CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SIXTH SESSION, HELD MARCH 23RD, 1896.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED, BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ., Q.C.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, March 23rd 1896, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR WALTER WILKIN , Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Hon. Sir ALFRED WILLS , Knt. one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart, M.P., and Sir STUART KNILL , Bart, LL.D., Sir JOHN VOCE MOORE , Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , M.P., Knt., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR , Esq., JOHN CHARLES BELL , Esq., and FREDERICK PRATT ALLISTON , ESQ.; and Sir FORREST FULTON , Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
WILKIN, MAYOR. SIXTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the names in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, March 23rd, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
— Judgment Respited.
287. WILLIAM HARRISON (34) and HENRY BALE (35) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to conspiracy to defraud the London General Omnibus Company, their masters; also to stealing 15,000 Omnibuses tickets, the property of their masters.
BALE— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
HARRISON— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. And
288. GEORGE JOSEY (27) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to feloniously forging and uttering an endorsement to an order for £10 7s. 2d., with intent to defraud; also to embezzling the sums of £7 12s., £5, £15 12s., the property of Joseph Bates, his master.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
The prisoners being Italians, the evidence was interpreted.
MR. BLACKBURN Prosecuted.
ARCHIBALD MILLER (151 M). On the morning of February 21st, about twenty minutes to four, I was on duty in Harrow Road, and saw the two prisoners in a passage way by the side of the Church Extension Association, leading to the back of the Metropolitan Music Hall—as soon as they saw me they turned round directly to a van that was standing in the passage, and eased themselves against the wheel—they then proceeded in the direction of, the Edgware Board—I went round my beat and met the prisoners again; I turned round and followed them into Church Street—I met Constable Brown, and we followed them into the passage where I had first seen them—they passed by the church door and went into chapel Street, through burn Street and Bell Street; they remained at the corner for some time—Musso crossed the road into a passage leading to toe same passage as before—I went down the passage and met him; I asked what he was doing there
—Brown detained him—I saw Parissi standing in a doorway of the Green Man public-house; he left it very hurriedly; I followed and took him into custody at the Corner of Chapel Street—I told him that I had been watching his movements, and he would have to come with me, and I took him back to where the other prisoner was, in the passage—he denied all knowledge of the other prisoner—he spoke in English—I searched Parissi at the station; I found on him a pocket-knife, a pocket-book, and some papers—on the way to the station he destroyed a post-card; I picked up the pieces and put them together, but could not make anything of them.
Parissi. That card belonged to the Petersburg Exhibition, where I was. working. Witness. When I arrested you I took you back to see Musso, and you said you did not know him; you spoke in English.
JOHN BROWN (68 F). I was on duty on the morning of February 21st, about a quarter to four, in Church Street—I saw the two prisoners together; they came from the Edgware Road up Church Street to Paddington Green—they crossed Paddington Green—Constable Miller came running up, and from what he said we followed them—they were keeping together all the time—we followed them through several streets until they came to Bell Street; Musso then went down a passage by the side of the Metropolitan Music Hall—Parissi turned to the left, and waited in the doorway of the Green Man public-house—we went up to Musso, and apprehended him—I saw this chisel sticking from his right-hand trousers pocket—I was afterwards present when he was searched, and two keys, one a skeleton, a chisel, a piece of wax candle, and some matches were found on him—on the candle there was the impression of a thumb and finger—this bunch of keys are nearly all skeletons; they were found by a witness—I asked Musso what he was doing there—he said he wished to relieve himself—he spoke in broken English—I had been following them for about an hour.
CHARLOTTE VINEY . I am assistant to Francis Ashdown, at the Church Extension Association at Kilburn—on Thursday night, February 20th, I saw the premises safely locked up after I went to bed, about ten—next morning, Mr. Fowler came to me with this instrument, and I saw marks on my door.
JOHN JAMES FOWLER . I am caretaker at the Metropolitan Music Hall, at the back of these premises—on Friday morning, February 21st, about nine, on going to my van, which stands there, I found this instrument (a jemmy) right against the door of the Church Extension Association—I looked at the door, and found some marks there, and called the last witness's attention to them.
WILLIAM THURGATE . I am a printer, of 18, Harrow Road—on Thursday evening, February 20th, between five and six, I was in my composition-room, which adjoins the passage by the music-hall, and thought I heard my machine-door tried—I opened the door, and saw the two prisoners going away; they tried the indoor of 34—Parissi asked me for a place of convenience.
ROBERT BOLTON (Inspector, F). On the morning of February 21st, about then, I received this jemmy from Sister Florence, of the Church Association—I examined the door, and found two distinct marks on the
door, which corresponded with this jemmy, and there were other marks which did not correspond; I received this bunch of keys from Inspector Allison.
HENRY THOMPSON . I am a coal dealer, and live at 4, Vine Street, Burn Street—on February 21st I found this bunch of keys on the top of a shed which I use, near the Church Association premises; I took them to the police.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Parissi: "At 4.20 this morning I was on my way to see a friend at the London Banking Company, Limited. I was crossing a road, when I saw a light down the passage, and heard the hasty steps of a policeman, who said, 'Come back and see if you know this woman.' He took me to a narrow place, where, instead of a woman, there were two policemen." Musso: "When I was arrested I was following the course of nature. I know nothing about the charge."
The prisoners in their defence denied all knowledge of the charge, and Parissi called two witnesses to prove an alibi.
MARIE KARONI . I live at 69, Huntley Street; Parissi lived with me—on February 21st he came there at a quarter to six, and at nine o'clock he went out to try and get some money; he did not come back, he wastook.
ANTONIO SACH . I live at 69, Great Whitfield Street—on February 20th I was at the house where the little prisoner lives; I don't know his name—I was with him from half-past four till half-past six in the afternoon; that is all I know.
PARISSI— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MUSSO— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. RANDOLPH Defended.
WALTER WINKWORTH . I am a builder's foreman, living at 40, Ennis Road, Hornsey—I was engaged on behalf of Messrs. Kirk and Randall in building a Board School at Hornsey—William James and the prisoner were employed there as labourers under me—on February 14th I discharged the prisoner—on February 15th I left my house about 6.35 a.m., and when I got on to the pavement the prisoner gave me a blow in the eye—I did not; see if he had anything in his hand—it was a very severe blow, with something very hard—afterwards, when I got up from the pavement, I saw this piece of iron close to where we had been struggling—it appeared to me as if the blow I received was done with it—after he struck me we closed and struggled, and fell to the ground, he on the top of me, and when I was on the ground he bit me on the cheek, saying, That is for yesterday"—as I was struggling to get up someone came and kicked me in the side and hit me on the Back—I cried for help—someone came and said, "What are you kicking that man for?"—the prisoner got up and ran away—I believe I saw James run out of the gates, and I pointed to the two men running across the road—shortly afterwards I was taken to the hospital—I was there for fifteen minutes, I should say—I have not been there since; I had
a private doctor—when I discharged the prisoner I told him to clear off the ground, because he was quarrelling with other men; he then challenged me to fight, and I told him to let it stand by till after I had cleared off my work.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had been employed on this work for about three weeks—I had a son on the work; he was building close to the prisoner on that day—this dispute did not arise about him and my son—I heard them swearing at each other, and went and stopped them, and the prisoner called me a "Swede eater," which means a countryman, I take it—he did not say my, son had been building too close to his work—I did not say if I were my son I would give him a punch in the eye—I discharged him, and he was paid off—when I stepped out of my house the next morning I got a blow in the eye—I do not know whether the prisoner had left his tools in the public-house opposite; I have since heard he did—I did not, when I met him next morning, say, "What are you doing here, you b——?"—he did not say, "I have come for my tools and that punch on the nose you promised me last night"—I did not strike a blow; I had no opportunity—I have never said I saw this piece of iron in his hand; I did not see it in his hand—it was subsequently picked up by someone else and brought into my house—I don't know if it is a cart-washer—I had no fight with him—I am not well known for my fighting instincts, or as a bully foreman, that I know of—I have been three years in my present employment.
Re-examined. I was in one employment before that for two years—I have my references—the prisoner had quarrelled with other men before; that was why I discharged him.
HARRY PENN . I am a bricklayer, living at 40, Ennis Road—at 6.30 a.m. on February 16th, I was looking out of window, and I saw Winkworth met by the prisoner, who was with another man, on the top of the area steps; the prisoner attacked him and knocked him down on the pavement; they fell together—Winkworth said, "Let me get up, you are biting me;" and I heard him shout, "Murder, murder! help!"—the prisoner got up and crossed the road—I did not see the condition of Winkworth's face; it was between lights.
Cross-examined. I live in Winkworth's house, which is next door to the works, two hundred or three hundred yards from the principal entrance—I was looking out of the top window.
HENRY LOCK . I live at 2, Amberley Terrace, Fulham, and am time-keeper to Kirk and Randall—I was engaged on the School Board building in Woodstock Road—on the 14th, about 1.30, I paid the prisoner his wages, and one hour besides in lieu of notice, as he was discharged by the foreman—he said, "Winkworth has got his own to-day; I will have mine to-morrow"—I said, "You have got your money, get out of it"—he took his tools and went out of the gate—the following morning, about 6.30, just before going into the works, I saw him with two men—he said he was going to knock Winkworth out; he went up Woodstock Road, in the Direction of Wink worth's house—I afterwards saw Winkworth with his face bleeding.
Cross-examined. There is a public-house close, opposite to where Winkworth lives—I have heard since that the prisoner left his tools there—nothing was said about Winkworth's son at the time the prisoner was
discharged; the following morning something was Raid about him—the prisoner was in a state of mind about it—I did not see what occurred between the prisoner and Winkworth—the prisoner had a good deal of blood on his face and clothes.
Re-examined. No cut or wound was to be seen on him.
MICHAEL JOSEPH BULGER . I am divisional surgeon to the Y Police—at 7.15 a.m. on February 15th I was called to the station and examined Winkworth—I found an incised wound, about one and a quarter inches long, above his left eyebrow, going down to the bone; a lacerated and contused wound under the lower eyelid, completely lacerating it, and severe bruising of the left side of the nose and face, including the lip—he was very much collapsed; he had lost a good deal of blood; his clothes and face were saturated with blood—I examined the prisoner; I found no wound on Him—I was called again at two p.m., and I then found a wound on the inner aspect of his left thumb—if a knife like this had been closed suddenly on the thumb it would cause just such a wound as he had—Winkworth has recovered; he had dangerous wounds; they corresponded with this iron carriage-washer—the wound on the cheek could have been caused by teeth; it looked like a bite.
Cross-examined. It is quite possible the wounds were caused by this washer—I do not think they would both have been caused by falling on any sharp surface, as the bone of the forehead projects, and protects that part of the eye—I do not think the blow of a fist could cause either of them, because they are of considerable depth and length—the thumb was cut by a sharp instrument—there was a good deal of blood about the prisoner; it was not so thick that I could not have seen a wound through it; it evidently came from the prosecutor—I did not see a cut behind his ear.
WILLIAM JAMES . I live at 30, Campbell Road, and am a labourer in the employment of Kirk and Randall—at 6.30 a.m., on February 15th, I went to the School Board works, and was waiting outside for the whistle to blow, when I heard the prisoner say he was going to give someone a cut in. the mouth—he went down the Woodstock Road, and came up the Ennis Road, going in the direction of where Winkworth lives—after I got into the works I heard Winkworth call out, "Murder! murder! help! help! help!"—I rushed to the gates and saw Winkworth lying on the pavement, bleeding—he said something to me, and pointed, and said, "Bill"—I went and tapped the prisoner on the shoulder, and said I wanted him to stop till the policeman came—he slung round, and slung me in the jaw with his right hand; I could not see if he had anything in his hand; it was between lights—my face started bleeding directly—this is the scar—my foreman, Humphreys, called out, "Bill, Bill, be careful; he has got a knife in his hand"—I caught hold of the prisoner to stop him, and we struggled and fell to the ground, I on the top—when on the ground he struck me three times in the left side and once on the back of the head, and he bit my cheek, which has since kept gathering—I said, "I will make you drink my blood if you don't give over biting"—the blood was flowing out right over his face—the blows in my side cut right through my clothes and into my flesh; one was one and a-quarter inches deep; I showed them to the doctor—the blow at the back of the head broke the skin; the doctor dressed it; it was done with a knife, or something
sharp—the police came up, and I went to the station—I remained in the hospital for very nearly a week, and I am still an out-patient.
Cross-examined. I saw nothing in the prisoner's hand—the cut on my cheek was right through my cheek and jaw and gum—I saw nothing of the fight between the prisoner and Winkworth—the prisoner was going in the direction of the public-house with his brother—I went after him, followed by Cox and Humphreys; I could not say whether one or two others followed him; it was between lights—none of the others ever touched the prisoner—I never fight.
ANDREW COX . I am a bricklayer's labourer, living at 40, Ennis Road—I was at work on the Board School building—I heard cries of "Murder! help! help!"—I ran out and saw James take the prisoner by the neck, and he said, "I will detain you till the police come"—they struggled and fell to the ground—I was sent for a policeman—I did not see James's face; it was between lights.
Cross-examined. James was not accompanied by other men from the works; no one else helped; two or three men were there, not more.
CHARLES HUMPHREYS . I live at 15, Travers Road, Old Southgate, And am a navy ganger—I was engaged on this job—about 6.30 I saw James run and take hold of the prisoner, who said he would not have it all his own way—the prisoner tried to rush across the road, and he turned and struck James on the side of his face—I saw blood flow from the side of his face, and I said, "Be careful, Bill; I believe he has got a knife"—I did not see anything in his hand; it was just daybreak—a policeman was sent for—while the prisoner and James were on the ground I saw the prisoner strike James in the side two or three times—I heard James say, "He has bitten me"—I went back to the works.
Cross-examined. I saw a struggle; the prisoner went down, and James on top of him—I said before the Magistrate, "If there bad been a knife I must have seen it."
JAMES MCLACHLAN (453 Y). I was on duty at Stroud Green, about 6.30 a.m. on January 15th—I was called to Perth Road, and there I saw the prisoner and James struggling—I went up, and the prisoner gave James into custody—James said he gave the prisoner into custody—another man came up and said, "You had better go round the corner; there is a man there worse than they are"—I went round the corner, and saw Winkworth come out of his house with a handkerchief over his eye—when he, James, and the prisoner were together Winkworth said he would give the prisoner into custody for assaulting him, for striking him in the eye with a piece of iron, and he gave me this piece of iron—the prisoner made no answer; he was taken to the station—I took James to the hospital, and then went back to the scene of the struggle, and in the garden close by I found this knife, shut, with blood on it.
Cross-examined. Directly I got up the prisoner and James charged each other.
MORRIS MORTIMER (Sergeant, 83 Y). I was in charge of the station when the prisoner was brought in—his face was besmeared with blood—James said that the blood was off him, and preferred a charge of wounding against the prisoner—the prisoner heard it, and said, "The question is,
who did it?"—afterwards he said, "Why were not the other men arrested?"
ERMANN HOGDEN (Police Inspector). I came to the station about 9.30; the prisoner was there—he voluntarily made this statement, which I took down in writing:—"Charles Lawrence, 33, Nicholin Road, Upper Holloway. I am a bricklayer. I have a son who has work at Hampstead; he left home before I did this morning. I have been working at the new Board School, Woodstock Road; I went to the works this morning for my tools, when the foreman saw me, and said, 'What are you here after?' I said, 'I have come for my tools, and that punch on the head you promised me last night.' He then struck me on the nose, and we both closed, and fell together in the roadway."
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner; I have no record of any offence against him for violence.
MICHAEL BULGER (Re-examined). I examined the prisoner's face at the station; I saw no signs on his nose as if he had just been struck—I examined James; he had a clean cut incised wound, two inches long, penetrating into his mouth, through his left cheek, and bleeding very freely—this knife might have caused it—I stitched it up—I also found a mark of a bruise on his cheek, evidently caused by a bite—I found two incised wounds over his ninth and eleventh ribs, about half an inch long and one inch deep, and corresponding cuts in five articles of clothing—the prisoner's knife might have caused them; a sharp-pointed instrument must have been used with considerable force—I sent him to the hospital; he was in a collapsed-condition—there was also a clean cut knife wound on the scalp, at the back of his head; it had stopped bleeding.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Month's Hard Labour.
MR. GILL, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. TURRKLL Prosecuted.
THOMAS JEFFREYS . I live at 3, Hawley Crescent, Camden Town, and am a labourer—on Monday, March 2nd, about 3.30 p.m., I was in the Eagle public-house, Camden Road—the prisoner came from the other bar and got into conversation with me and my friend—I had not known him before—we had a friendly conversation about where we had been in India—he asked me to have a drink; I refused, and they refused to serve him at the bar; he was drunk at the time—he turned and said he would gouge my eye out, and no sooner the word than the blow—he had a pipe between his fingers, with the stem sticking out—he hit me just below the eyeball—I was taken to the hospital—he told me he was an army reserve man; I said I was one, too—I could tell he had been in India by the places he spoke of—I had been in India—I never heard the expression used in the army, "I will gouge your eye out."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It may be used in your regiment—you often hear other expressions, but not exactly that one—I din't suppose
you did it wilfully, or that you really did mean it—you had no intent against me, because we did not know each other.
CECIL LEWIS . I am a qualified medical practitioner and house-surgeon at the North-West London Hospital—the prosecutor was brought there—I found a lacerated wound about two inches long just below the lower margin of the left eyelid; the eye-ball itself was bruised—the sight may be impaired a little, but he has fairly good sight now, and it may improve a little more.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am sorry the prosecutor was injured; it was not done intentionally."
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had had a touch of sunstroke in India, and that when lie had a drop of drink, he did not know what he was doing.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Three Weeks' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, March 23rd, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
293. WILLIAM KENNY (50) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin. (Convictions were proved against him, but the police stated that he had been earning an honest living for thelast eleven years.)— One Days Imprisonment.
295. WILLIAM FREDERICK BLACKMAN (33) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to stealing, while employed in the post-office a letter containing three postage stamps and a postal order for 1s., the property of H.M. Postmaster-General.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
296. CHARLES MARSH, (27) to stealing while employed in the post-office a letter containing a postal order for 5s.; also a letter containing a postal order for 4s., the property of H.M. Postmaster-General.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
297. THOMAS WILSON (25) and FREDERICK GEORGE DUNCAN (29) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Alfred Clark and stealing a brooch and other articles, his property; also to breaking arid entering the dwelling-house of Arthur Andrew Stewart and stealing a bracelet and other articles, his property. WILSON— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour DUNCAN*— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
THOMAS CHARLES COX . I am a greengrocer, of 33, Seton Street, Chelsea; the prisoner is my wife—on the morning of February 27th I went home and sat in a chair and asked her to come to bed; she took a poker out of the fire and put it in my eye—we had had words in the daytime and she said she would gouge my eye out—I called out, and the landlady came—the rug was on fire—she pulled me out of the room—the
prisoner dropped the poker—I was taken to St. George's Hospital, and my eye was attended to—I did not fall down on the poker—I never fell at all; I was sober.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It is not true that you have had four black eyes in twelve months—I was not going to strike you. (The prisoner pointed to her dress, which she said I was burnt by the poker.)
MARY ANN BOUSFIELD . I am the wife of John Stephen Bousfield, of 35, Stephen Street, Chelsea—the prosecutor and prisoner have lived there between three und four weeks—on February 27th, between one and two a.m., I was called, and the prosecutor said his wife had set the things on fire—I said, "May I come in?"—he said, "Will you come in, Mrs. Bousfield; she has put the poker in my eye and set the place on fire"—I went in and took the poker away, and caught hold of him and took him away—he was sober, and so was she.
By the COURT. They have lived there three or four weeks; she had no black eye then, but I saw her with a black eye last November, when they lived opposite me.
THOMAS MCGARRY (75 B). I was at the Police-station when the prosecutor came—he was perfectly sober, but his eye was very bad—I went with him to his lodging, and found the prisoner in bed—I asked her what she had done it for; she said that he did it himself, and that she had had four black eyes since she had been married—I took her to the station; she said, "Quite right, Inspector; this will be the first night's rest I have had for twelve months."
CHARLES WATSON . I am a surgeon, of St. George's Hospital—I examined the prosecutor on his coming in; his right upper eyelid was burnt, and there was considerable swelling on the eyeball, and inflamation and ulceration set up afterwards—he was not admitted, as we had no bed—next time he came there was an ulcer on the front of the eye itself, and he could not bear the light—I do not think he will lose his sight, but his vision will always be impaired; at present he can only see people singly—I do not think it could have been done by his falling on the poker, because the burn would have been deeper; it was a rapid blow, and if he had fallen on it I should have expected to find a burn on his forehead as well.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I can only say I did not do it; it was done in the scuffle."
Prisoner's defence. He caught hold of me. A struggle took place between us, and the poker fell out of the fire and burnt my dress, and he fell on the poker. He did not say anything about his eye, and I went to bed. I was so accustomed to his being out that I thought nothing of it. He was drunk three or four days before, and had no money to go to market with; he called me everything that is bad. He has spent the little bit of money I had, and said he was not going to work for me. He has given me several black eyes; my life with him has been misery. Now my money has gone I can go.
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, March 24th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
MESSES. RANDOLPH, and E. PERCIVAL CLARKE Prosecuted;
MR. BIRON Defended.
WILLIAM LEE . I am master of the Union Workhouse in Poland Street, Oxford Street—the prisoner was admitted to the Workhouse on January 23rd last—she was in labour at the time; she was delivered of a female child about twenty-five minutes after—she took her discharge voluntarily on the 18th February about five or ten minutes to twelve at noon—she had her breakfast about half-past seven or eight, and before she left she had some milk and bread and butter—I did not tell her she must not come back; she could have come back if she liked—the child was provided with clothing by the house—some cotton-wool was wrapped round its body, and milk in a bottle was given for it.
Cross-examined. There was no rule to prevent her coming back, if she bad returned I should have been bound to admit her—there is a receiving ward, where they are admitted—she stated before the Coroner that she did not stop in the workhouse because she thought she would have to go to the receiving ward, which was like going to prison; that was quite a delusion on her part.
KATE WEBB . I am a nurse in the Westminster Union Workhouse, Poland Street, the prisoner was admitted there on January 23rd, and was delivered of a female child about an hour after—I nursed her—she remained till February 18th—she had breakfast and lunch before leaving, I also fed the child—it was weaned by the doctor's order—I was not aware that she was going to take her discharge till she had already done so; she could have stayed if she pleased—I told her to take care of the baby—she said she had got some one to look after it and she had work to go to—I offered her a bottle; she said she did not think she should want it—the baby was fed about ten minutes before she left—I had not told her if she went out she could not return—I said nothing to her about the receiving ward—I simply mentioned to some woman to fetch her clothes from the receiving ward to be aired; that was after the prisoner had taken her discharge—her health seemed fairly good while she was there.
Cross-examined. I never said that the receiving ward was an unhealthy place, and she would not like it—I believe she got up on the twelfth day after her confinement—she did not nurse the child herself; she had not much milk—the baby was a small baby; the prisoner did not seem strong; she began to nurse the child, but the doctor ordered it to be weaned—he saw her the morning she left.
ANNIE SHOOLMAN . I am the wife of a tailor, of 67, Cleveland Street—the prisoner worked for me about twelve months ago and left—on Tuesday afternoon between six or seven she came to me—she appeared to be in a very bad state of health and excited—I asked her what was the matter with her—she said, "I ain't got work; I ain't got nothing to do"—she started crying—I gave her two cups of tea, and a slice of bread and butter; I again asked what was the matter—she said, "I will tell you"—my husband then came in to have something to eat—when he had gone I took a
chair and sat near to her, and said, "Dinah, tell me what is the matter with you; why are you crying?"—she said, "I have murdered my child"—I said, "What child?" because I did not know anything about it—she then told me she had had a child, and she did not have nowhere to go, and she had put it at 82, Cleveland Street, where she was living with a relation, Goldberg—I did not ask her any more—my husband and I ran round to 82, and I saw Goldberg, and brought him back to my house—the prisoner was still there.
Cross-examined. I had known her about twelve months, and before that by seeing her in the street, but not to speak to—she was my servant for two months—she left me to go to some work, but she was not strong enough to do it—she was very weak—she was a very good girl to me and a very good servant; the reason she left me was because she wanted to be a tailor—I had never seen her so bad as she was on February 18th; she was very bad then; so bad that I would not ask her any questions; I thought something was wrong with her, she was bitterly crying, with her handkerchief to her eyes—she is a Russian, but I don't know from what part—I suppose her parents are in Russia; she talks English a little, not perfectly—she appeared very much upset.
TOBIAS GOLDBERG . I am a tailor, at 82, Cleveland Street, Fitzroy Square—on February 18th, about half-past seven, the last witness came to me, and in consequence of what she said I went with her to 67, where I found the prisoner—I said to her, "What have you done?"—she would not answer, she looked very bad; her eyes were coming out of her head—I said to her again, "What have you done?"—she would not answer—I said, "You go and take it back"—she went down into the basement where she had put the child away—she had gone back to 82; I went with her to the door; she went downstairs and I went for a constable.
Cross-examined. She had worked for me for some five months—she comes from Russian Poland—her parents are still there; the only connections she has in this country are two uncles—she is not at all educated; she cannot read or write.
FRANK HILL (416 d). At half-past seven on the night of February 18th I was on duty in Fitzroy Square—a communication was made to me and I went to 82, Cleveland Street—I examined the basement, and in passing the w.c. in the passage I saw the prisoner behind the door—I asked what she was doing there—she said, "Oh, policeman, I have murdered my child"—I asked her where it was—pointing to a parcel at her feet, she said, "There it is," bursting out crying—I told her I should take her to Tottenham Court Road Police-station—I picked up the parcel, and took it and the prisoner to the station—on the way she said, "My cousin promised to marry me, and that is why I done this; he is the father of my child"—at the station she was charged with wilful murder—she made a statement, which was Written down by the Inspector.
Cross-examined. When I saw her in the closet the door was not locked—the baby was tied up in the parcel; it was covered over; I could just; see the head—when I took her to the station I said to the Inspector, "This is a case of murder," before her statement was written down.
HENRY BROWN (Inspectoral D). On February 18th I was in charge of the station when the prisoner was brought in by Hill with a parcel—I opened it, and found it contained the body of a female child; it was naked
and dead—it was rolled up in a nightdress and napkin, a piece of flannel and a shawl, all of which were marked "Westminster Union"—the whole was tied in a piece of black Italian cloth—the head was covered over—in the child's mouth I found this piece of wadding rammed in very tightly about the size of a small orange—the mouth was forced wide open, and was full of the wadding, so full that the cheeks were forced right back—the body was not quite cold, very nearly—Inspector Shannon came in, and took the prisoner's statement; I went for the doctor.
Cross-examined. The parcel was tied at the four corners by a knot—the knot was not exactly on the face; it was very near it.
ROBERT SHANNON (Chief Inspector D). About a quarter to nine on the evening of February 18th I saw the prisoner in the station, also the dead body of a female child—I cautioned the prisoner in the usual way, that what she said would be taken down, and might be used in evidence against her—I said, "You will be charged with murdering your child," and, being a foreigner, I asked whether she quite understood; she said yes, she quite understood—she then made a statement, which I took down as follows: "I did not have any place to go to, and they told me in the workhouse that I must not come in again, and that was why I murdered my child. I had not a farthing to bless myself with. The child was crying for milk; I could not give her the breast, and I had no money to buy anything. At about four or five this evening I laid the child on a form in Regent's Park, and was going to kill myself. I could not kill the child in the Park; there were too many people about. I then came to 82, Cleveland Street; the door was open; I went downstairs into the kitchen, there was no one there; I then put a piece of wadding in the child's throat, and it choked her. I then went to Mrs. Shoolman's, crying, and said to her, 'I have done murder'—she signed this by making her mark.
Cross-examined. I saw her about a quarter of an hour after she was brought in—she was in a very faint and feeble condition, and appeared to be in actual want of food—I put her under the special care of the female attendant, who gave her food and looked after her all night—she was not put in the ordinary cell.
RODERIC MURDOCH MCCLELLAN . I am a B.M., and assistant to Dr. Lloyd, surgeon to the D Division of Police—I was called to the Tottenham Court Road Police-station, about nine, on February 18th; I was there shown the dead body Of a female child; it appeared to be about three weeks old; it was dead and cold; it appeared to have been dead some hours—it was wrapped in some clothing, lying in the clothing described, the sides covered over the body—in the mouth I found this lump of cotton wool; it was rammed tightly inside, distending the cheeks; the mouth was quite full; the mouth was open, all the wool was inside—I think that would obstruct the breathing—it was rammed in so as to push back the tongue into the cheek, that would eventually stop the breathing—I made a post-mortem examination on February 20th—asphyxia was the cause of death—there was slight discolouration of each nostril, as if produced by the finger nail—the stomach was almost full of milk.
Cross-examined. A very slight pressure leaves a mark—in my opinion, the marks were caused before death; they might have been caused immediately after death, within a minute of two, while the body was yet warm, before circulation had ceased—I have had experience of women
just after childbirth—in a girl of a nervous temperament great depression may be caused; it is not unusual to find them not altogether responsible for their actions; they might be described as of unstable equilibrium—a mental shock or strain would upset them—in such a case the suppression of lactation is frequent, but not necessarily; it is a symptom; sometimes it occurs within a week, and may occur again up to the third or fourth week—dilitation of the eyes would be one of the symptoms—the two main reasons of temporary distress of mind are mental distress and bodily weakness from defective nourishment; if both those conditions existed in the same woman, that would certainly tend to upset her—I said before the Magistrate that walking about from twelve to six, with mental trouble and insufficient nourishment, might temporarily upset the mind; that is still my opinion.
WALTER SHROKDER . I am secretary to the Coroner for S.W. London—on February 21st I was present at the inquest on the body of Maud Cohen, held by Mr. Oswald, the Deputy-Coroner—I took the depositions of the witnesses—the prisoner gave evidence—she was cautioned that any evidence she might give would be taken down, and might be used against her—after it was taken down it watt read over to her, and she made her mark. (This was read; it was in substance to the same effect as the statement made to Inspector Shannon.)
DR. MCCLELLAN (Re-called). Finding food in the child's stomach indicates that it must have been fed within some hours; it was partly-digested milk.
GEORGR EDWARD WALKER (Examined by MR. BIRON). I am official medical officer of H.M. Prison, Holloway—I have had very large experience of this class of cases, and have made the subject of insanity a special study; I consider myself almost a specialist in that particular disease—in consequence of communications from the Treasury I have examined the prisoner—I have been supplied with the depositions in this case, and carefully read them—I spoke to the prisoner about the cotton wool being in the baby's mouth—she stated that she placed it there in order to prevent its crying, but without any intention of killing the child; that her reason for doing so was that if her cousin heard it crying he would have discovered that she had been delivered of an illegitimate child, and would have consequently turned her out of the house—I, pointed out to her that she had stated she had murdered her child—she said she meant that she had killed it, but that she had not killed it intentionally—she speaks English with a very strong foreign accent; you can thoroughly understand what she says; there is no difficulty in conversing with her—I have heard the evidence to-day, and what occurred in the cellar—I think, under all the circumstances of the case, that her mind may have been-hinged at the time she did this; it is possible—directly after an occurrence of this kind I should not attach too much importance to a statement made then—I should rather rely upon a statement made subsequently; there is nothing inconsistent with the fact of her mind being temporaries unhinged in the cellar with her now being rational and able to understand what is going on.
Cross-examined. She was admitted into the infirmary on February 19th, but she did not come under my observation until March 5th; from that date I have had her under my personal observation nearly
daily; during that time she has not said or done anything leading me to suppose her not to be of sound mind; she conversed with me in a perfectly rational manner—she seemed to have a perfect recollection of all the facts on the 18th, and referring to her intention at the time—supposing her to be insane at the time this was done, she might afterwards have some recollection of it, but confused, not a perfect recollection—she had given no evidence of insanity while under my observation.
Re-examined. I have never been of opinion that she was insane, in the ordinary sense of the word.
GUILTY of Manslaughter. Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HARRISON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM MORRIS NOBLE . I am a printer, and live at 22, Milner Square, Islington—the prisoner is my brother—on the evening of February 2nd, about ten, I was sitting at the table playing cards with two ladies and two gentlemen, when the prisoner came into the room—my friends turned round and welcomed him, and asked him to join the game—I said nothing—he said, "Aha, aha! a hearty welcome"—we turned to resume our game, and he said, "A little drama, ah!" and at the same moment I felt a shot in my side—I heard a report, and saw just the reflection of a flash—I jumped up at once, staggered, and fell, and was taken to the hospital, but before that, as I was falling, my brother said, "You have blighted my life and ruined my prospects"—I forgot that in my first examination—I had parted with him on very friendly terms on the Friday night; this was on Sunday—when he fired at me, I should say he was about half a yard from me; I could not tell, because I could not see him at the time; he was at my back—I had seen him on the Saturday morning for a few moments, and he scowled at me, that was all, and passed about a couple of words about business.
By the COURT. Nothing had taken place about my blighting his life and ruining his prospects—I had never said a word against him to any living being—he had never complained that I had done so; I knew of no source of ill-will against me—we knew that he had a delusion; he had been worrying his father and sisters; he thought that people had been spreading tales about him, telling stories; that is what I understand he accuses me of.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I believe you were on friendly terms with your employer—you did not tell me why you left, though you were morally bound to do so—your employer came to me to complain of your conduct; I took no steps about it—I am not aware that you were accused of certain practices; you brought Mr. Hamel to me; he is not a friend of mine; he came to inquire into your state of mind; that has been a worry to us.
By the COURT. His conduct has been so strange, we could find no explanation of it—some months ago Mr. Smythe, my brother's employer, sent Mr. Hamel, his head man, to me with my brother, to talk matters over, and to see a doctor; I did not want to put him into an asylum—
Mr. Hamel asked him what ground he had for thinking these things, but he could get nothing from him, and he told us to go and have a game of billiards, which we did at Anderton's Hotel, and while we were there he said he felt these delusions of insanity coming on, and Mr. Hamel asked him to confide in me, and he said he would—Mr. Smythe wanted mo to put him into a lunatic asylum, but I did not wish to; he had this revolver before—when he told me what his delusion was, it came on me like a thunderbolt.
THOMAS STARK . I live at 22, Milner Square—on Sunday evening, February 2nd, I was with the prosecutor and others, when the prisoner came into the room—he said, "Am I welcome?"—my mother said, "Yes"—he came and stood beside his brother, pulled out a revolver, and shot him, and threw the revolver away—my sister took him into the next room, and locked him in till the police came.
EDWARD CANNEL (Inspector N). I was called to 22, Milner Square, and found the prosecutor lying on the floor in the dining-room—the prisoner was in another room—I caused them to be confronted—the prosecutor said, "That is the man what did it, and he is my brother"—I said, "Was there any quarrel?"—he said, "No; he came into the room and shut me;" then, turning to his brother, he said, "You, man, you are the meanest of men; you shoot your brother, and then plead insanity"—I took the prisoner into custody and searched him—I found three ball cartridges in his great-coat pocket, also some money and a watch; at his request his mother had it—the prisoner and his brother embraced each other, and the prisoner said, "I said I would do it, mother, and I have done it"—the revolver was loaded in five chambers, and one cartridge had been fired—I found the revolver in the room.
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I am medical officer of Newgate and Holloway—I have had the prisoner under my observation the whole time he has been at Holloway, since February 3rd; in my opinion he is suffering from delusion of persecution, and is insane.
The Prisoners statement before the Magistrate: "I wish to plead
NOT GUILTY of the attempt to murder, and I reserve my defence."
Prisoner. I quite release that it would be very cruel for me to say in cold blood, and in a Court of Law, that I knew what I was about—there is something in the background—they have attacked me by innuendo, picked up from boys about the place, and accused me of using expressions, they say "I threatened to shoot my employer"—is it possible I should be allowed to go around threatening people for three months? the real fact of the case is that they have made charges and cannot possibly substantiate them—if my intellect is giving way they put it down to lust and a filthy mind—I leave my case in the hands of the Jury.
GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time. To be detained till Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
MR. SIMMONS Prosecuted.
THOMAS HEWITT . I am a bailiffs assistant, and live at 23, Huntsford Mews—the prisoner is my son—on Thursday night, March 12th, about ten minutes past twelve, I got home—the prisoner was at home—my wife complained about his firing a revolver up the chimney; I remonstrated with him, and said I could not have that sort of thing, and he went for me and smashed a window with his hand—I threw him on the bed; he got up, took a chair, and placed it on the bed, mounted the chair, and took this revolver from a hanging bookcase, jumped on the floor, and fired and hit me in the head—he seemed dazed at the time; he ran into the street—I was taken to the hospital—my son, when sober, is one of the best boys that could be wished for; it is very seldom that he takes too much—I don't believe he had the least idea what this would lead to.
Prisoner. I did not fire the revolver at him—I don't remember anything about it, Witness. I don't believe he knew what he did at the time; I am sure he would not hurt a hair of my head, or hurt a worm; he is very fond of children, flowers and animals—he bears an excellent character.
HERBERT HENRY (229 d). I was at home on this day; I heard a revolver shot—I went to 23, Huntsford Mews; the prosecutor said something to me, and I arrested the prisoner about ten minutes afterwards in Gloucester Place, close by—I told him his father accused him of shooting him—he said he never did it—I took him to the station—he was not drunk; I thought he had been drinking—he walked straight; he was very excited.
WILLIAM RICHARDSON (Inspector D). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought there—I told him be would be charged with shooting his father—he said, "It's a lie; I never used a revolver; I fired it up the chimney"—he said he wished to make a statement; he did so, and I took it down, and he signed it—I cautioned him. (Read: "Ever since, I was ill in the Royal Hospital for stone in the bladder, which I had cut out, and laid three months on a water bed. A week ago I was under the care of Surgeon Mapleson for cold in the kidneys. He told me to take great care of myself. I went home at 4.45 that night, and I was told by my father and mother that I was drunk, and if I did not go out of the house they would kick me out. Father knocked me down on the bed, and tried to strangle me. I resisted, and he kicked me in the legs, which I have marks to show. He said he would charge me with trying to shoot him, which I say, before God and man, I never did. That is all I know about it.") It was about 12.45 when he was brought to the station; he had the appearance of having been drinking—he knew what he was doing—he bears a good character; I have a letter from his master.
PERCY SMALLWOOD . I am house-surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital—the prosecutor was brought to me on the morning of the 13th—there was a small wound on the right side of his head, caused by the bullet that was in the wound—it had not gone in very far; I think it was a lead cartridge—he was never in a serious condition.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I never fired the revolver; it went off accidentally."
Prisoner's Defence. I did not mean to do it; I know I was drunk; I am very sorry.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. — Discharged on his own Recognizances in £10.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, March 24th, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. McMORAN Prosecuted.
ALBERT EDWARD JENNINGS . I am an insurance agent, of 41, Sloane Square—on March 5th, between eleven and twelve p.m., I met the female prisoner outside Victoria Station—I had never seen her before—I had one drink with her, and walked home with her to 6, Rutland Street—she unlocked the door, I went inside; she closed it, and made a snatch at my watch chain, which broke—the male prisoner then came from the dark, took my watch from her, and struck me a violent blow on my jaw—it was a silver Geneva watch—I opened the door, saw a sergeant and constable, and gave the prisoners in custody.
Cross-examined by Isabella Frost. We only went into one public-house—I did not offer you a cheque—I had two threepenny worth of port—I am not accustomed to drink, but I knew what I was doing.
JOHN SWIFT (Police Sergeant 2 BR). On March 5th I was on duty in Rutland Street, and heard a scuffle inside the door of No. 6 at 11.30, and the male prisoner pushed the prosecutor out into the road—he said, "This man has got my watch"—I said, "Where is the watch?"—the woman came to the door, and he said, "That woman stole my watch, and handed it to him"—the male prisoner said, "He has made a mistake by knocking at my door; I came out to send him away; he has not been in this house at all; he has come to the wrong house"; the woman said, "Yes, I am sure he has made a mistake"—I took them to the station, the charge was read, and the male prisoner said that he knew nothing about it—the woman commenced to make a statement about the public-houses she and the prosecutor had been into during the night, and the man said to her, "If you don't be careful you will put yourself away"—I searched him, but found nothing relating to the charge—while waiting for the female searcher, the female prisoner pulled from her pocket a purse and a small piece of chain, which I produced at the Police-court, and the prosecutor recognised it—she said, "What has been done, I have done it; Boge knows nothing about it," meaning the male prisoner—she was searched—8d. was found on her, but nothing relating to the charge—she was much excited, and under the influence of drink, but seemed to know what she was doing; the male prisoner was sober—after the charge was taken the prosecutor was sitting in a chair, and the female prisoner rushed from the dock and knocked him out of the chair; he had said, "You are here all right; you wanted to do something clever, and took my watch"—I searched the house in Rutland Street, and in the passage, where the scuffle is said to have taken place, I found a key, which the prosecutor recognizes; the watch has not been found—I searched carefully outside, but there was a great crowd round—I had actually heard a scuffle in the
house before the door was opened, and I am sure he came out of hat house.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Isabella Frost says: "He made me very drunk; I don't remember anything." Robert Frost says: "I did not strike him; I only pushed him."
GUILTY . ISABELLA FROST— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. ROBERT FROST— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
304. THOMAS McQUEEN (26) , Burglary on October 5th, 1894, in the dwelling-house of Kate Clinnie, and stealing a clock and other articles, her property, and a pair of candelabra, the property of Louisa Lane.
MR. HODGSON Prosecuted.
KATE CLINNIE . I live at 19, Winchester Street, Pimlico—on October 1st, 1894, I saw the house locked up about ten o'clock, and went to bed on the second floor—I heard a noise about one o'clock, but did not go down then, but heard a second noise, and went down and called my servant—I heard a noise; a woman came and spoke to me, and I heard a policeman outside—I missed about £60 worth of things, and among them a large black ebony clock, with a very large dial and glass at the sides, showing the works—about £25 worth of goods have not been recovered—the clock was about three feet high and a foot broad—it was very old.
LOUISA LANE . I am Mrs. Clinnie's servant—on October 5th, 1894, she locked up the house—she awoke me about 2,45, and I went down, and saw three men and a woman—I have recognised one man and the woman. (See Reg. V. Godfrey, Vol. cxx., p. 1174.) I missed a jacket which had been hanging in the lower hall; I saw it again on the 8th at the Police-court.
JOHN BARKER (462 B). On October 5th, 1894, about two a.m., I was on duty in Winchester Street, and saw a light in the window of No. 19, front room, ground floor—I kept observation on the house—a man and woman came out, and the woman dropped a spoon—they made a statement to me—I seized the woman, and a man, whom I cannot identify, who came out of the house, struck me a violent blow behind my ear, and I had to loose my hold of the woman, who got away, but I kept the man, and took him to the station, and found on him a number of articles which Mrs. Clinnie identified—his name was Godfrey; he was tried and convicted here, with the woman, Alice Ray, who gave a false address—I saw the prisoner the next day, and believe he is the man who struck me from behind.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have not identified you on any occasion—I cannot say what sized man he was who struck me, it was done so suddenly.
THOMAS PALMER . In October, 1894, I was living at 30, Fulford Street—the prisoner lodged in my house with a woman named Maggie Barr—I saw them go in at 9.30 on this Friday night, and saw no more of them—Barr was not there in the morning, and I did not see the prisoner
till three p.m.—the door was locked at 10.30, and I looked through the key-hole—Maggie Barr's child, aged six or seven, who, I believe, is also the prisoner's child, was in the room—I saw a big clock in the room, with a dial about ten inches in diameter, which I had not seen there before—I did not see any metal about it, but I did not take particular notice of it—I had not been in the room since about August 30th, or September 1st or 2nd—I went to the Police-station in consequence of the child being locked in, and in the afternoon I saw the prisoner come with Bartley and his wife, Rhoda—I forbade them coming in, but the prisoner said, "Let them come in," and threatened to knock me down—he broke the glass and got into the room—the woman took away something that afternoon about the same size as the clock would be, and very heavy; it was covered with a table-cloth—the prisoner did not return till five or six weeks ago—I have not seen him since—the child left—they left everything in the room, chairs, tables, and wearing apparel, all turned topsy-turvy—he owed three or four weeks' rent.
Cross-examined. I went to the door of your room a week before this to give you a newspaper—I did not fetch a chopper to you—I did not notice whether the clock was there then, but when I saw it. through the keyhole it was on the sideboard—I had not seen it there before.
MARGARET BARR . In October, 1894, and for some previous months, I lived with the prisoner in the name of Tom Russell—on Friday afternoon, October 5th, I was out with him about Pimlico—we met a man named Godfrey about six o'clock, and I was with them till eight, but I was under the influence of drink, and do not remember—we went to a public-house in Lupus Street about eight o'clock, and stayed at different public-houses till closing time—I cannot remember whether the prisoner was with me, but we were together some time—Godfrey was with me—I was going home along with some more women, and Godfrey and, I believe, the prisoner, took me into a house—I was taken in custody, and Godfrey—we were taken to the station in Brick Lane, and convicted, and sentenced to fourteen months' hard labour, which I have undergone.
Cross-examined. I remember being in the Builders' Arms at 7.30, and you gave in a sovereign—you went away, and I saw you next between eight and nine.
RHODA BARTLEY . In October, 1894, I was living with my husband at 4, Aylesford Street, Pimlico; that is close to Pulford Street, where the prisoner and Barr lived at No. 30, just across the road—on Saturday, October 6th, between 8 and 8.30, the prisoner came to me and asked me to go, and I went—he came to my house again in the afternoon, with my husband, and we all three went across to his room; he tried to get his little girl out at the window, but cut his hand—we broke the door open, and the little girl was in there—the prisoner said, "Take the clock"—it was under the table, covered with a white petticoat—it was black ebony with a brass handle—I carried it away under my dress, but did not take' anything else out of that room—we went back to my house—the black clock was taken to No. 9—on Saturday afternoon, the 6th, Russell gave me a woman's jacket, which I put on my bed rail, and the police took it away—my husband and I were arrested on the Monday for receiving these goods, and I was tried and acquitted—the man living with me was
convicted; he is not my husband—I was in the room the week before; the clothes were not there then.
Cross-examined. I had had too much to drink—I remember your asking me to mind the things; I did not know they were stolen.
ADA NUTLAND . I am a dressmaker, of Cumberland Street, Pimlico—I know Rhoda Bartley—on Saturday, October 6th, 1894, I saw her in the afternoon, coming out of Fulton Street, carrying a heavy black clock, and the man had got something tied up in a bundle—they went into No. 4,. where they live.
ARTHUR BLAYDON (Police Sergeant). On Monday, October 8th, 1894, I searched Bartley's room, and found a black jacket on the bed; I showed it to Louisa Lane, who identified it, and it was given up to her.
ARTHUR ALLEN (Detective Sergeant B). I took the prisoner on Saturday, October 6th; he was with Rhoda Bartley and some others—I told him I wanted him for burglary and assaulting the police at Winchester Street; he made no reply—I took him to the station; he was placed with other men, and Barker failed to identify him—he gave his name as Thomas Jones, and said that he was out all last night, near the coffee stall at Ebury Bridge, till eight that morning—he was allowed to go—I made inquiries about him, and found that Thomas Jones was not his name, and that he was living with Margaret Barr—I did not find him again till February 8th, this year, when I called him out of the Rose public-house, in Jermyn Street, and asked him his name; he said, "Thomas Stephens"; I said, "I know you as Thomas Jones, whom I had in custody on October 6th, 1894, for burglary and assaulting Police Constable Barker"—Sergeant Jones, who was with me, took charge of him.
Cross-examined. I arrested you in 1894, in the Chatham public-house, Westminster.
HENRY JONES (Detection Sergeant B). I had charge of this case in October, 1894—I never saw the prisoner till February 8th, 1896, when Allen called him out of a public-house in Jermyn Street, and told him he wanted him for a burglary in Winchester Street; he said, "My name is McQueen, and I have been working for the Tramway Company ten months"; I said, "Yes, but your name is Tom Russell, and we are going to take you into custody"; he said, "You have made a mistake this time; I am a respectable man"—Mr. Palmer identified him as Tom Russell—when the charge was read over to him he said, "But I was never in; I was not in Winchester Street the night you refer to."
By the Prisoner. I think I saw you on Saturday, the 6th, at the corner of Newgate Street—I was at work till one o'clock and my wife brought a letter to me.
By the COURT.—I saw the prisoner about three p.m., after I had done my day's work; he had cut his hand; his brother was with him, and took him to a doctor.
Witness for the Defence.
"Maggie, you have been drinking"; she said, "Yes, I am very nearly drunk"—I said, "There will be a row"; she said, "Tom is at work; I will go home and have a rest; we have been rowing all the week"—I said, "I will come down and see you to-morrow."
By the COURT. I did not see my brother on the night of the 6th, but I saw him at two p.m.—I was in employment at that time, but prefer not to say what it was.
He had been three or four times convicted.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
After the commencement of the case the RECORDER ruled that the prisoner being an accountant, he was neither a merchant, broker, attorney, nor agent, as the Act required, and therefore directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BROUGH Prosecuted.
WILLIAM BEECH . I am a bricklayer, of 4, Cotton Street—on March 2nd I was in Dorset Street—the prisoner came behind me, knocked me down, and put his knee on my chest—I saw his face—I got hold of his arm, and said, "Leave go of my purse and money"—I could hold him no longer; he gave me a hit, and a witness came up—I missed a trowel, a knife, a purse, and 1s. 6d.—I gave him in custody—I am sure he is the man—I had had some drink, but I knew what I was doing.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw your face when your hand was in my pocket—I had hold of my pocket—three more chaps were with you—I told you two or throe times to go away, but you kept on knocking me about—I was a little the worse for drink—the other three men were standing by you.
THOMAS COTTAM . I am a waterside labourer, of 3, Bridge's Head, St. George's—I was in Dorset Street, and saw the prisoner strike Beech and knock him down—I went up, and he knocked me down—when I got up Beech was just rising—I knocked the prisoner down and told him to go away—I gave him in charge—three or four men were standing by—I cannot say whether they were his confederates.
Cross-examined. I did not see you rob him—he was drunk, but you were sober.
ALEXANDER MCMILLAN (29 H R). On March 2nd I was in Dorset Street, and saw the prisoner—Beech said, "I charge this man with robbing me"—the prisoner said, "I know nothing of the robbery"—I found twopence on him.
Prisoner's Defence. The prosecutor had been having a drop, and shoved
against me first, and I struck him back—I had plenty of opportunity of going away, but I had not robbed him.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on August 7th, 1887, in the name of Thomas Murray . Six convictions were proved against him, one of which was for highway robbery with violence.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour, and Twenty Strokes with the Cat.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, March 24th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Ordered to be handed over to the Military Authorities.
309. JAMES HENRY CROOKE [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to unlawfully obtaining Credit to the amount of £24 3s. 8d. of John Hewitt, being an undischarged bankrupt.— Two Months' Hard Labour.
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted, and MR. SIMMONS Defended Hennessy.
ADOLPH DOMSALLA . I am a cabinet-maker, of 39, Curtain Road—I was in Hewitt Street, about 5.15 p.m., on February 24th, when Hennessy came up and said, "What are you going to do for me and my pal?"—Rawlins was standing at the corner—I said, "What do you mean?"—he had his hand in my pocket—I said, "Don't come so close to me"—he knocked me down with a blow in my stomach—I got up and tried to hold him till assistance came—Rawlins came up, and they both struck me and knocked me down, and then ran off—I got up, and went indoors, as I felt so bad, and afterwards went to the Police-station—I did not lose anything—the next day I went to the Police-station, and picked out Hennessy from eight or nine others—about a week after I picked Rawlins out—I have no doubt they are the men.
Cross-examined. I have seen Hennessy about Curtain Road—I think he knew me—there were two females at the corner, some yards off—Hewitt Street turned out of Curtain Road—there is no thoroughfare—I was going to my workshop when Hennessy came up—when he spoke to me, I said, "Go on, I know what you are after," and then he knocked me down—I had no watch and chain—I had some money and a cheque in my trousers pocket, in which he put his hand—I held my purse—he did not hold me on the ground—I got up quick, and tried to hold him—they both struck me in the stomach—I didn't strike Hennessy—they both ran off—they are tenement houses there—the doors were closed—I had some silver in my other pocket—nothing was taken—I picked Rawlins out from men, not boys.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Police Sergeant G). About eight a.m., on February 25th, I saw Hennessy in Curtain Road—I told him I should take him into custody on suspicion of being concerned with another man in assaulting and attempting to rob a man in Hewitt Street, between five and six
p.m. the previous day—on the way to the station he said, "What sort of man is the man assaulted?"—I said, "A stout man, a foreigner"—Hennessy was placed amongst other men, and the prosecutor picked him out the same evening—he said, "Mr. Domsalla knew me before"—he said nothing about having been assaulted, by Dornsalla—Rawlins was arrested by Mellors on March 12th—he handed him over to me to convey to the station, while he went for the prosecutor—on the way to the station he said, "Who is the man who was assaulted? is it Domsalla?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Oh, I know him; I was with Jack Hennessy on the day he knocked him down in Hewitt Street; I was standing at the corner, outside the rag-shop, but I did not hit him, or try to steal anything from him."
Cross-examined. When Hennessy was at the Police-station he said, "I never assaulted the man, and I have witnesses to prove it; Mr. Domsalla knew me before"—I believe that is true—I do not know that he works at the City Window-cleaning Office—I have never seen him at work.
Cross-examined by Rawlins. I have made inquiries of your late employer, but on account of your conduct he could not give you a character.
By the COURT. He is a carman—he got drunk one Sunday night, and never returned to his work; in fact, his employer cautioned him about getting into bad company.
FREDERICK MELLORS (Detective G). On March 12th I, with Sergeant Nicholls, arrested Rawlins in I Bethnal Green Road—I told him the charge—he said, "I know nothing about it—I have only been with Hennessy once"—I handed him over to Nicholls.
Witnesses for the Defence of Hennessy.
CAROLINE PASCOE . I am a book-folder, of 16, Hewitt Street—I saw Domsalla at the time and place in question, and have seen him for years in Curtain Road—Hennessy was walking up the street, and accidentally knocked up against Domsalla, and said, "Good afternoon"—Domsalla struck him in the face—Clara Piper was with me; I did not see the other prisoner, and there was no other man. there at the time—Domsalla went into his house, and shut the door—a man came up—I don't know him—Domsalla was not knocked down—no one was trying to take his money.
Cross-examined. I was three or four yards away—I have never seen Rawlins before.
CLARA PIPER . I am a collar turner, of 16, Hewitt Street, and am single—I was with Caroline Pascoe at the time in question—I saw Domsalla going up Henrietta Street; I know him as being a tradesman there—Hennessy went up to him and said, "Good afternoon"—Domsalla struck him with his fist in the mouth, and made it bleed—he did not strike him back, but walked away, and Domsalla went into his house—I was three or four yards off—Hennessy came down that street, and said he should take out a summons—I gave him my handkerchief to wipe his mouth—he did not ask me to come as a witness—I saw a man walking up Hewitt Street away from Curtain Road—I don't know who he was; it was all over then—Domsalla was not knocked down—I was not talking to Rawlins as well as my friend.
Hennessy received a good character.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
RAWLINS— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WIPPELL Prosecuted.
MARGARET MORTON . I live at 100, Elgin Crescent—on Saturday, March 7th, I went to bed about 11.30 or 11.45 p.m.—I went round the last thing and saw the doors were fastened—my daughter and the servants had gone to bed—the front door was left unbolted for Mr. Galvonoff, and could be opened with a latch key—when Mr. Galvonoff came in he made a communication, in consequence of which I went downstairs—I found the prisoner in custody—I examined the premises—two panes of the glass of the door leading from the back-room into the garden were broken, and the shutter was lying on the floor—we found traces of an attempt to enter by the door, and by the end window—the kitchen is in the front—my house is easy of access, because the house goes round by the street—the panes of glass wore about 14 in. by 14 in.—I found the books and papers from the sideboard were on the floor, the curtains were pulled out, a large cupboard which had not been locked, but was very tight, had been forced open, and pieces of wood splintered off, and the place was disturbed—the bamboo rod which fastened a small muslin curtain was found in the garden.
SBROIUS PLOUVITCH GALVONOFF . I lodge with the last witness—I came home about one a.m. on March 8th—I opened the door with my latch-key, and went into the dining-room—I heard a noise from the kitchen—I lit a candle and went to see—I saw the prisoner looking through the glass in the door, which opens on to the staircase leading to the kitchen—I unbolted the front door, and asked a man who was passing to send a policeman—I watched the prisoner—in about four minutes a policeman came, and tried to open the door, which the prisoner had bolted from inside—when he had forced the door the prisoner was detained.
CHARLES WALLIS (247 F). I was called to this house about 12.35 by the last witness—I found the prisoner sitting in the hall with his back pushing against the door—when I succeeded in getting the door open, I took the prisoner into custody—he was quite sober.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have not said you were just recovering from the effects of drink—I did not tell the Magistrate so.
ALFRED DUNNETT (6 F). I went to 100, Elgin Crescent, about one a.m.—I found the prisoner in Wallis's custody—I examined the premises—found two panes of glass broken from the room door leading to the garden, and the shutter knocked down inside—I searched the room—I found this small knife—a person could enter through the aperture—the window-frame was not broken—the prisoner identified the knife as his property—on the side-table books were disarranged, and the lamp was knocked off and lay on the floor—the lamp standing on the centre table had been lit—there were blood-stains on it—there were marks on the cupboard-door which could have been done by this knife—there were blood-marks on the bannisters which led to the front hill, as if a person had cut himself
with jagged glass—I found one of the prisoner's thumbs cut—he was excited and violent, but not drunk.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was drunk—I do not know what took me there; I went with no felonious intent."
Prisoner's Defence. I cannot account for being there. I had been two days drinking. I did not go there with any felonious intent.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
MINNIE HERTZ . I am the wife of Morris Hertz—I live apart from him at 58, Richard Street—I was separated from my husband under a deed, in 1893—he agreed to pay me 15s. a week—I know Phillips and her husband—up to June 11th they were my lodgers—on June 4th I gave them notice, in consequence of which they left, owing me some rent—on July 24th the Protection Society sued my husband in the County Court for arrears of maintenance, and I sued Mr. Phillips for arrears of rent—Mr. Phillips was at the County Court, Mrs. Phillips was not—shortly after July 29th my husband sent this letter to a lady's house for me. (This was addressed to Morris Hertz, 47, Fenchurch Street, and accused Mrs. Hertz of receiving men and being a prostitute.) I recognise the writing as the prisoner's. I have seen her write when she lived in my house—proceedings were taken against her at the Police-court—after her committal I saw her as-soon as she was bailed, in the lobby of the Court—she told me she was very sorry she had written it, but she was asked to do so, and she would pay me the rent she owed me if I would not proceed; but the officer pushed her away, and she said she would speak to me another time—that was about an hour after the proceedings, when she was bailed.
Cross-examined. I was not asked before the Magistrate whether I had seen her write—I said I knew her writing—my husband laid information, or the solicitor, before February of this year; the early part of August—my husband did not swear the information; I was told unless I knew the writing I could not do anything—I told the Magistrate I had seen the prisoner write—Mrs. Freedman, my witness, is here—I have not told her if she would give evidence against this woman I would get her husband out of prison—I asked her to come and speak the truth—I had prosecuted her husband for stabbing me, and he got twelve months' hard labour—I had summoned Mrs. Freedman for assault—I did not say I would get her husband out of prison if she would say the prisoner wrote this letter—I said I would see what I could do for her—I have no witness to speak for the conversation in the lobby of the Police-court—there were three Dutch women present—I am English—I mentioned the conversation to my solicitor—I had no means to continue the proceedings—I mentioned it to the policeman at the door—I do not know his number—he was not subpœnaed—since this case my husband has absconded, and there is no one to blame but these people.
JANE LAZARUS (examined through an Interpreter). I live at 3, Lower Clapham Street—I know the prisoner—she wrote this letter with ink. (Another letter in similar writing to the letter complained of) I do not
recognise this one. (The letter complained of.) I do not remember Mr. Phillips saying anything to me about that letter at the Police-court.
Cross-examined. I have known Mrs. Hertz a long time—she is a friend—she told me she would get a pair of boots for my child to go to school—she lives in the same street as I do, but in another court—I said before the Magistrate, I had forgotten the court—she asked me to give evidence before the Magistrate—she sent for me.
EVA FREEDMAN (Examined through an Interpreter). I live in the City Road—I am the wife of Anthony Freedman—I was living with Mrs. Hertz when the prisoner was living there last year—I saw the prisoner shortly after she left—they aggravated each other, and Mrs. Phillips had to leave, and when I saw her she said, "I shall write a letter to Mr. Hertz that she is married," and that she lives with another man.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Hertz came to my house on July 6th—she said she would get my husband out of prison if I said Mrs. Phillips wrote the letter—I do not know the prisoner's writing.
The prisoner was stated to be of good character.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, March 25th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
MESSRS. A. GILL and OLDFIELD Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended
at the request of the COURT.
The prisoner having delivered here self of the child, wrapped it in some of her clothing and threw it out of an attic-window into the backyard, where it was found, frightfully injured, dead. For the defence it was urged that the child might have been dead before it was thrown from the window. And, as the medical evidence was not in a position to prove the contrary, the JURY found the prisoner
NOT GUILTY ; and there being no evidence of a secret disposition of the body, no other verdict could be given.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, March 25th, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
314. NORMAN GOLDEN HENNAH (23) was charged on two indictments with unlawfully obtaining £23 2s., £7 7s., and other sums by false pretences. The JURY having been unable to agree to a verdict last Sessions (See page 430), MR. C. MATHEWS offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
315. FRANCIS TILLETT () Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Thomas Miles Restell and another, orders for the payment of £1,625, £125, and £1,750. MR. C. MATHEWS having stated the facts, the RECORDER considered that the case ought not to proceed, and directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
316. CHARLES MONTAGUE (25) and CHARLES WATKINS (21) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Slater, and stealing two clocks, five salt-cellars, and other articles, his property, and 29s. in money, to which Montague
PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. NOBLE Prosecuted.
CHARLES SLATER . I am a physician, of 16, North wick Terrace—on February 28th I went to bed about 12.30—I was called next morning by a servant, and found there had been a burglary, and property removed value about £80—the window bars had been removed, and a pane of glass taken out—I have identified the property in this portmanteau, which is all that was found.
JOHN DONOVAN (168 S). On March 1st, about 6.40 a.m., I was on duty, with Ascomb, in George Street, Euston Road, and saw Montague carrying a large portmanteau on his left shoulder; Watkins was with him—I crossed the road to him; he threw down the portmanteau and ran away, but I closed with him, and, with assistance, took him to the station—Watkins escaped.
Cross-examined. It was light—I was in plain clothes, and on the other side of the road—they were coming towards me, and I crossed—I did not know Watkins, but I have no doubt about him.
Cross-examined. We were both together, and both crossed over, and Watkins ran away immediately we got there—I have no doubt at all that he is the man.
ALFRED ROWAN (Police Inspector S). I took Watkins on March 7th, and told him the charge—he said, "You have made a mistake"—I took him to Albert Street Police Station, and he was identified by both the officers—after he came out of the dock, he said, "This is the first time I have been out".
Cross-examined. He was arrested in a public-house, one side of which is in George Street and the other side in Gower Street.
Witness for the Defence.
CHARLES MONTAGUE (The prisoner). I am a coach-smith—I committed this burglary with another man, not the man in the dock; he is as innocent as an unborn child—I have no acquaintance with him—to say that he was with me is the biggest lie ever told—I do not know the name of the man who was with me.
Cross-examined by MR. NOBLE. I did not know anything about Watkins till I went to Marylebone Police-court, when a man said, "Your pal is there; you had better go and have a look at him"; I said, "That is not the man"—I did not see him in George Street—I never saw him till last Saturday week.
By the COURT. I know the man who was with me when I committed the burglary, but I don't know his name—I met him in Somers Town, at. the corner of Euston Road—I was convicted of burglary in 1889, and I was re-arrested coming out—I have received seven months and eight months, and afterwards five years, for burglary.
Evidence in reply.
associates—he never returned to the house—the furniture has all been removed.
Cross-examined. I arrested him, but not on this charge. By the COURT. I am quite certain the two prisoners are associates—I have had them under observation for some time.
WATKINS— GUILTY .
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Marlborough Street on November 24th, 1895, and five other convictions were proved against him.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MONTAGUE also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court on December 14th, 1891, as Henry David Reynolds , when he was sentenced to five years' penal servitude; he was out on ticket-of-leave , and his sentence will not expire till November.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, March 25th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BIRON and HEWITT Prosecuted, and MR. ABINGER Defended.
During the proceedings the prisoner stated, in the hearing of the JURY, that he was GUILTY , and they returned that verdict. He received a good character.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MAXIMILIAN ARKLEY (Interpreted). I am a vocalist, of 12, Charlotte Street—on the afternoon of March 6th I met the prisoner—I had not known him previously—there was a quarrel between us—about one o'clock the next morning I saw him standing at the door of the club, and he struck me with this stick on the shoulder—I lifted my arm to take the stick away, and Noot came and took it from him, and said, "You vagabond, you struck him with the stick"—at that moment I felt a stab in my side; I did not know it was a stab—he turned another way—I followed him a few yards; then I cried, "I am stabbed"; my friend said, "What nonsense! it is a joke; I don't believe it"; but I put my hand under my waistcoat, and found a handful of blood—I am positive the prisoner gave me the stab—I was taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I was at home till 10.30, when I got up and intended to go to the club—on the way I met my friend Noot, who invited me to take a glass, and I accepted it—from 10.30 till closing time I was in several public-houses—when I was wounded a man passed by I do not know—Noot could not possibly have a knife in his hand—I do not know Sophia Hieling—the prisoner has given information against my friends—I have heard they have been convicted of brothel-keeping, assaults, and robberies—I heard the prisoner was the worst character of all the Germans in London, that he kept a brothel, and that he laid information against us—Noot did not try to stab the prisoner; he was behind me—when I came to the spot where the prisoner was, he said, "Now I have got you
here," and then the row commenced; he must have seen me coming, and then prepared the knife for me—I was not convicted at Marlborough Street of assaulting Mrs. Smedick—I had one month for assaulting a prostitute—I sing in the German clubs, and have performed as a wrestler in the music halls—I live with a prostitute, and as I have no work, I live upon what she earns—this is my third year with her—we divided what we got; if I got anything I contributed to the house, and she did the same—I earned some nights ten shillings or fifteen shillings, and sometimes for weeks and weeks nothing—I was not convicted in Berlin for felony or assaults, but for procuring women—I was six months detained in prison, found guilty of the charge; and in consideration of my detention, was released—I have been in prison three times; punished and sentenced to pay a fine for street and police offences—I have not been offered a reward by Hirsch Schmidt if I could get the prisoner into trouble—I live with a German woman—I was sober.
(The witness was ordered out of COURT as an infamous character, not to be believed unless corroborated).
CARL NOOT . I am a dealer in foreign provisions, of 51, Tottenham Court Road—I was with the last witness and met the prisoner outside the Hanover Club door—the prisoner gave Arkley a knock with a stick—I took the stick away—Arkley said, "This man stuck me"—I brought him inside the club, and noticed he was bleeding—I took him to the hospital, where he was treated—another man, a waiter, was there—I had a knife in my pocket—when I came back from the hospital I met the prisoner with two constables—he said, "I give this man in charge for robbery"—the police said, "All right," and we went to the station—I had taken his stick away, and had given it to the doctor at the hospital—when stabbed these men called out "Police!" and the prisoner ran away,
Cross-examined. I had been some time with Arkley drinking in Charlotte Street—not from 10.30 to 12.30—I do not know him very well; I have met him in a public-house—I had not a knife in my hand, and Sophia Hieling did not remonstrate—I did not try to stab the prisoner, and accidentally stab Arkley—I am a German. (Interpreted): I do not know of the prisoner giving information against my friends—I do business on commission—I live alone—I was acquitted of brothel-keeping in Dean Street, Soho, eighteen months ago—I was not fined—I lived at 26, Dean Street—I was remanded two days before Mr. Newton, and discharged—I was not brought up again last September—Mr. Newtom was my solicitor.
Re-examined. I was a little bit drunk.
JOHN SIMONS . I am a waiter, and live at 72, Charlotte Street—early on March 7th I was standing at the door of the Hanover Club—Sievert was standing near; also a girl—I do not know if she belonged to him—I saw Noot and the prosecutor—there were a few words, and the prisoner wanted to hit Arkley with a stick, which was taken away from him—the prosecutor called out "Police! Police!" and said, "I am stabbed"—the woman was standing in a door some distance away—I was six yards off—the prisoner ran away.
Cross-examined. I am not in permanent employment—I am an extra waiter—I was employed at the Metropole last winter—I am not a
member of the Hanover Club—I have been there once or twice—it is a drinking place—I could not say how long it goes on—women go there sometimes.
GEORGE BUNGAY (156 d). I was on duty at the Tottenham Court Road Police Station when the prisoner came and complained that he had been robbed of his walking-stick in Charlotte Street—I went with him to Charlotte Street—he pointed out Noot, and charged him with robbing him of his walking-stick—Noot said the prosecutor had struck him, and he took the stick and gave it to the doctor at the hospital—I took them to the station,
Cross-examined. I searched the prisoner—I found no knife on him—I searched the neighbourhood—I found no knife.
ALFRED ERNEST GRIFFIN . I am house-surgeon at the Middlesex Hospital—the prosecutor was brought in about 1.10 a.m. on March 7th—I examined him—he had a wound on the left side of the chest, penetrating the chest wall, about level with the eighth rib and somewhat behind—it was a dangerous wound—some force must have been used to cause it——he was in the hospital from the 7th to the 12th March, when he was discharged at his own request, although we informed him we did not consider him fit to leave—he was still in a dangerous condition—a man handed me a stick at the hospital, which I returned to him.
Cross-examined. I think the person dealing the blow must have been behind the prosecutor.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I have never done such a thing, and I have got witnesses who are not in Court to-day, and I kindly ask your Worship to send me for trial, so that I may be able to find my witnesses, as I know the reason why I have been assaulted three times—twice by the prosecutor and Carl Noot, and a third time by Carl Noot and another bully—because I assisted the police in giving information about this kind of people, which resulted in the conviction of nine persons, and my witnesses will be at the Sessions."
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, March 26th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
320. ALFRED GEORGE CARGILL GENTRY (35) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences a cheque for £150 from Charles Hales, with intent to defraud; also other sums from other persons by false pretences.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Deended.
on December 14th—I had a child on June, 1894—she was registered Laura, but was generally known as Emily—in February, 1895, I answered an advertisement in the Weekly Dispatch—I received a letter of February 1st, and afterwards met the defendant at Liverpool Street Station on February 19th by appointment—I handed my child over to her, with 15s. on account of £7, which we agreed should be the premium—the child was to become hers—the advertisement was to adopt a child seven months old for love only—I received a number of letters—the child was illegitimate—I was in service—the man who promised to marry me was committed for bigamy—this is the answer to my letter in answer to the advertisement. (That the writer would be pleased to take the child for £7, and give it every home comfort and care, the husband being a mechanic, employed by the Great Eastern Railway Company, and could give references, the address being Myrtle Cottage, Norman Street, Leytonstone). I received this letter of February 5th. (That the money question should not stand between them.) I agreed to pay by instalments—she took the baby and 15s. at Liverpool Street Station—she only told me she had a girl of eleven years, and I understood she had no other children, and that my child would be a companion—she did not say she was in the family-way—my child was then strong, healthy, clean, very fat, in good condition, and plump for her age—she is now in the Lambeth Infirmary—I went to see her at Myrtle Cottage in March, having written that I was coming—I saw my child and three others of about the same age, also twins, which the defendant said were six weeks old, besides the other baby—she said they were all hers—I told her I was surprised to see other children there—she said she had not told me about the twins because she thought that would be a surprise for me when I went, and it would be nice to bring the boy and girl up as brother and sister—I paid her £3 10s. altogether—I next saw the defendant in October, 1895, when she came to see me—I was then again pregnant, and told her so—she offered to take the child, go home, and pretend to be confined with it, and her husband would know nothing about it; she would come to the workhouse and fetch it away—I went on December 14th with Inspector Bruning to fetch the child away—I told her I had come to take the child away, because she was not a fit person to take charge of it—the child was fearfully thin, and appeared starved—its body was clean, but its head was full of vermin—when I took up the child I said, "She is not half so heavy as she was when I had her"—she was eighteen months old, and when I had her seven months—she said it was likely she was thin, she had been cutting her double teeth—the inspector bought the child milk and cake, I gave it to her, and she ate it ravenously—at the infirmary the child's hair was cut off, and she was washed—she was sent to the nursery and examined by medical men.
Cross-examined. The defendant was kind, and took my child when I could not do for it—during the eleven months the child was with her she wrote to me—she did not beg me to come and see the child—she came to me for money—there was no secrecy—I knew her address—I did see her husband when I went to see the child—she wrote me the child was ill, but I Was unable to go and see her then—she wrote several letters, but never mentioned eczema nor bronchitis—I have not kept her letters—I do
not remember her using the words, "The child is falling away"—she informed me it was getting thin—when I went first the child seemed" well, and called the defendant "Mamma," and her husband "Dadda, and seemed to prefer them to me, because I was not with her—I asked her to send me a photograph of the child, but was told to wait till she was a little fatter—she was anxious for me to see it—she sympathised with me when I was pregnant again, and came to see me in October, and offered to assist me.
MR. HUTTON here withdrew from the Prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
322. JOHN RUSSELL (18) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] †, to burglary in the dwelling-house of Stephen Murphy, and stealing a watch and other articles, and £2 16s.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Gillett PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction.
MR. PASSMORE Prosecuted.
HENRY SAYERS . I am manager to Mr. George Leavey, clothier, of 12, Hare Street, Woolwich—I live there—other people live on the premises—on February 27th I locked up at twelve p.m., and went to bed—I was aroused just after one a.m.—I found the police downstairs, the window smashed, the springs broken off, and the window down—the window was in the side door of the passage—a hand must have been put inside to get at the catch.
HAROLD ROWE . I am a draper's manager, of 8, Hare Street, Woolwich—about 12.45 a.m. on February 28th, I was coming home through the passage near Mr. Leavey's—I saw the prisoners standing in Mr. Leavey's door together—they moved from the door and stood against a blank wall—I passed them, I looked at them, and waited some time—I heard them moving about in the passage—I saw Gillett look round about—he could not see me—I heard a pane of glass smash—when two constables came, I told them what I had heard and seen, and we all three went to the prisoners, who were arrested—Lane dropped this iron bar, which I picked up and carried to the Police-station.
THOMAS MASLIN (312 R). I assisted in arresting the prisoners—Lane said, "I am here to make water, constable"—I looked down and saw no wet on the pavement, and called Howe's attention to the fact—I had both the prisoners pinned—I said, "I shall arrest you both as suspected persons"—I took Lane, and the other constable Gillett—when we had gone about five yards this bar dropped from under Lane's coat; both were sober—we took them to the station.
was broken; the glass was lying inside—an arm must have been inserted to pull down the catch from the top to enable the window to be pushed back—the slide on the left side was removed, and the other nearly removed to enable the window to fall back, and there would then be easy means of ingress—the prisoners were both sober when brought to the station.
Lane's statement before the Magistrate: "On the night I was apprehended I was drinking with Gillett and others. I left him, and was going down High Street towards my lodgings, when I found it shut up. Coming through the gardens, I came through this passage on my way to the Police-station, and met this man, Gillett, in the passage. He said, 'I am not going home. I am going to do this here place.' Just as we were talking Mr. Howe passed by. Gillett said, 'That is the foreman of the shop. 'Just after that Gillett poked the window in with a piece of iron, and I pulled him out as he was trying to get in at the window, and took the poker from him, and put it down my trousers, persuading him to come away. Just then the police came and apprehended us. That is the way I got the poker. I never saw Gillett before that night."
Evidence for the Defence.
JAMES GILLETT (the prisoner). That man (Lane) knows nothing about it; he prevented me from doing it—I did not know Lane before that night—we were in no doorway—I broke the side-glass—the bars of the window fell down—I did not look up and down; I stood there—I argued the point with Lane, because he was trying to prevent me doing it—the window was broken before Rowe passed us—we stood at the window when he came by—Lane took the iron from me to prevent my doing further mischief—we were both drunk; we had been drinking all the night.
LANE— GUILTY .*
He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in November, 1893.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
GILLETT**†— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BURTON Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS and MR. LEICESTER Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY on Second Count.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
LOUISA RADFORD . I keep a sweet-stuff shop at 1, Lawson Street, Southwark—in December, 1894, the prisoner came in for some chocolate, and gave me a sixpence—I told him it was bad—he said that he got it on a tram-car, and paid me with a shilling—I gave him in custody—he was charged next day before a Magistrate, remanded for a week, and then discharged—I saw him next at Lambeth Police-court with others last Wednesday week, and picked him out—I am quite sure he is the man; I recognised him at once—I did not mark the coin, but I believe this (produced) to be it.
THOMAS EDWARD SMITH . I am a grocer, of 40, Brisbane Street, Camberwell—on March 7th the prisoner came in and made a purchase, and gave me a half-crown—I had not got change, and sent my young brother to the British Queen to change it—he returned with the landlord and a policeman—the landlord said that the coin was bad—the prisoner said, "I gave that man the coin, but I did not know it was a bad one; I got it on a tram-car"—I gave him in custody.
By the COURT. I looked at it before I sent my brother out with it, and it appeared to be a genuine coin.
GEORGE JONES . I keep the British Queen, Picton Street, Camberwell—I was in the bar when the last witness brought me this half-crown—I put it in the tester, and it bent—I went with him to the shop, and found the prisoner there.
ALFRED REEVES (Policeman). I took the prisoner at the shop—he said, "I am very sorry; I did not know it was a bad one; I changed a dollar on a tram-car this afternoon, and this is the remains"—I found no money on him.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HOWELL Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH MELTON . I am the wife of William Melton—I live at 24, Snead Street, New Cross—the prisoner is my son—his age is seventeen—on February 13th he brought a cup of tea about six a.m. to me in bed; I turned over and went to sleep—I next saw him standing with a lamp in his hand—I got out of bed—I was bleeding in the head—I said, "My dear boy, what did you hit your mother for?"—he said, "Well, you won't tell father"—I have a husband—then he complained of his
head—I was in the hospital till about March 10th, Tuesday week—I cannot say I saw a hammer—my son fell out of a van about two years ago—he was taken to St. Bartholomew's Hospital—I have not noticed anything strange in his manner—he lives at home with me.
SARAH NEWMAN . I am the wife of George Daniel Newman—I live next door to the Meltons, at 23, Snead Street—on February 13th, about 6.30, I was called into No. 24—I found Mrs. Melton with her head bandaged up with a toilet cover, which was saturated with blood—the prisoner went with me to his mother's room—Mrs. Melton said in his presence, "Mrs. Newman, my poor boy, George, is out of his mind, and he has hit me with a hammer"—I had seen very little of the boy; he was at work from morning till night—he had several falls—I heard of one recently.
THOMAS GARLICK (547 R) I was called in—I saw the prisoner sitting in a chair in the back room downstairs—he was moaning—I said, "What is the matter with you?" he said, "Oh, it is my poor head"—he put his hand to his bead—I went upstairs and saw Mrs. Melton in the bedroom, and a quantity of blood on the pillow-case and on other articles—it looked as if the assault had been committed with a hammer—I looked about the room, and found this hammer lying on the floor at the edge of the bed-stead.
RICHARD ARDIA SEGAN . I am house-surgeon at the Greenwich Hospital—on February 13th Mrs. Melton was brought into the hospital, almost unconscious—I examined her head, and found five separate wounds, three in front and two on the back, the result of separate blows—I found no fracture, but great laceration of all the soft parts round, tremendous bruises—the bruises could be produced by such a hammer as this—she has been obliged to keep her bed some time in the hospital—she is now extremely weak from loss of blood from the wounds, which have not yet healed.
WILLIAM MELTON . I am the prisoner's father—he lives at home with us—he is about sixteen—I am a platelayer—he had an accident about two years ago—he had a bottle of medicine from the hospital—he complained about his head—I saw nothing wrong in his manner—he was always a very good boy to his mother—he bore a good character.
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I have had the prisoner under my special observation—he came into Hollow ay on February 14th—I saw him in the hospital on March 7th—I observed nothing strange about him—he stated he was subject to fits—he has had none since he has been at Holloway—he had had a fall on the back of his head—he had a discharge from one ear—that would indicate internal injury—sometimes a severe fall on the back of the head will cause an. attack of homicidal mania, and the person ought to be watched for many years—he showed no ill-feeling against his father or mother—I could not tell what caused the injury to his ear.
GUILTY.But not responsible at the time for hit acts.— To be confined during Her Majesty's pleasure.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted., and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
BRIDGET MCGEE . I am the wife of Michael McGee, but have not lived with him for five years—he takes care of two of my children, and I of one—I took the boy about to racecourses, where I sell cards—last year I was at the City and Suburban with the boy, and went into a booth, where I saw the prisoner with two men—the prisoner asked me whether I would part with my child; I said, "No, not for the Queen's crown"—one of the men gave me some drink and took the boy on his knee—he was in the prisoner's company, and I missed him and the child, and the prisoner—she said that he had children of his own, and would bring him back—one of the men said he would fetch my child, but he never came back—I went looking in the booths for the child, and then went to the station—I am quite sure the prisoner is the woman.
Cross-examined. I was taken to the station to identify the child, and as the prisoner came through the passage I said, "That is the woman that took my child"—she was the only woman there, and the other people there were prisoners—a man named Thin was at the Police-court; he was at the races, and in here—he is not the man who took the child out of the booth—he had curls on his forehead, on the racecourse; his hair has been cut now—I remained in the booth after the child was gone—I slept at Barnes occasionally—the child was never out of my company—I sometimes get into the hands of the police, but I always have the child with me—it was Phil who took the child out; the prisoner remained with me.
Re-examined. The child went to prison with me once; that was for selling flowers.
By the COURT. I heard the man talk to the prisoner in the booth—he did not speak to her by any name, but I remember her calling him Phil—I do not remember anyone calling her Polly—when I went to the station I described her as dressed in a plum-coloured dress and a white hat—I had some drink.
PHILIP JACOBS . I am a general dealer, of 40, Commercial Road—I know Phil Oker—on April 24th I was at the City and Suburban, and the child went up to the prisoner in a booth—she asked me to take the child to her place; that is 118, Stamford Street—I thought he was a friend of hers, because he went to her—I took him to her house, and saw her and the child there next morning—she wore a blue dress.
Cross-examined. I never saw the mother at all that day; I swear that—if she says that the prisoner and I were drinking with her, that is untrue, and it is untrue that she spoke to me about the child, and that I said that the man had children of his own—I will swear that I was not drinking with the mother; if she swears so, that is untrue—I took the child to the prisoner's house that very evening—a servant named King opened the door; she was confronted with me at the Police-court—I did not say to her, "Is Polly in?"—I told her that Polly had asked me to leave the child there—she did not say, "Does she know you have brought him?" nor did I answer, "No; it will be all right"—I was not at the prisoner's house at any time during last February. (Mrs. Harman was here called in.) I do not know that woman—I was
not there on a Wednesday in the middle of February, at three o'clock—I did not take a ring there and ask her to buy it; that was Saturday, the first day of this month—I have not seen Mrs. Harman at the prisoner's house; I did not see her there on the day I took the ring there—it was a sapphire ring; the prisoner refused to buy it, but said that if she had some money she would buy it—she did not refuse to buy it and say, "I have heard rumours that this boy you have brought here has been stolen," nor did I say, "Do you think I should do such a thing as that, and get Polly into trouble?"—I did not tell the prisoner that I dared not take the child to my house on account of my mother, and ask her to look after him—I did not say on the occasion of the ring, "I will take the child away with me now if you have any doubt about it"; nor did the prisoner say, "I shan't let the poor little chap go; God knows what will become of him"—there is not a word of truth in any of that—I am a general dealer; I buy things, children included—I do not mean that—I live at my mother's, 3, Samuel Road, Bishopsgate Street—I lodge now somewhere in the Commercial Road—I have never been in the dock of a Criminal Court, only once for drunkenness—I was not charged with attempting to steal, nor aid I do a month for that; it was for frequenting.
Re-examined. That was a long time ago; the prisoner did not know it—I went into several booths with her—nothing was asked me at the Police-court about Mrs. Harman.
MR. HUTTON here stated that he would aband in the Counts for stealing the child, and proceed only upon the two Counts for harboring and
FREDERICK GRAY (Detective Sergeant L). From information I received, I went on February 25th, about 1.30, with Sergeant Dalla, to 118, Stamford Street, and saw the prisoner—I said, "Polly, I want to speak to you"; we went down in the kitchen, where I saw the little boy—I said, "Has this child got anything the matter with it?"—she said, "I believe so"—I said, "Who has been attending to it?" I shall take you in custody for stealing the child on Epsom Downs on April 24th last—she said, "It was not me who stole it; I know who sent you here; Mrs. Hart"—I said, "No, it was not"—she said, "She can prove I never stole the boy; I came home with her"—I took this note at the time in her presence—I said, "How do you account for the possession of this child?"—she said, "Phil Oker brought it here"—I said, "Where does he live?"—she said, "I don't know, but I can find him in an hour or two"—I said, "You have been telling people that it ss yours"—she said, "Yes, I took a liking to it"—I said, "Where are the clothes which it had when you took it?"—she said, "I burnt them; they were lousy"—I said, "Do you know where Mrs. Hart lives?"—she said, "Yes"—I have made inquiries of her—I know her by sight—I have not seen her here to-day; she lives next door but one to the prisoner.
WILLIAM BBOGDKN (Detective Sergeant L). I went with Gray to the prisoner's house, and heard the conversation—on the way to the station, she said, "A man named Phil Oker brought the boy to me on the night of the City and Suburban, and said he did not like to take it home because of his mother, and asked me to let him stop for a day or two"—I said, "I know you were at the City and Suburban, because I saw you go."
Cross-examined. She said, "I know Phil Oker; he is well known in the Lane."
Witnesses for the Defence.
SARAH HARMAN . I am the wife of John Harman:, of 88, Laurence Street, Lambeth—on, I think, February 1st, I was in the prisoner's kitchen—Oker came in—it was the day after the benefit at the Washington Music Hall this year—the prisoner opened the door to him—they both came down, and he wanted her to buy a ring, a half-hoop sapphire—I looked at it and said, "If I was you I would not buy it; I do not like the looks of the man; I should not like you to get into any trouble"—she said, "I don't half like buying it, because I have heard some very funny rumours, that of this little Billy being stolen from Epsom"—I said, "Then, go to the station and make a report of the case"—she said, "I would not do anything like that to get you into trouble, Polly" and he said, "Is these the slightest doubt about it? I will take him away now if you like"—I said, "Not if you have got nowhere to take him"—she said, "I will keep him here till you get a place to take him to"—he then offered her some drink, and went away.
Cross-examined. I know the prisoner very well—I frequently go to her house in Stamford Street—it is a respectable house—I have known her ten years—she has some women lodgers, single women as far as I know—I did not like Phil Oker's appearance; he seemed a suspicious character—he was almost in rags, and I did not think he could possess such a valuable ring; I thought it was stolen—I took his word with regard to the little boy—he said that it was his own child, and he had had a row with his mother—the prisoner said, "I have been told that little Billy has been stolen"—I was in Court when Oker was examined and Cross-examined at the Police-court—I said to the prisoner, "If it was me, Polly, I should take the little boy and go to the police"—I did not go there again the next day, or any day during the following week—I went three or four times during February, but did not ask her if she had been to the police.
Re-examined. I have eight children of my own; the prisoner stood god-mother to some of them.
By the COURT. I do not know whether she does any work; she used to sit to Arthur Small as an artist's model.
MARY CARR (the prisoner). I live at 118, Stamford Street—my marriage name is Crane; I have heard Mrs. McGee's evidence about my being in her company, and speaking to her in a booth on April 24th; it is not true; I never saw her in my life till I saw her at the Police-station—when I returned home on the evening of April 24th, the little boy was in my passage—Jenny King was my servant; I cannot say what she said, because she was laughing so much—Oker came to me next day, and I said, "You had better take this child away from here"—he said, "It is a young woman's who I have been keeping company with, Minnie"—I said, "I can't have him here; he is covered with vermin;" he said, "Will you keep it a little while, because my mother will not have it because she is sheeney"—that is a Jewess—he said, "Polly, will you keep him for a week or two?"—I consented, but not for so long as I have done—I was let out on bail, and I told the policeman where he was to be found.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Harman is an old friend of mine—I asked the
prisoner to take the boy aw ay—I had heard that he was stolen—I had an anonymous letter, but I never go it; it went to Mrs. Ted Pritchett; she told me that four weeks before I was arrested; that was about a fortnight before Gray came to see me—I did not go straight away to Oker, and tell him that I heard the boy was stolen; I did not know his address—the child remained with me nearly ten months—Oker told me he was going to make him a jockey; he led me to believe who his father was; he asked me to let him come and live at my house—I only know the name of his mother as Minnie; she did not say who the father was—I tried to find her address—I knew he had been living with her; she told me that she had nursed him—when the sergeants came I did not tell them that I believed the child was the son of Minnie and Phil Oker, because I was not bound to answer policemen—I told my Counsel and solicitors to put this question to-day—I know Mrs. Hart; she did not go with me, I went alone—I came with her party; she lives next door but one to me—she was still living in the house when I was out on bail—I was dressed at the City and Suburban in an electric blue cretonne dress, and a little band round my neck—I went into some booths because it came on to rain; I was in a booth inside the big ring.
By the COURT. I saw Oker there, but did not know him well enough to speak to, but I was not astonished at his bringing the child to me, because I have brought up little girls—I had the care of the child while he was in my house, but Edith Smith looked after him; she gave me her address, and I went there, but she had moved.
GUILTY of unlawfully taking the child away. Medical evidence was then called to the effect that the child was suffering from a foul disease; and SERGEANT GRAIN stated that the prisoner lived with bad characters, who called themselves the "Forty Thieves" and had been sentenced to Four Months' Hard Labour for stealing a watch and chain .—Three Years' Penal Servitude. The Society for the Suppression of Vice took charge of the child, with the mother's consent.
331. ERNEST ANDREWS (34) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to stealing a mantle, skirt, and brooch, the goods of Frederick Charles Porter; also to a conviction of felony on June 13th, 1893.
Six other convictions were proved against the prisoner, upon one of which he had been sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Five Years' Penal Servitude.
332. ANDREW CLARKSON (58) and CATHERINE FANNY RAWLINGS (43) , Unlawfully conspiring to obtain from George Clutterbuck and Edward Cubitt £19 15s. and other money; Other Counts, for obtaining money from them by false pretences.
MESSRS. GUT STEPHENSON and RANDOLPH Prosecuted, and MR. THOMAS
GEORGE CLUTTERBUCK . I am a coffee-house keeper, of 1, Queen's Park, Peckham—the prisoner Rawlings came to lodge with me on March 26th, 1895, and remained till November 12th—at the end of May she handed me this letter, containing a cheque for £10 15s. (This stated that although the cheque was enclosed, her money from Birmingham would not
come in till June.) I cashed it for her, and paid it in, and it remained till November 12th—there was one cheque for £10, and one for £3, which were honoured—before I cashed the first cheque I asked her if it was all right; she said, "It is drawn by Mr. Clarkson, who is my banker; he has known me for years; he knew my father before he died"—I think she said the money came from property in Birmingham, a coffee tavern, and that she was entitled to money under her father's will, and her cousin, Arthur Rawlings, was the executor, an ironmonger, in a large way of business at Henley—on August 13th, 1895, she handed me this cheque for £20. (This was dated September 16th, on the London and South-Western Bank, for £20, signed "A. Clarkson and Co.") She asked me to put it into my cupboard for security, and about two days afterwards she asked if I could let her have £5 or £6 upon the cheque—I asked her about it; she said it was drawn by the same firm as the others—I advanced her £5, and on the 19th I paid her another £5, because she said her brother was in trouble, and she had to pay some money to a solicitor—I went to see Mr. Clarkson at 117, Victoria Street—nobody else was present—he said, "I hear you are letting Miss Rawlings have some money on my cheque; you know she is a woman in a good position; you should charge her interest"—I said, "We look upon her as a respectable woman, and it is a temporary convenience"; he said, "All right; you can let her have what you want, and I will see her paid; all her money passes through my hands"—I subsequently made her a further advance of £5 in cash on August 22nd, for the same purpose, for the solicitor, and on September 4th £2 more, and afterwards more; the total I advanced was £19 15s.—during the time I received from her cheques for £12 10s. and £10—that was before I presented the cheque of September 16th—it was post-dated when I took it—I cannot say that I received the second cheque before September 16th, but it was certainly before the other was presented—this is for £10, drawn by Clarkson and Co.—the £20 cheque was returned on the 30th; I had presented it a day or two before—I did not present it before because Rawlings repeatedly asked me not to present it, and she would pay me—when it came back it was marked "Orders not to pay"—I presented the £10 cheque, and that was dishonoured—this is the cheque for £12 10s.—I did not present that, as Rawlings refused to endorse it—she said there was no money at the bank to meet it—I asked how she knew that—the total amount she owes me is £22; there was food and other things—I presented the cheques again on October 23rd, and they were both returned dishonoured—I went with my daughter to 172, Victoria Street on September 30th, and saw Clarkson—I said, "I have come with your cheque in favour of Rawlings for £20, marked "Orders not to pay"—he said, "We have stopped payment, because she has had the money; you have also taken one for £12 10s.?"—I said, "Yes"—on November 13th I went to him again with my daughter, and met the prisoner on the stairs—we went into the office—Rawlings was the first to speak—she said, "I am very sorry, Mr. Clutterbuck, we are unable to pay you the money"—I said, "Why? you told me Mr. Clarkson had the money on Saturday, and handed me a letter asking me to go there"—Clarkson said, "Miss Rawlings has been expecting money from Birmingham, and assures you we cannot pay"—I took up my hat and left—I subsequently
received this letter: "Be good enough to let me know your claim against Miss Rawlings. I much regret your leaving my office in such a hurry yesterday"—I then received this letter: "Dear Sir,—Miss Rawlings has been here to-day, she expects the money from Birmingham on Monday please let me know the amount of your claim"—I do not remember whether I replied to that—on September 16th, when the cheque was due, I was at Clarkson's office on another matter; he asked me about the cheque, and I said, "I think that will be all right"—Rawlings had shown me a letter from a gentleman at Birmingham, and one in her writing interlined by Clarkson—the sums I advanced have never been paid, nor the account Rawlings owed me—I parted with my money because she had been with us a long while, and in general conversation she told us about her position, and that she was receiving quarterly payments under her father's will, and also from a person in Birmingham—the first letter I received had an effect upon my mind, because it stated she was in receipt of an income, and that Mr. Clarkson was the agent for her; but for that, I would not have advanced the money—after she left the house I found certain letters. (Letters marked P. Q. R. S. T. U. were here put in.) These letters are in Clarkson's writing—I also found an account headed "R. C. Dodd, in account with Miss Rawlings"—I handed those documents to the police—that is in the same hand as the letter. (This account showed that Mr. Dodd owed Rawlings £100, and another paper stated, "I have examined the account and find it correct.") That is signed by Rawlings.
Cross-examined. I did not see a cheque for £5, signed by Davis in favour of Miss Rawlings—I never saw a cheque signed by Davis in my life; I only saw Clarkson's cheques in her hands—I have never seen a cheque on a Birmingham bank in her favour—when I gave her the £5 in August she said that Clarkson was acting as her banker—I know now about the banking account; I do not know where the money came from—she did not show me a £5 note, or any money which came from Birmingham—she handed the other two cheques to me, and asked me not to present the £20 cheque—when she handed me one, she said, "This is from Mr. Clarkson as further security, and to show that we are honest people"—I did not tell Clarkson in his office that I knew there was sufficient money—Clarkson said at the Police-court that I had ruined his business; I have advertised him twice, and got a lot of communications not creditable to him—Rawlings did not say at Clarkson's office, "You knew it was no use presenting the cheque, as I had not had the money to hand over to meet it"—I did not know from Rawlings that the cheque given to me on August 13th, and dated September 16th, was given to me because she could not get the money from Clarkson; she gave it to me, Clarkson being her banker—the reason I took a cheque more than a month post-dated was not unless she could pay in money at the bank to meet it.
Re-examined. This is the advertisement. (This stated that Reginald E. Dodd would hear of something to his advantage by applying to Mr. Dodd.)
EMILY CLUTTERBUCK . I live with my father at 2, Queen's Road, Peckham—I knew of the cheques my father was cashing for Miss Rawlings—she told me that she had an income for life, and a quarterly income from property in Birmingham, and that her bankers were Messrs. Clarkson, of 171, Victoria Street—I went to see Clarkson with my
father, who said, "Mr. Clarkson, I hold two dishonoured cheques of yours; what are you going to do?"—he said that Miss Rawlings ought to have met them; he gave them to her with the understanding that he did not know Mr. Davis; he might be the man in the moon, for anything he knew—my father said, "No; she says no"—he said, "We will talk the matter over, and try to come to some arrangement"—I said something about Miss Rawlings—he said, "She is only a troublesome client of mine; I know nothing about her"—I saw them together once in Queen's Road; Mr. Clarkson brought her home in a cab in a very bruised condition; she was very bad, and he said that she was a friend of his.
Cross-examined. I believe I said before the Magistrate that Clarkson said he did not know Mr. Davis, and the Magistrate's clerk said, "That will do"—I believe I said before the Magistrate that he said she was a troublesome client of his; what I said was taken down—Clarkson said to my father that it was arranged with Miss Rawlings that she should find the money for the cheques which had been dishonoured.
By the COURT. I said at the Police-court that Clarkson told my father that he did nut know Miss Rawlings, only as a client.
ROBERT WOODHOUSE . I am manager of the London and South-Western Bank, Fleet Street branch—I produce a certified copy of the account of Reginald E. Dodd, trading as Clarkson and Co., from February, 1894, to December, 1895, which closed with a debit of ninepence—the balance at the end of September, 1895, was 17s. 2d.—I told Clarkson that the account was closed by us, and wrote him a letter—he opened the account in the name of Dodd.
Cross-examined. It was originally Edward Dodd—here are cheques which have been collected by us in favour of Clarkson's account at Birmingham; one is for £150, which went to his credit on August 29th;, it would be paid in about the 27th.
Re-examined. These entries are the numbers of the cheques; we do not take the names.
By the COURT. This was an exceedingly small account; the amount was about £378 one year—there is a credit of £90 in June, but whether that was a cheque or not, I do not know, and another of £98 on July 5th; those are the only large payments in; the payments out are petty ones of £1 10s. and £2 10s.
Cross-examined. She came with Clarkson to pay in £150; that was a. cheque collected at Birmingham.
ELIZA HILTON . I am Rawlings' sister—I first knew Clarkson about June, 1893, by his sending me a telegram that my sister had had an accident—I went to see her, and found him there—my father died in August, 1893, and from his estate my sister and I received £76; it was wound up in 1893, since when there has been nothing coining in from that estate—my sister has no property in Birmingham that I know of—she told me in 1894 that Mr. Davis had sent her £250, and that she gave it to Clarkson to invest for her—she did not say what her relations with Clarkson were—Mr. Davis, of the Orphanage, Birmingham, is the executor of my father—I do not know that Arthur Rawlings carried on business as an "Ironmonger at Henley.
Cross-examined. I know that she had money from Birmingham, and that she had entrusted it to Clarkson—I do not know of her receiving money from Davis except that once.
CHARLES SIGNER . I live at 28, Tindal Street, Vassal Road, Brixton—in 1895 I was Clarkson's clerk—he only kept me; he and I do the whole work—Miss Rawlings used to come there, and read the paper and write letters for Clarkson, and I copied them—Clarkson dictated them to her and to me—she said she was his cousin—I remember her being away last summer, and letters from her came from Harwich—I know Clarkson's writing.
Cross-examined. The note-paper was headed "Auctioneer and Financial Agent"—there were a great number of callers to see Clarkson—I know the name of Hampton; they kept a shop in the City, and were bankrupt—I do not know whether Mr. Clarkson acted in winding it up; I know he did something—I do not know that he received money from Hampton's estate.
By the COURT. So far as I know, he held no auction during the whole time I was there—I never saw any catalogues made out by him of any auction.
ARTHUR EDWARD CUBISSON . I am a solicitor, of 15, King Street, City—in September, 1895, I was acting for a client, and got judgment—on October 5th Clarkson called, and produced a bill of exchange for £15, signed "A. Clarkson," addressed to Miss C. S. Rawlins, and accepted by her, and asked me for an advance on it—he said it was given to her for an advance on her quarterly income under her father's will, and that Mr. Davis was the trustee, and the quarterly payments were between £18 and £19, and that she was a householder at 1, Queen's Road, Peckham—I advanced him £6 by cheque of October 5th; lie asked me to make it open, as it was Saturday—on October 12th he called again, and asked for another advance of £10—I gave him a cheque for £8 10s., making a deduction for a debt due to my client—he gave me a cheque for £10, signed "A. Clarkson and Co.," on the South-Western Bank, and asked me to hold it till the 15th—I paid it in, and it was returned, marked "Refer to Drawer"—I paid it in again, and it was again returned—I obtained judgment against him without result—I went to Queen's Road, Peckham, and saw Rawlings—she said, "You came from Mr. Cubisson?"—I said, "I am Mr. Cubisson"—I asked if she should be in a position to meet it when it became due—she said, "Yes"—she afterwards called and said that she had a quarterly income under her father's will—I told her that I heard Mr. Davis was the trustee—she said, "Yes," and that she received her money from the solicitor—on November 25th she came again, thinking the bill was due—I explained to her that there were three days' grace—she said that she had some of the money, but not all—on December 2nd she called and said that she had not received the money, and then I wrote her a letter—Clarkson said that she was a householder, of 341, Rotherhithe New Road.
Cross-examined. It is the fact that 341, Rotherhithe New Road is her residence—it was not with respect to that address that Clarkson said that she was a householder, because I did not know that address then—the money which was being advanced was Mrs. Newman's, a client of mine, who had placed it in my hands—the £8 10s. and the 30s. made up the sum—I refused to take his cheque as security for an advance.
Cross-examined by Rawlings. After I took proceedings against you told me you had nothing to do with it—you said that you did know what you were doing when you signed it.
ALBERT PEARCE (Police Sergeant P). I arrested Rawlings on January 27th, about ten p.m., at 341, Rotherhithe New Road, on a warrant—she said, "I have been expecting this from what I heard to-day"—I took her to the station; she said to the inspector, "This is not true; he never went in that name"—I arrested Clarkson—he said, "I know nothing about the matter; it has nothing to do with me; I hear you have subpœnaed Chapman; he has nothing to do with it; I don't know anything of Clutterbuck, except that he has advertised me in the paper, and ruined my business and credit."
ARTHUR NEALE (Detective C). I was with Pearce when he arrested Rawlings—on the way to the station she said, "Have you got Clarkson yet? I saw him at five o'clock to-night; you go to Kent Road, and don't go away till you get him"—next morning she said, "I can see where I am wrong; I gave Clutterbuck that cheque, but Clarkson had the money in October"—I arrested Clarkson—he said, "I know nothing of Clutter-buck; I never had a penny of Clutterbuck's money; don't hold me, I shan't run away"—I said, "We lost you once"—he said, "It was your business to find me, and mine to get away; on the night you came to Kent Road I was there, and went out the back way."
Rawlings produced a written defence, stating that the handed to Clarkson at once the sums she received from Clutterbuck on Clarkson's cheque, which the procured for him at his instigation, he being aware that she was living and boarding at Clutterbuck's house, and that she honestly thought the money would be paid, and that Clarkson still owed her money; that he asked her to sign her name across the bill, and told her it would not make her responsible.
CLARKSON GUILTY .
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Bristol on July 30th, 1884.— Five Years Penal Servitude.
RAWLINGS GUILTY.— Recommended to mercy by the JURY,believing her to have been under Clarkson's influence.— Three Days' Imprisonment.
Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, APRIL 20TH, 1896.
The following Prisoners, upon whom the sentence of the Court was respited at the time of Trial, have since been sentenced as under:—
Page Vol cxxiii. Sentence.