in April last—he said, "Cannot the matter be settled?"—I said, "No"—he said, "If I lose the situation that will be my ruin"—I took him to the station and told him the charge, he made no reply—I had made every effort to find him from April.
Witness for the Defence.
Mr. CASTON. I am a billiard-marker out of a situation at present—I remember calling on Mr. Harcourt last March, and meeting you for the first, time—just before I left the room Mr. Harcourt asked you to write something for him, and you wrote on a card, "Send some food and drink," and signed it "E. Harcourt"—I noticed it because I had a case against me, and I got some food and drink—when men get food at a public house, I think they send meat and a drop of beer.
Prisoner's Defence: I was under the impression that I was empowered to sign all letters and papers or I would not have signed these cheques—I have got a letter in which he authorises me to sign a receipt for £2; had he never given me authority to sign, is it likely he would have taken this trouble? I received 15s. a week and had to pay my travelling expenses. In March; it was just after some bailiffs were in. This is a malicious prosecution by Mr. Warmbath.
GUILTY .—He received a good character— Three Months Hard Labour, There were two other indictments against him.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 29th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS, BIRON, and HEWITT Prosecuted; and MR. MOYSES Defended.
THOMAS HOLLIS (Police Sergeant G 21). I produce a plan of Mr. Craston's workshop, with tracings of the same, showing the ground floor and loft above—it is a one-storey building—the plan shows the position of the four machines, and the positions at which the witnesses were working.
ROBERT EDWARD GRAY . I am a shoemaker, and live at 37, Austin Street, Shoreditch—I have worked at Mr. Craston's for the last sixteen years—I have known both the prisoner and deceased, the deceased about two years, and the prisoner about twenty-six years—for the last two years both of them have been working at Craston's—the deceased was a man who thought of himself more than anyone else in the shop—they used to be chaffing and joking, and using very foul and nasty language—the prisoner was subject to a disease, and the deceased used to say to him
"Why don't you go into the infirmary and die, you old b——; you are no good about"—I heard him say that about a week before the 26th September—I have heard him say "I will fling you down the b——stairs"—that was almost a frequent occurrence—I never saw him lay his hand on the prisoner in an offensive way—the prisoner is a quiet, inoffensive sort of man; he used to joke and laugh, like the rest of us—a man named Bill Tilleard had been employed there; he worked between the prisoner and the deceased in the attic upstairs—he ceased to work there since last August Bank Holiday—on Monday, the 23rd September, the prisoner came to my house in the evening; I was not at work that day—he said, "If I was you I would be there in the morning, because they are going to give tennis work out, and Tom says Keddington shall bring Bill Tilleard in, and I don't think it right, because we have been short of work"—next morning I went to the shop about a quarter to nine; the prisoner and Knapp were there—Keddington did not come till ten—the prisoner said to him, "Did you call on Bill Tilleard to come in?"—he said, "No"—that was all that was said then—on Wednesday night I was there, and Knapp and Keddington and the prisoner—we were in the habit of drawing something on account on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday—Knapp went round for some, and he had to get me eighteenpence, Taylor a shilling, and Keddington three shillings—what he got for himself I don't know—Knapp came up with the money—he gave three shillings to Keddington first; then he had a two-shilling piece and sixpence in coppers—he said, "I can't give you your eighteenpence, Bob"—he said to the prisoner, "Go out, he will give you your eighteenpence"—he put the coppers and two-shilling pieces of silver on Tilleard's bench—in a few minutes Mr. Craston came up and said to Tilleard, "I want you to do me a pair of specials by the morning;" and he said, "I will have them done"—I said, "I am not going to wait any hours," and I took the two-shilling piece off the bench and left the coppers there—I said to the prisoner, "Come to the corner of the square and I will give you your money"—I went out and he came out to me with a quart can in his hand, and I gave him the two shillings, and he went into a public-house—I stayed outside, and when he came out he gave me eighteenpence—I bade him good night; he went into the shop, and I went away—I did not see any more of him—when I left the workshop the one and sixpence worth of coppers was still on the bench—that was at five o'clock—he went back to the shop in his shirt-sleeves—I did not see him again till he was up at Clerkenwell.
Cross-examined. I said at the station that I never remembered the prisoner starting a quarrel—that is so—he spoke of the deceased as Tom in the ordinary familiar way, in his ordinary tone; there was nothing to indicate any annoyance on his part—afterwards the two men met and I heard the deceased" say to Keddington, "Did you tell Tilleard to come in?"—that was on Wednesday morning—I went in to get my two-shilling piece changed—Taylor gave me my two shillings, and I kept the coppers and left them on the bench—I said at the police-station that I heard Keddington say nasty things within a week of this occurrence—I have known Taylor twenty-six years—he lost his wife about two years ago—he has not been the same man since—he frequently looked in and had a chat with me.
WILLIAM TILLEARD . I live at 13, Collin's Place, Green Street, Bethnal Green—for some time past I have been working at Mr. Craston's, getting work when I could—I knew the deceased and the prisoner—I went to the workshop on the morning of September 26th, near ten—I asked if I might take my things upstairs—they said "Yes," and I did—the prisoner was on my left, and Keddington opposite—my seat was between them—they were both at work at lawn-tennis shoes—they use skiving knives at that work—the prisoner was cutting out with the knife in his hand—Keddington asked me to go and get some tea—Taylor asked me if I would oblige him at the same time—I said "Certainly," and I went and got the tea—I was away about eight or nine minutes—when I came back I saw Keddington lying at the bottom of the stairs on his back, with a knife in his breast—he was just gasping—he gave three gasps, just like a fowl may do, he opened his mouth three times, and then died, no sound came—Dr. Martin came in just in time to see the last gasp—I went up to the loft to see Keddington's coat, which I did, and I saw the prisoner's coat hanging up—I saw no signs of a struggle—there did not seem to be a thing ruffled.
Cross-examined. I don't suppose I had to go fifty yards to get the tea—both the men knew the place where I intended to go for it, and they would know how long I should be away, unless I was detained—both their coats were hanging in their usual place—everything presented its everyday aspect—the two men were perfectly quiet, there was no sign of annoyance about the prisoner, and he asked me the question very civilly, and I said, "Certainly," and went—he treated me quite courteously and civilly that morning—he did not seem at all annoyed at my coming into the place—Keddington was using what is called a driver when I first went up, driving nails; he was not using a knife—I believe he had a double-faced hammer in the place—I did not see it that morning, I have seen it—it is sometimes used when there is a strong job, it is not used for light work which they were doing that morning—it used to lie near his bench so that he could lean back and get it when he liked.
Re-examined. I did not see that hammer at all that morning—the driver that Keddington had in his hand was a file about eleven inches long, it was broken in halves.
By MR. MOYSES. I have heard Keddington say that he would throw Taylor downstairs—I have remonstrated with him on several occasions, and I have told Taylor to take no notice of him—that has occurred frequently, in the way of chaff—it was said in fun, more to aggravate Taylor than anything else—I have told him that he had gone far enough.
FRED. FOLEY . I live at 30, Thorburn Square, Old Kent Road—I am foreman at Craston's shoe factory—the prisoner and deceased worked there under me for about two years—I always thought them to be on friendly terms—Keddington was always chaffing him at work, aggravating him in some way or other—he would threaten to throw him downstairs—they would have a row, and next morning they would be friendly again—on the morning of September 26th I got to the factory about half-past six—I went to the workshop about half-past ten—I there saw the prisoner and deceased—the prisoner appeared to me to be very ill; he was quite sober—I was there when Tilleard went for the tea—I did not work upstairs, I overlooked the others—Tilleard went on an errand for me as well—I
left just before Tilleard, he followed me downstairs—I returned to the room in about five minutes—I was on my way to the stairs when I heard a cry—Keddington said, "Oh"—he was then in the loft, and as he was staggering down the stairs I heard him say, "Taylor-has stabbed me; I know I shall die. I know I told Bill Tilleard to come in to work"—I lifted up the flap at the foot of the stairs for him to come through to my bench, and Martin came and took him off of me and remained with him while I went for a cab—on my return he was dead, and Dr. Martin was there—Mr. Craston went for the doctor—after I left that place I came down-stairs to fit up some work for Keddington—I did not do it, I was coming back to speak to him—during my absence I heard no sound coming from the attic, no cry or struggle—this is the knife that was sticking in his breast, when I first saw it it had an extremely sharp point; it has gone now—I have known the prisoner between five or six years—I have heard Keddington continually taunting him and tormenting him, but I never saw him get cross—Keddington would make his life miserable at times—he would not get cross; I never saw him lose his self control—some times there would be six or seven men working in the attic—the tormenting went on while the other men were present very often—Keddington was using a double-faced hammer when I left him about five minutes before this occurrence, and Taylor was using his little knife skiving.
Re-examined. I identify this as the prisoner's knife; I have borrowed it of him on several occasions—I have mentioned the double-faced hammer to-day for the first time—I did not speak of it at the inquest; I was not asked about it—Tilleard was last in the room, he came down directly after me—after the man was killed I could not say for certain whether anyone went up to see what tools were there; the police went up—Keddington was using the double-faced hammer when I came down; it was big on one side and small on the other, with a handle nine or ten inches long.
WILLIAM MARTIN . I live at 3, Avenue Road, Leyton—I was working at Craston's factory on the morning of September 26th, in the ground floor, at my usual bench—between ten and half-past I heard a cry from upstairs, "Oh, oh," twice; there was an interval of a second or so between the two—I went from my bench to the foot of the stairs and saw Keddington come tumbling down the stairs saying, "I am stabbed, Taylor has stabbed me; I am dying, I know I am dying"—that was all I heard—I caught him when he got to the bottom of the stairs after he had passed under the wicket, which Foley lifted up for him—he was placed in the workshop; I did what I could for him till the doctor came—he died in six minutes.
Cross-examined. There were three persons working in the room beneath, Foley, and two females working at a sewing machine; the machines make a good deal of noise when at work—the prisoner had complained of feeling very bad that morning before he went upstairs; he looked ill; he complained of being very ill indeed; and Keddington used a nasty expression, and I told him he was a beast and ought to be ashamed of himself—I have frequently heard Keddington use foul and disgusting language to Taylor; it was not so much filthy language as remarks passed in insulting language towards Taylor—as a rule there would not be two days in a week without his passing language as would
cause Taylor to feel his position—I have heard him utter threats to him on several occasions, and on one occasion I saw him put himself in an attitude as if he was going to attack him, and said, "You old b for two pins I would knock you down the b stairs"—he was a much younger man than Taylor, I should say there was a difference of twenty years between them, and five or six stone difference in weight—one of the machines downstairs was working at this time, that would to a certain extent deaden the sound of what was going on upstairs—each man used a double-faced hammer; that was one of the regular tools in front of them—Keddington would be using one at the work he was doing that morning.
DOLLY FROST . I am single, and live in Theberton Street, Islington—for some time I have worked as a machinist on the ground-floor at Messrs. Craston's—I knew the prisoner and the deceased—on September 26th I was working there with Miss Hamilton—I do not know who was working above—I heard no sound—I saw the deceased that morning when he was in Foley's arms at the bottom of the stairs—I heard him say "He has stabbed me," not mentioning any name—if I was working at my machine I could not hear if they were talking loudly upstairs—my machine is very loud.
SARAH HAMILTON . I am single, and live at 19, Bishop's Road, Ball's Pond Road—I work at Messrs. Craston's, in the same room with Miss Frost—on the morning of September 26th I was at work there—I did not hear any noise in the room overhead, except the man who was cooking dropped the fryingpan—that was about twenty-five past ten, just before the deceased came downstairs.
Cross-examined. I don't hear very well; we both heard that noise.
GEORGE MARTIN , M.R.C.S AND L.R.C.P. I live at 21, Old Street, St. Luke's—on the morning of September 26th I was called to Messrs. Craston's, and there found Keddington on the ground floor; he gasped once and died—this knife was sticking in his chest a little to the right of the centre line, and inclined upwards—I had no means of judging then of the depth, but on a post-mortem I found it was two inches, penetrating the right ventricle of the heart, and causing a fatal wound—I made an attempt to take the knife out, but did not succeed, it was very firmly fixed in, and as the police surgeon was coming, I left it—it must have been used with very considerable violence—I saw another stab on the right side over the liver that was found to penetrate the liver, and was also of a fatal character—death must have resulted very speedily from either of those wounds—the second wound was from two to three inches deep—Mr. Yarrow, the divisional surgeon, assisted in the post-mortem; he came in and saw the man directly after me.
Cross-examined. The wound over the liver had gone through the cartilage of the tenth and eleventh ribs before reaching the liver; the other wound was through bone; both wounds had been inflicted with the same knife—I should describe the deceased as a fine strong man about fifty, about fourteen stone in weight, and about five feet in height.
GEORGE EUGENE YARROW . I am Divisional-surgeon of Police—I was called by the police to this man—I afterwards assisted Mr. Martin in the postmortem examination—I have heard his evidence, and quite agree with
it as to the cause of death and the description of the wounds—when these wounds were inflicted I think both men we're standing.
STEPHEN HAWKE (43 G. R.). On September 26th, at 10.30, I was on duty in Playhouse Yard, and was called in to Mr. Craston's workshop—I there saw the deceased lying on the ground, gasping for breath, with the knife sticking in his breast—I searched the premises; the prisoner was not there.
WALTER SELBY (G). On September 26th, about half-past eight p.m., I was on duty near Virginia Road—I saw the prisoner coming down Virginia Road towards his own home, which was No. 88 in that road—I had at that time received information—I crossed the road to him, and said, "I believe your name is Joe Taylor"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am a police-officer, and shall arrest you for causing the death of Thomas Keddington this morning"—he said, "We had a fight; he is a bigger man than I am, but I have done him"—he appeared to be the worse for drink—I could see his face; I saw no marks on it—I took him to the station.
ALFRED LEECH (Inspector G). Selby brought the prisoner to the station that evening, and the following morning I charged him (I did not charge him that night as he was under the influence of drink)—he replied, "I shan't say anything"—on the way to the station he said in a loud tone, "So I am charged with murder," and then in a low tone, "Tom Kennedy should not stick to my sixpence; he said he would punch me downstairs—I was given to understand afterwards that the deceased was known to the firm as Tom Kennedy—he mentioned another man's name, but I could not catch it—he said the man called there, and mentioned 5s.; I could not quite catch the whole sentence.
JOHN SCOTT (Sergeant G). At half-past eight on the night of 26th September I was at Old Street Station when, the prisoner was there—he said, "He had a two-faced hammer in his hand to, hit me on the canister, he was a bigger man than me, but I done him—he had been drinking very heavily.
WILLIAM PETT (Inspector). On the morning of the 26th I went to the shoe factory; I saw the knife withdrawn from the man's body; it was handed to me, and I have produced it—I went to the room where the two men had been working together; there was no sign of any struggle having taken place; nothing in the room was disarranged; I did not notice a hammer among the deceased's tools; there were a number oi tools there. I can't say whether a hammer was there or not.
Cross-examined. I was examined at the inquest—I did not say there that I saw hammers lying about in the room—I spoke of two knives, both free from blood—if there had been a hammer on the floor I might not have noticed it—I was only looking for knives at the time.
WILLIAM TILLEARD (Re-called). I did not see anything of a hammer in the deceased's hands; but it is used every half-hour or so; I never saw it that morning—I followed Foley down the stairs—I am quite certain it was a driver that the deceased had in his hand at the time I left the room—all was going on orderly when I went for the tea.
A large number of witnesses gave the prisoner an excellent character.
GUILTY of Manslaughter—Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, October 28th
29 th, and 30th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
820. JAMES EDWARD LEACH (44) and STEPHEN ANSCOMBE COLLARD (37) , Stealing share warrants for twenty-five and 200 fully-paid shares in the Simmer and Jack Gold Mining Company, belonging to the Consolidated Gold fields of South Africa; and also for feloniously receiving the same.
Collard PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and ABRAHAMS Prosecuted; and MR. EDMONDSON Defended Leach.
EDWIN GAUNTLETT . I have been for twenty-two years manager of the printing department of Whitehead, Morris, and Co., wholesale stationers, of Tower Hill—the prisoners were clerks there together, in casual employment, rather over four years ago.
Cross-examined. As far as I knew Leach was respectable.
ALFRED HART . I work at 11, Angel Court, and am a member of the Stock Exchange—I act for Messrs. Buckler, Norman, and Gower, brokers—I do not know William Sorge personally—I saw Mr. Dunlap, a friend of Mr. Sorge—on 28th May, in consequence of something that had happened, I was expecting to see a gentleman who was coming to realise some stock, and Leach came to the office and said, "I want to sell some Simmer and Jack shares"—he gave me a card, which I have lost; I cannot remember the name on it—I asked him if he wanted to speculate, or to hold the stock—he said he did hold the stock and wanted to sell it, and, as he was leaving for the Continent shortly, wanted the discount, the proceeds after sale before the ordinary settlement—that being quite an ordinary thing, I told him that on presentation of the script we would do so—he said he wanted to sell twenty-five shares—I saw Mr. Buckler and communicated with him—I never saw Leach again—a fair young fellow was with him, I cannot recognise him—I left for the country soon afterwards.
ARTHUR EDWARD BUCKLER . I am a member of the firm of Buckler, Norman, and Gower, of 11, Angel Court, Throgmorton Street—I did not know Mr. Sorge personally, but he was introduced to, and known in our office—in consequence of a communication from my clerk, Mr. Hart, I sold twenty-five Simmer and Jack bearer shares for Leach's account on May 28th, for the June 12th account—I had no warrant representing those shares at the time—in the ordinary course the settlement would have been after June 12th—I was told that Leach required to make the sale for cash, and that Hart had told him we would discount the payment—I received this letter of May 31st from Paris, and in consequence sent a cheque for £366 16s. 6d. to James Edward Leach, Grande Hotel de Malte, Rue Richelieu, Paris—I received this letter acknowledging the receipt of the cheque—afterwards I saw Leach, when he gave me a Power of Attorney which I dictated to him, and he signed in my presence—the letter and receipt are in his writing. (The letter of May 31st bore the addresses Grande Hotel de Malte, and 11, Verona Road, Forest Gate; and stated that he expected to have received the cheque before, and that they might sell a further fifty Simmer and Jack shares at
fifteen for the next settlement. The letter of June 6th acknowledged the receipt of the cheque, and stated that he was leaving on Monday for Nice and Rome and would send his address.) We were not able to sell the further fifty shares before the next settlement; the price would not permit—on June 14th he came to my office and asked me if the fifty shares were sold—I said no, the price would not permit during the account, and we took the limit not to extend later than that period—he expressed pleasure that the shares bad not been sold, and then told us to sell 200 at the best price we could get—we did so that evening at 171 1/4, they had gone up £2—the next morning he called, and I told him what I had done, and gave him a contract note of the sale—that represented about £3,400 receivable by him—after I had handed him the contract note he said, "The shares will be brought in by a friend of mine; I am leaving for the South of France in consequence of an internal complaint. My friend, Mr. Col lard, who advises me in all my South African Investments, will get the shares from the Bank and hand them to you, and I wish you to take his instructions to buy or to sell for me while I am away, and to receive moneys"—I said, "This had better be put in writing," and I dictated this letter dated June 15th—Leach wrote and signed it in my presence. (This requested Buckler, Norman, and Gower to act on any instructions which Stephen A. Collard of 40, Greyhurst Road, Dalston, might give on Leach's behalf, during Leach's absence, and authorised them to pay money due to Leach to Collard.) He said he had bought these shares in Paris, and mentioned the price he gave for them; I cannot remember it—he said he had made a handsome profit on them, and that the broker's charges in Paris were much heavier in buying or selling stock than in London—he said he had bought a large quantity of shares in Paris, and led me to suppose that we should have more to deal with—that morning, the 15th, was the last I saw of him till I saw him in the Mansion House dock—on the same day I wrote to Collard and sent him a copy of the Power of Attorney—on 18th. Collard came and handed me eight bearer warrants, representing 200 Simmer and Jack shares—six were numbered 1,204,1,205, 1,195, 1,196, 845, and 846; the other two were handed direct to the company to be split, and do not appear in our books, but I believe they were following numbers—the six warrants we passed to the purchasers—on June 27th in respect of the sale I paid this cheque for £2,500 to the account of S. A. Collard, at the Middlesex Banking Company—in consequence of information received the completion of the sale of the rest never took place—the £2,500 was a round sum on account—we still have a balance of £67 in hand—the company have the two share warrants—in my opinion this Power of Attorney of June 15th, and the endorsement on this cheque for £220 are in Leach's writing—I am not so positive as to the endorsement on this £100 cheque; in one case he signs "James E. Leach," and in the other "James Leach," and the letters are somewhat different—the £220 cheque appears to be a Paris cheque, and the £100 cheque appears to have been paid in Paris—we concluded the bargain as to the remaining fifty shares represented by the two warrants.
Cross-examined. I have had much experience in transactions on the African Market—if Barney Barnato or Cecil Rhodes were large holders of share warrants, and brought them to me to sell I should draw, an inference as to their reason for selling; it would not have a beneficial
effect on the market if it were a bona fide sale—those big men do not often put their own shares on the market in their own names—I have known them to find a nominee—the nominee does not instruct the broker—I should want to know who the person selling was—I should not have, anyone in my office unless he were properly introduced—if you came and wanted to sell 200 Simmer and Jack I should want to know your means—I would not sell until I had satisfied myself—I satisfied myself in the case of Leach that he could own such a number of shares, considering the price at which he bought them—all these South African shares have gone up tremendously; a man who held shares at £2 or £3 twelve months ago could be Rolling them at £15; it did not mean a large amount of means to hold these twelve months ago—the price of Simmer and Jack shares is at present £26—if Cecil Rhodes sold 200 shares it would not affect the market, I am his confidential broker—if he were selling a small amount like 200 it would have no effect on my mind, except that he wanted a small amount of ready cash—a great holder selling an amount of them would have an injurious effect on the company—it would have no effect whatever on the market if it were known—that Barney Barnato or Cecil Rhodes wanted to realise £3,000—in the case of bearer shares it does not matter whether they are put on the market by a nominee, because the name does not appear—bearer Warrants are really worth more than registered stock, because they do not incur our heavy English stamp duty, and they are negotiable on the Continent, which the registered stock are not, and there they command a better price—bearer stock can be stolen more readily, but they are preferable for obtaining a loan on or dealing with on the Continent—if a large parcel of share warrants to bearer are brought to me I inquire as to the genuineness of the customer, and if he is genuine we take it the security, is genuine.
Re-examined. In dealing with bearer warrants it is not necessary to disclose the seller; there is nothing on the face of the document which reveals the seller—the Goldfields Company, through their own brokers, could put 50,000 bearer warrants on the markets, and no one would know whence they, came, although such a number might affect the price—I had previous reason to believe the statements conveyed' to me through Mr. Hart; I had inquired and believed Leach to be a person of respectability and credit.
WILLIAM FERDINAND SORGE . I am a wharf clerk at Ilfracombe Buildings—I have known Leach for some time—in May I met him in the City with his wife; on one occasion I lunched with him—I knew about his father-in-law being dead—the second occasion I met him he asked me if I knew a good broker to deal with South African mining shares; he said he had Simmer and Jack shares, part of his father-in-law's estate, to dispose of, to close, the estate—I said I thought it was a pity to sell them, they were a good property—he said, I think, he wanted to sell them to close up the estate properly—Dunlap, an electrical engineer, was a friend of mine—I knew no one in Buckler, Norman, and Gower's office—I took Leach there—he asked me to introduce him to a good broker, and I asked Dunlap if he could recommend anyone to me, and on his recommendation I took Leach to Buckler, Norman, and Gower's—after introducing him there I saw him—on one occasion I saw him with Collard—Leach then
told me he had been to Paris—so far as I knew he was a clerk in some company in Cornhill; I did not know what company; I had not seen him for about two years prior to this—I understood that he was in employment at this time—he wished to meet me one Saturday as I came from the docks—I cannot tell you the date—he was not there, and the next time I saw him he was in custody.
Cross-examined. I have known Leach since 1887; I have not met him very often in the City—I do not know Mr. Buckler—I should not have thought of introducing a person who was otherwise than a person of undoubted, respectability to Buckler, Norman, and Gower—knowing Leach to be a really respectable man, I had no hesitation in introducing him—I certainly understood Leach to say that the Simmer and Jack shares were the property of his father-in-law—I swear he did not say that some friend of his was connected with the Simmer and Jack Company, and wanted to put some shares on the market—I was perfectly satisfied that the shares belonged to his father-in-law's estate—he mentioned no amount which his father-in-law had left—I have met Collard perhaps six times in three years—I have met Moore on several occasions—I suppose you may say I am well known to the whole of the parties—I advised Leach to hold on to the shares from the information I obtained from the daily papers—it was no advantage to me to introduce Leach to Buckler, Norman and Gower.
----WINTERFLOOD. I am a clerk in the Bank of England—I was the executor of Mrs. Leach's father—she received a legacy, in the first place, of £200, and the estate has since been wound up, and she has received £365 16s. 7d. more out of it, within a few shillings—the estate was divided between two daughters—in April this year I paid her a cheque for £180 on account—there were no shares whatever, of any sort, forming a portion of the estate.
HERBERT HENRY RAYNES . I am a clerk in the London and South Western Bank, Forest Gate Branch—we had a customer, Mrs. Cecilia Elizabeth Leach, of Clara Villa, Verona Road, Forest Gate—I produce an examined and correct copy of her account—the account was opened on 21st May, 1895, by a cheque for £180 on the London and County Bank, Brixton Branch, drawn by Winterflood—I only find one other payment in, and that was by this cheque for £366 16s. 6d. on 7th June, received through the post—on 12th June £225 was drawn out by this crossed cheque to Collard—the endorsement on it is S. A. Collard—it was paid to Brown, Janson and Co.; the stamp on it is Brown, Janson, and the Middlesex Banking Company.
HERBERT MILNER . I am secretary of the Middlesex Banking Company, of 89 and 90, Leadenhall Streets—Collard opened an account with us on May 3rd; this is a certified copy of his account—he opened it with a credit of £220 by this cheque—on June 11th there was a credit to the account of £225 by this cheque drawn on the account of Mrs. Leach, and on June 27th there was a credit to the account of £2,500—that amount has never been exhausted; there was money to meet other cheques upon the account—I find a debit of £125 to Leach on June 24th—that wan drawn over the counter by Collard by this bearer cheque—the whole of it is in Collard's writing—Collard lodged this Power of Attorney with us—on July 4th there was a debit to Leach of £100, the cheque for that
apparently reached us from Paris—in July Leach called at the bank with another person, who said, "This is Mr. Leach"—Leach said, "I understand you hold a Power of Attorney of mine to a Mr. Collard; the same has been obtained from me either by fraud or misrepresentation"—I cannot say which word he used, "Would you let me look at it"—I said, "Certainly not; this matter is now in the hands of Messrs. Michael Abrahams and Sons, and I must refer you to them."
Cross-examined. The cheque for £125 was to bearer, and was presented over the counter by Collard—Leach was not present—so far as I know Leach did not get sixpence of that £125—the gentleman who came in with Leach was a customer of ours—I do not know that he is other than a person of position and respectability—Messrs. Abrahams had advised me not to answer inquiries about this account, and I referred all persons to that firm—Leach seemed anxious to see it.
JAMES THOMAS BEDBOROUGH . I am a manager of the Agency Department of the Consolidated Gold Fields of South Africa, whose offices are at 8, Old Jewry—we are agents in London for the Simmer and Jack Gold Mining Company—Collard was formerly in the employment of the Simmer and Jack Company, and when we took the agency over he was taken into our employment, and employed as a transfer clerk—in connection with the Simmer and Jack Company there are bearer warrants for a certain number of shares, which pass on delivery—on signing an application form, and lodging the warrants, the holder could have those warrants converted into registered shares—it was part of Collard's duty to receive those warrants and the application for conversion, and give a receipt for the warrants, and hand them over to be cancelled and arrange for the transfer—the particulars would be entered in the conversion register—Collard was in our employment up to about 25th June—I last saw him on Friday, 21st June, I think, in the street—I afterwards obtained information which resulted in inquiries being made, and then I ascertained that a large number of share warrants were missing from the place—they had been lodged for conversion, but they were not properly entered, and had not been cancelled—Collard was dealing with them in Antwerp when a telegram reached me—before he was brought back to this country I had taken steps to secure the arrest of Leach—among the warrants stolen by Collard was one, No. 920; four warrants, 845, 846, 847, and 848; two warrants, 1195 and 1196; and two warrants, 1204 and 1205, all for twenty-five shares each—they were not entered in the book as received; and receipts were taken out from the wrong part of the books, out of order—on June 27th warrants 847 and 848 were lodged by Buckler, Grower, and Norman for conversion—the request for conversion was found in the office, and as the result of that, I found that some of there warrants were stolen twice over.
WILLIAM OLDHAMPSTEAD (Inspector Detective City Police). I have had charge of this case—on July 13th I saw Leach detained at the Police-office, Old Jewry—I said, "Mr. Leach"—he said, "Yes"—I produced the warrant and said, "James Edward Leach, is that your name?"—he said, "Yes"—I read the warrant to him—he paused for some time, and then said, "I know nothing about it"—this is a copy of the warrant I read to him—he was afterwards taken to Cloak Lane, and charged; he made no further reply.
The certificate of incorporation of the Consolidated Goldfields was produced.
821. HENRY JOHN HAYNES and STEPHEN ANSCOMBE COLLARD, Stealing four share warrants for 100 fully paid-up shares of £1 each in the Simmer and Jack Gold Mining Company, belonging to the Consolidated Goldfields of South Africa. Second Count—Receiving the same.
Collard PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. GILL and ABRAHAMS Prosecuted, and MR. E. PERCIVAL CLARKE
JOSEPH HENRY MORLEY . I am clerk to Reubens and Reichenbach, stockbrokers, of Angel Court—on June 13th I took for conversion to the offices of the Consolidated Goldfields six share warrants of the Simmer and Jack Company, representing 150 shares, No. 844 to 849—this is the application for con version which I lodged with the warrants—I received this receipt from the company for those warrants—we sold those warrants for a client, and he sent them to us for delivery; we could not deliver them, because the London market do not like bearer shares, so we converted them into registered before we could deliver them—I delivered the warrants to Collard at the Company's office, and he handed me the receipt for them—the warrants are valuable securities, and they pass from hand to hand.
WALTER SALTON . I am a clerk to G. W. Dawos, a stockbroker, of 5, Lothbury, and a member of the Stock Exchange—I knew Collard was employed at the Consolidated Company—on June 14th Haynes called at our office with Collard—they brought this letter of introduction from Collard—I opened the letter in the presence of them both, and read it, and then took it inside to Mr. Dawes, and introduced Haynes to him—Collard remained outside—I had never heard of or seen Haynes before—I had no conversation with Haynes about the contents of the letter—Collard came in with a man I had never seen, and handed me a letter and said, "Every man his own postman," or something to that effect—I read the letter—Collard said, "This is a friend of mine, Mr. Haynes"—I asked him what business he came upon, and Haynes said he wished to sell one hundred Simmer and Jack shares, and he there and then produced four bearer warrants from his pocket and handed them to me over the counter—after I had taken Haynes inside to Mr. Dawes, Collard said something to me about Haynes's means and position, but not in Haynes's presence—at the time I took the share warrants from Haynes I had no information about him except that contained in the letter—after, he had handed me the share warrants I took him and them to Mr. Dawes, and left him with him, and came back to Collard and spoke to him—when Haynes came out Mr. Dawes instructed me to go over to the Stock Exchange and sell the shares, and I went there with Haynes. (The letter introducing Haynes was read. It runs dated June 14th, 1895, and stated that it was to introduce Mr. Haynes, whom he had known for the past eight years, and who had lately returned from abroad; that the writer knew for a fact he was all right for £25,000, and thought he would be a good client.) I believed the contents of that letter—I believe the numbers of the warrants that Haynes produced were 845 to 848—I went
over to the Stock Exchange with Haynes, but without the warrants, to sell them—Collard went away—I called out our authorised clerk, who asked me what shares they were; I told him bearer warranty and he said he did not think they were saleable on our market, and that I had better go to the Company and ask them about them—I went and made enquiry at the Consolidated Goldfields Company's office—Haynes had left me then—Mr. Dawes had taken down his name and address on the back of this letter that has been read "Henry John Haynes, care of Holman and Sons, 50, Lime Street, and 26, Stavordale Road, Highbury Road"—after that I went to Messrs. Holman's office, 50, Lime Street, where I asked for and saw Haynes—I did not ask whether he was a clerk—Holman's are shipbrokers, I believe—I made no inquiry as to what Haynes was—I brought him this application to convert, and told him it was necessary to get it done or our clerk could not sell them in the open market; I must get them converted—he looked through it—I told him it was an ordinary form of application for registered certificates in exchange for the warrants—he signed it in my presence, and entered himself as a shipping agent—having got that, the shares were sold the next morning, 15th—on June 24th Haynes called again with a transfer receipt for 100 shares—Mr. Dawes was not in—Haynes handed the document to me; we acted on it and sold the further 100 shares—the first lot realised £1,725, and the second £1,622 10s.—the first four warrants, 845 to 848, I lodged with the Consolidated Company together with the conversion request—to the purchaser of those first 100 I really delivered the second 100; the company will not certify the transfer on the warrant receipt till the directors have signed the certificate; but they will certify on that ticket; so to make it good I took round that ticket, and the company certified on it; and so really I delivered the second 100 before the first 100—Haynes signed the transfer for these—this certificate certifies that the company hold the shares for the person to whom it is made out—I paid Haynen myself by giving him this cheque in our office on June 26th for £1,714 15s. 6d. that is £1,725 less our charges; it is endorsed by Haynes—he came to our office, signed the transfer, and I gave him the cheque which has passed through our bank and been paid—I saw him at our office after that when he came there to see Mr. Abrahams, and again I saw him at Gravesend where he lived—I went to get him to sign a letter to the bank stopping the money.
Cross-examined. I have known Collard for perhaps twelve months altogether, but more intimately the last six months; I knew he was a clerk in the office of the Goldfields of South Africa Company—I did not know he was the transfer clerk employed to convert these bearer warrants into registered shares—I knew him sufficiently well to introduce a friend of his to the firm—these bearer warrants can be passed from hand to hand—they are not really negotiable here unless you can get a French house to buy them; that is the only way to get rid of them; a few people will take them, not many—Collard could not very well deal with these shares himself, being in the company's office, I should say—my principal would not deal with a clerk in that way—I should say if a man holding a large quantity of shares were to sell them himself it would alter the market in them if it came to be known that he was selling them—I daresay a nominee might be appointed to dispose of them, but I don't
know that custom myself—Haynes came to the office the first time about one o'clock—he left warrants with Mr. Dawes, and went with me the same afternoon to the Stock Exchange——I believed Haynes to be as stated in Collard's letter, and yet I went to the office where he is employed—he did not tell us he was a clerk, or anything of the sort—I simply went there because he gave us the address—I don't know that he is a clerk—the cheque I gave him for £1714 15s. 6d. I drew myself, payable to H. J. Haynes—I did not know it was paid into pollard's account—I know it now—I cannot say whether that is what a nominee would do who was selling shares for another person—I was not present at the interview when Haynes came to Mr. Dawes's office to see Mr. Abrahams—we first heard from Mr. Abrahams about these shares being stolen—I thought there was nothing wrong about the transaction—when he came to the office he came down the corridor and went out and I simply said "Good-morning" to him as he went' out—I went to see him at Gravesend at Mr. Dawes's request on 12th July; I then asked him to sign a letter for Mr. Dawes's solicitor to the manager of the Middlesex Banking Company and he did so—I read the letter. (This letter, dated 12th July, was read. It gave notice to the bank that Mr. Dawes's cheque for £1714 15s. 6d., payable to Haynes's order, which on or about 26th June was paid by him into their bank, and placed to the credit of Collard was obtained through him (Haynes) by fraud on the part of Collard, as he was informed by the Simmer and Jack Company, and he authorised the Bank to hand over the £1714 15s. 6d. to Mr. Dawes, as neither he nor Collard had any right or title to it.) He signed that without any hesitation—Mr. Dawes's solicitor told me it would not affect Haynes in any way, and I so told Haynes—he came into communication with Mr. Abrahams some time before that letter; he knew all about the prosecution being started.
Re-examined. I took this letter, ready written as it is now, and Haynes was told it would do him no harm to sign it, and he signed it—Mr. Robins, the solicitor, wrote it.
GEORGE WILSON DAWES . I am a member of the Stock Exchange, and the employer of Mr. Salton—on 15th June I received this letter of introduction which Mr. Salton brought to me—I read it—Haynes came into my room, and I said to him, "Do you present this letter of introduction?"—he said he did—I said I should like some further reference—he said, "I am associated with a firm of Holman and Co., of 50, Lime Street"—he did not say in what capacity—I asked him for his private address—he said, "26, Stavordale Road, Highbury"—I put those details down on the back of this letter—I asked him whether he wanted to deliver or not; because I should decline any speculation—he said he did, and produced these bearer warrants—I instructed my clerk to sell the shares, thinking it was bona fide—this cheque for £1,714 15s. 6d. was handed to him on his signing the deed of transfer on 26th June—I was not present when the second order for sale was given on 24th June; I heard nothing of that except what was reported to me.
Cross-examined. I have a large business—a man who owns or is in a company and desires to sell shares often appoints a nominee to sell the shares in some name other than his own—when Haynes came in I had his letter of Introduction on my desk before me—he was at my desk with
me; I read it in his presence, not aloud—I asked him if he was in business; he said, "Yes, at 50, Lime Street," and that he was associated with Messrs. Holman and Co.—I certainly should not deal with a clerk; it is against the rules of the Stock Exchange, and I should be liable to expulsion for it—I did not think there was anything wrong about this transaction when he produced the shares, not till I had the advice of Mr. Abrahams early in July—I thought there was nothing wrong when I handed him the cheque, or I should not have given it—with regard to the second transaction no money has actually passed to the prisoner—I had instructions to sell a further 100, and when the fraud was discovered it left me in the position of having sold something I could not deliver, and I had to buy some others to satisfy the purchaser—I have lost altogether £1,874 odd—the fraud as to the first 100 shares sold was discovered by the company, and although the buyer had taken up the shares and sent them in for registration when the fraud was discovered, the company went back on that and threw the transfers back on the buyer's hands—he applied to the Stock Exchange Committee; they summoned me before them and adjudicated on the matter, and after going before the Grand Committee, they ordered me to find bona fide shares for the first lot—I had parted with £1,700 odd for that first 100—I had to go into the market and buy another 100, so as to satisfy the buyer—with regard to the second 100, I sold them in the ordinary course of business—the fraud was discovered; I found I could not deliver, and I had to go into the market and buy back that 100, and the difference between that at which I sold and that at which I bought involved a loss on me of About a further £200—I live in hopes of getting some of the £1,700 back—I instructed my solicitors, who drafted the letter which Haynes signed—I did not see Collard at my office on the first occasion; I know now he was there—the meeting at my office on 8th July took place at 2.30 or 3—Haynes and Mr. Abrahams were there, and a detective, and myself and Mr. Robins, my solicitor, I think, and Mr. Bedborough, at a part of the interview—I think the cheque for £1,704 was produced, and Mr. Abrahams, I believe, asked Haynes if it was his endorsement; he said it was—I heard him answer questions—the gist of it was that Mr. Abrahams called on Haynes to account for the transactions, and he replied to the questions, but I cannot say what he said—the detective was there—after the interview Haynes went away—Mr. Abrahams showed him this letter of introduction, saying how much Haynes was worth, and asked with a smile, "Is this true?" and Haynes said, "I wish it were"—Haynes then signed, at the joint request of the people present, the transfer for the other shares—I cannot remember all the explanations that were given; but the gist of his answers was that he had been entrapped into it by Collard, and that he was innocent, and that the cheque he had got for this first transaction had been paid intact into Collard's account—he answered all the questions put to him by Mr. Abraham, so satisfactorily that he went away unarrested—I did not know at the time of the first transaction that Collard had anything to do with it, or I should not have dealt with them; I discovered it a day or two afterwards—I did not know who Collard, the man who signed the letter, was; my clerk brought in the letter, and said this introduction was from a neighbour of his, but I did not understand that he was a clerk in this company, or that
he was then in my outside office—I did not know that the coupons were cut, or that anything was pecular about the shares; Salton reported it to me—he did not say the deputy-registrar of the company was there—and could explain it—a few shares not connected with the Consolated Goldfields were sold for Collard, by his order, for the account of someone else, but that bargain was never completed; he was supposed to have the shares, but he never delivered them, so they had to be bought back.
Re-examined. That was on 14th June; I did not know then who he was—when Haynas was in my room, and I had the letter before me, I believed he was a man of substance and means; if I had not so believed I should not have dealt with him—when the time came to deliver the 100 shares I gave the buyer the document he had brought me, which was a receipt, and which would be received in the ordinary course as a document of title to 100 shares for convenience in practice—I was in the difficulty that I had not delivered the warrants—my total loss is £1,874 odd over it.
HERBERT MILNER . I am secretary of the Middlesex Banking Company, of 79 and 80, Leadenhall Street—Collard had an account there; I produce a certified and correct copy of it—it was opened on May 3rd, 1895, on Haynes's personal introduction—I knew Haynes before; he had an account with us at that time, but it was dormant—on June 26th this cheque for £1,714 15s. 6d. was paid by Haynes into Collard's account, and was duly cleared and credited—among the debits to the account is £2 to Haynes on May 22nd, and £5 on June 19th—on June 26th are debits to self £100, Collard £100, and Moore £50, by these three cheques—Haynes paid those two £100 cheques into his own account on June 26th, and so revived his dormant account—"this is a certified copy of his account—before the payment in of that £200 there was a debit balance of £2—on the same June 26th he drew out £100 to self by this cheque—the next credit to Haynes's account is on July 2nd, £50, and on the same day there is a debit of £50 to Collard's account by the same £50 cheque—altogether he paid in £250—the account was operated on down to 9th July—on July 8th I find debits of £50 and £12, and on July 9th a debit of £1 1s.—there is now a credit of 17s. 6d. to the account—it was about 3.30 that he drew out the £50—I remember it; it was after Mr. Abrahams had instructed us about Collard's account—there is a debit account of £1,000 to Collard's account on June 27th Haynes instructed us as to that—he brought a telegram from Antwerp, purporting to come from Collard, and asking for a remittance to be sent to him there, and we acted on it, and sent a draft equal to £1,000 to Collard at Antwerp by post—at that time Collard had about £3,800 to his credit; there was the credit on 26th of £1,714 15s. 6d.; that would be cleared on 27th—he had not £1,000 apart from the £1,700 cheque on the 27th—we took it for granted that cheque would be met—Haynes gave us Collard's address at Antwerp, and we forwarded to that address—Collard's account was operated on up to July 4th—I heard there was a warrant out for him—some days before his arrest, I think, Mr. Abrahams gave us notice not to part with this money we held.
Cross-examined. I have been eight years at this Bank—I knew Haynes when he had an account there—Collard had rather a lively banking account; money was paid in frequently and paid out, and soon—Haynes
paid in the £1,714 15s. 6d. to Collard's account; Haynes could not draw against it—when he brought it he told us to send a draft for £1,000 to Antwerp to Collard, and gave us Collard's address there, and we sent the draft—there was no concealment about it—Haynes opened his account eighteen months or two years ago; it had been standing with the debit balance for three or four months, or perhaps more—I believe July 8th was Monday; an entry appearing on that date does not mean that that was the date the cheque was drawn or dated, but the cheque on that day was paid across the counter to him, and we should debit him at once—it was a cheque from his own book—I believe he came on Saturday, July 6th, and said he was going to close his account—I belive he said something about opening a deposit account in his wife's name—I believe he said he would call on the Monday and either take an interest note for his wife or else take the cash—I did not see this cheque till the Monday, so far as I know; if he drew it on Saturday there is no reason why he should not have cashed it then—he spoke on the Saturday of coming again on the Monday—I believe there is still about £12 or £13—I did tell him how much there was to his credit—I might hare told him on the Saturday there was £50 or £60—I now remember that he wrote out this cheque for £50 on the Saturday, and left it at the Bank saying he would call for the money on Monday, or a deposit note in his wife's name—after that he came to the Bank, and X told him he was slightly overdrawn, and he paid in £1 Is. to meet the overdraft—£13 was not standing to his credit—we had his address at lime Street in our books—there was no concealment on his part about the transactions with the cheques.
By the COURT. I don't think he said who Collard was when he introduced him—I was present when he paid in the £220—Collard described himself as a registrar—I afterwards said to Haynes that it was a very nice account he had introduced, and he said that Collard was rather a well-to-do man, or a very wealthy man, I do not remember which—he never told me that he was a transfer clerk in the Consolidated Goldfields of South Africa—the total amount paid in to Collard's account in the two months between May and July was £5,321—I spoke to Haynes with regard to the £1,000 to send to Antwerp, as to our waiting till the £1,700 was cleared; there was a delay, and he called more than once about it, I believe.
HENRY EDWARD MOORE (a prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to receiving some of these warrants—I know Haynes—on Monday, June 24th, I came up from Margate to London, and met Collard at Holborn Railway Station by appointment—we drove to Haynes's office; Collard went in, and I waited outside—Haynes came out, and we all went to the Middlesex Bank—to the best of my recollection Collard and Haynes went in there, and I waited outside—after that we all went into a public-house, where Collard wrote out, in the bar, a cheque for £50 in my name, one for Mrs. Collard for £50, one for Haynes for £100, I think—Collard handed all three cheques to Haynes, saying to him, "You must cash them to-morrow, and hand £50 to Moore, £50 to Mrs. Collard," and the third cheque in Haynes's name he could do what he liked with—Collard asked Haynes to get the bankers to send him abroad a draft for £1,000 on the Brussels Bank—he must have previously said
that he was going abroad—Collard left England the same evening; it must have all taken place on Tuesday, 25th—I remained behind—next day I met Haynes, by an appointment made on the day Collard left, in St. Paul's Churchyard, and he gave me the £50 as agreed—he told me he was going to see Mrs. Collard, and that the bankers would send on the £1,000 draft for Collard by post that night—I think I told him I was going to Antwerp to meet Collard; I agreed to go the next day—I asked him in St. Paul's Churchyard or in a place of refreshment what he would do in the event of these transactions being discovered—he said, as far as I remember, that he would know what to do—I left England that night, and joined Collard—the £1,000 draft reached him at Antwerp—I went on with him to Brussels and then to Paris, where we were arrested and extradited—I had sold some of these warrants abroad—I am not certain whether I told Haynes I had done so—up to the time of these transactions I was a clerk in the Oceana Company at Cornhill—I only knew Haynes lightly—I don't think I have met him more than seven or eight times.
Cross-examined. I had not much to do with Haynes—I could not swear to the dates exactly—I could not swear whether it was Monday or Tuesday that I came up from Margate and Collard went to Antwerp, it was one or the other—I got the £50 from Haynes—Collard gave him the cheque because I was going back to Margate, and he was going to cash it for me and meet me next day and give me the money—I have heard that Haynes has supplied the prosecutor with a good deal of information—I remember riding in the prison van from the Mansion House to Holloway when Haynes was brought there for the first time—I was aware then that he had been-giving facts and information to the police; it made no difference to me—I did not say in the prison van "You have been perfectly innocent, eh! you have been giving information, have you? It is my turn now, I will make it hot for you." I never said that.
Re-examined. It could not make any difference if I gave evidence—I made a statement in Paris as soon as I was arrested, not exactly confessing my guilt, but giving information about the money found on me being the proceeds of the transactions.
THOMAS DOWSE (Detective City). In consequence of instructions which I received on July 8th I followed Haynes from No. 5, Lothbury, to the Middlesex Banking Company, Leadenhall Street—he came down the staircase of No. 5, Lothbury; I could not say from what office—he remained ten or fifteen minutes at the Middlesex Bank, going there about 3.30,1 should think—I followed him from there for a little way, and then lost sight of him.
Cross-examined. The first arrest in England in this case was the arrest of Leach on July 13th at Forest Gate—I did not arrest Haynes; I cannot give you the date of that—from July 8th to the time of his arrest he was in communication with Oldhampstead and Outram, and was giving information to the prosecution, I believe; I do not know it—he knew of the arrests, and made no attempt, so far as I know, to escape or hide his identity.
JAMES BEDBOROUGH . I am manager of the Consolidated Goldfields of South Africa, an English company, with offices at 8, Old Jewry—this is the Certificate of Incorporation—we present here the Bimmer and Jack
Company—up to the time of leaving England Collard was in our employment as a transfer clerk—we found him in the company, and took him over as having a knowledge of the business—some of the shares of the Simmer and Jack Company are bearer warrants for a certain number of shares, and pass from hand to hand—powers were issued at the end of February for the use of them—the company convert those into registered shares on application of the possessor—it was Collard's duty to receive those warrants and applications for conversions, and take the necessary steps to carry it out by cancellation—in consequence of inquiries I made at the end of June I ascertained that warrants so lodged, representing 1,087 shares, had been stolen—the value of the shares then was 17 1/2, now it is 26; the face value was £1—among the warrants so stolen were four, numbered 845 to 848, which appear in the first instance to have been lodged by Reubens and Reichenbach, and then stolen and subsequently lodged by Mr. Dawes, and again stolen—I once saw Haynes in the Company's office—I inquired his business, and he said that only Mr. Collard could attend to it—this receipt for 100 shares cancelled is a false document, no such shares were lodged in the office; the counterfoil is blank; no such transfer was ever received in the office—after Collard had left the country I put the matter into the hands of Messrs. Abrahams, who took steps to procure his extradition—we took some time to ascertain what the facts were; we are not entirely clear yet.
Cross-examined. I think Haynes was a main factor in helping us to ascertain what the facts of the case were—the Simmer and Jack was a limited company; it is not registered in England, but we are the agents for them here—the only time I saw Haynes in our office he left without seeing Collard, who was busy at the time—we are agents for the Simmer and Jack Company under this Power of Attorney—Collard was transfer clerk and registrar; he could call himself registrar; I think he would be properly described as registrar—he had no department to himself apart from other clerks—all the shares would pass through his hands—I was present on July 8th, in Mr. Dawes' office, when Haynes came there—I heard a portion of the conversation—Mr. Abrahams produced this cheque, and asked Haynes if the endorsement was his, and he said "Yes"—he did not give his name when he called at our office—the Simmer and Jack Company appointed me at the meeting on July 8th—I believe Haynes signed at the joint request of the gentlemen there the blank transfer for the other shares for Mr. Dawes' protection; it was a document which said that the shares had been sold illegally—Mr. Plumley afterwards came in, and he was asked whether Haynes was known to him—he said, I believe, that he had never seen him before, or words to that effect—Haynes made some mention of Collard's losing a child, I believe—I have no doubt he answered all the questions which Mr. Abrahams put—it would be quite easy for Collard to get rid of shares and take them to a perfectly innocent person outside and sell them—I never heard of Collard's speculating; I don't know whether he did—I should not have kept him if I had known he was doing so—he was under notice at the time.
Re-examined. No statement was made as to Haynes having a banking account—this is a specimen warrant; those for twenty-five shares are all the same, with coupons attached like this—the holder of the coupon can present it at the advertised bank and take his dividend—these
warrants were cancelled after the arrest with the approval of the Magistrate.
WILLIAM OLD HAMPSTEAD (Detective Inspector, City). I have been the officer in charge of this case from the first—I arrested Haynes on September 10th—I went to 50, Lime Street, with Outram, and saw him, and asked him if he would kindly walk out; he did so—I told him I had a very unpleasant duty to perform, that I was going to take him into custody, and he would be charged, with Collard, Leach, and Moore, in being concerned with stealing a number of warrants in the Simmer and Jack Company, Limited, on or about June 14th, 1895, total value about £1,725, Nos. 845 to 848—he said "I thought I had given an explanation of this. Do I understand you that this charge refers to the first transaction I had with Mr. Dawes?"—I said "Yes"—he was charged—he made no further reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. On July 3rd I arrested Moore and Collard in Paris, after following them from Antwerp and Brussels—the next arrest occurred after I arrive I back in England on July 13th—I arrested Haynes on September 10th—I had seen him from time to time at my office in the Old Jewry and at Messrs. Abrahams—I was present at several interviews; I was not preseut on July 8th—while these interviews were going on I believe the arrest of Haynes was under consideration—I heard his explanation at Messrs. Abrahams' office, that of the £200 he had given £50 to Moore, and a portion of the cheque in notes to Moore to be given to Oollard, and he also had £50, which was given for himself, also £50 for Mrs. Oollard, and he only gave her £15 out of that £50—the £50 was given to him for his services in the matter—Mr. Abrahams told him to speak the truth, and said he need not be afraid, because there was something previous where he had not spoken the truth—in another occasion at Messrs. Abrahams' Haynes corrected a statement of his evidence, I believe—he had made a statement of what evidence he could give, which was taken down in shorthand and afterwards transcribed and read to him, I believe, and he made a few corrections. (This statement was put in and read). I should think that was the ordinary statement a solicitor would take from a man he was going to call as a witness; it was taken on various occasions at several interviews—I believe Haynes was willing to make the statements; they were the results of answers to questions by Mr. Abrahams—he gave certain information which was found to be wrong, and then he corrected it; he gave an explanation as to where the money went to, and I had the notes traced—I thought he was speaking the truth till I traced the notes back—I was in communication with him most of the time; ho gave me his address—there was no concealment on his part—I have made inquiries as to his character—Mr. Holman, his employer, gives him a good character; he says he knew him when he was in very much better circumstances, and that he was once in business for himself, and he was once in partnership in Plymouth, and that he had known him for about twelve years as a very highly respectable man—he had been to see me so often that arresting him was an unpleasant duty.
Re-examined. At first I believed he was telling the truth—at the time Mr. Abrahams came into communication with him it was found he had been to Mr. Dawee, and in that way they came into communication with him—after he had made a statement I made inquiries and then traced the notes—I traced some of the notes through Holman and Co. to him—when
he made his first statement I had no knowledge that he had a banking account—it was not in consequence of his cashing the cheque on July 8th that he was arrested.
OUTRAM (Detective Inspector, City). I was present at Mr. Dawes' office when Haynes and Mr. Abrahams were there, and Mr. North part of the time—Mr. Abrahams asked Haynes if he had heard of Collard being in custody—I believe he said he had, and Mr. Abrahams wanted him to give his connection with Collard as regards the shares—before that I instructed Dowse to follow him when he left.
Cross-examined. I have seen Haynes several times with regard to this—he has always been ready to give the information he has been asked for—I saw him several times—I was only in Mr. Dawes' office part of the time when Mr. Abrahams asked Haynes questions—Haynes went away and was not arrested—he was not arrested until he had given all the information he could to the prosecution.
ARTHUR ABRABAMS . I am a member of the firm of Michael Abrahams, Sons and Co., of 8, Old Jewry, who have had the conduct of this case for the Consolidated Goldfields—I was engaged in making inquiries into this case on the instructions of Mr. Bedborough—I took steps to procure the extradition of Collard, and subsequently that of Moore—then Leach was arrested before Collard and Moore were brought over here—in connection with my inquiries I came into contact with Mr. Dawes, and through him learnt that Haynes was connected with this matter—on July 8th I saw Haynes at Mr. Dawes' office, and told him of Collard's arrest and that we found he (Haynes) had been dealing with some of these bearer warrants, and I told him he would have the opportunity of making a statement or not, and that if he made a statement it might be used against him; he must judge for himself—he said he would be perfectly willing to answer any questions—I asked him questions with regard to the case based on facts I already knew, and I took notes of his answers—I knew then that Collard had an account at the Middlesex Banking Company by tracing the cheque—I had found out Mr. Dawes through the cheque—I had had inspection of Collard's banking account—I had no knowledge then that Haynes had a banking account—I asked him on mention the £100 cheque at that interview; he told me he had only received the two £50 cheques, £50 for Moore and £50 for Mrs. Collard, and said he only received £50 himself, which he had received later when he sent the £1,000 remittance to Brussels—he said he had been promised £100, but he did not say he had received it—Outram followed him that day, and I know he drew £50 out of the bank that day—portions of a cheque for Moore and Mrs. Collard were traced to him, which he said he had handed over; it was not mentioned at the interview—at a later stage I found he had a banking account, and I got access to it, and found he had £ 100 beyond what he had told me—when Collard and Moore were brought over here a statement was made with regard to the case by Moore, which was afterwards tested.
Cross-examined. I did not intend to use Haynes' statement; I did not know what he was going to say when I cautioned him—he only came to me three times—he came eventually each time I sent for him—I took this proof from questions I put to him, and when I discovered further acts I telegraphed asking him to call, and told him he had not told me the truth—he did call, and I put the further facts to him, and he admitted
them, and then I made the interlineations in the proof; he never saw it—I made the proof as a note of what statements he had made; we had not then determined what we were going to do with him—he was not arrested till two months afterwards—I acted on advice of counsel in having him arrested—Haynes did not call and say there were some matters in his brief which were not quite correct and which he wanted to alter—he called about July 15th, when I sent him a telegram to come about further facts I had obtained—his answers satisfied me to such an extent that I did not have him arrested there and then; I should not necessarily have proceeded against him there and then if his answers had been unsatisfactory—I have here the short notes I made at the one interview.
Re-examined. It took two months to get Collard and Moore back to this country; they did not come back till September—proceedings had been taken against Leach, but they were dormant till then.
Witness for Haynes. FRANK HOLMAN. I am a shipowner, and a member of the firm of John Holman and Co., 50, Lime street—I have known Haynes-for ten or twelve years off and on; for twelve months he has been in my employment, he has been honest, industrious, steady and willing; we had no complaint to find with him. That is his general reputation so far as I know.
Cross-examined. His wages were £100 a year, or £2 a week; he was paid weekly, I think.
Re-examined. I believe he has been in better circumstances.
822. HENRY MOORE (34) and STEPHEN ANSCOMBE COLLARD (37) , Stealing 72 share warrants for 952 fully paid-up shares of the Simmer and Jack Gold Mining Company, belonging to the Consolidated Gold fields of South Africa. Collard
PLEADED GUILTY, Moore PLEALED GUILTY to Receiving the same.
COLLARD also PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 2 share warrants for 952 shares in the Simmer and Jack Gold Mining Company, belonging to the Consolidated Goldfields of South Africa, his employers.
COLLARD— Six Years' Penal Servitude. LEACH— Five Years' Penal Servitude. MOORE— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. HAYNES Three Years' Penal Servitude.
823. FRANCIS RICHARD KELLY (45) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a certificate for 100 shares of the Kleinfontein Gold Mining Company, Limited, the property of the Consolidate! Goldfields of South' Africa. Also to Forging and uttering a transfer of the said 100 shares.
He received a good character.— Four Months' Hard Labour. The GRAND JURY and the COURT highly commended the skill and judgment displayed by Inspectors Oldhampstead and Outram and the other officers in the case.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL, BODKIN, and LEYOESTER Prosecuted, and, MR. ROBERTS Defended Badger.
ARTHUR HARE (Police Inspector.) On September 23rd I was in possession of a warrant for the apprehension of Compton—I saw him at Vine Street Police-station—I read the warrant to him. which charges him with forging and uttering, knowing it to be forged, an endorsement on a banker's cheque—he said, "You mean the Pattersall cheque?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "That was Ashbolt's"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I signed the endorsement for Ashbolt at the instigation and in the presence of Mr. Badger; Mr. Callender was there"—he was charged—when the charge was read over to him. he said, "lam not guilty."
DAVID ARTHUR HUNTER PRICE . The end of last year I answered an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph for a partner—I subsequently called at 18, Warwick Street, Regent Street, and had a discussion with Badger with reference to the business he would want to go into, and ultimately agreed to join as a sleeping partner—for the purposes of the business I proposed to use the names of David Hunter, instead of my full name—I paid Badger £100, and also provided £25, with which, with Badger's £25, we opened an account at the Regent Street Branch of Parr's Bank—I knew Ashbolt was employed in the business, and that he had deposited £20—I knew after he had been a little time in the business in April he wanted his money back—I spoke to Badger about it—I then drew this cheque—it is signed by both partners on April 22nd—it is an open cheque to the order of Ashbolt—I left it with Badger to be handed to Ashbolt—the same day I paid £10 into the bank to put the account right—I gave no authority for the cheque to be dealt with—I presumed at the time it had been duly paid—I instituted criminal proceedings against Badger the end of August or in September—that was after it had come to my knowledge the cheque had been cashed at a public-house—I learned Pattersall had it about a week after June 15th, when the cheque was drawn.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBERTS. I adopted the name of Hunter because I was only a sleeping partner; I only had to sign cheques, and I thought it wise to have them signed by both partners—I did not wish my name to appear; it was simply a matter of convenience, so that people should not bother me on other business—I was not in any other business—I called at the office once a fortnight during the first part of the time, oftener in May and June—there was no new agreement—I thought it necessary to see how things were going on—I went practically every day towards the end of June; I had no duties—the agreement was in writing—there was no arrangement; the cheque was not to be paid unless Ashbolt pressed for it—I said to Badger the cheque would be paid at once when he called—I learned it had been dishonoured the week following its negotiation; I learned of the forgery a few weeks after Badger was arrested—I did not know Ashbolt's name had been signed on the cheque; I saw it lying in the drawer a mouth after it was drawn—I learned Ashbolt had not the money within a few weeks of its being drawn—I spoke to Badger about it—he said he had paid another mans account with the money in the bank, and that he must pay it; that was before I saw the cheque lying in the drawer—it was not draw" out of the cheque-book—I did not look to see if it was an open cheque—I may have paid the men occasionally—I received £35 on account of the business—Badger was away from
about 20th June till some time in August—I paid some wages wiih the £35 instead of putting it in the bank.
Cross-examined by Compton. You were a clerk, and bound to obey orders.
WILLIAM ASHBOLT . I am not in any occupation—in January last I got an answer, signed James Badger, to my advertisement in the Daily Telegraph—I went to 18, Warwick Street, and saw Badger there—in conversation he asked me to deposit £20 as security of my good faith—I subsequently paid two £5 notes and £10 in gold, and entered his employment—after I had seen something of the place, I desired to leave, and get my deposit back—other money was due to me for wages, money lent, and so on—I never received this cheque—I never authorized any person to use my name—this is not my endorsement.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBERTS. My duties commenced on 23rd January—Compton came, I think, two or three weeks afterwards—we were intimate friends as clerks, that is all—I first heard about the endorsement on the cheque about a month after I left, when I went to try to get some money—Compton communicated to me that they would pay me as soon as they could—he told me the circumstances under which the cheque had been signed—he said a Mr. Callender had asked for a cheque—I do not remember whether Callender'a cheque was dishonoured—he said the cheque had been paid into the bank by Pattersall—he said Mr. Hunter had been up, and they had made out a cheque, and when it was properly signed I could have it—I left on the 6th April—I continued to call some time afterwards—about two months—during the two months I went into the country—I never said anything to this effect to Compton: "I am glad it is of use to you"—I gave no authority to Badger at any time to endorse my name, nor put the money to other purposes—I got some of my money from Badger.
FREDERICK HARDING . I have been employed as a potman—I was formerly a private in the Hussars—after completing my service I was looking out for a situation—I am now a night watchman—I have served twelve years in the army—I answered an advertisement, and I went to Warwick Street and saw Badger—I told him I had come in answer to the advertisement—he said I would have to deposit £20 as a guarantee of good faith, which I did—after I had been there a little time I wanted' my money back—I pressed for payment——I called very frequently—I got the lot back in small sums—when I went for the last £2 I saw both prisoners, and this cheque was produced to me—I told Badger it was not "backed"—he asked me to get it changed for him—I handed it back, and one of them, I think Compton, "backed" it—Compton then went with me to Pattersall's at the Cross Keys public house in the Blackfriars Road—I saw Mr. Patters-ill; the cheque was not changed then, and I was told to come back—Compton waited outside—I went back later, about six o'clock, and got £10 from Mr. Pattersall—I took the £10 to Warwick Street, and gave it to Badger in Compton's presence—he gave me £2 out of the cheque—that is how I got the balance.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBERTS. It was about 2 p.m. on Saturday when I was handed the cheque—I saw the name on the back. "WM. Ashbolt"—Mr. Callender was in the office—I knew Ashbolt—I knew nothing about cheques, only that they hail to be endorsed before I could change them—I knew Ashbolt was not there—I did not ask what authority
Badger had to endorse cheques—I told Pattersall Badger had sent me to get the cheque changed, as he had no money to pay the men with.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBERTS. I changed the cheque because I knew MR. HARDING.
Re-examined, I presented the cheque twice, and it was returned both times.
Compton's defence was that he was merely a clerk, and did what he was told.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROBERTS submitted, on the authority of the Queen v. Martin in 4-Law Journal, vol. 49, 1876, that there was no case against Badger, as the cheque was cashed in consequence of Pattersall's confidence in Harding, who got it changed. The COURT over-ruled the objection, the cheque being the property of Ashbolt, whose name was endorsed. Badger asked permission to state in defence that with Mr. Price's consent the cheque was to be held back till there was money to meet it; that Ashbolt did not call till after the funds had been exhausted in paying Calender's wages, &c, and he was left without money, and had been eight weeks in the hospital.
BADGER GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
No evidence was offered against Compton.
COMPTON NOT GUILTY .
826. HUGH MAURICE PUGH (23) and WILLIAM JONES PUGH (22), Unlawfully obtaining from Henry Sagar £500 and certain jewellery by false pretences, with intent to defraud; Other Counts for Conspiring to defraud Henry Sagar
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY, BIRON, and MOSES Prosecuted, and Mr. RANDOLPH Defended.
During the progress of the Case the prisoners stated, in the hearing of the JURY, that they desired to
PLEADED GUILTY , and the JURY there upon found them
HUGH MAURICE PUGH— Fifteen Month's Hard Labour WM JONES PUGH— Twelve Months' Hard Labour..
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 29th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
JOHN BROWN . I am a labourer, of Crossingham's lodging-house, Dorset-street—about twelve on Saturday, 5th inst., I was crossing Dorset-street to go home—I had had two or three drinks, but was perfectly well—as I was stepping off the pavement I was seized by the
throat by Copeland—I recognized him when I got loose—I ran after him—when I was seized, somebody put his hand in my pocket—I had a two-shilling piece, three separate shillings, and three-pence bronze—I was caught by the arm like that—I was hurt in the struggle, I wanted to get a grasp of him, but could not succeed, I was hurting myself and goggling in my throat—the prisoners kept hold of me till they had rifled my pockets, then I was let free, and I made for Copeland, but Smith struck me a heavy blow on the left cheek, which hurt my eye—that knocked me down—then two of my nephews came up and a policeman, and I was taken into the lodging-house—I made a complaint to the constable—then I discovered my money was gone—the constables afterwards brought me to the station—I charged the prisoners—I am certain they are the men—I had not seen them before—I had been at Mile End concreting a garden. I am a bricklayer.
Cross-examined by Copeland. I could not call out, I was pinned by the throat—as I was let tree I recognised two old men from the lodging-house—two constables came to the lodging-house, and said, "We want you to come to the station, we have got these two prisoners who knocked you about"—I did not tell the constables about the robbery.
FRANK BEVIS (Sergeant 124 H). Shortly after 12, on 5th October, I was on duty in Dorset Street—I was with John Smith, constable 305—I saw the prisoners in Dorset Street, about 50 yards away, take hold of the prosecutor outside a shop—I saw the prosecutor fall to the ground—we then went towards them, and the prisoners went into McCarthy's shop—both officers were in uniform—I followed the prosecutor into the lodging-house, and had a conversation with him—I came out and told the other constable to detain the men—I said I should take them into custody for assaulting and robbing a man of 5s. 3d.—Smith said, when taken into custody, "Do you think I would rob an old man like him? but there, if I get a drag I must put up with it"—the prosecutor was not then in sight—we went back to the prosecutor, and had some difficulty in getting him from the lodging-house; the prisoners' confederates tried to keep the prosecutor there, so as not to prosecute—I searched them; on Copeland I found Is. 10 1/2 d., and on (Smith 1s. 6d. silver and 4 1/2 d. bronze—I did not know any robbing had taken place at first, but thought it my duty to keep observation.
Cross-examined by Copeland, We two constables had been together five minutes—our duty was to be on that beat together—I saw the prosecutor fall—the struggle lasted about half a minute—it was on the pavement—you went in the eating-house—you walked away from us.
Re-examined. The prosecutor received a blow on the right side of his face, and was covered in mud.
JOHN SMITH (305 H). Shortly after midnight on Saturday, 5th inst. I was with Bevis—I saw the prisoners struggling with the prosecutor, who was knocked down—he was taken into the lodging-house by some of his friends—the prisoners went into McCarthy's eating-house—I kept observation on the shop while Bevis went into the lodging-house—he came out as the prisoners left the shop, and stood in the roadway, and said in their hearing, "Datain them"—I detained them—I told them I wanted them—they said, "We have done nothing"—then the nephew came out, and said. "Hold them; we want them; they have knocked the man down, and robbed him of 5s, 3d."—I told Copeland I should take
him into custody on the charge of robbing this man of 5s. 3d.—I made a note at the time—he said, "We can't get more than a stretch"—that is twelve months—a "drag" is three mouths—I searched him—I found three separate shillings in his pocket—the prisoners were about two minutes in the eating-house, not time to get refreshments—a man and woman were in the shop.
Cross-examined by Copeland. We constables came from the bottom of Dorset Street—we were 45 to 50 yards off when we saw the scuffle—it continued 15 to 30 seconds, both in the road and on the pavement—you walked into the shop—that would becoming towards us.
By the COURT. The lodging-house is almost facing the shop—it would be difficult to say accurately at that time of night whether they were coming towards us or going from us.
GUILTY . SMITH then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at the Thames Police Court in April, 1892.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes .
COPELAND was further charged with a conviction on 23rd September, 1893, to which he declined to plead.
HENRY HANCOCK (Detective H). I was present at Guildhall Justice Boom on 23rd September, 1893, when Copeland was convicted in the name of John Merson, and sentenced tosix months' hard labour for stealing a gold watch and chain from the person—he was concerned with three others.
GUILTY.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour, and Twenty Strokes with the Cat.
MR. MOORE Prosecuted.
JOHN HOBSON . I am a labourer, of 3, Duke Street, Aldgate—on 5th September I was in Warner Street, Clerkenwell, about 11.30 p.m.—the prisoner, with Alice Sims, whom I know, stopped me and asked if I passed a remark about his young woman, Alice Sims, when I was drunk, and I said, "Yes"—Sims asked me if I had said I saw her going home with a young man, and I said, "Yes"—it was no business of mine—she got out of temper and was about to strike me, I put up my hand to stop her—the prisoner hit me in the eye with something—my eye—bled—I put up my handkerchief and walked away, but as the eye kept on bleeding I went to the hospital, where they told me my eye was stabbed, and took it out—Sims did not say, "Why have you taken my character away?" she said it was not true—I did not say, "Goaway, or I'll kick your guts in"—that is all invention—I have heard she gave evidence before the Magistrate, but what she said I do not know—I did not try to hit the prisoner with a knife first—I had no knife in my pocket—I did not then carry a knife—Alice was carrying a baby—she passed it to her sister—I had simply said I had seen Sims out with another chap.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I have been convicted of wounding a man's arm, it was not broken—I hit him with my hand—that was not my first conviction—I have been convicted of felony, attempting to pick pockets—that was five years ago—I can not tell you how long ago the next was—I have had more than half-a-dozen convictions—I can not say how many, I have not kept account—I hare never been charged
with using a knife—my last imprisonment was three months—I had been out of Wandsworth prison about twelve hours when this happened—the prisoner was very angry—I should expect him to be—I did not run after a man with a knife on Monday—I had some drink, and the man pulled out a chopper to me, which the constable can prove, who saw the chopper in the man's hand—I had this knife then in my pocket—I had not a knife in my hand in the presence of Warder Turrell.
HUGH EDWARD WINGFIELD . Last month I was house-physician at the Royal Free Hospital, Gray's Inn Road—on September 6th the prosecutor came and made a complaint that he had received an injury to his eye—he had a small recent superficial wound to the left of the eye on the temple with no distinctive marks about it—besides, on the left eyelid were two superficial wounds, a small cut one-eighth of an inch deep, and a wound parallel with the edge of the lid about an inch in length, completely cutting through the lid, an extremely clean cut—in the eye itself was a wound which corresponded with the second wound—the danger depended upon the depth of the wound, which it was impossible to determine without an operation by removing the eye at once—that was done—even then it was impossible to say how deep the wound had penetrated—it would endanger the man's life if it penetrated the bone—the wounds must have been done with a very sharp instrument.
FREDERICK CLEVELAND (Detective Sergeant G). On 6th September I, with another officer, arrested the prisoner—I told him he would be charged with stabbing a man called Jocko in the eye—that is Hobson's nickname—the prisoner said, "All right, I suppose I shall have to go through it"—on the way to the station he said he Should not have kicked my missus, and I should not have done it—at the station he said he would tell the whole truth, and make a statement—I told him whatever he said I should take down in writing and use as evidence against him—he made this statement and signed it—"Police Station, King's Cross Road, September 6th, 1895, George Dutton says: I live at 10, Peter's Lane, Cow Cross Street, and am a printer's labourer. About 11.15 p.m. on the 5th instant I was in Great Bath Street, Clerkenwell, in company with a man called Jocko, sister Kate, and George Wilson. I asked Jocko why he should take a girl's character away, meaning Alice Sims. He said, 'She is nothing but a whore.' Then Alice Sims came up, carrying a baby. She said to Jackot 'What do you mean by taking my character away like this?' Jocko replied, "Go away you f—whore, or I will kick your guts out.' At the same time I went to stop him from kicking her, and he made a blow at me with a knife, which I stopped, and I struck him in the eye with a knife, which I threw away"
Witnesses for the defence.
ALICE RICHIE . I am known as Alice Sims—on September 5th, about 11.15 p.m., I was with the prisoner at the top of Great Bath Street—when Hobson came up I told him I had heard he had said something about me—he called me a f—whore and said he would kick my f—guts in, and made a kick at me—Dutton stopped him—he drew a knife at Dutton and missed him, and Dutton struck him with a knife—I saw the knife in Hobson's hand—he took it from his pocket.
Cross-examined by MR. MOORE. I gave evidence at the Police-court in tavour of the defendant.
when the row took place—I saw Dutton and Hobson standing and talking together—Alice Richie went up to Hobson and asked the reason why he took her character away—Hobson called her beastly names, and said he would kick her f—g guts out, and made a kick at her—Dutton went to stop him, when he pulled a knife from his pocket to strike the prisoner, but missed him, when the prisoner took a knife out of his pocket and struck Hobson.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CALTHROP Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
ALICE FITZWATER . I live at 18, Talbot Road, Twickenham—on October 14th, between seven and eight p.m., I was coming along the Staines Road from Han worth to Twickenham, and on the right-hand side of the road—a man came out of the ditch on the other side of the road—he came behind me and threw me down—the night was very dark—I was almost insensible—when I came to I felt the man feeling in my pockets—he took my purse, which contained 5s., and two gold rings—I had never seen him before—the prisoner is the man—he said he would have my money or my life—I said he should not have either—I struggled with him a little while, and scratched his face—I could not speak for a minute; when I could, I called to two boys; the man stood back by the side of the fence—I heard some singing, and the boys fetched two young men, one of whom took off his coat and went to the man—I am sure he had not left me—the man was wearing the same white clothes he has now—I scratched him on the left side of his face—the young man asked the prisoner what he had been doing—I think he said "Nothing"—he asked the way to the Grotto—after that he ran away towards the hospital bridge; it was very dark, I could not see whether he turned the corner—I was carried home—I was sent for to the Police-station—I identified the prisoner from 15 or 16 men—he had either a knife or a razor in his hand.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had the knife or razor in his hand before, and when Gatfield came up, I asked the boys to go home and fetch my father—the man was kneeling alongside, leaning over me—he let me go—a cross-road is near the spot—there are two or three gates near on the other side of the road, not exactly opposite to where I was lying—someone came behind and threw me down—he remained all the time—no woman was there—the boys are here—I was bruised down my side—no knife was used upon me—the man held the knife up and said he would use it, but he did not—one of the Gatfields took off his coat, not both—I recognised the prisoner before the Gatfields struck a match.
Re-examined. The Gatfields came up after he had knocked me down and robbed me; then the other people came up—when the match was struck the boys had gone to give information.
WALTER GATFIELD . I live at Hanworth—I am a labourer—on October 14th, about 8 p.m., I was coming from Hanworth to Twickenham—three boys came to me and made a statement—I went up to the prisoner who was standing two or three yards from the prosecutrix who was lying on the ground—and asked him what he was doing—he did not answer me at first—I struck two or three matches, when he walked up to me and asked me the way to the Grotto—he had a knife or razor in
his hand—I looked at him when I lit the match—I was with my brother.
Cross-examined. There are six cross-roads about fifty yards away—two girls were witn me—the boys came to me close against the corner of the road—I took off my coat and rolled up my sleeves as I was coming up to, the prisoner—my brother did the same—the boys ran away—the night was dark—I held the match to his face—the prosecutrix did not complain, she could not speak—I do not know where the Grotto is—the knife looked a lot bigger than the one produced.
ALBERT GATFIELD . I am the brother of the last witness—I live at Hanworth—I was with him coming from Hanworth near Lady Freke's place—some boys made a statement, in consequence of which I ran up to see what was the matter with the young woman—I saw the prisoner standing about three yards from her—my brother struck a match and asked the prisoner what he was doing—he would not answer—then he wanted to know the way to the Grotto and ran away towards the hospital bridge—we went to the girl's home and to the Police-station.
Cross-examined. We went towards the prisoner with our coats off.
JOHN NAPIER (608 T). On October 14th I received information, in consequence of which I went in pursuit of the prisoner—I saw him on the Saturday and jumped off my horse and questioned him—he made rambling statements, first that he came from Teddington, then that he came from Twickenham, and later that he came by Hounslow—I told him he answered a description I had received, and I should take him back to the station to have him identified—he said "All right, I will go with you, constable"—on searching him I found the knife produced, a pawnticket, fourpence in bronze, and a purse which I showed to the prosecutrix—it is not hers.
Cross-examined. The prisoner lives at Teddington—I found he had taken the tram from Teddington to Twickenham, and walked to Hounslow for work—if he had come by the cross-roads he would have come a long way round—I do not know him.
WILLIAM HOLLER (Police Sergeant). I took the charge against the prisoner—I cautioned him—he said, "It is all false evidence"—I noticed a considerable quantity of fresh blood on the left side of his cheek and on the back of his left hand.
Cross-examined. I have known him some time—he bears a very good character—I have been there six years and ten mouths—I went and saw one of the boys named Clark—I did not call them at the Police-court.
Evidence for the defence.
LOUIS FRENCH . On October 4th I was with two other little boys named Clark, going towards Hanworth—there are cross-roads—I saw Miss Fitzwater, who I knew, lying on the path—no one was beside her—she said, "Take me home"—she looked frightened—we asked her to sit up, she-said, "I can't"—we walked to the cross-road, and I saw a man who turned out to be the prisoner, when a match was struck in his face—he asked us to go to the Grotto—that is not so far as twice the length of this court—I did not see anything in his hand till the Gatfields struck a match, and then I think I saw something, but I cannot say what
it was—he was then standing about three yards from Miss Fitzwater—both the Gatfields took off their coats.
Cross-examined. I did not see who the man was at first, but it was the man I saw afterwards—neither of the Gatfields said anything to the prisoner—he did not say "What are you doing?"—The prisoner said nothing; he did not run away, he walked towards where he came from.
CHARLES CLARK . I am fourteen years old and live at Hanworth—on October 14th I was with my brother and French, and came across Miss Fitzwater, who was lying on the ground—I did not know her—no one was near her—it is not true that anyone was kneeling by her side—she looked as if she was coming round from a faint—she told us to take her home—I went to the cross-road and saw a man, I cannot say that it was the prisoner—he asked me the way to the Grotto—I then spoke to the two Gatfields, and they went towards where Miss Fitzwater was and took off their coats—I saw the prisoner standing there—I do not know whether the man I saw standing by the young lady was the same man who I had spoken to at the cross-roads—it was a very dark night—a policeman came to see me, and I made a statement to him—I was not called at the Police-court.
Cross-examined. The Gatfields struck a match at the cross-roads and said to the man there, "Let us have a look at you." I did not hear whether he answered.
----CLARK. One night in October I was with my brother and French in the Staines Road and saw Miss Fitzwater lying across the path—I knew her—she asked us to take her home—she looked as if she had been fainting—I saw a man at the cross-roads—I did not see anything in his hand, not even when a match was struck—I saw the two Gatfields take their coats off—the police came to my house, and I told them what I knew—I was not summoned to the Police-court.
By the COURT. It was 50 yards from where I saw the young lady lying on the footpath, to where I saw the man—the man went to where she was standing under the fence—we went back with him—we told him that we had found a girl lying there.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 30th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
Mr. CHARLES MATHEWS prosecuted, and MR. RANDOLPH defended.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. BODKIN and HEWITT Prosecuted, and Mr. HUTTON Defended.
Cross-examined. I had no conversation with him—he paid 2d. for
the coal—I did not notice that he was strange in manner—I had no opportunity of noticing.
CHARLES SUTTON . I live at 7, Hope Road, Ealing, with, my parents—I am ten years old—the prisoner lived in two rooms in the same house with his wife and two children. On Saturday afternoon, September 28th, about one, I saw him—he had the boy in his arms—by his back-door—later on, about three, I saw him walking along carrying a parcel—it might be four—I did not speak to him.
SUSANNAH SUTTON . I live at 7, Hope Road—the prisoner lived in the same house—on September 28th, about a quarter to 10, I left home to go to work—I returned at a quarter to five—I am not aware whether he was then in the house or not.
SUSAN JACKSON . I am the prisoner's mother. I live at 21, Grove Place, Ealing; he and his wife had been lodging at 7, Hope Road for about six weeks—he has been in the Post Office regularly for about thirteen years—he was in the Post Office at Ealing; part of that time he was at Acton—he left the service about two years ago, since then he has not been in any work—while he was out of work his wife had another child, Stanley Victor; he was born about six months ago—his wife went out as a charwoman—that was the only support of the family, which consisted of the boy, Victor, and two other children, a little girl of five and a boy of two years and a-half—they were very often in want; I helped them all I could, and I believe the neighbours were very kind to them at times—they were in dreadful distress; they got rid of everything they had—for the last twelve months the prisoner has been in very low spirits, he could not tell what would happen; they have often cried over each other, and wanted to know where the next loaf would come from—on September 27th he said the neighbours had talked about it, and said that he ought to go to work instead of his wife—I said, "Never mind, you are not able to work"—on Saturday, the 28th, I was called to the house by his wife and searched the house; I asked if she had searched the bed, she said, "No"—then, she screamed and said she had seen the boy's head—I screamed and became unconscious, and the next I saw was Dr. Brough.
Cross-examined. The prisoner used to took after the children while his wife was out at work—he fed the baby and looked after the others as well as he could—he was very kind to them, and especially fond of the baby; he always said it would not live, and if he was gone there would be nobody to look after it, he would take it with him—the prisoner's father died of diabetes, and his father's sister died of the same complaint—there are two relatives in lunatic asylums, one a cousin, and the other his grandmother; she died in the asylum—I always thought the prisoner had his father's complaint—he has been very peculiar at times—he has occasionally absented himself for two or three days; he has been very melancholy and peculiar, but not sufficient to lock him up; he has been getting worse and worse the last twelve months—he is a very kind husband and father, and a very good son.
Re-examined. He has not done anything bad, but very low dull, and said his head ached—he seemed very strange on the Friday
night—it has been when they were very badly off that he absented himself—he wandered away from home, and nobody knew where he was; he said he had been sleeping in the fields; once he was away for three weeks—he has never been treated for diabetes—I always wanted him to be examined by doctors, but from extreme poverty he let every thing go on one side—he has been very ill at times.
By the COURT. I am a monthly nurse—my husband died of diabetes—he was insane when he died—the prisoner left the Post-office because he wandered away and was absent from duty, and they gave him the sack—he has not been to any infirmary or hospital; they kept it to themselves too much; they might have had relief from the parish, but they would not—at least he did not do so—if it had not been for the neighbours last winter they must have perished—his uncle lives at Eltham—he wandered there and came back—my father died at home, he was not bad enough to be put away, he was ill altogether five years; he was not out of his mind, but he used to say very strange things; he said he should make away with himself, and if he hung himself I should have to cut him down—I kept him at home five years; my son helped.
LEWIS DRANSFIELD BROUGH . I am a medical practitioner, at 49, Uxbridge Road. Ealing—on the evening of September 28th I was called to 7, Hope Road, and between the bed and mattrees I found the dead body of a child, stretched out, with one arm by its side, the feather bed over it, and on the bed was a bolster, with another child asleep on it—an apron was tied round the mouth and nose of the deceased child, tied with a single hitch at the back of the head, fairly tight—there was a slight bruise over the abdomen, the pressure of the bed clothes would account for that—there were no marks of where the thing was tied—I locked the door, took the key, and gave information to a constable—I subsequently made a post-mortem examination—I found the left hand clenched; the internal organs were healthy, there was no disease anywhere—in my opinion death was due to suffocation; either the bed clothes or the apron would account for it, but whether before or alter death I could not say—I have known the prisoner slightly, I attended his father a good many years, also his wife—the father suffered from diabetes for six or seven years—I don't think I can say he was insane—I think that a child of diabetes parents would be more likely to be insane than the child of healthy parents; it would be more prone to have its mind affected—the father, to my knowledge, had diabetes eight or nine years, and it was hereditary in the family.
Cross-examined. It may exist for years before it is discovered unless it is properly looked for—I knew directly I saw him what he was suffering from—I think he died about three years ago—during the last few months of his life he was excited—he would sit by the fire and take no notice of anybody, being perfectly blind; he was not insane; I think he was depressed, but not insane—children of parents suffering from diabetes are not frequently of weak intellect; sometimes they are more prone than healthy children—the prisoner's father was a boot-maker, and also a postman for some years.
me a key, with which I opened the front door—I saw the dead body of a child on the bed—after that I saw Dr. Brough—I returned to the house, and on the bed where the child was lying I found this apron folded as a scarf—the centre was damp and moist.
ALFRED NAVES (26 R). On September 29th I went to New Eltham on instructions about 10 p.m. to make inquiries—I saw the prisoner leaving the White Hart public-house at Eltham—I called him by name—he said "Yes, what do you want?"—I said, "Is your name Henry Dracott Jackson?"—he replied "Yes"—I asked him if he had come from Ealing—he said "Yes"—I told him I should take him into custody for the murder of his child at Ealing on the 28th ult.—on the way to the station he said, "Have they had an inquest on the child?"—I said I did not know—I cautioned him that whatever statement he made would be used as evidence against him—he said, "That is all right," and "Has my wife committed suicide yet?"—I said I could not say—he said, "Poor girl, I expected to hear she had before this; she has been a good wife to me, and has kept me ever since I came out of the Post Office" two and a half years ago—I asked him when he left Ealing—he said, "On Saturday," and that he had made his way through London to Drury Lane, where he slept that night, and he came to Eltham that Sunday afternoon—he asked if Sergeant Fullbrook was going to fetch him—I said I could not say—he said he was well known at Ealing; that he had pawned a parcel at Ealing for 4s., and "I am a b—fool for not being further away than this; I had plenty of chance of doing so; my wife will not get home till seven o'clock"—he was detained at Eltham that night.
AMOS ATKINSON (Detective Sergeant X). On September 30th I saw the prisoner at Eltham Police-station at 8.45 a.m.—I said, "Is your name Henry Dracott Jackson?"—he said, "Yes"—I said "I am a police officer; you will be taken to Ealing, and charged with murdering your son on Saturday night by placing him between the bed and the mattress at 7, Hope Road"—he looked at me, as I thought, somewhat strange, so I said, "Do you understand what I say?"—he said, "Yes"—I subsequently took him to Eltham Railway Station, two miles away, and while waiting for the train he said, "Is my wife alive?"—I said "Yes, she was yesterday; I saw her." He said, "I thought she would have committed suicide when she found the baby dead. I picked the poor little sod, because he was the easiest to get out of the way. It was time I made a move, the neighbours and my wife were always at me about getting work"—I took him to Ealing, he was charged.
ALFRED NEWMAN (Inspector X). On the morning of September 30th I took the charge against the prisoner, and after reading it over to him I said, "Do you understand?"—he (said "Yes, I understand"—the reason I asked the question was he appeared dazed.
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I am medical officer at Holloway Prison, Holloway—I saw the prisoner on his admission into the prison on September 30th—he did not appear to be out of his mind; he looked very much as he does now—not in consequence of his appearance, but in consequence of his crime—I admitted him into the hospital—I had received information as to what he had done, and put him into the infirmary to ascertain the state of his mind—I have since kept him under
my observation—I believe him to be of sound mind at the present time. He has shown no regret for having committed the act, and has hardly appeared to realise the position in which he is placed, or the gravity of the crime which he has committed—I questioned him about the crime, and he told me that at the time he committed the act he seemed to hear a voice, not human, telling him to do the deed, and he felt he must kill the child; and after he had killed it, he felt a satisfaction at having killed it—I was informed he had been out of work for some years—that has helped me to form an opinion—in a person disposed to insanity that would be a factor or predisposing cause—I have not come across any cases of children of diabetic parents being prone to insanity, but it is stated both by Dr. Maudsley and Dr. Savage, two of the greatest authorities on mental diseases, that the children of the people who have suffered from diabetes are very prone to become insane—in my opinion on September 28th he was suffering from temporary insanity, with homicidal impulse—I think at the time he did not know the nature and quality of the act he was committing—the mother of the girl, who is in an asylum, and the father of this man having suffered from diabetes, affect my opinion in that way—diabetes is not a common disease; I could not tell you whether it is hereditary, I have not met with such cases.
Cross-examined. Mental worry and want of food would be predisposing causes to insanity—he is a weakly man, very thin, evidently from defective physique—he has not improved in prison to the extent I expected; he is less in weight—I cannot see why he should not get work, there is no actual disease about him that I can discover, his condition being more from starvation than anything else—there is nothing to justify from my knowledge and observation the view that he is out of his mind now.
Witness for the Defence.
GEORGE ALFRED BENNETT , M.D. I practice at 6C, Broadway, Ealing—I am a member of the Royal College of Surgeons and Licentiate of the Society of Apothecaries—I have known the prisoner quite seven years—I have attended him on several occasions—he left the Post Office about two years and a-half ago—his general and physical health has been good—I had one attendance about four or five years ago, in which he showed symptoms of melancholy—he used to sit still, and if spoken to became very irritable—it was not laziness—he would sit over the fire for hours—I watched him—those mental symptoms passed away—he roused himself, and was able to resume his duty—he shortly afterwards had the same symptoms—they were two sequences—he was off duty—I have not seen much alteration in his mind since he left the Post Office in the two or three times he has been to see me—I saw him last to speak to him for any length of time at the end of the summer of 1893—he was very depressed, and was anxious to get some work—he was physically weaker, and much deteriorated—I never regarded his intellect as quite up to the average—I have seen him in the streets—the last time I saw him to speak to him was the night of the Post Office dinner, about last Christmas—he looked very poor, and half starved—I have not come across cases of insanity in children of parents who have suffered from diabetes, but I have read it in medical books—I have heard what Dr. Walker has said—I agree with him.
Cross-examined. He was a postman when I saw him five years ago—I tried to rouse him—he was depressed in spirits—he could give no reason—he was not then in want—I attended him through his illness, and twice in the intervals of about ten days—he seemed pretty right in the interval, and went about his duty in the ordinary way—as he did after the second attack, till he was dismissed—from what I heard I thought it was a similar attack this time, but I did not attend him.
Re-examined. After he left the Post Office I continually noticed his change for the worse.
GUILTY of the act, but not responsible. —To be confined as a criminal lunatic during Her Majesty's pleasure.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, October 30th and 31st, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. J. P. GRAIN and BIRON Prosecuted, and Mr. BIGHAM, Q C, Defended.
WILLIAM NORTON . I am a clerk in the London Bankruptcy Court. I produce the file of the proceedings in the prisoner's bankruptcy, showing that a receiving order was made against him in 1894, and that he was adjudicated bankrupt in 1895—he filed his sworn statement of affairs on February 13th, 1895. Mr. Harper had been appointed trustee on January 12th.
CHARLES LEGGATT BARBER . I am one of the official shorthand writers to the Bankruptcy Court. I took shorthand notes of the prisoner's public examination on March 12th and 17th; a true and correct copy is on the file.
NEVILLE REID . I am senior partner in Reid, Pye, and Campbell, of Mark Lane, agents to W. J. Graham, of Oporto, large wine dealers—I have known the prisoner a number of years in the wine trade—I introduced him to Messrs. Watson, whisky merchants, and he was their agent up to his failure—he came on March 29th and told us he had bought Barker's Distillery, and should have a large sum of money to find to pay for it; he had proposed that we should assist him by making him a loan, and he would give us in return a considerable order for Graham's port—the question of the loan was referred to our principal, and declined—he came back in May, and from that time various samples came in, all of port, and on or about August 25th he gave this order: "8 pipes 8 hogsheads, W.B.S." signed Austin—W.B.S. means, Wm. Baker & Son—the port arrived about September 19th, and we sent this letter with the bill of lading, it is a lithographic form—a bill at twelve months was originally drawn in one amount, but at the prisoner's request it was divided into three bills, making £812 10s. altogether—before the bankruptcy proceedings I had no knowledge that our port had been handed to Blumenthal or Westell—I asked him whether he was in possession of the distillery, as I understood he wanted the wine, for the distillery; he said that he was—the bills have not been met, and we have proved in the Bankruptcy Court, and recovered nothing.
Cross-examined. We had done business with him perhaps fifteen or eighteen years before—sending him samples of port was not doing
business—we were ready to do business with him on credit—he said that if we assisted him he should be able to give us orders—negotiations for the sale of port went on in May—I do not know that he was not carrying on the business of a distiller in May, June, and July, and I do not even know that he bought the distillery, but I know he sold it, he bought it at some time—Goldsmith is a dealer in port, not a shipper.
FREDERICK BLUMENTHAL . I am a stationer of 3, Lambeth Hill, City, I have known the prisoner about three years—I was introduced to him by Alfred Moore, and have made advances to him for wines and spirits, and discounted bills for him—about December 20th I advanced him £500 by this cheque (produced) on the security of a bill of lading for port wine—this is it to the best of my knowledge—I did not take out warrants for it, I kept the bill of lading; I afterwards received in exchange for it warrants for some hogsheads of brandy, that was the only security I had—I subsequently realised it and handed in a document showing what the proceeds were.
Cross-examined. My deposition before the Magistrate is substantially true.
THOMAS PALLISTER . I represent Messrs. Brown and Panks, wine merchants, of 16, Mark Lane—the prisoner was a customer of mine—in November, 1894, I delivered to him on contract forty hogsheads of brandy. I delivered the warrants on the British and Foreign wharf.
JOHN LOVEL PANKS . I am a partner in Brown and Panks, 16, Mark Lane, we are creditors for £1,200 or £1,300—I was on the committee—four warrants for brandy were delivered to the prisoner, which were paid for to the extent of two-fifths of the forty hogsheads—the contract was in May, 1894; this is it, it is in the form of a letter (produced)—it was under that contract that the forty hogsheads were delivered—the invoice of the brandy would be £2,500, but £1,000 was paid for, because it was deducted from the champagne, so that left two-fifths—I paid £2,000 that day.
Cross-examined. I sold him this quantity of brandy and bought of him a quantity of champagne—it was what we call a contrary transaction, I buy and I sell—it was entered into more than six months before his bankruptcy; he was, of course, bound to take the brandy, but he might have used it for his own purposes—he might have had it all at once, subject to the delivery of the champagne—when the champagne was to be delivered in May there was so much short that he could not deliver, and it was arranged that I was not to deliver the brandy till he delivered the champagne; he was generous in the matter, and it was arranged that the whole should be kept by me—on the day he is supposed to have done something wrong he came to me for forty hogsheads of brandy, and delivered me as much champagne, part of the contract as I required—he certainly did not obtain the brandy fraudulently. (MR. GRAIN here stated that he would withdraw Counts 15 and 16.)
WALTER SYMONDS . I am a wine and spirit merchant of 28, Mark Lane—I had had dealings with the prisoner, and on October 12th, 1894, he came to my office and told me he wanted to borrow some money—I said that I was not a money-lender, I had enough to do to supply my customers—he said he could give me a good order, and that he had bought a distillery for £50,000 and had paid a great portion of the money
for it—I consulted with my manager, and agreed to lend him the money he would require, and sold him some goods at the same time—he said that his position was first rate, and he should be all right—the advance was to be made by his acceptance, and I gave him this cheque for £739 7s. 11d., which was paid by my bankers—the order he gave me was for four hogsheads and four quarter-casks and four cases of sherry, total £220—that was added to my cheque advance and the whole drawn against—I handed him two delivery orders for the port and sherry—those bills have not been paid—he came again on the 2nd, and said if I would discount a bill drawn on Mr. Abbot he would give me a further order; I knew Mr. Abbot, he confirmed what he had said about the distillery—I discounted Mr. Abbot's bill and he met it duly—on that occasion the prisoner gave me an order for four quarter-casks of brandy, price £422 11s. 6d., and a pipe of port—I have not been paid—I am a creditor for £1,300 9s.
Cross-examined. My business with him was advancing money on bills; I do not call that taking bills—when he brought bills to discount I said, "Very well; you must buy something from me"—I have said, "After his over-persuasion I made it a condition of discounting the bills that he should give me an order"—I charged him 5 per cent, for discounting, and made 1s. a gallon profit on the sale of the brandy; there was ten years' interest on it, and the dock charges—we are not anxious to sell foreign brandies—he came again on November 2nd, and the same thing happened—he came two days before Christmas, and wanted me to lend him £500; he was a stranger to me then—I may have made a mistake at the Mansion House; I was very ill at the time; I sold him some wine in December, 1893, and in the spring of 1894 my manager called my attention to it in a sale catalogue.
Re-examined. When he said he was all right about the distillery I believed it—I did not charge him the bank rate of discount, but 5 per cent.
JOHN JOSEPH KELLY . I am a wine and spirit broker, in partnership in Mark Lane—I have had transactions with the prisoner for 18 months, selling goods, making deposits, and discounting bills for him—we did not get cover—in 1884 we accepted some bills, and he was to ship us champagne to cover the acceptances before they became due—we did not get that security, and I saw him about it after September—on November 7th we received from him an order for nine hogsheads and four quarter-casks of brandy, and on November 9th an order for port; those were realised by us as against our advances.
Cross-examined. I made the advances on champagne about September 4th or 5th, 1894—I knew that the wine was to come—none of it came by November. When I got the four hogsheads he did not make any advance—by this transaction with us he would put no money in his pocket, he was only covering; he did not by that transaction get any fresh advance—he did not draw on us, he drew on Blumenthal—we did get bills equivalent to ours, and he was able to get them discounted—in point of fact, we gave him bills, and he gave us bills for a similar amount, but I did not look upon them as valuable—one of them was met. I have done a considerable amount of business with him during the eighteen months—these goods were put in our catalogue in the usual way, but were not advertised till January; they were sold in January—there
is nothing unusual in a wine merchant sending his wine to be sold by auction; getting rid of stock which he does not want—anyone seeing the catalogue would not see by the mark whose goods they are, the vendor, the original importer, would recognise his goods. I know Mears and Co., wine merchants, they are very respectable. I know the brand of Boulanger pere et fils; it is not a known brand; I had a lot in one of my catalogues, or I should not have known anything about it.
Re-examined. It is a very cheap, low sort of stuff, not fit for any respectable person to drink; it was bought in—it is not the usual course if goods are bought on credit to put them up immediately to public auction, but there may be a reserve price.
ROBERT LEAH COX . I am one of the firm of Cox, Russell & Co., wine and spirit merchants, of Great Tower Street—I was in partnership with the prisoner, but it was dissolved; I have had a few transactions with him since—I received this order of 16th June, 1894, from him (For 1,000 dozen of champagne), and on August 18th I received this letter (From the prisoner stating that 1,000 dozen of champagne had been sent.)—on September 15th the 1,000 cases were delivered to Messrs. Amor & Harrison, invoice price £850—two bills were drawn and accepted by the prisoner, they were not paid—I wrote this letter to the prisoner on August 20th, "Dear Austin, I am just going out of town for the week I was going to see you; when I return I will call on you. I have always backed you. R. L. COX"—I do not remember seeing him on the subject of that letter—he called at my office on or before August 18th, and told me he had sold the distillery, and made a profit out of it of £30,000—the bills were not met, and none of the champagne has been paid for—they were branded in accordance with these instructions.
Cross-examined. I did not hear till I was at the Mansion House that the prisoner had made arrangements about the brand—I had sent him samples of the wine of April, 1894—I was not then pressing him to buy—I wanted him to order a sample because I understood they were to be submitted to Spiers and Pond, but I wanted to sell the wine to him in April, and would have done so but he did not give the order—I did not sell him fifty hogsheads of brandy in November 1893, on credit; it was never executed, the order remains on the books—three months is the usual credit, but it was four months—he was in a position for months to have asked me for the fifty hogsheads of brandy, but I do not think I should have delivered them because my brandy house would not take the risk, and rather than complain he cancelled the transaction—I was in partnership about ten years ago for two years with the prisoner; he was certainly an honest man; I never knew him to be dishonest; he has been in this trade twenty years, off and on.
Re-examined. I called on the prisoner in October or November last, and he agreed to cancelling the account if we would accept £50 from him; we did so, and he gave us a bill.
ALFRED MOORE . I am now a whisky agent, of 92, Great Tower street—up to the time of the prisoner filing his petition I was acting with him in reference to the sale of Watson's whisky, of Dundee—I received a salary—in 1894 and several previous years, I had several financial transactions with the prisoner, and availed myself of my banking facilities to discount acceptances of Austin's and bills which he held—if I considered that the bills he gave me required cover, I asked him for
it—in October, 1894, I had discounted certain bills for him with the London Trading Bank under that arrangement—I have banked there 15 years—I discounted bills for him in August up to about £2,000; certain of them only had one name on them—I asked him to give me cover on them, he said, "I have 1,000 dozen of champagne on the other side, you can have those"—that was agreed to—I received a bill of lading at Hayes Wharf, and obtained warrants for 1,000 dozen of champagne, in my own name, and handed the warrants over to the London Trading Bank, as collateral security for another advance—I took out the warrants when the wine came—I advanced him £500 further on August 19th on further security—the champagne has been realised by the bank, no portion of the £500 has been paid to me because the bills have not been met—I took the securities to the London Trading Bank.
Cross-examined. Austin had promised me security in August, and on August 18th he gave me a letter addressed to the wharfingers, saying that when the wine came it was to be held to my order, and when it came I got the warrant, and I took it to the bank; it was not done by Austin—I took, the warrants to my own bank, because I wanted more money—on August 19th another advance was made on different securities altogether—I did not always take the same securities to my bank.
Re-examined. My transactions at the London Trading Bank were not, as a rule, on behalf of Mr. Austin; I had considerable transactions there before I first knew him in 1892—he asked me in August to discount a little batch of bills coining to £2,000, I said, "Some of these only bear your name, you ought to give me cover" he said "I have a thousand dozen of wine, on the other side"—I went over to Arnanti and Harrison, and said that there were a thousand dozen of champagne, the wine arrived, and I received warrants in my own name.
JOHN MOYSEY . I am manager of the London Trading Bank, Limited, Coleman Street—Mr. Moore has been a customer twelve or fourteen years—we made a loan to him on October 19th, 1894, of £500, and received as surety warrants for 997 dozen of champagne, and this draft drawn by Moore and accepted by the prisoner—I have no doubt these (produced) are part of the warrants we took from Moore on October 19th—I am under the impression that the £500 was a loan on the dock warrants, not a bill discounting transaction—this is an acceptance by Austin, and drawn by Moore; it was not paid, and our bank are realising the value of the 990 dozen of champagne.
DONALD NICHOLL ABBOTT . I am a spirit merchant of 37, Mark Lane and proprietor of the Bishops gate distillery, formerly known, as Barker's distillery, immediately opposite Leadenhall Station—prior to June, 1895, I had known the prisoner for some time, and he told me in July, 1895, that he had bought that distillery to sell again if he could find a purchaser—I said, "Well, it will be a very good thing, Austin, but I do not want it"; he said, "If I were to put it at a certain price should you feel inclined to go in for it?" I said, "Come to business;" he said, "I will let you have it for £6,000." I immediately told him it would be of no use to me; he said, "How would it be for you to take it on lease?" I said, "Yes, I might do something if you were to make the price right; "he said he would think it over—I saw
him again about two days afterwards; he said that he had thought the matter over; I said, "How would it suit you if I sold you the distillery for £25,000 on fifty years' lease at £2,000 a year?" I said, "No, that won't suit me;" he said, "What do you think; what will you do?" I said, "Well, I should not mind giving £22,000 for the lease, and fixtures at a valuation in the usual way." I saw him several times afterwards, and on August 29th this agreement was made by this letter (from the prisoner to Mr. Abbot, offering to sell the premises for £22,500, at a yearly rental of £2,000, the stock and fixtures to be taken at a valuation)—after that I sent this letter of August 29th (Enclosing several bills and agreeing to accept the terms subject to the solicitor being satisfied that the prisoner had power to grant the lease)—I saw him some time in September—he had previously told me he had thirty pipes of port wine, as I had the distillery it might be of use to me—he did not name the shipper—I said that I did not want it, I had plenty of my own—a day or two afterwards his manager, Mr. Chorley, was in my office and I said, "I think, Chorley, Mr. Austin has got thirty pipes of port wine; I have been thinking it over, and I think I can do a deal with him;" he said, "What is it?" I said, "In the event of my buying part of the port would Mr. Austin take a cask of brandy?" he said, "I will see, I don't know,"—he came round later in the afternoon offering me thirty pipes of Gardner's port and six pipes of Baker's; he said he would sell me those and take the brandy, and asked me what the brandy was; I told him about ninety-seven hogsheads, he said that Austin would do the deal—I did not see Austin till after the deal was carried out, Chorley brought the invoices next day, and the bills—this is an invoice from Austin for the thirty-six pipes of port and the contract, and I sent my invoice for the brandy—these are the delivery orders I sent Austin in respect of the brandy (All dated September 27th, making up forty-four hogsheads.)—I have received no port wine from him nor any documents representing it—I gave bills in accordance with the contract, and have met them all as they became due, and am a creditor for the amount from the estate.
Cross-examined. I began the negotiations for the distillery in July; Austin was working it at that time, he had bought it for a livelihood, he was in possession and took me over it—I found a very large parcel of port wine there—it was taken from Neville, Read & Co., and part of the business consisted of dealing in port—after that date and before the 29th they were negotiating with me, and on the 29th the price was reduced—September 17th was the day originally fixed for the transaction to be completed—it was I who introduced the subject of port wine, I wanted to sell my brandy and thought I should be able to sell it if I had the port—it did not suggest itself to me that there was any fraud or I should not have done it; I have not suggested that there was—the £970 was bills which I gave for port, and Austin gave me a bill for the brandy at the same time—it did not occur to me at the time that Chorley or Austin would cheat me—I did get six pipes of port, £270 worth, and I parted with £400 worth of the brandy: I gave my acceptance for the whole, and he gave his acceptance for the brandy—I took a lease from him, I did not know what he had given for it exactly; £40,000 is what rumour said on the market—I took a lease for forty-eight years, and paid £22,500 for the goodwill and lease, it was worth
£40,000—he got altogether £62,000, another £3 500 was paid for stock and fixtures: he made a very good thing out of it—the completion was postponed from time to time. Messrs. Nicholson, the distillers, advanced a sum of money and insisted on having from Austin a mortgage of his reversion.
Re-examined. I not only paid my own bills but I had to take up the acceptances, and I only got six pipes of port—I did not know that my brandy, for which I had delivery orders, had been sold on the same day—I believed when he made the bargain that he had power over the port wine to carry out his bargain; he sold me the leasehold, but he gave the £40,000 for the freehold.
JOHN SEATON TAYLOR RESTELL . I am manager to W. and T. Restell, of Mark Lane; I have had large transactions with Austin for some years, he bringing me warrants and delivery orders for wine and brandy, on which securities I made advances—for five years prior to December 9th, 1894, my transactions with him came to about £57,000—my rate of interest is 5 per cent, per annum and 1/2 per cent per month—if goods were sent to me for the purposes of sale the broker's charge would be 5 per cent.—we would hand him money on goods sent for sale, there would be no 1/2 per cent. only, the 5 per cent, and brokerage—when I made advances on dock warrants or delivery orders he paid 11 per cent. per annum; that was my regular charge, but sometimes we have more money than we know what to do with, and let it out for less—on September, 1894, there was a general amalgamation of the different accounts we had with him, and on October 1st he was indebted to the firm £11,000 18s. 10d.—on October 17th we received some money from him, and on the 18th he paid us £600 to take up certain securities, and on the 30th more money; on November £21, £50, and on November 12th £120 10s.—on August 16th, 1894, Austin called, and saw Mr. Thomas Restell; I was present part of the time—shortly before that I had made an advance of £1,000 on some champagne which was to come from France, and on handing him the £1,000 he handed us a delivery order—in consequence of the champagne not arriving so rapidly as it should, Mr. Austin promised to give us cover till it arrived; it was a shipper's port, Graham's I believe—we received the bill of lading from Blumenthal on, I think, November 3rd, for thirty pipes of Graham's port—since the filing of his petition we have had the whole of the securities we held of his, including the pipes of port from Blumenthal—in nearly every instance Austin either placed a reserve price on them, or attended the sales and bought in largely—we received no invoice with the dock orders showing of whom they had been purchased—our principal business is that of wine and spirit brokers—when property is sent to us to sell they do not send any documents—in our early transactions when we sold, it was to realise our securities on advances made by us, and we should render him an account sale—Graham's port realised £600 or £650.
Cross-examined. The charges we made to Austin were the ordinary charges made by gentlemen in the trade; we did not make any extraordinary charges to him—we do a very large business—these transactions were of the kind which take place in the wine business—I have known Mr. Austin fifteen years; he has borne a good character; we had a great amount of confidence in him—I have heard of Goldsmith and Vicker, merchants of Oporto; they ship port wine—having regard to his
statement at the Bankruptcy Court that he did not name the shipper of the port to me I am still under the impression that he mentioned Graham's port—the wine was to be shipped throughout the year on six or nine months' credit—the wine was advertised for sale in our catalogue, and in the trade circulars, and in the Times, giving the shippers and the quantities; there was no concealment about it.
Re-examined. This is a fair specimen of how we advertise our wine, "Ex ship" so and so, and the port of consignment; any one who read the catalogue had the means of recognising his own goods.
THOMAS MILES RESTELL . I am sole partner in the firm of W. and T. Restell and Co.—on August 16th, 1894, I sent to Austin, hearing that goods would not be ready for shipment, and then that they would not be shipped in small quantities—when he came, we told him that until the champagne had arrived, we should require some further cover—then he said he would hand us as cover, pending the arrival of the champagne, fifty pipes of port—I understood him to say Graham's port—it was a hurried interview, and I do not remember anything more that happened, I was very busy at the time—I made this memorandum of the interview when he had gone—it is dated 1896 instead of 1894—the result was I received some champagne some time afterwards, according to the arrangement—I left the matter in the hands of my manager.
ALFRED COTTON HARPER . I am a chartered accountant—I was duly appointed trustee of Austin's estate—I have had in my possession a number of his books and documents, now in Court, which I have examined—on folio 681 of the ledger is an account called the Bishopsgate Distillery purchase account—the amount to the debit of that account is £33,534 9s. 9d.—that account includes the whole of the purchase-money that was paid for the distillery and is credited on the other side, where appears the sale to Mr. Abbott for £22,500, and the premium on the lease, £1,800 for the sale of the Rose and Crown, also part of the Bishopsgate estate, and £861 17s. 2d. for the sale of another property, I do not know the name of, leaving the debit balance of £33,534 9s. 9d.—the totals are, to the debit £58,696 6s. 11d., and on the credit side £25,161 17s. 2d.—on the debit side appears £3,000 to £4,000 paid to the Official Receiver by Austin, because when he took possession of the distillery he accidentally collected debts belonging to the estate of Barker which appears in another book—on folio 684 appears an account called the Bishopagate Distillery Venture account—the total to the debit of that account is £17,664 4s. 2d. and there is a small credit of £161 2s. 9d., leaving a debit balance of £17,503 1s. 5d., and this account includes bonuses, commissions, solicitors' costs, valuers charges, bonus to Mr. Chorley, and items of that kind, and the stationery and other expenses in bringing out the company which would not float—that makes the total debit balance on the two accounts £51,037 11s. 2d.—on folio 678 is an account called the Bishopsgate Distillery Cash Account; the total to the credit of that account is £47,651 19s. 10d., and the debit is £28,118 18s. 4d., making a credit balance of £19,533 1s. 6d.—£42,000, which does not appear in these accounts for the purchase by Austin of the distillery, must be added to the £19,000, that is the payment for the value of the freehold—that is £61,533 1s. 6d., and the debit on the purchase of the venture is £51,037 11s. 2d., which becomes an apparent profit of £10,495 10s. 4d.,
the result of the purchase, as it appears in Austin's books—the whole of that profit came into the estate—the whole of it and more was transferred on the purchse from Abbot for £22,500—£20,000 was transferred from Messrs. Nicholson and Watson, and Messrs. Portall and Dingall—apparently Auston owed those moneys and more to these two firms, who take Abbot as their creditor instead of Austin—there is nothing showing the £2,000 a year he was to get under the lease; the defendant mortgaged that for £42,000, which is given on the credit side—I have realised £200 out of the distillery on behalf of the estate by arrangement, £100 on the lease and £100 on the freehold—also £21 9s. from good debts, and from the £6,621, £586, and there may be a few pounds for some shares that I hold—the £30 2s. 6d. by the purchase of brandy was realised before I was trustee—the total assets I have realised are £845 4s. 3d.—I have taken out of the books the total amount of sales to persons other than Restells and Malley, Kelley and Co. as £14,816; including Moore £20,129 13s. 11d.
Cross-examined. I am responsible as trustee for this prosecution—I have not advised that the defendant should be prosecuted—acting under the instructions of the committee of inspection I submitted to the Court that he ought to be prosecuted, not individually—I am quite fair and have no motive in the matter—I do not suggest the defendant is keeping anything back—or that he is a thief in the sense of taking money—I do not say in other senses he is a thief—he has given up everything to his creditors—I think the books show all his transactions—they are well kept—since the bankruptcy they were at once put before me—by the distillery he was making about £10,000 net, my figures show it—the net balance of the venture account, including cost of commissions and such like things, is £175,031—the £10,000 he had made was a liability on the estate—the whole profit has gone to the estate, not to his own profit—according to the books the commissions were paid from January 1st to December 27th, 1894—on December 21st last the commissions to Portall, Dingall and Co. were £20,000—£3,000 was on May 21st—that includes the bonus on loan of £5,000—the bulk of the commissions were paid the latter part of the year—Moore had £2,500, and Chorley had £2,000 in August—the next big sum is £2,000 to Portalls on November 21st—they are a large wholesale market house in the trade—Austin's deficiency is £65,000 practically—I do not know who prepared the deficiency account—I prepared the statement of affairs—the estimated surplus arose from the difference between the supposed value of stock in the hands of brokers and the amounts advanced in respect of it—the brokers require two-thirds margin—the valuation of wines was what any man would get, presuming his statement is correct as to what he gave for them, but the £72,000 he gives in his statement of affairs is not all wines, see sheet B—I think he valued his securities fairly considering what he gave for them—the reserve price of the distillery was £42,000—I think he valued the freehold at £45,000—I have no reason to believe the wines were not fairly valued, of course there is always a difference between buying and selling by auction—only two creditors held wines—one was Restells—I think the wine was sold without reserve—at the time Austin failed he was agent for Watsons, whisky blenders, Dundes—I
have understood he held an agreement with them all that he was to be their agent for his life—I think the agency was worth £2,500 a year, it may be more—it might vary according to the year—it was about £3,000 a year—on his bankruptcy, I believe, Messrs. Watson gave him notice—he was also interested in the company called Veuve Monnier et ses Fils, Limited—I daresay he put many thousands into it—the brand of champagne the company was exploiting was greatly advertised in the hope that it would become very saleable—that is a common way of investing money—he had reason to expect an income from the amount of money spent—he was managing director and promoter, and very much interested in it, and if the company had been a success it would have been very good for Austin—I think the actual figures are £5,000 that he held in shares—some are fully-paid shares—I do not disclaim them—the shares are held by his creditors as fully secured—the Veuve Monnier Company went into liquidation, and the shares were valueless—one of the causes of its failure was Austin's petition—if it had not been for that petition being filed Austin might have put more money into it—the Company came to an end a week or two afterwards—he financed the company—he had preference shares also which I include—I think 16,966 fully-paid up ordinary and 6,431 fully-paid up preference £1 shares is right—the company sold about 22,000; on 9,000 of which only 1s. had been paid, leaving 13,000 to 14,000 fully paid—the company at one time paid 5 per cent., I believe, not 7 per cent, or 8 per cent., I don't know, I was not interested—it did pay dividends—Mr. Wright has handed me an account, from which I find Austin held 21,000 fully-paid shares—from the books, it appears the Veuve Monnier Company were indebted to Austin £5,500 for advances—at the time of Austin's bankruptcy he was in no negotiation for the gale of Maxsutanie Champagne, not Champion—his bankruptcy put an end to that—he was to have got some such sum as £10,000 profit if he had carried it through.
The transcript of the shorthand writer's notes in bankruptcy was then, partly read.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 31st, 1895
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of an indecent assault. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. MARSHALL and NOBLE Prosecuted, and MESSRS CUNDY and KENRICK Defended.
of the deceased—on Thursday evening, September 19th, I was in the tap-room at the Junction Arms, Holloway, between ten and eleven; the prisoner and my brother were there—the prisoner was playing a game called "shove-halfpenny"—my brother said, "Let us play four, not for money, and who, loses pay for drinks"—the prisoner said, "You wait," and turned round and struck him in the face, and he fell—he got up, and the prisoner rushed at him and knocked him down again—the landlord came, and ordered them out—they want outside; the prisoner went first, and my brother followed, and when I got outside I saw my brother rising from the pavement—I saw the prisoner rush at him and strike him behind the ear, and he fell—the prisoner walked away—he said, "They take me for a looby', but I will show them how to go on when I am a bit hot—I helped Prendergast to lift my brother up—I think he was insensible when he was knocked down—he came to afterwards, and my brother James took him home—I stopped behind, I told the prisoner he was a coward to hit a drunken man—my brother had been drinking—the prisoner said my brother could not hit him enough to keep himself warm, and there was an old grievance between them, and he said if I thought I had any chance he would give me the same.
Cross-examined. There were several men in there having drinks—they were sitting at different tables, there were two tables—I was not playing; I was standing up looking on—I did not send for the police; I did not think there was so much the matter.
JAMES MEARA . I am brother to the last witness and the deceased—I was in the public-house—I heard Mr. Farrow, the landlord, order the men out—they went out, I went out last, and saw my brother on the ground, and the prisoner a top of him—I got hold of the prisoner by the collar and pulled him off—my brother rose and the prisoner struck him a blow with his clenched fist behind the ear—he staggered and fell insensible to the ground, while he lay there the prisoner said, "You take me for a looby but I will let you know what I can do when I start"—my brother John and Prendergast assisted him up—he stood on the pavement a short time till he got round a bit, and after he was dressed I carried him home.
Cross-examined. I was in the bar at first, and don't know what took place.
Cross-examined. That was inside; I saw nothing that went on outside
CHARLES PRENDERGAST . I am a bricklayer; I was at the Junction Arms on the evening of September 19th—I saw the prisoner and deceased fight—the prisoner struck him in the face twice; they fell together; they got up again and sparred—I saw the prisoner strike him a second time, and he fell on the corner of the table and thon to the ground—I then saw them outside—I saw the deceased lying in the gutter unconscious, and I helped to pick him up—I saw no blow struck.
SUSAN HUTCHINS . I live in Culvert Street—my husband is a labourer—on September 19th I was in the Junction Arms—I saw the prisoner and deceased coming out—I followed them, and saw them both lying on the ground together—they got up and were about to fight again—I saw
the prisoner hit the deceased on the side of the face and he fell in the road.
Cross-examined. He was lying on the pavement—I heard nothing said—I did not see the deceased rush at the prisoner.
WILLIAM FARROW . I am landlord of the Junction Arms—on the evening of September 19th I went to the tap-room attracted by some disturbance—I saw the prisoner and deceased standing up to fight—I went between them and sent them out, and the police came up—I saw nothing outside.
WILLIAM PRICE HORN . I am assistant medical superintendent of St. Pancras Infirmary—I saw the deceased on September 21st about 11.30 p.m.—he was under my care till the 24th—when I first saw him he was very restless and delirious; he got worse; became comatose, and died on the evening of the 24th from meningitis, caused by the effects of a wound at the back of the left ear—that wound must have been caused by something sharp-edged, very hard—falling against a table or something of that kind.
Cross-examined. I made a post-mortem examination—the organs were congested.; I saw him two days after the occurrence, that would give sufficient time to become septic—if he had gone at once to a medical man, it would have given a better chance—the wound was in a very unfortunate place, but in itself it was not dangerous to life; there was no fracture—I should say he was an older man than the prisoner; I should have thought about 35—he was a fairly strong man.
DAVID CORRIGAN . I am a duly-qualified medical practitioner—on September 21st I was called to see the deceased at his house, 13, Colville Street, about noon—he was in a condition of delirium—I examined him superficially—I found a bruise behind one ear, and one of his feet was bruised; his face looked as if he had been knocked about, as if he had had some blows—I ordered his removal to the Infirmary—my first impression was that he was just getting delirium tremens—that might be the first symptom of meningitis.
Cross-examined. If his wound had been properly attended to at once it would greatly have improved his chance, and he might probably have been alive now.
CHARLES BURRIDGE (416 Y). On the evening of September 19th I was on duty in Junction Road, and saw a crowd assembled round the Junction Arms—I was informed there had been a row, but there was no complaint of anyone having been assaulted—I helped to disperse the crowd.
GEORGE COUCHMAN (Detective Sergeant Y). On September 25th, about 10.30, I saw the prisoner in Junction Road—I told him I should take him into custody for manslaughter—he said, "All right, will you tell my father I am locked up?"—he said he had been in the Junction Arms and seen the deceased, and added, "I have been in this neighbourhood and only had four fights; I don't like it"—when the charge was read over he made no reply.
Cross-examined. I knew the deceased—I knew them all—the deceased was a very quiet, sober fellow—he did not do much work—a little bit strange when drunk—the prisoner's character is rather indifferent—he has been charged several times with assault—he is rather a quarrelsome fellow.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY.
Nine Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, October 31st, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
836. CHARLES MICHAEL GORDON (31) and RICHARD GORDON (23) , Unlawfully conspring to cheat and defraud peter Yapp and other persons of their goods; other Counts for obtaining goods from Peter Yapp and other persons by false pretences, with intent to defraud, and obtaining credit from them by fraud other than false pretences.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
DR. LITHGOW. I am a medical practitioner at Lowndes Street, Belgrave Square—I attend Mrs. Elizabeth Long—I saw her this morning—I do not think she is in a fit state to be here to-day—she has been suffering for ten days from a severe attack of bronchial asthma, and is unfit to travel.
GEORGE EDWARDS (Sergeant B). I was present when Mrs. Long was examined at the Police-court on September 19th—the prisoners were in the dock—they were represented by a solicitor—they had the of opportunity asking her questions, but did not do so—this is her deposition.
The deposition of Elizabeth Long was read as follows:—"I live at 45, Sloane street, Chelsea. I am single, and keep a lodging-house there. The prisoners came on 2nd instant together; Charles said he was Captain Biddulph, and that the other prisoner was his brother. He gave me this card, "Cap. J. Biddulph, R.A., Portsmouth. New University Club, St. James's, S.W." He offered to pay me, for four rooms, two and a-half guineas a week for the drawing-room floor and two bedrooms. They went out between 1 and 2 p.m. on the 4th without my knowing it. I did not see them take these things away. They cleared away all their things and left without paying anything. I had supplied them with food and lodging to the value of £4 3s. 8d. They said they were military men. I took them in believing their card was true.
THOMAS WANDSWORTH . I am foreman to Peter Yapp, bootmaker, of 210, Sloane Street—on September 2nd an order came, and in consequence I went to 45, Sloane Street, on the 3rd—I saw the prisoners—Charles said he wanted some boots made, and I took his measure and asked his name—he gave me a card from his waistcoat pocket with the name "Captain Biddulph, R.A.," on it—he took the card back again—as I was leaving Charles said, "As I have just come from abroad I would be glad if you would send me some boots ready made"—Richard was present—I sent a number of boots by our lad and they selected a pair of patent, and a pair of brown leather boots, and a pair of pumps—they gave to the lad a further order for boots for Richard—they were sent next day and he selected a pair of patent, two pairs of brown boots and a pair of pumps—they promised payment to me, and to the lad as well on delivery but they paid nothing, and when the lad came back on the 4th I went and saw the prisoner and demanded the goods or the money, as they had failed in their promise to pay the lad—as I could not get payment I brought back four pairs of the boots—they said they would call and pay by cheque in the afternoon, but they did not come—I saw no cheque—I afterwards heard they were in custody—the total value of the goods they obtained from me was £4 14s.—I believe they were wearing some of my boots when in custody—I believed Charles was really Captain Biddulph, of the Royal Artillery, returned from abroad, because we served a gentleman of
that name, who was in India, and Lady Biddulph was in our shop the day before they came—I relied on being paid when the goods were delivered.
Cross-examined by Charles Gordon. When I took your measure I asked if we had worked for you before, and you said no—I said a Mr. Biddulph had an account with our firm, and you said you were not that Mr. Biddulph—I said the boots I measured you for would take a week to complete—you said you would pay—we never ask for payment in advance—I sent you five pairs of ready-made boots to select from, and you returned two pairs—I don't think I sent an invoice with them—when I came on the second occasion I brought the bill—I asked for a reference then, and you asked for credit—I copied what was on the card, "Captain Biddulph, R.A."—I took the boots back because you would not pay; I asked you to return the whole of the boots, and you refused—I said I would take any back, whether worn or not—the three pairs of boots I value at £4 14s.
Cross-examined by Richard Gordon. On the 3rd you said nothing, and on the 4th you said very little if anything; I don't think you had anything to say—I came between ten and eleven o'clock on the 4th to take them away, just after our lad left you—I told Charles, I thought him like a gentleman of the same name who had dealt with our tirm before, and he said he was not that gentleman, and not connected with him—Charles said, when I asked for payment, that he could not pay then, but that he would in the afternoon—I then asked for a reference—he said he would give one to someone in Birmingham, or Liverpool, or somewhere—he did not call in the afternoon—you were in the room when Charles gave me the card—he gave the order on your behalf; you fitted the boots on.
Re-examined. Richard was present the whole time—eleven pairs of boots were sent altogether, and two pairs were returned on the first occasion, and two on the second; Charles kept three and Richard four pairs—I copied down "Capt. Biddulph, R.A., from the card on to this paper measure at the time—I should not have parted with the boots if I had believed he was Charles Michael Gordon.
JAMES GOODBEAR . I am errand boy to Mr. Yapp—on September 3rd, I took certain boots to 45, Sloane Street, and asked for Captain Biddulph—I was shown into a room where the prisoners were—Charles tried on the boots, and he retained a pair of patent, and a pair of brown boots, and a pair of pumps—he said if I called to-morrow with more boots for his brother he would give me a cheque—I went next day to take some boots for Richard: two pairs of patent, two pairs of dress shoes, and one pair of brown boots—I took a bill, and asked for payment, and they said they would call and pay in the afternoon, about lour—I took the bill back to the firm.
Cross-examined by Charles. On the first occasion you asked if I had an invoice, and I said no—you did not say you told our man to send the account—I did not know how many pairs you would keep—you asked how long it would take to make the boots, and I said a week.
Cross-examined by Richard. I delivered the boots on the 4th at 9.45—you were upstairs shaving, and your brother said you would be down in a minute—when you came down I fitted some on you—I asked for payment, and your brother said they would be put to his account; I did
not ask to whose account they should be put—Charles told me to send the boots; you had nothing to say as to either of the orders; the other prisoner did all that.
HARRIET ADA COOK . I am an assistant to the Jaeger Co. Pure Wool Underclothing Makers, of Sloane Street—on September 3rd, between 11 and 12, the prisoners came in together—Charles said he wished to see some dressing-gowns and pyjamas—I showed him some, and he selected one, but not having the size in stock, I promised to get a smaller chest measurement made—he said it was most important that he should have it that night, as he was expecting friends to breakfast in the morning, and he wished it to be black with scarlet trimming, as those were his regimental colours—when I asked his name, he gave me a card, and on it was "G. W. Biddulph, R.A., Portsmouth Division, and Ismian Club, Piccadilly"—I believe the card is lost—he came back again; I promised to make the black dressing—gown; he asked for an estimate of what it would be, and in the meantime, he said, he must have a dressing-gown to go on with, and would I send up the things I had in stock before ten o'clock, if I failed to get the smaller sue—I had on the card that he was staying at 45, Sloane Street for four or five months—I sent the dressing-gowns and pyjama suit that afternoon, and next morning, 4th, I sent the other dressing-gown, with instructions for the man to bring back one—when our man came back he said Captain Biddulph's brother would keep it—they had both dressing-gowns, value £2 128. 6d. and £2 2s., and this suit value £1 Is—he told our porter he would make me out a cheque, and promised to come about 12 on the 4th—both prisoners came about 12.30, and Charles said he came according to promise; that he was keeping the other dressing-gown; but would I get this trimmed with scarlet silk and faced down the front, and if I would send round for it he would have it ready at 6.45 that night—I sent round, but they were out—I sent again at 8 next morning, 5th, and was told they had not been in all night—I did not see them again till they were arrested—I had no money from them—I believed him to be Captain Biddulph, of the Royal Artillery, when I sent the goods—I should not have given the things if I had believed, after he presented the card, that his name was Gordon.
Cross-examined by Charles. I did not ask about payment, because you said you would pay after the order was completed—I said it would take ten days to complete it, and you said you could not wait so long—I only sent the other one on approval, and you decided to keep it—I sent an invoice with the goods by our man—I sent another dressing-gown on the next morning on approval; it was kept, and I never saw it again—I sent a letter with the second one, saying I hoped for further orders; I do not think I made any reference to payment in that note—Richard gave no order; he said nothing in the shop.
Cross-examined by Richard. You were present—Charles said that when the order was completed he would make me out a cheque; I was to see if I could not get it for the following Monday—I did not expect payment till the order was completed; it would be payment on delivery—I said 45. Sloane Street was not his home address, and he said, "No, but I shall be staying there for four or five months; I am from Portsmouth? and he gave me his card—I don't know if you saw the
card; you were there; you could not see the card—he did not say he was Charles Gordon; he said he was not on active service.
AUGUSTUS PATTERSON . I am porter to Jaeger and Co.; on September 3rd I took a parcel containing a dressing-gown and pyjamas to Captain Biddulph at 45, Sloane Street—on the 4th I took a brown dressing-gown there—I saw Charles Gordon, and he gave an order for five more pyjama suits—Richard was not there—Charles said that if I took the remainder of the order in the afternoon he would give me a cheque for the whole amount.
GEORGE EDWARDS (Sergeant B). From information I had I went with Sergeant Maguire to 7, Draycott Terrace, Kensington; on September 7th, about 7 p.m.—the front door was open—we walked in and tapped at the front ground-floor parlour door—someone said "Come in," and we walked in, and I saw the prisoners sitting at the table, dining—I said, "What is your name?"—Charles said, "I am Captain Gordon"—I said, "Where are you from?"—he said, "We have come from abroad"—I said, "We are going to take you into custody on suspicion of stealing some boots, by a trick, from Peter Yapp, in Sloane Street, on the 2nd of this month"—Charles said, "what is your authority for intruding on us in this manner?"—I said, "I have told you we are police officers"—he said, "How do I know you are police officers? show me your authority"—I produced my warrant card, which he examined; he said, "What is the charge against us?"—I said, "For stealing some boots by a trick from Peter Yapp, of Sloane street"—he said, "I have never had any boots from Peter Yapp; I never stole a pair of boots in my life"—I said, "You are now wearing a pair of boots that you stole from there; let me examine them"—he said, "Certainly not; there have been such cases as mistaken identity, and probably I shall have to take action against some one for this unwarranted intrusion on your part"—I said, "You will hare your remedy later on"—Richard said, "But getting boots on credit is not stealing"—I said, "What boots are you referring to, the boots from Peter Yapp?"—the other prisoner said, "We don't say we have had any boots from Peter Yapp"—Richard did not say any more—we took them to the station—on the way Charles kept drawing our attention, to some roughs following the cab—I told him not to bother about that—in Walton Street, just before we reached the Police-station, he said "Look, there is a lot of roughs following the cab"—he brought his hand up to the top of the cab door and I immediately seized his hand and looked out of the window and saw some paper drop—I said to Maguire, "He has dropped something"—he said, "What do you mean by dropping it? If you think I had anything in my hand get out and look for it"—after we got to the station I went and looked, and saw a number of pieces of pawnbrokers' duplicates torn in pieces—they do not refer to anything named in the indictment—I have pasted the pieces together, some are missing—they refer to overcoats, umbrellas. and a diamond ring pawned on the day of the arrest—in Charles's pocket at the station, I found some other parts of the tickets, these three keys, and visiting cards with the names of various clubs, but the surname blank—in their room I found this card, "Hon. H. F. Biddulph."—I said to the prisoners, "These parts of tickets belong to those you have thrown away in the street"—he said, "Yes, they belong to my own property—I
said, "It is strange you should throw them away"—Richard said, "Well, when one has been better off, and placed in this position, you don't know what to do"—after that I searched the lodgings 7, Draycott Terrace—they had only been there from the previous evening—they were known there as Captain Gordon and his brother—they had two bedrooms and a sitting-room—the landlady provided some part of the dinner they were eating—the room was decorated with flowers, and there was a display of wine and fruit on the table; everything was in good style; the prisoners were in semi-evening suits, with gardenias in their button-holes—I found a pair of boots and a pair of pumps, and next morning I requested the prisoners to take the boots from off their feet, and found they were Yapp's boots—at the station, when charged, Charles gave the name of Charles Michael, and Richard that of Richard Gordon, student—I asked them at the Police-court in the morning if they could refer me to anyone who could speak as to their respectability, and Charles said to Richard, "What about our father?" or something to that effect—he said his father lived at Birmingham, I think, but he did not wish to trouble him.
Cross-examined by Richard. None of these things were in your possession when arrested, but some of these things were found in your rooms.
JOHN MAGUIRE (Detective B). I went with Edwards on September 7th to 7, Draycott Terrace, and arrested Richard—when I told him the charge he said, "I never had any goods from Peter Yapp; if he (meaning Charles) had anything from there I had nothing to do with it; but I don't see how you can make stealing of it, if people choose to trust you"—he made no reply to the charge—I found on him a sovereign, a cigar-holder, a metal chain, and two keys—I found both these dressing-gowns in Charles's room—from what I could make out, only one bed had been slept in the previous night—I found a pocket-book with cards in it, and on them were the names of the Athenaeum and Isthmian Clubs—I found a Peerage Guide, giving names and addresses, and clubs.
Cross-examined by Richard. I found none of the property charged in the indictment in your possession—you had an old pyjama suit very much worn upstairs.
In their defence Charles said that he wanted the things as he had recently returned to England, and that if he had had time and not been disappointed he should have paid for them, as he had no intention to defraud, Richard said that he had previously known Charles as holding a commission in the Army, that Charles had ordered everything, and that he intended to pay him for his share.
CHARLES then PLEADED GUILTY**to a conviction of felony in April, 1890, and RICHARD** to one in March, 1893, in the name of Irving. Charles had served a sentence of Seven Years' Penal Servitude and Richard one of Three Years' Penal Servitude, from which they were released, Charles on August 21st, 1895, and Richard on August 15th, 1895, Charles's sentence not expiring till April, 1897, and Richard having Seven Months and a-Half to serve.— Each Five Years' Penal Servitude on 4th Count and Three Years' Penal Servitude on 5th Count—these sentences to run consecutively.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. ROOTH Defended.
ARTHUR FREDERICK LAMBERT . I carry on business at 16, Dalston Lane, and am a surgical instrument maker—the prisoner, who is my wile's brother, was in my employment as a mechanic for a little over two years from June, 1893—three years previously he had been in my employment—when he came back two years ago he brought no tools or materials; he worked with my tools, and on my material—his wages were £2 5s. a week, and Is. an hour overtime—he had no right to take away any tools or material when he left; that is the trade custom—on September 27th I went away, leaving the foreman in charge, the prisoner and six other hands, I believe—I returned to business on the following Friday morning, October 4th—I did not see the prisoner; I found a letter from him, which I threw in the waste-paper basket—I could not swear to his writing—I wrote to him, and afterwards, the same evening, went to 13, Englefield Road, where he was working for his father—I saw the prisoner, and in front of him some of the articles I had missed—I missed a number of patterns, several instruments and tools, and a number of drawings—he had no right to take any of those away—the policeman who went with me said he had come to take him into custody on a charge of stealing these articles; he made no reply—I saw there a pair of dies for screw cutting, special articles, with right and left-hand threads; they were specially made for me; there were taps to suit those dies, several patterns, a speculum of my own specially registered design, three punches used in the manufacture of tubes, and a little steel punch used for making an eye-scraper, and a drill and other things—I only recognised things I could actually prove—he was taken into custody—I afterwards went to his house, 36, Holly Street, where I found two tools, a brass pump of a special pattern I designed some years ago, two silver-plated curved tubes, part of an instrument, a German-silver pipe, and six vulcanite pipes, parts of an instrument—those things belonged to me—the prisoner had no right to take them—he had nothing when he came to me—he was absolutely destitute and prevailed on his sister to get him employment—he is a good workman—he had first £2 and afterwards £2 5s. a week—no wages were due to him—he was over-paid.
Cross-examined. The rough trade value of these things is about £2 12s. 6d—the prisoner is 27 and married—I have been connected with his family for about 15 years—I partly learnt my trade from his father and partly from another firm I went to afterwards—I was with his father for about seven years—the prisoner is younger than I am—he worked with his father—he applied to my wife about six years ago, just before I left Messrs. Nichols and Sons, for relief—he had left his father, who was in a small way of business—I wanted him to go back to his father—I consented to do what I could to help him—I did not enter into partnership or divide profits with him, but I told him if he liked to start in business in his own name I would pay him a weekly salary—that continued for about five weeks, and then I found he was going to firms and drawing money and appropriating it instead of bringing it to me, and I would not have anything more to do with him—then he came to me about two years ago, and since then
he has been in my employment as a servant—I took him hack because he came to my wife and Raid his wife and children were outside, and they had no home or money, and that unless he could get something to do he should drown himself; and his wife came to me, and under great pressure I took him back as a servant—he brought nothing when he came back—his father would have patterns, drills, dies and punches, and surgical instruments; his business is the same as mine—you would not find all these things at his father's place, because I am the only one in the trade that makes them—when the trade brings out a new article, they entrust it to one manufacturer to make it for them—I missed all these articles from my stock—this left-hand nasal speculum I made specially for an operation, for Mayer and Nelson; they returned it to serve as a pattern because they approved of the exact size; I had other orders to make the same thing of this particular character, Mayer's name is on it—I made dozens of others and: sent them out—here is my registration paper, dated in 1893, for that particular design—it was taken out just before the prisoner came back to me—I do not suggest that a practical working man could not carry in his mind the details of this—I know this particular one, because it has Mayer's distinctive stamp on it; it could only have been so stamped by them—it was at my place a week before I missed it—one of the boxes in which these things were found at the prisoner's house was a postal box sent to me by Mayer and Nelson—I was not at home when the prisoner left—my two assistants, Platt and Penalver, sit on each side of the prisoner at the bench—the prisoner could not be in the shop when no one was present—he being a better workman would instruct the others—these dies were made by my instructions to fit into this stock, and they are stamped with my punches, and these taps are made from the dies—I only charge the prisoner with stealing those things which I can identify; these have all marks by which I can absolutely identify them. I had no idea that the prisoner was going to leave; he gave no notice—half an hour before he packed up these things, I said I should be away next week, and left him a week's work to do, and he said he would be there—the only bad terms between us were that he used to get drunk, and not come and do his work, and I used to tell him of it—I wrote asking him to return the articles; I only wanted to get back my things, and clear my employes' characters—he made the dies and taps, not all the things; he cut some of the vulcanite tubes, not all.
Re-examined. I lost a number of valuable designs which I had from doctors, and which I entrusted to the prisoner to work from—I do not charge him with stealing those—I left business on 27th, and I left London on 30th—this cruet-top was entrusted to me to be mended.
CHARLES COWTAN . I live at 52, Forest Road, Dalston, and am the prosecutor's foreman—I have been employed for twenty-five years at various instrument makers—I recognise all these articles as Mr. Lambert's property—it is the custom of the trade in each shop I have been in for an employer to provide tools, and an employe has no right to take them away.
Cross-examined. I don't know whether the prisoner brought tools or not—on 26th, from certain rumours I heard in the shop, I asked him if he was going to leave, and he said he was—he did not say he was going
to take away a quantity of his employer's property, or that he had a right to do so.
JOHN PENALVER . I live at 59, Hancock Road, Stoke Newington, and am the prosecutor's apprentice—on September 27th the prisoner packed several of there things (which belong to Mr. Lambert) in a box before he left—he said nothing about going away—I was there in 1893, before he returned to work there—I did not see him bring any tools.
Cross-examined. I was sitting next him when he packed these things—I did not say anything, as he was over us.
WILLIAM PLATT . I live at 6, Copsall Road, Hoxton, and am the prosecutor's apprentice—on September 27th I saw the prisoner packing up these things, which belong to the prosecutor—I did not see him after that day—he did not say he was going to leave.
Cross-examined. I was sitting by his side; I made no reference to his packing up the things.
----BOFIELD. I live at 15, Cyprus Street, Bethnal Green, and am the prosecutor's apprentice—these goods belong to him—I saw the prisoner on 28th, but not afterwards.
RANDAL HODSON (Detective, J). On October 4th I went with Mr. Lambert to 13, Englefield Road, where we saw the prisoner in the workshop—I said I was a police officer and should arrest him for stealing a quantity of tools, the property of Mr. Lambert, his late employer—he said, "I know nothing about them"—I searched the place, ana found a quantity of the articles produced—I told him I should take possession of them as Lambert's, who identified them, and that he would be charged with stealing them; be made no reply—he was charged at the station—I afterwards went to 39, Holly Street, his private address, where I found the remainder of the articles produced—I brought them to the station, and the prisoner was further charged—he said, "Some of the articles must have got into the box by mistake."
Cross-examined. 13, Englefield Road is his father's shop; I found the prisoner working there—some of these things were in several boxes, and some were lying openly on the bench where he was working; they would be the usual tools at the bench, and unless anything would be known about them they would not excite any suspicion.
Witnesses for the prisoner.
JOHN POWELL . I am a surgical instrument maker, carrying on business in Englefield Road—the prosecutor is my son-in-law, and learnt his business from me—these two tools I made seven or eight years ago, and I lent them to the prisoner; they are mine—I do not recognise any other things among these—the prisoner is twenty-five; he has been in great want through not attending to his work; I don't know that he is given to drink; he neglects his work—beyond that he bears the character of a honest and respectable man.
Re-examined. I have not the slightest doubt these two tools are mine—I should say the initials "A. L." have been recently put on them.
at his work—I have seen these two dies on my brother-in-law's bench when he was in business for himself about three years ago—I have been in his shop hour alter hour and recognise them by seeing them constantly—I know nothing about the other things—I meant I had seen a thing similar to this.
The Prisoner received a good character.
Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, November 1st, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. HURRELL Prosecuted, and MR. KELLY Defended Onslow.
MARIA KILROY . I am single, and live at 15, St. Dunstan's Road, Fulham—on September 11th, Onslow, whom I had known for about two months, came and said "If you would take this cheque for £5 5a, and give me one for £3 5s. I shall be paying you £2 off what I owe you—he owed me £20, which I had lent to his mother and him—I gave him my cheque for £3 5s. on the London and County Bank—I gave his cheque for £5 5s., which is payable to T. King, to my butcher, Down, of West Kensington, after endorsing it—on the afternoon of the 14th Thorpe came with a bill for £35, and asked-me to give him £15, and said that on the following Thursday I could cash the bill and keep the money, and the difference would go towards what was owing by Onslow—he said he came from Onslow, who was waiting for him in town—the detective came to me on the evening of that day.
Cross-examined by Mr. KELLY. I had known Onslow's mother for about a year, during which time I had often assisted her with money—After Thorpe's visit, and before the detective came, Onslow came and wanted me to lend him a little money—I would not give it to him—he came on the following Thursday evening, I think, and referral to a bill for £35; he did not say it was the same one—he asked me to take it and give him £15—he did not show it to me; he said he would get it—I said it was a large sum, I should have to pass it through the bank first—he went away, and said he would bring it in the afternoon; but he was arrested before the afternoon—I had not had the cheque back when Onslow came the second time—I think after the detective came that evening I got the cheque back; I think the detective had it—Onslow came again on the 20th—by that time I had found the cheque was bad; I did not tell Onslow so, because the detective told me not to—when Onslow first came, he said, "I believe this to be a good cheque"—I do not remember his saying anything about someone having asked him to change it, or how he came by it—I did not ask him.
Cross-examined by Thorpe. He was not drunk when he came to me—you brought a letter from Onslow, introducing you as Thorpe, and the bill for £35—my brother was there.
Re-examined. Thorpe came between four and five, and Onslow about an hour afterwards—Onslow came between 10 and 11 a.m., on the 11th.
WALTER STREET . I am a clerk to Cox and Co., bankers, at Charing Cross—we have no account there in the name of J. Bevan—this cheque is out of a book issued to Major Hand of the King's Liverpool Regiment, who is still a customer—he called on January 8th, I believe, after this cheque was presented for payment through the London and County Bank—it was returned by us marked "No account, out of stolen cheque book."
WILLIAM HARRIS (Sergeant, Scotland Yard). About 9 a.m. on September 20th I was with Sergeant Lawrence, and we met Onslow in Clairville Road, West Kensington—I said to him: "We have come to see you about a cheque that you got Miss Kilroy to cash for you; the cheque has been forged and stolen, and we are police officers, and want to know what you have to say about it"—he said, after some hesitation, "I forged no cheque"—I said, "You know where you got it from"—he said he did not—I said, "That is hardly likely; you might come to the station with mo while T make some inquiries"—on the way to the station he said, "I remember where I got that cheque from; a man named Thorpe gave it to me"—I asked him who Thorpe was; ho said he did not know, but "He hangs about Holborn"—when he got to the station he said, "I may as well tell you the truth about it; I was going to meet Thorpe this morning near Earl's Court station between 10 and 11, and he was going to bring a cheque on the New York Bank, which I have already been to see Kilroy about this morning"—I said, "Very well;, you remain here and I will go and try to find Thorpe"—I went to Earl's Court Station and kept observation for one and a-quarter hours; he did not appear—I went on to West Kensington, where I saw Thorpe in the street—I told him who we were, and said, "Onslow says you gave him a cheque on Cox and Co., which has been forged and stolen; what do you know about it"?—he said, "I know nothing about a cheque on Cox's"—I said, "Will you come to the station and see Onslow?"—he said, "Yes"—I said to Onslow, "Is that the man who gave you that cheque?"—he said, "Yes; that is the man"—Thorpe said, "I know nothing about it"—Onslow said, "I was going to meet him this morning, and he was going to bring a cheque on the New York Bank"—I said, "You heard that, Thorpe; if you have that cheque on the New York Bank give it to me"—he then produced a letter-case from his pocket and handed me these two blank cheques on the Bank of the Metropolis of New York—I told them I should charge them, and they were eventually charged—on searching Thorpe I found this pocket-book and some paper and a memorandum book—I compared the writing on the alleged forged cheque with that in the memorandum book, and they appeared to be similar—I only found some letters on Onslow.
Cross-examined by MR. KELLY. Onslow only said in reply to the charge that Thorpe had given him the cheque—when I first met Onslow I did not caution him; I said if he could clear the matter up satisfactorily he could go, he was not in custody—before that he had said he did not know where he had got it from—he was very nervous—his hesitation was a kind of momentary impediment in his speech—it seemed tome he hesitated in order to concoct a reply; he waited a moment, and then said, "I forged no cheque."
Cross-examined by Thorpe. Onslow said, "You know I gave you that cheque," and you denied it and you got to high words.
WILLIAM HUDSON HAND . I am a major in the 4th King's Liverpool Regiment—on January last my bag was stolen from a cab in Oxford Street—the bag contained my cheque-book on Cox's Bank—I afterwards called at Cox's with reference to the loss and stopped the cheques.
Cross-examined by Thorpe. I did not know the numbers of the cheques.
FREDERICK AUGUSTUS LODGE . I am an oil and colour merchant, of 20, Marchmont Street, Russell Square—Batley introduced the prisoners to me—between 8 and 9 p.m. on September 11th they came together; Onslow was very drunk—he gave me this cheque for £3 5s., and wanted me to cash it—Thorpe said he would guarantee it was a correct cheque—I refused to cash it as he was drunk—Thorpe was not drunk.
Cross-examined by MR. KELLY. They did not say where they got it.
Cross-examined by Thorpe. You did not say "That cheque is from the lady that he had the money from"—I did not see Batley and Onslow go away in a cab.
JOHN HENRY HUGHES . I am a musician of 86 Manor Street, Clapham—I know Thorpe by the name of Salkeld; he lodged at my house for three or four months, and left on September 17 th—before leaving he gave me this I.O.U. for £3 13s. for rent.
WILLIAM CHARLES HALE . I am a warder in H.M. Prison, Holloway—on Tuesday, September 24th, I furnished Thorpe, at his request, with writing materials and placed my initials on the paper, and afterwards I collected it from him, and handed it out to post—it was addressed to Batley—this is the letter (Thorpe stated that it was his letter).
WALTER BATLEY . I have known the prisoners for some years; I met them promiscuously after some time—they were associating together in September—I received this letter from Thorpe from the prison—I knew him as Thorpe, never as Salkeld.
Cross-examined by MR. KELLY. I might have seen them four or five times together.
Cross-examined by Thorpe. You saw me with Onslow, and introduced yourself—you did not meet me in the City at Simpson's, where you were to see a gentleman with myself and Onslow respecting a cheque.
THOMAS HENRY GURRIN . I am a professional expert in handwriting, of 59, Holborn—I have compared this forged cheque with this letter, and this I.O.U. signed Salkeld, and this memorandum book, and in my opinion they are all written by the same person; the writing is slightly disguised.
(MR. GURRIN pointed out to the JURY several examples of similarity in the writings.)
Cross-examined by Thorpe. I remember you calling with a letter and bill from Onslow—I said that I advised my sister to have nothing to do with the bill and hand it back to you as I thought it was no good, and that she had let Onslow have quite enough money—I understood you to say that Onslow was going to sell a house.
Thorpe in his defence said that he had been about with Onslow, who had changed the cheque, but that he(Thorpe)knew nothing of it, and that he had taken the bill to Miss Kilroy at Onslow's request.
THORPE— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ONSLOW— GUILTY of uttering. — Ten Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. A. B. SMITH Prosecuted.
JOHN COX . I am a ship's fireman—I live at 73, Gibbon Street, Deptford, when I am at home—on Tuesday, October 1st, a little before 4, I came out into Dock Street, Deptford, from the Navy Arms, when Dwyer and Taylor struck me and got me on the ground—a man like Burke (I could not swear positively to him) got his arms across my throat—Sullivan did not do anything—they pulled my pocket open and took 13s. Cd., and 2d. from another pocket, and four years' discharges, only leaving me this one—they struck me in the face; it was black and blue, and hurt two of my ribs, and I had a kick in the thigh which is sore now, and I had a blow in the stomach before I went down—some men were kneeling on the top of me—five minutes before I had seen that my purse was safe, when I came out of the Navy Arms—earlier in the afternoon I had been in the Gibraltar—in the evening I went to the Police-station, where I was shown a number of men, and I pointed out Dwyer and Taylor—Dwyer was the man who hit me in the face and knocked me down; I cannot say who took my money—I did not see the other two men till next morning.
Cross-examined by Burke. I did not accuse you of striking me in the face.
Cross-examined by Dwyer. I lost my senses with a blow on the head, and I could not identify anyone then, but I could afterwards—I identified you that night, and again in the morning.
Cross-examined by Taylor. I had had a little drop—I identified you.
ALFRED LEWIS . I am manager of a coffee-house, and live at 80, Watergate Street, Deptford—on the afternoon of October 1st I was near the Navy Arms between 3 and 4 p.m.—I knew Burke, Dwyer, and Sullivan well—Sullivan I knew as Haggerty—I did not know Taylor—I saw the prosecutor lying on his back on the ground, and Burke, Dwyer, and Sullivan knocking him about, grossly assaulting him with their fists, and kicking him in the most brutal manner—four men were engaged in doing it, but I could not recognise the fourth one, though his face is familiar to me—I did not know till the following day that the prosecutor complained of robbery; when I heard of it I went to the Police-station and identified the three men.
Cross-examined by Burke. I saw the four of you on top of the prosecutor using violence—you caught him by the throat, and held him down while the others punched and kicked at him—I saw you hauling him over, but I did not see your hands in his pockets—I have known you about ten years.
Cross-examined by Dwyer. You punched the prosecutor whenever you could—some of you ran round the spare ground at the back of the Navy Arms, and then came up Dock Street, towards my coffee-shop—you all dodged away in various direction—you flew away.
Cross-examined by Taylor. I said at the station I had a doubt about you, but that your face was familiar to me—I am not sure of you—I did not pick you out because I had a doubt.
By the COURT. I have known Dwyer about ten or twelve years, and Sullivan about twelve years.
WILLIAM BELL . I am a market-constable at Deptford Market, and live at 3, Elvaston Road, Deptford—on the afternoon of October 1st I was on duty at the market, which is about five yards from the Navy Arms, when I saw the prisoners, whom I had seen before, standing outside the Navy Arms against the iron posts—the prosecutor walked down Princes Street, when the prisoners followed him, and all of a sudden knocked him down to the ground (I don't know if he was drunk; I thought he looked rational enough), and then they were all four on top of him, rifling about his breast and trousers—they then walked away down towards Watergate Street—I was about fifteen yards off—the prosecutor got up; his waistcoat and coat were all open, his necktie torn off, and his pocket was turned inside out and torn—I told Constable Grimes, and at that moment Sergeant Goddard came by, and I spoke to them, and Goddard followed them—the prisoners went away slowly till they got to Watergate Street, and then something passed between them, and Sullivan ran away, and the others stopped at the corner of Watergate and Princes Street, and Goddard spoke to them—about 9.30 that evening I went to the station and picked out Taylor—I identified Dwyer, but not sufficiently to pick him out—I identified him the next morning at the Police-court—the other two I saw at Greenwich Police-court the next morning—I have not the slightest doubt that the prisoners are the four men—I did not identify Dwyer the same night because he was covered in blood and mud—I knew him by sight before.
Cross-examined by Burke. I did not see any violence used to the prosecutor when you were on the top of him; some of you were holding him down—I did not see who knocked him down.
Cross-examined by Dwyer. You had blood on your right cheek that night—I was not sufficiently confident of you to pick you out then—you know me well enough.
Cross-examined by Taylor. Had Goddard not come by at the moment, I should have arrested you; but it was not my duty to interfere with anything outside the market.
Cross-examined by Sullivan. I had a little doubt about you, at the; station—when I saw you all four together I recognised you as the man that ran away.
SAMUEL GRIMES . I am a market constable at Deptford Market—between 3 and 4 p.m., on October 1st, I was on duty—I saw the prosecutor outside the "Navy Arms, lying on his back, and the prisoners (all of whom I know well by sight) were on the top of him, searching him and rifling his pockets—I did not see him knocked over—I spoke to Goddard.
Cross-examined by Burke. I saw no violence—one of you passed some
thing to another who ran away, but I could not say who it was—I did not hear what passed between you and Goddard—I and Bell followed you down—we did not arrest you because we left it in Goddard's hands.
MARK KNIGHT (426 R). On October 1st I received information of this robbery and assault, and, in consequence, went to the Dog and Bell public-house, where I found Burke, Dwyer, and Taylor—on entering the bar, Burke rushed at me, and said, "You bastard, Mark Knight, I know what you have come for; you won't take me"—he struck me on the cheek—I closed with him; we struggled—after we got outside the public-house, I placed my whistle in my mouth to blow it, and he snatched it and passed it into the crowd, and I have not got it back—I took him to the Police-station—I had a slight swelling on the left side of the face from the blow.
Cross-examined by Burke. I did not catch you by the coat and say come with me; you did not say, "What is this for?"—I did not then pull out my truncheon and say, "If you don't come with me I will knock you down with this"—I threw you down outside—you took my whistle before the other constable came up.
CHARLES GENTLE (96 R). In consequence of information I went with Knight to the Dog and Bell on October 1st—I saw Burke, Dwyer, and Taylor there together—I went to Dwyer and told him I was a police-officer and wanted him for robbery—he said, "All right, governor, I know what you have come for, I will go quietly"—I took him by the collar and was going to take him out when Taylor came up and seized me—I seized him—we got outside the public-house when I was thrown to the ground and kicked by both of them about the head and body—I had to draw my truncheon—other constables came up.
Cross-examined by Dwyer. As you were going out of the Dog and Bell you were not knocked on the head with a truncheon—a few minutes after you were outside you were struck with the truncheon—you were first charged with assaulting me—you were identified and then charged with the robbery.
Cross-examined by Taylor. You kicked me at the back of the head; I had a large bump there.
RICHARD RIXON (11 R R). On the night of October 1st I heard a police whistle and went to the Dog and Bell and saw four constables struggling with Burke and Dwyer, and Taylor struggling with the two constables who had Dwyer—I saw him kick Gentle on the back of the head while he was on the ground—I closed with him and we had a severe struggle—the people round me were pulling my belt, and I was knocked to the ground—while on the ground I received a kick in the stomach from Taylor—I got up and used my truncheon freely—it is a very rough neighbourhood; the people sided with the prisoners—I knocked Taylor down, and with assistance got him to the Cattle Market gates, where we kept him until assistance arrived.
Cross-examined by Taylor. I did not see you come out of the Dog and Bell—after you had kicked me in the stomach I knocked you down—I knocked you senseless in Watergate Street thirty or forty yards from the public-house—I hit you a good many times—you continued to resist, and the crowd was going on—I was separated from the rest, and was pushed towards Watergate Street, and was knocked down several
times on the way—I had to loose you now and then to get up—I used my truncheon several times in self-defence.
Cross-examined by Dwyer. You went quietly after I had you in custody; you did not assault me.
EDWARD LANGTON (40 R R). I arrested Sullivan on the night of October 1st in High Street, Deptford—I told him I wanted to speak to him, and no sooner had I said that than he got up from the barrow on which he was sitting, and ran away—I gave chase and caught him, and told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with other men in robbing a man in Princes Street, Deptford—he said, "I know nothing about it"—he went quietly to the station—when charged he said nothing.
Burke in his statement and in his defence said that in the afternoon Goddard told him to give the prosecutor his purse, and that he asked Goddard to search him, and that Goddard said, "Go about your business, the man is drunk."
Dwyer and Taylor in their defence made similar statements.
Sullivan, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that the prosecutor fought with another man, and then followed them, and, after a bit of a row, they all rolled over on the path and then walked away.
BURKE*†and DWYER*†then PLEADED GUILTY to convictions of felony in March, 1891; TAYLOR*†to a conviction of felony in March, 1890, and SULLIVAN*†to one in April, 1893, in the name of Haggerty.— Fifteen Strokes with the Cat and Three Years' Penal Servitude each.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
In the case of GEORGE GUY (35), Indicted for the murder of Edward Finch, upon the evidence of Mr. George Edward Walker, surgeon to Her Majesty's Prison, of Holloway, the JURY found him to be insane and unfit to plead, and he was ordered to he detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
GUILTY of Manslaughter Three Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MR. CUNDY Prosecuted, and MR. COHEN Defended.
HEATH— NOT GUILTY . COX— GUILTY of an indecent assault. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SELLS Prosecuted. GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
846. JOHN DICKENS WAINWRIGHT (64) , to embezzling £1, £7 15s. 4d., and £7 10s. of Thomas Elliott, his master; also to forging and uttering an endorsement on an order for £7 15s. 4d., with intent to defraud.— Nine Days' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
847. HENRY JOHNSON ** (50, to burglary in the dwelling-house of John Morgan, and obtaining a coat and other articles, and 18s. 6 1/2 d., his property, having been convicted at Maidstone on December 7th, 1891.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. (Having first to serve 180 unexpired days of his former sentence.) [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. FLEMING Prosecuted.
CHARLES OAKLEY . I am a warehouseman of 5, Albert Street, Newington—on August 10th I left my house unoccupied; the doors were locked and the windows fastened—on Friday evening, August 16th, I returned; the house was apparently as I had left it; but I found the breakfast parlour unlocked; and a chest of drawers were open, and £8 had been taken from the top drawers—on September 1st I went to Tunbridge and met the prisoner—I asked him if he had broken into my place—he stoutly denied it for about an hour—afterwards, as we stood on the railway bridge, I said, "If you have any manliness in you for the sake of others open your mouth to clear other people"—he made no reply—I said, "Did you do this job by yourself?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Did you have anyone to help you in this job?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Did not you have anyone to help you?"—he said, "No"—I said,. "Did not anyone open the door for you?"—he said, "No"—I said, "How did you get in?"—he said, "I jumped over the railings into the area; I had a large knife and opened the window; with the same knife I opened the drawers, and took the money there from; I forced the door open and went out of the street door which I closed behind me, and I got back to the Elephant about one o'clock"—he said he entered the house about twelve o'clock—previously to that I asked him what money he had got and he said he had only got 5s.—he said he had changed a sovereign at Bromley, another somewhere else, and another at the Chequers on August 24th—he had started hop-picking on the Monday before I saw
him at Tunbridge—the drawers had been forced open; pieces of the wood work were broken away in the front and the locks were forced—the catch of the window was fastened, and I took no farther notice of it—I saw a slight mark on the box of the door.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I heard you had left London and were at Tunbridge—I wrote and asked the police at Tunbridge whether you were there, and I enclosed your photograph; and they wrote to say you had changed a sovereign at the Chequers on August 24th, and that they had their eye on you and would we send down a warrant for your arrest—I heard through a friend of yours that you were going down on the road to Tunbridge hop-picking—I told you at Tunbridge that I did not wish to put you away as you were my brother—I said if you remained stubborn I should go against you as hard as I could—you said the only alternative you had was to own to a thing you had not done; that if you were to own to doing this crime you would put yourself into a nice hole—I said, "Well, if you don't own to it probably it will make it worse for yourself"—my father-in-law was with me at the time—he heard the con versation—he is not here—I represented we were going to the station, thinking it would force a confession from you—you ordered dinner, and we had it—you came to me to the station, and we shook hands and said good-bye—your last words were, "What are you going to do?"—I said, "I cannot say what I shall do till I see the detectives in London."
MATHEW CHICK (Police Sergeant L). I arrested the prisoner at Tunbridge on September 4th—I read, the warrant to him—it mentioned £8—he said, "I did not have £8"—a purse, containing £2 in gold, 2s. in silver, and 2d. bronze was found on the prisoner and handed to me in his presence—on the way from Tunbridge to London the prisoner said, "I only had £3 gold (£2 of that you have), about 27s. or 28s. silver, and about 7s. bronze; that was all the money I had"—I investigated the scene of the burglary—there was a mark on the catch of the window, and marks on the drawers where they had been forced open; and the door leading out was broken from the inside—it could have been opened from the inside by forcing the bolt back with an instrument; a table-knife would do it—it was a very weak lock.
Cross-examined. I should think you could force the drawers with a knife.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was unable to get work in London, and was without food, and without a bed sometimes, and went into the country to get employment, but that he left word with a friend where he was going, and made no attempt to hide his movements, and that his, brother by threatening him had made him own to a thing he had not done,— GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of felony at this Court in January, 1895.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
851. WILLIAM JOSEPH GIBBONS (27) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a post-letter containing two postal-orders, the property of the Postmaster-General; also to stealing another post-letter and sixty stamps. His father deposed to his good character.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SOPER Prosecuted.
ARTHUR MARKWELL . I live at 9, Upper Richmond Road, Putney, and am a silk buyer—on August 23rd, I left my house unoccupied, but properly fastened, and went for a holiday—on August 24th I heard something, in consequence of which I returned on the 26th—I found the house had been entered by breaking open the back door, and it had been thoroughly ransacked—I missed plate, a silver teapot, boots, and other articles, and these coins—I can swear to this George penny by a scratch on the top of the head—twenty-four plated spoons were among the things taken—about £18 was the total value of what I lost—these two pawn tickets were in my desk.
JOHN WINZER (Sergeant V). On August 24th I went to 9, Upper Richmond Road, and examined the premises which were entered by some one passing up the carriage drive, getting through a gate, breaking a square of glass, inserting a hand, and unlocking the back door—it is a semi-detached house—it was ransacked from top to bottom in a very cruel way—great damage was done—cheffoniers and drawers were all broken open—inquiries were made in consequence of another man being arrested for another offence, and the prisoners were handed over to me on their arrest for another offence, for which they are not convicted—property was found on them.
JOSEPH GOFF (Detective V). In consequence of instructions I went to Tunbridge Wells, where I found the prisoners detained—Noakes had this basket, which he owned—I found in it a number of tinker's tools, and in this little box I found these two coins, one a George penny—when Lynch was searched at Walworth these pawn-tickets were found in the, lining of his hat—both prisoners are tinkers by trade.
JAMES EYRE (Constable V). I was present at Wandsworth Station on September 16th, and searched the prisoners—on Lynch taking his hat off I saw some wax matches drop out from the lining—he said, "They are only a few matches; don't take them"—I said, "Let me look," and in the lining of his hat I found these two pawn-tickets—he said, with an oath, he did not know they were there—nothing was found on Noakes, but in his basket were found, in my presence, these two coins—I did not put the pawn-tickets in his hat.
Noakes, in his defence, stated that it was a case got up by the police; that they were searched three times at Tunbridge Wells, and nothing found on them. Lynch asserted his innocence.
GUILTY —NOAKES** then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in November, 1893. LYNCH.** They were stated to be members of a notorious gang of thieves.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour each.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MESSRS. DRAKE and HARRISON Defended.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of indecent assault. — Two Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BROXHOLME Prosecuted, and MR. MARTIN Defended.
GARNETT STACK . I am a labourer, of 143, Vauxhall Walk—on September 5th, soon after 10 p.m., the prisoner's wife called me, and I went to their room, 3, Spring Gardens Walk—there was a bed in a corner, and the prisoner was standing about a foot from it—there were two children in the bed—the prisoner had a tin lamp in his left hand, not alight—I asked him if he was going to light it—he struck a match and dropped it on the bed, and the quilt caught alight—it was a lamp which hooks on to the wall—I can hardly say whether he held it straight, because there was no light in the room—he was very excited—I put the quilt out, it was not much of a flame—I said, "What are you doing of Charley?"—he did not answer, but struck another match, which fell on the bed, and the quilt caught fire again directly—this is it (produced), it burnt them holes in it—it smells of paraffin now—I pulled the quilt off the bed on to the floor, and stamped on it, and took up one child; a policeman came in at that moment and took up the other—the prisoner had been out of work three or four weeks and had buried a child that day—he is a respectable hard working man—after the second match I said, "What are you doing?"—he said he did not know.
Cross-examined. His wife had called me, but she was not in the room—I believe the lamp cost 9 1/2 d.—nothing but the quilt was set on fire—one child had been taken ill with fever, and was taken to the hospital and died there, and on this day he had just come back from the funeral—one of the other children was ill—I do not think the furniture was insured—he had been sitting on the bed that day in very great trouble.
HERBERT MILLAN (60 L). On September 5th, at ten o'clock, a lad called me to Spring Gardens Walk—I found this quilt in flames—the prisoner was by the side of the bed—we pulled the quilt off and stamped the flames out—I took one child out of the bed—I took the prisoner jn custody—he said, "I am not drunk; I know what I am doing.
Cross-examined. He seemed a bit excited.
GEORGE SHRUBSOLE . I am a fireman, of Renfrew Road—on September 5th, at 10 p.m., I was called to Spring Gardens Walk, and found this quilt, which had been burnt—it was wet with oil, and the bed was wet in various places—it had gone through the quilt—there were, most probably, holes in the quilt—I have not brought the lamp here—it holds, moat probably half a pint—I do not think there was more oil on the quilt than the lamp would hold, supposing the man was carrying it carelessly—the oil covered a biggish space—the patch of oil spread along the bed—I saw
the lamp on the floor, the burner was off; it could have tumbled off, it was not a screw—the contents were not insured.
Cross-examined. It was a cheap lamp; if it had fallen on the bed when people were snatching the children out of bed it might have fallen on the floor, but how it came there I do not know.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I don't remember what I done."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
FREDERICK HILLIER . I am a carman—on October 15th I lived at 8, China Walk, Lambeth—the prisoner lodged there—I only know her by meeting her going in and out—I had been there three years, and she two years—we did not visit one another—on October 15th, at 1 a.m., I was in bed with my wife, and the door was locked—the prisoner burst it open and came to my bed and cut me across the throat—she said nothing—my wife was confined the next day—she was not called before the Magistrate—she is not here—she had not had words with the prisoner.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. My wife would be too frightened to quarrel with you—she is only a little woman—she is a tailoress—you have never done a day's work that I know of—you did not pass me before I went to bed—I had been in bed some days, and was very bad—you had not been drinking with me—I have not had several quarrels with you.
By the COURT. I took the knife from her—this is it (produced)—I was so excited, I do not know what I did with it.
EDWIN ERNEST WILLIAM ROWE . I am a medical practitioner—I have seen Mary Hillier; she is ill and unable to come—I examined the prosecutor and found a clean incised wound commencing on his chin and going down his neck about two and a-half inches—he was lying on the bed with his chin up, if he had been lying down it would have been impossible to do it; at the upper part of the wound the skin was not completely severed, but the lower part was; his shirt was wet with blood—there was another wound on his nose, three-quarters of an inch long, probably caused by a fall, and several very superficial scratches on his left cheek, which could have been done by a hair-pin, and a scratch on his left eye with a little infusion of blood under the lower lid—he was not in any danger, he is completely well now—I saw the prisoner at the station, she seemed very excited, but I cannot say that she was drunk—she said that she had been bitten, and there was a small abrasion on a finger, but it did not look like a bite, and there was a bruise on her right eye—this knife would produce the wound, it was probably done with the point.
JAMES HAYES . I am a labourer, and lodge at 3, China Walk—I went down to the prisoner's door at 12.30 or 12.45 on this morning to ask her to leave off singing and dancing as I had to get up at 5.30—she had a friend with her, and I asked her to be quiet, and have her row in the daytime—she called me a black bastard; I then called her a dirty messer—she ran at me with a knife, and I ran upstairs and fetched a poker and came downstairs with it, and looked in her room, and she and her friend had gone downstairs; she was in, Mr. Hillier's room—I ran
down and called a constable—I saw the knife again in Hillier's room—I cannot say whether I gave it to Hillier or the policeman.
Cross-examined. I did not open your door and keep it open—Mr. Hillier did not catch hold of you, he was in bed.
The Prisoner. You know you struck me first with the poker on my elbow, and you ought to be in the dock instead of me.
E. E. W. ROWE (Re-examined). The prisoner complained of pain in her elbow, but said that it was all arising from the bite on her finger.
THOMAS JONES (Policeman). I was on duty and heard cries of "Murder" and "Police"; Mr. Hillier was in his shirt sleeves calling out, "Hurry up"—I went to the first floor front room and Bethel had got hold of the prisoner—I told her I should take her into custody—she was sober—she said, "He bit me through the finger, I did not use no knife"—the knife was handed to me, there was blood on it—she was taken to the station and charged with cutting and wounding—she said, "Quite correct, he punched me in my face and bit my finger"—I saw Mrs. Hillier at the Court; her evidence was taken down and she signed the deposition.
Cross-examined. You were not undressed; you were in a red petticoat and apron, and you asked me to fetch your hat.
The deposition of MARY HILLIER: "I am the wife of the last witness; we were both in bed at one o'clock this morning when the prisoner broke the door in and stabbed my husband in bed; we struggled, and I got the knife from her and ran out for a constable."
ALEXANDER GEORGE BETHEL . I am an engineer and fitter and live in the house—the first of it was a row outside my door at 12.30 or 12.45; the prisoner was dancing with another woman, and witness came down and spoke to her—there were high words and the witness came down with a poker, and someone said, "Would you use the poker?"—I heard a cry, and jumped up and ran down, and saw Mr. Hillier and the prisoner struggling together; Hillier was bleeding rather heavily—the prisoner did not give any reason for it; I only know that she was threatened with the brokers—Mr. Hillier is her landlord.
Cross-examined. You were fighting on the landing; you were mad drunk, at the time; you were turned out of a public-house that night.
F. HILLIER (Re-examined). The prisoner had not had notice to quit, but she was three weeks in arrear of rent.
The prisoner. I always pay three weeks at a time.
Witness for the Defence.
MARY HICKS . I am the prisoner's mother-in-law; she is married—I do not live in the house—we were both the worse for drink—I was in a public-house with her, the Cock and Bottle; she was turned out for drinking, and I went home with her—we were sitting down singing, and this man came down and burst the door open, and said, "If you do not be quiet, I will do something to you," and he hit my daughter on her shoulder with a poker—I did not see Hillier or his wife.
Prisoner's defence. Hayes owed me a grudge eight months ago.
GUILTY .— Fourteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. TURRELL Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH BAKER . I am the prisoner's wife; we live at 47, Toulon Street, Walworth—we have been married six years last Monday—he came home drunk seven weeks ago, and I separated from him—we have since been living apart—I met him on this night, and took a walk with him—we went into a public-house opposite the Elephant and Castle—I gave him a glass of beer and I had a glass of gingerbeer—we came out and he asked me if I would live with him again; I said that I would if he gave the drink up—he asked me for sixpence—he acts very strange when in drink—he said, "Are you coming back with me?" I said, "No," and with that he stabbed me in the back of my neck—I fell, and he stabbed me again, when I was on the ground—some gentleman came and took hold of his hand, and he was taken in custody—I sell fish—somebody was with me at the time—I picked this knife up by my side.
NIEL MCDOUGALL (118 L). On September 22nd, about 10 p.m., I was near the Elephant and Castle, Green called my attention, I ran across, and the prosecutrix gave the prisoner in custody for stabbing her—he said, "Take me," and at the station when she said she was knocked down, he said,. "That is true"—she handed me this knife, it was saturated with blood—he was very excited; he had been drinking but he knew what he was. doing.
The Prisoner. I cannot recollect anything about it; I was out of my mind at the time.
GEORGE NICHOL HENRY . I am the divisional surgeon, of 175,. Kennington Road—I was called to the station and found the prosecutrix with two wounds on the back of her neck, and one two inches below her eye; they were bleeding; the shape corresponds with this knife—it had not been done with very considerable violence because the knife has a very sharp point—this piece of flannel which she had round her neck was saturated with blood—it might have been dangerous if the wounds had been by the side of her neck.
Prisoner's Defence. "I am very sorry it occurred. I will give up the drink."
GUILTY.—(Recommended to mercy by the JURY,believing him to be of weak intellect.)— Judgment respited.
858. THOMAS JOHN ROGERS (26) and SARAH LIPSCOMBE (22) , Feloniously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Frederick Kingsnorth, on August 20th, at Leatherhead, and stealing there in two rings, a number of coins, and £40 in money, his property. Second Count, Feloniously receiving the same.
ROGERS PLEADED GUILTY to larceny, but not to the burglary.
FREDERICK KENGSNORTH . I am a baker and confectioner, of Bridge Street, Leatherhead—on August 20th I left my house for a few days, leaving it safely locked—I gave the keys and the key of the cash-box to my wife—the safe was there, and between £25 and £30 in gold, silver and copper, and Borne old coins; one coin was of the reign of Edward VI., and there were eight or ten crown pieces, a Belgian sovereign, an American quarter dollar, and two mites—the safe was on the ground floor; it was my custom to lock it, and take tie key upstairs, but my wife
put it in a bureau—I received a telegram from my wife next day, and returned home—I found that somebody had broken into the house; the protector of the keyhole was damaged—I saw a slight mark on the window on the outside—the safe had not been broken open, but the bureau had been tampered with—the female prisoner had done work in the house, but she had not been servant—she would know where the safe was—I missed some coppers from the bureau; the cash-box was generally kept in the safe—in the following week I saw some of my property at the Police-station—these two rings produced by Feuillard were in the safe; also a wedding ring and a keeper belonging to my first wife—these threepenny pieces and these Belgian coins, this Lancashire piece, and these 2d. pieces, all belonged to my grandmother, who gave thorn to me several years ago. I have got back all the money as well, but I cannot speak to that because they are ordinary "coins—I have separated some "Lion" shillings from the others, and also one with a hole through it; altogether I have recovered £31; these are similar coins to what I lost.
By the COURT. The protector of the keyhole was damaged; there is a spring here, which has to be pressed up; anybody who aid not understand it would not be able to work it.
Cross-examined by Rogers. At the time the female prisoner worked in the house, the safe was in the house; I have had it seven or eight years, she must repeatedly have seen it—I do not recollect that question being asked me before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined by Lipscombe. Your mother has worked for me several years as a charwoman and washerwoman, and you had come in and out repeatedly.
MARY ANN KINGSNORTH . I am the wife of the last witness—I took charge of the business for him when he was absent on August 20th—I put the cash-box in the safe about half-past eleven at night, locked the safe, and put the key in the bureau down in the kitchen—I locked the bureau and took the key into my bed-room—the key of the cash-box and all the keys were together—I was not disturbed that night. I was called up at six o'clock in the morning, and found the house had been broken into.
HENRY RAZZELL . I am a baker in the prosecutor's employ; it is my custom to attend in the morning early—on August 21st I attended at twenty minutes to six—I found the door at the back of the yard open and the kitchen window open—that was before the constable was fetched—I did not examine the window—I found the cash-box in the kitchen, and a lamp on the floor; it was in a very dangerous position, burning, under some coals.
THOMAS SMITH (Inspector). I am stationed at Leatherhead—on August 21st I examined Mr. Kingsnorth's shop—I found the back door open, the flower-pots had been removed from the window-sill, and there was a distinct mark of footsteps outside and inside—there was a table inside the window and the mark on it of a stocking—I could not say whether of a male or female foot—I found the cash-box unlocked and thirty-one shillings left in it; it was broken—the footmark outside was on the window-sill—on the 27th I received information from P. C. Bond, and gave him instructions to go to London—the window was
opened by the catch, being pushed up—it was done very cleanly—there was sufficient space for a thin knife to be put in.
ELIZA BROWN . I am the wife of Benjamin Brown, an antique dealer, of 298, St. George's Circus, Waterloo Road—on August 26th Rogers came to me with another man, and offered some coins for sale—there should be two fourpenny pieces, but I find the constable has lost one; there was a Lion shilling, and Edward VI. coin, a bronzed coin, and a George II. halfpenny—I gave them five shillings for them—one of them said that the one with a hole in it he had been wearing on his chain, that he had had them a long while, and they belonged to his family.
RICHARD LA FEUILLARD . I am a pawnbroker of 167, High Street, Borough—on August 22nd I exchanged these two rings for two other rings—these (produced) are the two rings taken in exchange, they are a wedding ring and keeper—they were exchanged for another wedding ring and keeper—heavier ones and something extra was paid—I lent the two rings subsequently to Bond which I received from the person who exchanged these rings—I cannot say who the person was to whom the exchange was made—the transaction was attended to by one of my assistants, but I go by the books.
HARRIET ALLEN . I am the wife of Frederick Allen, a plasterer, of 2, Alders Terrace, Merton Road, Tooting—on June 20th the two prisoners came and the male prisoner hired a furnished room for 4s. 6d. per week, but they were only in the room a few days—they lived there as man and wife from Monday to Wednesday—two constables came—there was a box there, the male prisoner brought it—they did not come in separately they came together, and the day afterwards the male prisoner went for the box and brought it to my house—I do not know whether it was used while they were there—it was taken away by the police afterwards—they also brought a child's cart.
THOMAS BOND (Policeman). I am stationed at Leatherhead—on August 27th I received instructions from Inspector Smith, in consequence of which I came to London, and took the prisoners at 2, Alders Terrace, Upper Tooting, on the 28th—I got into the house with another constable, and knocked at their bedroom door—Rogers asked who was there—I said, "I want to speak to you"—he opened the door—I said, "Your name is Phillips?"—he said "Yes"—I said, "You will have to go with me for burglary"—he said, "I do not know what you mean"—the female prisoner was in bed—I told her to get up and dress, and at the station I told her to take off the two rings which she had on her finger—these are they, Mr. Feuillard identifies them—I searched Rogers, and found a new knife and a bunch of keys—a woman searched the female prisoner, and found a purse and 6s. and a pawn-ticket—I returned to the house where they lodged, searched between the bed and mattress, and found £31 10s. 11d.—there were two sovereigns of 1820 and 1826, an American dollar, two mites, and two Belgian coins—these coins have been identified by Mr. Brown—the prisoners were taken to Leatherhead Police-station—I also found their box in the room; I took it to the station—Rogers said, "I shall plead guilty to stealing the money, but I found the window and door open; I did not break into the house; I went into the house for a certain purpose about 1.30; I did not break in, I saw the door open and went in, and the key was in the safe—on the way to
Leatherhead Station the female prisoner said, "The box belongs to me," and Rogers said, "Those keys belong to my wife's box"—those were the keys found on him—she was not present when he was taken—on September 3rd I went to Mr. La Feuillard, the pawnbroker, and received this wedding-ring and keeper—that was not after I found the female prisoner wearing these two rings; she was wearing them when I apprehended her—the other coins were handed to me by Mr. Brown; they are also identified by Mrs. Kingsnorth—I have not seen the female prisoner's mother here to-day.
T. BONO (Re-examined by MR. DEMICHELE). I have examined the contents of the box which was found, and which was claimed by the female prisoner—I have found in it a number of articles, the subject of other burglaries in the neighbourhood of Leatherhead, and also a number of pawntickets—they were burglaries from places where the female prisoner has been employed, and the articles are identified by persons living in those houses—in the case relating to the breaking into a girls' school at Leatherhead there were two or three pairs of men's drawers and night-gowns, flannel petticoats unfinished, three chemises, and two children's pinafores—that is all from the school—they were stolen in May last—I also found a pair of boots on the female prisoner, which have been identified as the produce of a burglary at Leatherhead—on August 10th and on August 11th another burglary was committed at Leatherhead, and I found ten table knives, rolls of cloth and cuttings, the subject of a burglary at Mr. Shoolbred's, who identified them—when I charged the male prisoner, he said, "I found the things wrapped up in a cloth at the bottom of Mr. North's yard."
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Rogers says: "What I have to say I will say at the trial; the young woman knows nothing about it." Lipscombe says: "I have nothing to say."
ROGERS— GUILTY .—He had been convicted in May last of loitering with housebreaking instruments in his possession with intent to commit a burglary.— Thirteen Months' Hard Labour. LIPSCOMBE— GUILTY of receiving. MR. DEMICHELE stated that she had been in service at each of the houses where the burglaries were committed.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HILL Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended the Prisoner.— NOT GUILTY . There were two other indictments against the prisoner for like offences upon which
MR. HILL offered no evidence.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. SELWYN Prosecuted.— GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY,as she might not have been in her right senses at the time—Judgment respited.
861. THOMAS EGAN (22) , Feloniously demanding £5 of Bartholomew Connell, with menaces. As the Prosecutor could only identify the prisoner by his voice in the dark, and as there was no corroboration, the COURT directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 18TH, 1895.