CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
NINTH SESSION, HELD JUNE 22ND, 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.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, June 22nd, 1896, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR WALTER WILKIN , Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir GAINSFORD BRUCE, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir DAVID EVANS , K.C.M.G., Alderman 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., ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., Sir JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Knt., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., and FREDERICK PRATT ALLISTON, Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
THOMAS GEOEGE BEARD, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
WILKIN, MAYOR. NINTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, June 22nd, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. CISSON Prosecuted, and MR. WAEBURTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
485. TOM DREDGE (36) , to stealing a post letter, containing a cheque for £6 16s.;, also to stealing two other orders for 3s. and 5s.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
487. HENRY GEORGE FROMM (41) , to fifteen indictments for stealing share warrants, value £2,000, of the Cape Copper Company, his masters.— Four Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
488. JOHN HENRY JARMAN (55) , to stealing a number of valuable securities to the value of £4,814, and to obtaining certain securities by false pretences, with intent to defraud.— Six Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, June 22nd, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
489. JANE O'CAROLAN** (30) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a brace-let and pendant, the goods of Mary Warrell, having been convicted at the West London Police-court on Jan. 16th, 1894.— Three Months' Hand Labour.
490. WILLIAM JONES (23) and WILLIAM TAYLOR (22) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Ralph Burch, and stealing a tea-pot and other articles, his property, and 2s. 6d., the money of Esther Pullin, and 2s. 6d., the money of Hannah Barrett; also to bring found by night with housebreaking implements. Five other convictions were proved against Jones, and eight against Taylor.— Three Years' Penal Servitude
each. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
491. CHARLES TOOGOOD (43) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Way, with intent to steal. He had been eighteen years in the Army, and was discharged with a good character, and Mr. Wheatley undertook to look after him.—Two Days' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. WOODGATE Prosecuted, and MR. GILL Defended.
ROBERT JAMES BUCKLE . I live at Belle Vue Terrace, Hendon—on May 26th I was in a public-house; the prisoner was there; we both had a little drink; I had three or four glasses—it did not get into my head, but it got into the prisoner's head—I tried to get him home, and while I was doing so he had a fit, and laid on the ground, and foamed at his mouth—a woman named Hollingsworth was there; she is a friend of the prisoner's—we then went to another public-house, and had more drink, and had some words about the woman; I said that he should not strike her—there was a little rough up, and I found myself stabbed in my arm—Johnson came up, and I said, "Loo, I am stabbed"—after the prisoner had the fight, we emptied his pockets, and took care of the contents, which were given back to him afterwards.
Cross-examined. He and I were at school together—we have always been good friends—I don't know who took the things out of his pockets, but Hollingsworth had the money—the scuffle began by my taking my coat off, when he jumped out in the road—we were not all down on the ground together—after the fight the prisoner looked strange, his eyes were staring out of his head; I never looked to see if there was any blood on him—the fight lasted about two minutes—I did not stop to look whether the woman went away with him; she did not go with me—I saw him afterwards outside the station—I never knew that he carried a knife—I am all right now.
LEWIS JOHNSON . I live at 27, Smart's Cottages, Enfield—on May 26th I was at the Bell when they came in; I saw the girl Hollingsworth with them—there was a fight, and I took a half-sovereign from his pocket, and gave it to her—we went and had some more drink, and going home, I heard Buckle say, "If you hit her I shall hit you"—that was two hours after the fit, but he was still suffering—Buckle halloaed out, "I am knifed!"—I went to him, and blood was pouring from his arm—no one else was near—I took him to a doctor, and then to the station—I kept Meadows from him, and knocked him down—from the time he had the fit till the fight took place he did not look the same—he was wild and queer in his ways.
Cross-examined. He fell down again, just as he was getting better—I went to the Royal Oak, and stayed there till closing-time—I took the half-sovereign from his pocket, and the girl took some other things—I was not looking on all the time of the fight; I was stopping the girl—she did not rush between them three or four times, not till he halloaed out that he was knifed—I saw a knife at the station—I do not know whether it belongs to the prisoner, I never saw it before—I saw the girl afterwards—I did not see blood on her sleeve and on her jacket, but I know now that she had—I saw no blood on the prisoner.
on the morning of May 27th, and found Buckle suffering from four distinct wounds, an incised wound on his upper arm, a punctured wound over the eighth rib, and another half-way between the ribs and hip—there must, have been four distinct stabs—he is all right now.
ROSE HOLLINGSWORTH . I am married, and live at Argyle Cottage—I know Buckle—I was with them on the 28th, when Meadows had a fit—after that we went to another public-house—we parted at Stopford Road—there were no words—I saw no quarrel whatever while I was in their company—I saw them strike blows in the road, and saw Buckle pull his coat off to fight—I attempted to part them while they were fighting—I heard nothing said about a wound—I saw Buckle go away with Johnson; I did not know he was wounded—when I went between them I found blood on my clothes.
Cross-examined. I knew them both—I had been to these different public-houses that night—the fight was some time after eleven—there were three men all down on the ground—I rushed between the prisoner and Buckle, and got a good deal of blood on my clothes and hands—I saw the things taken from Meadows when he had the fit—I never saw this knife before.
Cross-examined. I know the prisoner; he is a very respectable young man, a labourer.
Cross-examined. I saw marks of blows on the side of his face and on his mouth—he is a respectable young man.
Cross-examined. The girl was near at the time of the arrest.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday? June 23rd, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and OWEN Prosecuted.
EDWARD MACKENZIE . I am a grocer, of 10, Rushey Green, Catford—My attention was attracted by an advertisement in the Evening News, similar to this: "Incandescent Gas Burners, new, complete, 5s. each; Wilson, 24, Brackenbury Road, Hammersmith"—in consequence of seeing that, I called, on the following day, at Brackenbury Road—I only saw a woman on the premises—on September 22nd I wrote to J. Wilson, at this address, ordering four of the burners, enclosing a
cheque for £1, payable to J. Wilson—that is endorsed "Wilson" and "W. Platts"—I did not get any burners for some time—on September 30th I wrote to J. Wilson, demanding either the burners or my cheque—I received a letter in answer, which I destroyed; it was simply to say that they were ordinary incandescent burners, quite new and quite perfect, and he would he pleased to send four for a sovereign—he then sent four burners; I examined them; they were similar to this, except that they had no tap, or any iron fork, and no mantle—I did nothing with them—I tried one, and it was quite useless—I communicated two or three times, by letter, with the prisoner; I received no answer, and I then communicated with the Incandescent Company.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The servant to that company has the burners here—it took me about nine minutes to examine one—I do not recollect your calling on me about it—the price of incandescent burners at this time is from 8s. to 9s. 6d—ycrar price was 5s.—your letter expressly stated they were Wellspeck C pattern.
EDWARD ARMFIELD . I am an artistic decorator, and live in Fulham Road—in September last year my attention was attracted to an advertisement in the Morning Leader; in consequence of that, I sent a postcard to the name and address mentioned, and on October 1st the prisoner called on me—he said he was sent by the advertiser to show me a sample burner—he showed me a burner of the Incandescent Company's make, with a mica chimney; it had no tap—he took it to pieces, and showed it to me—he said he could not leave it, as he was going on to St. Paul's Church-yard to show it—I agreed to write, and I did write, ordering a dozen to be complete—I had a postcard, stating that they would be ready, and I sent a boy with £3—the boy brought back a wooden box, containing burners wrapped in paper, also a receipt on a small slip of paper, signed "J. Wilson"—I saw that the burners were not as to sample; they were old gold-painted things—I took the box and the boy to the place—I only saw a woman there; I was not able to see the prisoner—I sent the boy for a constable—on the following day, I think, I met the prisoner, and asked him for an explanation—he simply laughed at me—he said that the mantles in the box were broken when the box was returned to him—they were not—I put the matter in the hands of Mr. Haynes—I parted with the £3, believing he was selling me burners like those he had shown me.
Cross-examined. A gentleman was in the shop at the time you called who came from the Wellspech Company, and he was showing me a price-list—I don't remember whether my apprentice was present—my lad told me that he had paid the £3 to a woman.
FRANK WILLIAM COTTON . I live at West Cowes, Isle of Wight—in November last I saw an advertisement in the Morning Leader in consequence of which I sent 5s. 6d. to 24, Brackenbury Road—I received this postcard, apologising for delay—I never received the burner—I wrote several times, but received no reply.
JOSEPH TIDEMAN . I am an auctioneer and hotel-keeper at Waltham Cross—in January this year I saw an advertisement in a London paper similar to that produced, and referring to the Home Office, and in consequence I wrote to Wilson, of Brackenbury Road, giving an order for two burners—I received an answer, asking for the money first—I replied, enclosing eleven shillings—I got a postcard, saying they would be forwarded
on Saturday—not getting them, I wrote on the 22nd, complaining; a few days afterwards I received two burners, but no mantles; this piece of paper was in it, "Mantles and mica chimney will be forwarded"—I never got either—I was not able to use the burner—I found it useless—on February 21st I wrote again, but received no answer.
Cross-examined. I kept the Four Swans Hotel, at Waltham Gross—I tried one of the burners; there was a long flame, but it was perfectly useless—you did not supply what you contracted for—I have not been to the Home Office, I felt if they were good enough for the Home Office, they would be good enough for me.
THOMAS PRETTY . I live at Sittingbourne—on January 12th I saw an advertisement in Lloyd's newspaper, in consequence of which I sent a postal order for five shillings, and nine stamps to J. Wilson, I received no reply; I wrote again, but got no reply—I posted both letters myself.
EDWIN GILL . I am an auctioneer, and live at Bona Lodge, Oxford Road, Kilburn—in February this year my attention was attracted to an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph of an incandescent mantle—in consequence, I sent 1s. 1d. to Be Groof, of 24, Brackenbury Road, and I received this box, containing a mantle—I tried it; it was of no use, except, perhaps, for heating purposes—on April 11th I wrote to the address where I sent my money; that letter was never returned to me; it was endorsed, "Refused to be taken."
Cross-examined. The mantle was covered with chemicals—I tried it first as you sent it to me—I thought what was round it impeded the light, and I took it off, but could get no light—I am a thoroughly practical man—from what I afterwards heard, I wrote to the police.
CHARLES STYLES . I am a pianoforte dealer, of 42, Southampton Row—in March last I received this handbill—it was put in my letter-box—I sent a letter, enclosing 1s. 6d., to the defendant, for a mantle—I never received any answer or any mantel.
JAMES SPRUNT . I am a pawnbroker, of 254, Old Kent Road—I saw an advertisement in the People newspaper with reference to incandescent mantles—I sent a postal order for 1s. and a stamp to De Groof, Bracken-bury Road—I got no answer for a time; I communicated with the police—afterwards I had a mantle sent to me—after a trial I found it of no use as far as light was concerned; light was what I wanted.
Cross-examined. It was covered with asbestos—I lighted it from the bottom—it was perfectly useless and worthless; the only light I got was just what one gets from a red-hot poker.
WALTER ANGEL . I am an undertaker, of 18, Endell Street, Long Acre—in March last I received a handbill like the one produced, and on the faith of it I ordered an incandescent mantle, and sent 1s. 1d. to De Groof—I got a mantle in return, about ten or twelve days afterwards; it was not a bit of use; it got red-hot, that was all.
ARTHUR HENRY REMINGTON . I am employed by the Incandescent Light Company, of Palmer Street, Westminster—I have had twenty years' experience in gas work—a burner complete includes mantle and chimney—this burner is made of brass; it is of no commercial value, and it is dangerous—in a proper incandescent burner we have a provision for regulating the gas according to the atmosphere; this has nothing of the kind—I produce one of the company's mantles it is made by a special
process; the other is a common brass guaze; it would be just like a red-hot poker; it is of no use at all as a mantle.
ALFRED CORDEY . I live a Colquhoun Road, Thornton Heath—I am in the Office of Works—the lighting at the Home Office and other offices is under my charge—the Incandescent Gas Light Company supply the burners used at the Home Office.
ELIZA WILLIAMS . I live at 86, Goldhawk Road, Shepherd's Bush, and am a clerk at the post-office there—I have known the prisoner for some time by his coming to the post-office with several 1s. postal orders—I knew him as Platts—I have cashed orders in the name of De Groof for him—he said he was trading or doing business under that name.
Cross-examined. I remember a cardboard box coming to the office; I don't know when, or in whose name—I do not know what was done with it—the greater part of the 1s. postal orders were in the name of Platt; some were in the name of De Groof.
ALGERNON THOMAS SELFE . I live at 527, Commercial Road East—I am assistant to the secretary of the Stepney and Suburban Building Society—Walter Platts is a member—I have received from him cheques payable to and endorsed by J. Wilson—I do not know that member; I have never seen him—I received this cheque for £1 from Platts, signed and made payable to J. Wilson—I received this letter from Platts on behalf of the society—at the Police-court the prisoner admitted sending the cheque and the letter to me, I believe—this other letter is in similar writing, so far as I can say—Mr. Johnson is the secretary of the society, and I am his assistant. (The letter, signed W. Platts, was to the effect that he lioped to send Mr. Johnson £15 within a few days.)
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You have been in the society for about three years; you are very greatly in arrears with your payments, very likely £40—very likely you have only paid £17 in three years.
EDWARD BADCOCK (Detective Sergeant T). I have known the prisoner in the names of Platts, Wilson and De Groof—on January 11th I met him in the Goldhawk Road; he knows me—he stopped me and said, "How do you do?"—I said, "Quite well; I hope you are quite well"—he said, "I have nearly bought the house I was buying, 24, Brackenbury Road; I am doing well now; I am making mantles to sell at one shilling each; if you will tell me where you are living I will send you a mantle"—I said, "Thank you; I don't use gas, so it will be of no use to me"—he said, "I may as well give you one of my bills," and he gave me a bill, and I read it, and said, "This is in the name of De Groof"—he said, "Yes; I am trading in that name now"—I said, "You had better mind you don't get into trouble"—he said, "No fear of that; while I send something to the people who send for them you people cannot touch me."
Cross-examined. You live in my district, and I meet you perhaps every week; I may have met you one day in January, when you had a box of mica—I met you in Banham Street; I cannot say what you were carrying—I have never asked you for a burner; I knew they were worthless, because of the complaints we have received.
ROBERT MARKHAM (Sergeant T). In consequence of communications made to the police from time to time, I went on March 30th to 24, Brackenbury Road, where I saw the prisoner's wife—she made a statement to me—I remained outside the house—I subsequently went into the
kitchen of the house, and saw the prisoner—I said, "We have received a large number of complaints respecting your advertisement in the names of Platts, Wilson, and Be Groof, and obtaining money from persons in various parts of the country by sending worthless burners and mantles; and in some cases they received nothing; I am directed by the Commissioners of Police to caution you as to your future conduct"—he said, "I have only advertised in the names of Platts and Wilson; De Groof is a Frenchman, who has had his letters addressed here, and I will put a stop to it"—there is no other Be Groof except the prisoner, so far as I know—there were no other complaints about Wilson after I heard complaints about Be Groof, and so, as far as I could say, Be Groof succeeded Wilson—a summons was issued against the prisoner; he did not appear to it, and then a warrant was granted, which I executed on May 2nd at Brackenbury Road—I found the prisoner in the kitchen, and read the warrant to him—he made no reply—on the way to the station he said, "Are these the only two cases that are going to be brought against me?"—I said, "No, there are a number of other oases in which you have obtained money from persons by selling worthless burners and mantles"—he said, "They would do to burn on paraffin lamps," and he laughed.
Cross-examined. You did not tell me where Be Groof lived—you did not say he was living in Lillington Road, Piralico, or that he paid you so much a week to take his letters in—I came to your house on March 29th or 30th, and told you all about Be Groof—I did not say the Welsbach Company were going to spend £1,000 to prosecute you; we had no communication with the Welsbach Company then.
The Prisoner called
THOMAS SPEECHLEY . I am a coppersmith—I had some incandescent burners from you for a lady friend who saw your advertisement, and asked me to screw them on—they were something after this style, as well as I remember; it is some considerable while ago—I do, not know anything about incandescent burners—this Welsbach burner is more polished than yours; that is all the difference I can see—I screwed them on, and they burned all right; so far as I know, they were satisfied with them—that was some time before Christmas—I never heard of the Welsbach light—I have seen them, but not to know what they are—I paid 6s. or 5s. 6d. each—my friend was satisfied, so far as I know.
Cross-examined. I only bought burners, not mantles—I used in can descent mantles—I never saw any of the prisoner's mantles—I have not got one of the burners here—they were not like this Welsbach, or this one (produced) of the prisoner's.
JOSEPH SAMUEL BANFIELD . I am a carpenter, of 309. King Street, Hammersmith—last year I called at your place about some burners—this produced is similar to those I purchased—I placed them in the house of a tenant—they gave light—there are two Welsbach and two of your burners in the house now—I know the Welsbach burners; this is one—I have seen yours burning, but not to recognise that they are really the
same burners—they give a good light in the shop—I paid you 5s. 9d. each—you sold me a mica chimney—you put them up for me—I was satisfied so far—that was at the beginning of December—I charged my tenant what I paid, and made no profit—I do not know anything about incan descent burners.
Cross-examined. I knew the prisoner as Wilson—an incandescent burner complete would be burner and mantle—the mantles he supplied me were in boxes, which had no name upon them, like the Incandescent Gas Light Company's have—I do not use that kind of light myself—I know how the mantle is fixed—I examined both the Welsbach and the prisoner's, after they were fixed and burning, to compare one with the other—the mantle I saw used was very similar to this one produced; I could not say exactly.
GEORGE FREDERICK SCOTT . I am a grocer—I never took particular notice of the burners—you put up two in my shop similar to this of yours, as far as I can recognise—they have given light ever since January; I found nothing wrong with them—I paid you 11s. 6d. for the two, and am satisfied so far.
Cross-examined. There is a difference in the pattern between this and the Welsbach burner; I do not know what the difference is.
CHARLES FLUCK . I am a dining-room proprietor, at King Street, Hammersmith—I have known the prisoner for six months in the names of Platts and Wilson—you called on me, and sold me six or eight burners after Christmas—you sold me a second-hand Welsbach—you said you made mantles—I have no fault to find with the burners, except as to the pin.
Cross-examined. My address is Bartholomew Close—the thing is perfectly useless to me; I got no light from it; when it burnt it looked like a hot poker, and had no illuminating power.
IGNATIUS MOORE . I am a clerk in the Civil Service, and am employed at the Prisons Department of the Home Office, Whitehall—in June, 1896, I sent you this letter from the Home Office—a box came to me with a burner similar to this (produced)—it gave a good light—the transaction had nothing to do with the Home Office, but was a private affair entirely—the box was sent to the Home Office.
Cross-examined. As a private individual I answered an advertisement, and got a burner and mantle—the mantle was something like this Welsbach—there was no printing on the box. containing it—the box might have presented the appearance of something being rubbed off, or the paper may have been rough—so far as what took place with me, there is no ground for the prisoner advertising that he supplied the Home Office with burners—the Home Office is supplied by the Incandescent Company—the box containing the mantle bore an embossed monogram at the end.
EDWIN LAWRENCE . I am a commission agent, of 159, King Street, Hammersmith—you supplied me with eight burners and one mantle—you were a stranger to me at the time—I came to your house—you showed me a bottle containing a powder, with which you said the mantles were
made—I saw lamps fitted up in your passage—I saw a lamp alight there; it looked an ordinary kind of lamp, but you told me methylated spirit was burnt in it—it had a mantle, and gave the same kind of light as I had in my shop with the gas—it is an ordinary-looking lamp, with a burner, and burnt all right.
Cross-examined. I have delivered them in London and the suburbs, if not in the country.
JOHN PRATT . I am a general shopkeeper, at 129, Brackenbury Road, Hammersmith—I had a post-office there till March 9th—you brought a good, many boxes to my place before March 9th, I believe, and I sent them off—I don't know why the post-office was taken away from me on March 9th—you had no receipt from me for the boxes you left, you asked for none—the Post Office will tell you what boxes they bad of yours, they are on their sheets—every postman has to sign the sheet before he takes away a parcel—I don't know if the Post Office people take the name and address on a box unless it is registered.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had made and sold incandescent gas-light burners, and got an honest living, and that because he was interfering with the Welsbach Company's business they had tried to foil him, and that some of the boxes he had sent off must have been lost in the post.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in March, 1896, of stealing gas.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BROXHOLME Prosecuted.
EDWIN SOLE . I am a bootmaker, of 60, Burton Street, Ratcliffe—at 12.30 a in on May 19th, I went to bed after seeing my house and shop were locked up—I have a cellar-flap outside my shop, and one inside; a person could go through the cellar-flap outside and come up through the other one inside the shop, if the flaps were forced open—about three a.m. I heard a disturbance, as if someone was forcing the door—I got out of bed and looked out at the window, and saw Carey standing at the court opposite—I knew him before—he ran over to two other persons, whom I do not recognise, and then the three ran away; one of them was about the same size as Carey, and one was a bit shorter—I went downstairs, and found that the door was forced partly open, and the look broken; a bolt at the top of the door prevented it from being completely forced—the outside cellar-flap had been partly forced, and partly placed back—an iron shutter was broken off—I gave information to the police.
WILLIAM RACE (Re-examined.) At 4.30 on this morning I was called by the prosecutor to his house—I found the shutters and the door had been tampered with; the door was much injured, bat the bolt prevented an entry—the lock had been forced and broken—the cellar-flap had been lifted, and entry effected, and the flap leading into the shop had
been forced, but a post over it had stopped entry—from inquiries, I ascertained the premises where certain men had gone, and I went to Caroline Court—while breaking open an empty house there someone drew my attention to No. 7—I saw Carey's mother, and asked her where her son was—it was only a two-roomed house, and the prisoners must have heard—she said, "He is here in bed"—I asked her to admit me to the house—after some delay I threatened to break in—subsequently Carey came to the door and opened it—he was partly dressed—he said, "What do you want?"—I said, "I want you," and told him the charge—he had no boots or stockings on—he said, "I will come with you"—I said, "Not yet; I will wait till you are ready"—I pushed him into the house; he tried to escape—we found Thompson up the chimney, with his feet in the fireplace, and directed him to come down—he came down, covered with soot—we found Anderson in a coal-cellar, in a recess partly under the floor—we took them to the station, leaving a constable in charge of the place—coming back, we found Cronin secreted in the bottom of an old chest of drawers—I don't know how he got in; we had a lot of difficulty to get him out—we took him to the station—they were told they would be charged; they made no answer—Cronin pretended to be drunk after we found him—they were all perfectly sober—this jemmy was handed to me by a constable—I have compared it with marks on the door and shutter and cellar-flap; it corresponds exactly—Carey said, "You can prove it."
JOHN ELLIS (291 H.) At two a.m. on May 19th, I was on my beat, and, on coming from Periwinkle Street into Brook Street, I saw the four prisoners standing at the corner of Caroline Street—when they saw me they went very sharply up Caroline Street, and when I got to the corner I did not see any of them—I searched the neighbourhood, but could not find them, and went on my beat—when I came back to Brook Street I was told of what had occurred—the corner of Caroline Street is about ten yards from the prosecutor's house—I knew all the prisoners before by sight; I am sure they are the men I saw.
ALFRED TROTT (315 H). At 2.15 a.m. on May 19th, I was on duty in Brook Street—I saw Carey, Thompson, and Anderson outside, and quite close to, the prosecutor's shop—I had silent boots on, and came from a turning not ten yards from the prosecutor's shop—they immediately crossed the road sharply—thinking something was wrong, I went after them, looking about the court—I did not hear anything, and could not find anybody there—I came back and crossed to the shop—everything was all right—eventually I went to 7. Caroline Court, and I found this jemmy on the window-ledge outside that house.
CHARLES WALKER (74 H) I was on duty in Brook Street at 2.40 a.m. on May 19th—I passed the prosecutor's shop; I saw Carey standing opposite to it, but I did not see anybody else there—I asked him what he was about—he said he had been to bed, and could not sleep, and was going to work at four in the morning—twenty minutes after, the prosecutor called me—I did not see any of the prisoners then—I examined the house, and found the door had been forced by a jemmy, and the cellar-flap had been wrenched up—we searched the neighbourhood for a considerable time, and, in company with Race, I went to 7, Caroline Court—after some little delay we were admitted—I found Thompson up
the chimney and arrested him—on the way to the station he should out to the other prisoners, "I will toss you will pay for the job."
Cross-examined by Thompson. Your head was up the chimney, and your by sight before.
Carey, in his defence, stated that he was walking home with the prisoners' and told them they could sleep at his house that night Anderson said that Carey said he might sleep he might sleep on the floor at his house. Cronine said that Carey said he might sleep in his house, and that, hearing a constantable coming upstair and saying he should charge him (Croin) with attempted burgalry, he sequence himself into the chest of drawers. Thompson said that he went into Carey's house to sleep.
GUILTY .—CAREY†(**) then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in January, 1895, and ANDERSON†** to a conviction of feloney in September, 1894.
Police offices stated that the prisoners were a terror to the neighbourhood, that they did no work, but associated together, and with a terrible going of theives; that Thompson had only lattery been associated with the other, and three years ago bore a good character.
CAREY— Three Years' Penal Servitute. ANDERSON— Fifteen Months Hard Labour. CRONIN†**— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. THOMPSON*†— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT—Tuesday June 23rd, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
495. EDWARD MILLS (34) PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining from William Austin Edwards £16, and from James Buckley £20 and £7, with intent to defarid; also to incurring a debt and liability to the same person by frand.— six Months Hard Labour.
496. ERNEST FREEMAN (27) , to burglary in the dwelling house of Francis Stans-field and stealing a watch and a pair of boots, his property; also to burglariously breaking and entering the said dwealing-house, with intent to seal,— Six Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
497. GEORGE HENRY FULLER (39) , to unlawfully wounding Lousia Perry. The prisoner had previously attempted to cut his wife's throat.— Eighteen Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
June 10th I placed a tin box near the door of the Stores—there was no label on it, but it was locked and corded—I placed it in the furniture van with two doors—it belonged to a customer—I shut the van door and bolted it, and was waiting for horses—I went away for about three minutes—information was given to me, I found the van doors open, and the box was gone.
GEORGE STURMEY . I am a carman, employed by the Army and Navy Stores—on June 10th I was outside the Stores, and saw the three prisoners—John Sullivan opened one van door, and Daly the other—Daly pulled the box out, and he and J. Sullivan together carried it round to Regency Street—Charles Sullivan followed about a yard behind, keeping a look-out—he said to me, "Say nothing about it"—I took no notice, but when they got out of sight I gave information to the last witness—I did not know them before—I saw them next day at Rochester Row Police-station, in the yard—there were seven men in a row, out of whom I identified the three prisoners—I made a mistake about Daly at first, but I identified him afterwards—I said, "I can't see the third man"—the inspector told me to have another look; I did so, and identified Daly—he was not pointed out to me at all.
Cross-examined by C. Sullivan. I picked out the wrong man twice for Daly, but I identified him walking away to the cell.
Cross-examined by Daly. I picked you out as you were going away from the yard with the two Sullivans—at that time I had ascertained that those were the three men in custody.
Cross-examined by J. Sullivan. I have not said that you were the man who took the box out, and that the two other men carried it. (The witness's deposition stated that John Sullivan got into the van and took out the box.)
ALFRED HOLMES . I am fourteen years old, and live at 44, Vincent Street, Westminster—I work in a warehouse—on June 10th I was near the corner of Fade Street, near the Stores, and saw John Sullivan; he had got this box by one handle, and another man had hold of the other handle, but I don't know who—crossing Regency Street, they would get to Fade Street—I gave information to the police—I afterwards went to the station, and identified John Sullivan; I had seen him before, but did not know his name; I had seen him a week before in the immediate neighbourhood.
THOMAS DAVIES . I am a furniture mover, of 61, Horseferry Road—on June 10th, about 6.20 p.m., I saw the prisoner Daly carrying a box on his shoulder, in Monk Street, going towards Peter Street—he was alone—I went to the Police-station next day, Thursday, and picked him out from six or seven men in a row—to the best of my belief, Daly is the man.
Cross-examined by Daly. I picked you out standing in the row, I asked the officer to have you turned about, and then I picked you out.
EDITH WRIGHT . I live at Praed Street, Westminster—on June 10th, about six p.m., I was looking out of my window, and saw the three prisoners going towards Regency Street—when they got as far as my window I got a view of their faces—they separated, and one crossed the road; they then joined again, and I saw two of them—I don't know which
two, because it was a long way off; they went to a van, and took out a box like this—the other man walked by the side—they walked up the street with it, by the pawnbroker's—I next saw them at the Police-station with seven or eight other men in a row, and picked them out.
Cross-examined by C. Sullivan. I lost sight of them when my baby cried—there is no public-house projecting out.
Cross-examined by J. Sullivan. I did not say I thought you were one of the men—I said, "That is the man," and I went and touched you—I have never said I had a doubt—I identified you all.
CHARLES BEARD (Policeman A.) On June 11th, about one o'clock, I had C. Sullivan and Daly in charge—I placed them with other men, and Holmes picked out J. Sullivan, and, to the best of his belief, Daly; but, after the three prisoners were separated, he said he had made a mistake, and Daly was the third man—I was present when Edith Wright identified them all three—when I first spoke to the prisoners about the charge, they made no answer, nor when they were formally charged—on Thursday, the 11th, I found the box—Sullivan lives at 39, High Street, which is about fifty yards from the spot—you come from No. 39, through a court, near which you pass a piece of waste land—Daly and J. Sullivan live in a common lodging-house fifty or a hundred yards from where the box was found—they are about together in the day—they are all three associates, but the two Sullivans are not brothers.
Cross-examined by C. Sullivan. Nobody could chuck the box over there.
Cross-examined by Daly. You slept at the Strutton Ground lodging house the night before; sometimes you sleep at Thompson's.
Cross-examined by J. Sullivan. I saw you with Daly about three days before your arrest, and twelve or eighteen months age.
JOHN WATTS (Detective A.) On June 11th, about one o'clock, I arrested John Sullivan at the Star and Garter public-house—I Maid, "Jack, I want you; I am going to take you for stealing a box from from a van last night"; he said, "All right, you will give me a fair chance"; I said, "Yes, you will be placed with other men; if you are identified you will be charged."
C. Sullivan's Defence I know nothing whatever of this box. I was drinking in the public-house when Sergeant Beard came in and said, "I want you for robbing a van"; I said, "I know nothing about it"; he took me to the station; I was placed with other men, and identified for stealing this box; one man says he saw one man carrying it, another witness says two, and the boy says only one.
Daly's Defence: I am not identified with this case at all.
John Sullivan's Defence: I was not in Westminster that day; one witness says I took the box, and another says somebody else took it.
GUILTY .—They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions; C. Sullivan on December 5th, 1892; Daly on October 23rd, 1893; and J. Sullivan on September 11th, 1893. four other convictions were proved against C. Sullivan, four against J. Sullivan, and one against Daly for assaulting the police. CORNELIUS SULLIVAN— Five Years' Penal Servitude. DALY and JOHN SULLIVAN— Three Years' Penal Servitude each.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, June 24th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MR. SYMONDS, for the Prosecutions offered no evidence, the Grand Jury haviny found no bill.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted.
JAMES ABBS . I am a clerk in the Law Office Department of the Royal Courts of Justice, to which impounded documents are sent—I produce a document from the records of that department, purporting to be the will of Mary Deborah Facey.
WILLIAM ROBERT HALL . I am a clerk in the Record Keeper's Department of the Registry of the Probate Court—I produce a file of the proceedings in the suit of "Austin u. Baker," by which Austin, the plaintiff, claimed Letters of Administration to the estate of Mary Deborah Facey—the case came on for hearing before Sir Francis Jeune on February 19th, 1896, when an order was made, granting Letters of Administration to Mr. Austin—I find on the file an affidavit of the defendant, filed on December 4th, 1895.
ROBERT EVANS . I am a M.R.C.S. and L.R.C P., of 74, Brooksby Street, Homerton—I knew the deceased Mrs. Facey, and attended her for some years—she was a widow—her husband died in January, 1895—she lived at 95, Rushmere Road—I attended her in her last illness, with my assistant—I was sent for on June 27th, and, with my assistant, I attended her from that time up to her death, on July 6th—on June 27th she was in a moaning condition, not fit, in my opinion, to sign such a document as this; she was suffering from chronic alcoholism and cirosed gastritis—the liver was small and contracted, degenerated, not performing its proper functions, owing to excessive drinking—she was in a semidazed condition—my assistant saw her between June 27th and July 4th, when I saw her again—her right arm was then partly paralysed; that had come on gradually for some days—on July 4th she had not sufficient strength to grasp a pen in her hand—she was not at any time between June 27th and July 4th in a fit state of mind to make a will—she had deteriorated a good deal between those time a; she had become worse—I saw her again on the 5th, she was then sinking; I did not see her again; I heard of her death on the 6th.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I only attended her twice; on June 27th and July 4th and 5th.
REV. HARRY COOPER WOODHEAD . I am assistant curate of All Saints', Clapton Park—on July 2nd, 1895, I received a message, and went to 95, Rushraere Road, between twelve and one, and there saw Mrs. Facey very ill in bed—I stopped with her from twenty minutes to half-an-hour, speaking and reading to her—she was only partially conscious; she made a few rambling remarks—for a moment or two she seemed to understand
what I said, and then she rambled off—I understood her words, but there was not much coherence in them—I visited her the Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, the 3rd, 4th and 5th; she was worse each day—I believe I did not see here after the 5th. I did not consider that she was in a proper state to make an intelligent disposition of her property, or to give directions what should be done.
MARY ANN LARGE . I live, at 114, Rushmere Road, Clapton—I am married—used to act as charwoman for Mrs. Facey—I remember her last illness and death—I was there on Saturday, June 29th—on the Sunday morning she took one spoonful of custard; she I could not hold it steadily, and I fed her with the rest—she had not enough power in her hands; she could not get it up to her mouth without help—I held her head—I saw her on Monday, July 1st, and on the Tuesday morning, about a quarter-past seven, I was there, and saw the prisoner there and Mrs. Sando, and she helped me change her before she left—the prisoner had a bit of paper in his hand when' I first went in—Mrs. Sando was in the room, and Mrs. Akers was in the parlour—there were folding doors to the rooms—the prisoner said he had written the will out, and Mrs. Facey had signed it, and he would see that I was paid for what I had done; that she had left everything to him—he had the paper in his band; that was the first and last time I saw it—I should think Mrs. Sando was near enough to hear what was said—she took no part in the conversation—I stayed there during the day—I was there all Tuesday night and Wednesday—I know Mrs. Facey's bag that she used to keep her things and her valuables in—when she went out she generally carried her bag with her—on the Wednesday Mr. Pratt came there—he was some relation to Mrs. Facey—the prisoner came there that night, and he brought the bag with him; he gave it up; he was told to go out of the house, and keep out of it—he said nothing to me then about the will, nor did I—Mrs. Facey died on the Saturday morning—the last time I saw her was on Friday, the 5th.
Cross-examined. On the Tuesday morning she asked me how I was, and was I going to stay with her, and I said, "Yes"—I did not hear her say anything else—she could not take her medicine herself on the Monday morning; she was able to raise the glass to her mouth with help—she would not let any of her friends come to see her; she did not want anybody else to come in: she did not know her own mind long enough—she did not care for Mrs. Shaw; she was not on good terms with her.
VICTORINE BEYER . I am the wife of Charles Beyer, of Clapton—I was acquainted with Mrs. Facey for fourteen years—since her husband's death she gave way to drink more than ever—on Friday, June 28th, I went and saw her; I found her very ill in bed—I saw her again next day; she was then worse; her hands began to tremble on the Saturday—after her husband's death I had always been in the habit of giving her a dinner on Sunday—on June 30th I took her her dinner, and saw the prisoner there with her—he told me I should have to feed her, because she could not use her hands—I did feed her—she was not able to hold anything—she had two fits that afternoon—she was unconscious after that, and we put her to bed—that evening she asked for her bag, and I said to the prisoner, "Why don't you give her the bag, to satisfy her?"—he produced
it—I could not tell where he got it from; it was a little hand-bag; he gave it to me—Mrs. Facey was unconscious then—I said, "You had better put it back again where she can't see it," and he took it—I remained with her till about two on Monday morning; she was talking to herself loudly, and raving about all sorts of things, not any sense at all—I went away at two, and came back at six—the prisoner, Mrs. Baker, and Mrs. Sando were there; he said Mrs. Baker and Mrs. Sando are sisters; I think they are—he opened the door to me at six; I asked him how she was—he said she had been very bad all night—I then left, and came back about two in the afternoon—he was not there then; Mrs. Sando was there alone—after she went out Dr. Evans came—Mrs. Facey asked me for the bag; I looked for it, but could not find it—the prisoner came in a little after that, and I said to him, "She wants her bag"—he said, "What do you upset her for?"—I said, "I am not upsetting her; she wants her bag, and it is my duty to ask for her"—"Oh," he said; "it is all right; she gave it to me to mind, because there are so many people here"—I then went away, and came back next morning, Tuesday, about ten; I found Mrs. Large there, Mrs. Sando and Mrs. Baker—Mrs. Facey was very bad; she could not talk—she caught hold of me; she was all in a tremble—she would know me for one minute, and after that she would know nothing—she had been talking to herself; she was talking all day long, saying, "My husband is coming home," and things like that; no sense in it at all—I remained with her till two o'clock; I then went and gave information to Mr. Pratt; my husband told me to go and fetch him—I saw Mrs. Facey on July 3rd, 4th, and 5th; she got worse every day—Friday, at half-past two, was the last time I saw her alive—during the last few days she was not at any time able to hold a pen, or to give directions about her property; she never spoke about it.
Cross-examined. On Friday, June 28th, I was there at seven in the morning—I made her bed; Mrs. Baker was there—she first took to her bed on Thursday, the 27th—on Sunday she was sitting in her arm-chair; she was then carried to her bed, and never got up again—I said I should like to see if she had got her watch—I looked in the bed, but did not find it; it was in her bag—I did not see her bank-book in it—she never told me that she did not like having any of her neighbours in—I might have said to Mrs. Shaw that seeing her might have upset her; she was not very good friends with her.
LOUISA AMES . I live in Seven Sisters Road—I knew the deceased; I lived next door to her at one time—on Sunday evening, June 30th, I went to see her when she was ill—the prisoner came in while I was there—she wanted something to drink, but was not able to drink; she said she could not feel her hands—he held her hands under her head, and she took the drink from him—I said to him it was very kind of him to attend to her, but I thought she ought to have let her neighbours in to look after her—he said she did not wish to see them—I saw her again on Thursday, July 4th; the appeared to have got very much worse—after her death I saw the prisoner, and he said, I shall make you pay for what you have been saying"—about July 15th, I called on him, and asked what he meant by saying that—he said that I had been telling people that Mrs. Facey was insane—I said, "So she was, and had been for a long time; she did not know what she said or did; she was a
woman that drank a great deal—he said, "Oh, she was all right at times, and she has left me all her money; I have witnesses to prove it"—I said, "Are they strangers?" he said, "Yes; someone from the street, quite strangers"—before her death he had said nothing to me about a will.
EDWIN GEORGE . I am managing clerk to Mr. Aldis, solicitor, of 65, Basinghall Street—on Thursday, July 4th, Mr. Pratt consulted me with reference to Mrs. Facey and her affairs—I went, on that day, to Mrs. Facey's house—I did not then see the defendant, but I left a message, saying I would call again at nine o'clock in the evening, when I called and saw him—I told him I had been instructed by Mr. Pratt to get possession of some property taken away from the house, belonging to Mrs. Facey, and that he must bring it to me at once—he wanted to know who I was—I told him I represented Mr. Aldis, and gave him a card of my firm, and I required him to give me the bag containing the property immediately—he said, "It was given to me for safe keeping," and he declined to do it at first—I then told him I should wait half an hour, and if he did not bring it me then, I should take steps to compel him to do so—he went away, and brought back a bag, the contents of which I took out, and made this list of (produced)—there was £7 in gold, a brooch, earrings, and other articles of jewellery, including, a gold bracelet, a gold cubical pin, a watch and chain, a bank-book of the Birkbeck Bank, and deeds of the house, 99, Rushmere Road—I signed the list and the defendant signed it, "C. Baker"—I told "him I thought he had behaved very badly, and that he was to go away, and not come to the house again—as he left, he said something to the effect that I should hear from him or see him again—I am not aware of his mentioning any will, or of any disposition of Mrs. Facey's property—I saw him in the course of the Probate action—I afterwards found out Mr. Austin, the elder brother of Mrs. Facey, who was made plaintiff in the Probate action in claiming Letters of Administration to Mrs. Facey—I had to file my affidavit of scripts—I searched, and found he had not filed his, and I issued a summons asking that he might be ordered to file an affidavit—Baker was the defendant in the action—he attended the summons in person—he pretended he did not know the affidavit was necessary—an order was made that he should file the affidavit in seven days—on that occasion, or subsequently, I volunteered to prepare an affidavit with him, and to file it for him, and a correspondence took place about it—he asked who was going to pay him for his trouble—he hinted that he expected to receive some money—I told him I could pay him nothing—he said he should not go on with the matter—he did not file an affidavit for a long time afterwards; I had to apply for his committal in order to force him to file the affidavit—I got this letter from him of September 25th; I believe it is his writing: "6, Lockhouse Street, Chatsworth Road, N.E., 25/9/95.—Re Austin, &c.—Dear Sir,—Shall not proceed with the case. Will call on you Monday or Tuesday. If you write me, address it above, not Hackney Road, and oblige.—Yours truly, C. BAKER"—after I applied to attach him, the document was filed through ray issuing a subpoena, and serving it upon the person who had the custody of the Documents, when the. affidavit was filed under pressure of the order.
second cousin—I remember going to see. Mr. George on the Thursday before Mrs. Facey died—I was at Mrs. Facey's house about nine o'clock that evening—I went to fetch Baker—I asked him to come round to No. 99, Mrs. Facey's—he told me he was not going to be frightened, or some-thing of that kind—I told him I was riot going to frighten him; I only wanted him to come round to 99, to see a gentleman I had there.
Cross-examined. You only came to my place the morning of the funeral—you asked if you could render any assistance with the funeral—I said, "No"—you did not say you came to carry out her wish.
DAVID MOSES ROBERTS . I act as assistant to Dr. Evans, at 74, Brooks-by's Walk, Homerton—on June 29th I saw Mrs. Facey, on Dr. Evans's behalf—she was in a muddling condition—I saw her the next day, Sunday—she was worse, if anything different—there was nothing coherent in her speech—I saw her again on Tuesday, July 2nd, a little after midday—she was suffering from delirium tremeris, and alcoholic paralysis was setting in in the right arm—she could not use it much—she could not write her name; she might make a mark—I saw her again on Wednesday, July 3rd—she was a great deal worse—she was not capable of giving an intelligent direction as to the disposition of her property, nor of understanding what she was doing.
ROBERT SEWELL GUSHING . I am now the sole member of the firm of Crossfield, Son, and Gushing, solicitors—on July 6th the defendant brought to my office this document, which is described as the will of Mary Deborah Facey (produced)—he came to me as a stranger—he simply handed me the will in the ordinary way for proof—I believe I asked him how it was he came to me, and I think he said a Mr. Snowing mentioned me to him—he told me Mrs. Facey died that morning about twelve—I read carefully the contents of the will—I told him it appeared to be an informal document, and would require the strictest proof—I further inquired as to his relationship to the deceased—he said he was not any relation, but had been attending upon her—I inquired for the names and associations of' the attesting witnesses, and said I should like to see them, and he left for the purpose of bringing one of them to see me—I asked him what had become of the deceased's securities—he said he had handed them over to Mr. Pratt, or to his solicitor, Mr. Aldis, and he gave me Mr. Pratt's card, which I have attached to my instructions (card produced)—on July 9th he came again with Mrs. Sando—I inquired of her if that was her signature on the will—she said it was—I went through the usual formality of asking her if she was present when the deceased signed, as well as when the other witness signed—she said she was—I asked if she saw the deceased sign—she said, "Yes"—I asked her if she was prepared to make an affidavit to that effect, as she would be required to do—she said, "Yes"—she answered all those questions in the presence of the defendant—she led me to believe, in the course of that interview, that she was a relative of either the defendant's or the deceased's, I could not say which, and that the deceased had told her that Baker had been very kind to her—Baker told me he had written the will—after that Mr. Aldis communicated with me, and I learned that an action was to be commenced in the Probate Court—a subpoena was served upon me—Mr. Aldis had asked me to hand up the document—when I could not
get evidence to satisfy me about the execution of the will I would not have anything further to do with it—I subsequently produced the will in Court.
LOUISA SANDO . I am the wife of Charles Sando, of Clapton Park—my sister named herself Mrs. Baker—I knew Mrs. Facey—I saw her during her last illness—I was never present when any writing was done during that illness—on Monday, July 1st, I was in the house all night—I left between 6.45 and 7 a.m.—Baker remained—he had been with her all night—I had stayed in the front room—Mrs. Facey's was the back room—Baker came in to me once—he afterwards came through my shop, between ten and eleven, into the parlour—he asked if I would sign my name on this piece of paper—he took it from his pocket—he said Mrs. Facey had asked him to write it—I believe he said it was a will and that Mrs. Facey had left everything to him, and he was not to forget Mrs. Large—I signed, as I did not know any better—I was quite ignorant of anything of that—we were alone in my shop parlour—he took it away—he said, and Mrs. Facey herself had told me, that she had money at the Birkbeck Bank—I saw the bag when he, went to Mr. George—I believe the prisoner was then told to go out of the house, and not to come into it again—I heard of Mrs. Facey's death on the same morning that she died—on July 9th Baker came and asked me to go to Mr. Crossfield's, and I was to say that I had witnessed the deceased sign her name, or else I should get into trouble—I told Mr. Crossfield, in the prisoner's presence, I had seen the deceased sign—that wasalie—I only knew Smith by his coming into my shop for Baker once or twice—I believe Smith worked with Baker—I had seen them together—Smith came in with Baker plenty of times—he came for Baker, because Baker was nearly always there in the daytime—Baker said I should be all right, I should not be punished.
EDWIN FREDERICK SMITH . I live at Cottage Place, Homerton—I did all manner of things, labouring, clerical, and messenger work—this is ing signature "E. F. Smith"—I believe I signed it at Eagle House, High Street, Homerton, during the election, about July 14th—the house was used as a committee-room—I was at work all night on the Friday that the election came off on the Monday—on the 6th I was at Eagle House—we were engaged four or five weeks there altogether—when I signed, no one was present but myself and Baker—a day or two afterwards I regretted it, and asked Baker to let me see the paper again—he said everything was all right—the words "witnessed by" were on it when I signed my name—Baker assured me everything was straightforward—I do not recollect exactly when I signed.
CHARLOTTE SHAW . I am a widow, living at 95, Rushmere Road Clapton—I knew Mrs. Facey very well—I used to go with her to the Birkbeck Bank, where she had some money—one occasion was in February, 1895—I saw her sign these three papers at the bank (receipts produced)—on Tuesday, July 2nd, I went to see her at her house—she did not recognise me—Baker came in while I was there—I said I was sorry to see her so ill, and I was surprised that he did not let her friends know of her dangerous state—I said to him that she had a brother, and, of course, he would come in for her money—he said, had he known she had a brother, he would not have acted as he had done—I sat there with Mr. Pratt on the Friday night, and was there when she died.
FRANK LOMATH . I am a clerk of the Birkbeck Bank, in which Mrs. Mary Deborah Facey had an account up to the time of her death—I produce the three receipts with Mrs. Facey's signature upon them—at her death she had to her credit £242.
THOMAS HENRY GURRIN . I am an expert in handwriting, practising at 59, Holborn Viaduct—I was directed by the Solicitor to the Treasury to examine documents in this case, including the letter signed "C. Baker," and the document purporting to be Mrs. Facey's will—I had information that the body of the will was the defendant's writing—I also examined the three receipts signed by the deceased at the bank—the signature of the will bears no resemblance to the proved writing of Mary Deborah Facey, but strongly resembles the writing in the body of the will—the words "Will of" are in the same writing, but in a different ink—the signatures of Smith and Sando are in different ink—under the word "Mary" can be traced "Facey"—I see the outline of the "F," "a," part of the "c," and the "y"—in the signature the first portion of the word "Mary" is very shaky, and as far as the "D" in Deborah, but not naturally, because there is a regular kind of undulation all round the up-stroke of the "D"—that extends to the "e," but from the "b" to the end of the word there is no trembling—it is similar to the latter part of "Deborah" written above—there are strong points of similarity between "Mary Deborah Facey," as written in the body of the will, and the signature underneath—the "h" is rather different, because it is back-handed, but there is no loop to it in the body or in the signature—the signature is nothing like her proved writing—it is of a different character and touch—all these proved writings are of a very fine and light quality, while the others are exceedingly heavy, and correspond with the signature of, and the writing in the body of the will—there is no similarity in the two "Fs"—the deceased's capitals are elongated—the "F" in the will is short and stunted, occupying a greater width—it has a little stroke used across the "F"—it occupies the upper portion of the right-hand side of the letter, and terminates a little below the middle—in the proved "F" that is not so, but the cross starts about the middle of the letter and comes down almost to the bottom—the loop in the "F" in the will, and in the signature, is entirely different, and is an isolated stroke, while in the deceased's writing it is continued from the bottom of the "F"—I can point out other differences. (Photographs and tracings were produced.) These are tracings from Nos. 3, 4, and 5 (the receipts)—the words, "Will of" appear to be in the same ink as "Louisa Sando."
WILLIAM TURRELL (Inspector, of Scotland Yard.) I arrested the prisoner, on a warrant, on May 7th, outside 89, Rushmere Road—I read the warrant to him inside the house—I told him I held a warrant for his arrest—he said, "What for?"—I said, "I will read it to you"; and I read it to him—it charged him with forging and uttering a will purporting to be that of Mary Deborah Facey—he said, "I do not understand it; it is not a forgery"—I took him to the Police-station, where he was charged—he made no reply.
Before the Magistrate the prisoner said he did not wish to say any thing, and he now said he did not wish to say anything, and called no witness.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, June 2th and 25th, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. H. C. RICHARDS and SOPHE Prosecuted, and
MR. WILLS Defended.
ELIZABETH SOPHIA HOLDEN . I am single, and live at 6, West Place, Chapel Street, Islington—in 1867 I opened an account with the West London Savings' Bank—I cannot read or write—the West London Savings Bank was transferred to the Post Office—I never authorised anybody to draw out the money for me—Mrs. Morland lived in the house—I have seen the prisoner there—I kept my book in a box in my bedroom, which I found broken open on February 15th, and my book gone—I communicated with the Post Office—I have never signed or made my cross to any notice of withdrawal.
Cross-examined. I do not know the prisoner personally;. she came to nurse Mrs. Morland, who was confined at that time.
WINIFRED MORLAND . I lived with my mother at 6, West Place, Chapel Street, Islington, Miss. Holden's house—my mother died in February, this year—some time last year the prisoner came to the house, and I was sent out for some beer, and when I came back I saw the prisoner and my mother at Miss Holden's box; they took out three books—I cannot read—I have been to school—they look like these books (produced)—the prisoner lived in Warren Street, and I saw the books again there, about a week afterwards, in a drawer in the bedroom—about a week after that, the prisoner asked me to go with her to the post-office, and said that if they asked if my mother's name was Holden I was to say "Yes," and when we got to the Post-office she said that if I said anything she would pay me and I should get locked up—she was with me inside the office—I have not seen her give money to my mother.
Cross-examined. My mother was ill for a long time, and the prisoner came to nurse her.
NELLY JAMES . I am the daughter of the sub-postmaster at White Lion Street, Pentonville—I remember a tall person coming about this deposit-book (produced) it was Mrs. Morland, but I did not know that at the time—the prisoner came in the afternoon, and I asked her if the person who brought the book in the morning was Elizabeth Sophia Holden—I saw her make her mark, Martha Cotier, 46, Warren Street—I went afterwards to Miss Holden's address, because I wanted another witness, and the prisoner came round; Winifred Morland was with her, and spoke in the prisoner's presence.
Cross-examined. I had the book, and handed it to the woman who came in the morning, and she took it away, and then I went round to her house—I told her I wanted another witness, and in the afternoon the prisoner came with Miss Morland.
ANNE EVANGELINE MARTIN . I am a clerk at St. Martin's Road Post-office—the prisoner came there, and brought a deposit-book in the name of Holden, and said she wanted to withdraw £10 by telegraph—I asked if she could write—she said she could not—I filled up the notice, and she made a mark, and I witnessed it—I asked her if she was Miss Holden—a
telegram was sent to the General Post Office—this receipt was made out, and she made a cross again, and Miss Stoneman, one of my fellow clerks, witnessed it—I saw her make her mark on the receipt for £41 7s., and the prisoner had the money.
MISS STONEMAN. I am a clerk at Wormwood Street—in December and January I was at Goswell Road, and remember the prisoner coming in and making her mark on a receipt for £10; I witnessed it—on February 10th I was on duty in Goswell Road, when the prisoner brought Miss Holden's deposit-book—she said she could not write, and I filled up a receipt for £39 0s. 1d; she made her mark, and I witnessed it.
ELIZABETH FOWLER GENTRY . I am head clerk at the Goswell Road Post-office—on February 12th the prisoner came and produced this book to me, and said she wished to withdraw her money—this is a warrant for £41 7s.—I found that, and paid her the money, and she made her mark to this receipt.
EDWARD MCDONALD . I am a clerk in the Savings Bank Department of the General Post Office—on May 12th I saw the prisoner in the street at Islington—Police Constable Walker was with me—I said I wished to see her about some papers at the Post Office, and asked her if her name was Kiddy—she said, "Yes"—I asked her to come round to the Post Office—she refused, and I said I should have to send her to the station—she said she had done nothing wrong; she would come—I cautioned her, and showed her an application for £5, and asked her if she knew anything about it—she said that Mrs. Morland asked her to go with her; and she made her mark, that her name was Martha Kiddy, and she signed Martha Cotier at Mrs. Morland's request—after that she showed me her bank-book and the notice of withdrawal; the first notice was November, 1895, and the last February 11th, 1896—she said she went with Mrs. Morland, and waited outside while she got the money, but did not have any of it—the form is witnessed by Martha Cotier, 16, White Lion Street, Islington—she said that that was Mrs. Morland's daughter—I then gave her five other forms of withdrawal and receipts, and she said that she had gone in each. case to the Post office in Goswell Road, and got the money—the last was £41 7s.; that is signed by a mark—her name is in four cases—she said that she gave Mrs. Morland the money on each occasion; £1, 10s., 10s., and 5s.
Cross-examined. She lives in Gorham Street with her husband—he is a caretaker—she told me she thought the money belonged to Mrs. Morland—Mrs. Morland died on February 26tb or 27th, and I did not see the prisoner till May 1st; every penny was then drawn out, and the I ask sum included the interest due.
By the COURT. She refused to go to the Taoist Office at first, and then I said I had a policeman there, and the policeman told her that he was a policeman, and then she said she would go.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and RANDOLPH Prosecute, and
MR. BURNIE Defended.
Charles L. Enfant, a clerk in the Bankruptcy Department, produced the file in the prisoner's bankruptcy, showing a deficiency of £1,130 la. 4d. between his assets and liabilities.
ROBERT MCCUDDY . I am a bootmaker, of 204 and 206, Edgware Road—I have had dealings with the prisoner—on July 18th, 1895, I bought goods of him for £4 18s., and paid him £4 13s.—he signed this receipt in my presence—he had no difficulty in signing it, as far as I could see—on July 30th he bought goods of me in two lots, amounting to £13 13s. 6d.; these are the two invoices, for which there is one receipt—I paid him an open cheque for £18 7s. 6d., payable to order; it is endorsed "B. E. Miller"—he signed that in my presence.
Cross-examined. I did not make out the body of the receipt; he simply put a stamp on the invoice and signed his name—the only thing I saw him write was his signature—I do hot know who wrote the invoice.
FREDERICK DONNELL . I am a clerk to Donnell and Sons, boot and shoe makers, of Kingsland Road—I have had dealings with the prisoner—on June 20th I bought goods of him to the amount of £45 12s. 4d., and on July 22nd I paid him £40 oh account, and he receipted this invoice—this is the cheque drawn to his order, and crossed and endorsed by him—the crossing has been removed, and there is a memorandum, "Please pay cash"; that Was done at his request—goods were supplied to us on July 19th, for which we paid £40 oh July 20th; whereas the transaction of July 20th was paid for on July 22nd—on July 27th we bought goods of him. value £43 4s., for which we paid him on that date a crossed cheque for £50 to his order, with a memorandum, "Please pay cash"—on August 1st we had a further transaction, £41 15s., 8d.; and another on August 3rd, £39 15s. 4d., on which day we paid him a cheque for £70—the same process was gone through—all those cheques have been returned to the firm, paid by their banker—£6 7s. 2d. is owing from us to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. We have been customers of his some time; he supplied us with a considerable quantity of goods in 1895, besides which, he supplied us with other goods in July and August, and from the beginning of the year—he generally asked us to make cheques open; that is not exceptional in the boot trade—some of them have bankers—they often want cash to pay their makers, and if they paid it into their banking account, they would have to wait for. it—we had a great many transactions with him, and he would bring statements from time to time of what we due; and if he was wrong, he would make out one which we should accept—he explained that his wife kept the books.
Re-examined. I never forgot to put down any sums—ours are London bankers; their cheques would be cleared the next morning.
OLIVER TYER . I am managing clerk to my father, a bootmaker, of Leicester—we have had dealings with the prisoner—on July 4th, 1895, we bought goods of him to the amount of £9 9s., and on July 22nd to the amount of £16 4s., and paid with this cheque of July 26th, £24 6s. 8d. this is a country cheque crossed, and payable to the order of Barnett Miller—I received from him this cheque, signed "B. Miller"—on August 2nd we bought goods to the amount of £20 18s. 6d., and paid by a country
crossed cheque of August 3rd, £19 17s. 6d. payable to order, and received from him this receipt, signed "R, Miller—did not pay him £8 19s. 6d. on July 25th, or any sum of that kined.
GORDON PERCY TOMKINS . I am a cashier in the Limehouse branch of the London and County Banking Company—the prisoner had an account there—this is an examined copy of his account—I can vouch it to be correct. (None of the sums mentioned appeared in this account.)
GEORGE WILLIAM LLOYD . I am cashier to Carter and Company, machinists, of Kingsland Road, who dealt with the prisoner, from whom I received this cheque on July 29th, with a request to change either the whole or part of it, and pay it into our bank—nothing was due—on June 6th I received this cheque for £19 17s. 6d., and paid either the whole or part—nothing was due by him—I passed it through our bank.
Cross-examined. He might have paid for goods, or partly paid, by those cheques—it is quite a common occurrence to oblige customers; if we are sure the cheque is good, we do not object to change it.
Cross-examined. It is not usual with persons who have bankers to bring us cheques to cash—I have no record of any such transaction with the prisoner—nothing was due on those dates.
By the COURT. We have a cash-book, but ready money transactions very often do not bear the name—I am unable to say whether he bought anything—if a man takes a country cheque to his bankers he would have to wait three days before he could get an advance on it—I did not know he had a banking account.
TOM WOOD . I am deputy manager at the Old Street branch of the City Bank, at which. Daniel and Company had an account—this cheque for £70 was cashed over the counter on August 3rd, the day of its date—I produce a certified copy, showing that it was paid in Bank of England notes and £10 in gold.
GEORGE KING . I am manager to Truman, Hanbury, and Buxton, brewers—in October, 1895, I was negotiating for a public-house change; the outgoing tenant was Mrs. Bilsler—the notes paid me included six £10 notes, commencing 6489.
FREDERICK ROBERT COOME . I am an accountant, of Kingsland Road—about August 14th the prisoner came to me and said he had got into a muddle with his accounts, and would I call and go through the books—I, called, examined the books, and said, "You are in a very bad position; I should advise you to consult your creditors"—he said, "They are pressing me"—I suggested that he had better have a deed of assignment, and he did so on August 16th, under which I am made the assignee—he did not bring me on August 20th, or at any subsequent date, £21 4s. 6d., nor did I know of his having received it, but I remember he had been collecting an account of about £20 before the execution of the deed.
Cross-examined. He told me, about the 14th or 15th, that the sum of about £20 was coming due from a customer, and I think he mentioned the name of Tyler—he said that he could not write, and his wife kept the books.
Re-examined. The estate realised £91 14s. 7d.
and asked for it—in the ordinary way, he would have received it on Saturday, and therefore I gave him discount—he signed the receipt in my presence—I wrote this, "Paid, August 20th, 1895," because he said he could not write—that is the date I paid the money.
Cross-examined. believe it was Tuesday; I have not looked at an almanac since—the thing never crossed my mind—I do not think I have ever made a mistake in writing a date, and therefore I do hot think I did then—I have sot an entry in my books, but have not got them here.
Re-examined. Under ordinary circumstances he would have to wait till Saturday for a cheque from Leicester.
AUGUSTUS TUSAN PALMER . I am a chartered accountant, of 7 and 8, Railway Approach, London Bridge—I was appointed trustee on December 1st—I took possession of a ledger, day book and pass-book, showing the state of his account at the London and County Bank—I do not find the find the name of McCuddy in the ledger, but I do once in the day-book—I do not find in the ledger or day-book any record of the receipt of £4 13s. on July 18th, or £21 4s. 6d. on August 2nd, or £18 7s. 6d on July 30th—here is an entry in the day-book of £14 6s. for goods purchased by McCuddy—I find an account in the ledger headed "Darnell and Son," and on folio 215 there is a record of the payment of £40 on July 20th—I find no record of any payment of £40 on July 23rd, or of £50 to Darnell and Son on July 27th, or of the receipt from Darnell and Son of £70 on August 3rd, so that in that one account there is an omission of £130 from July 22nd to August 3rd—there is no record of a payment of £24 6s. 8d. to Tyler on July 26th, but goods are credited to Tyler for £2 15s. on June. 15th, and £9 9s. on June 24th—I find no entry of £16 4s.—there is no record of the receipt of £21 4s. 6d. on August 20th—Glass's account and Darnell's accounts are balanced in the ledger; they exactly balance—£6 7s. 2d. is owing by Darnell to the estate, bat the debtor's ledger does not show that; it was never discovered to me by him—he never accounted to me as trustee for those sums, and the discovery was made on a subsequent investigation—the prisoner never handed me any documents purporting to be an account between his wife and himself—I find no mention of it in the books.
Cross-examined. The transactions with Darnell were somewhat numerous, £40, £30, £45, and so on—there is £35, less allowance, on June 30th, and on June 6th £8 and £160 15s. 3d., £153 in June and £103, less discount, and £173; on June 28th £70, and £6 1s. in July—upto July 13th, inclusive, there is £234, and between July 15th and August 1st £145, less discount; on August 3rd £21 19s. 8d., and on August 14th £25 9s., altogether £100 9s. 8d.—I did not see the prisoner in relation to this matter—the cash received would amount co £6,000 or £7,000 a year.
Re-examined. I found sums entered in this ledger as small as £5 and £6—£75 is the largest item but one—over £90 assets have been realised, which will have to be deducted from the expenses.
By the COURT. There are no omissions before July that we are aware of; but we have gone into it principally for the last four months—they are all after July 20th in Darnell's account.
CHARLES FREDERICK AIRD . I am the partner of the last witness—I asked the prisoner for a cash account on January 13th—he said he was unable to give it to me; I asked him for it for four months; he said
I should find all the information I required in his books, which were posted up to August 15th—I think he said he was no scholar, and did not keep his books.
Cross-examined. He said that his wife kept them—I had no interview with her—they were kept accurately, but it was not proper book-keeping.
GEORGE B. SNELL . I am official shorthand writer to the Bankruptcy Court—I took notes of the prisoner's public examination on January 31st, and again on March 23rd—the transcript is on the files of the Court. (The transcript was put in, and pans were read.)
F. R. COOME (Re-examined.) I took the banker's book on August 14th' or 15th—I did not find in it a slip of paper purporting to be an account between the bankrupt and his wife, nor did I find one anywhere.
Cross-examined. The prisoner gave me the book; it might have fallen out.
GUILTY .— Four Months' Hard Labour.
503. FREDERICK BATES (25), JOHN BATES (23), ALFRED BATES (18), and JOHN DENNISON (24) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Arthur Frederick Parker, and stealing four dozen studs and links, twenty-one shirts and other articles, his property, to which
JOHN and ALFRED BATES PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM ALFRED FRAMPTON . I live at 34, Forest Row, Dalston, and am manager to a firm trading as the Capital and Labour Association at 35, Kingsland Road—that is a shop; no one lives there—on June 4th I shut up the premises at two, and left—on Friday I went to the shop at eight a.m., and I found it in disorder—it had been broken open, and goods stolen—the window at the back had been forced open—I saw at the Police-court a silk handkerchief and other property that had been in the shop when I left.
JOHN ROBINSON (Sergeant G.) About peven p.m. on June 8th, I saw Frederick Bates leave 12, Merlin Street, Clerkenwell—I stopped him and took him back to the house which I had seen him leave—I searched him, and in his pockets I found thirty new silk handkerchiefs, most of them with tickets on them—I told him he would be charged—he made no reply—I asked where he got them—he made no reply—I searched the house I saw him leave, and found a number of articles, some between the bed and the mattress, and some in a coal cupboard—prior to arresting Dennison, I had arrested the other prisoners, about six—they had no opportunity of going to the house—they had property with marks similar to this silk handkerchief—they could not have taken the handkerchiefs I found to the house—in the fireplace in the back parlour, in which Frederick sleeps, I found a large quantity of cloth had been burnt, and was burning at the time, and also a brown felt hat—I produce a portion of it—it was supposed to have been some of the property stolen from this shop that was burnt.
Cross-examined. I was not concerned in the arrest of the other men.
WALTER SELBY (Detective G.) I was with Robinson when he went to Merlin's Place, and arrested Frederick Bates; he said, "I am innocent of the charge of burglary, but I was caught fair coming out of home with the handkerchiefs by Mr. Robinson and you"—on June 13th I went to 2, Merlin's Place, Clerkenwel), and found Dennison in bed; I told him he
would be charged with, persons in custody with stealing handkerchiefs and other articles; he replied, "I have not seen anything of any handkerchiefs or clothes"—I took him to King's Cross Station—he was placed with other men—the pawnbroker's assistant was brought in, and identified him as pawning a jacket and waistcoat—he was taken to the Police-court and charged—he said, "I had nothing to do with the breaking and entering; I slept between my two brothers the night it was done; I admit pawning two handkerchiefs for Ellis Jack, at Fisher's, and had a drink of beer for it; I pawned nine of the handkerchiefs in the town when I heard he was locked up."
HENRY JAMES BRAND . I am assistant to Sidney Smith, a pawnbroker, of Upper Street, Islington—I produce a coat and waistcoat pawned by Dennison for seven shillings on June 6th—I picked him out from nine other persons on the 15th.
Cross-examined by Dennison. I identify you, to the best of my belief—I gave the officer your description before I went to the Court at all.
CHARLES BULL . I am a labourer—on June 6th John Bates handed me a number of pocket-handkerchiefs, and on the same day Alfred Bates gave me twelve handkerchiefs; Dennison was not with them—I did not see anything pass between them; one went one way, and one the other—I gave the remaining nine handkerchiefs and the money to Dennison.
Cross-examined by Dennison. You pawned them with my assistant in my presence.
F. Bates' statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent of the two charges of burglary; I went straight home, and found the handkerchiefs Mr. Robinson caught me with."
f. Bates' Defence: What I did was to save my father and mother getting into trouble.
FREDERICK BATES— GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenivett, on September 22nd 1894; and five other convictions were proved against him.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
JOHN and ALFRED BATES also PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions at Clerkenwell; John on April 20th, 1891, and Alfred on January 7th, 1895. Five other convictions were, proved against John, and six against Alfred.
JOHN BATES— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
ALFRED BATES— Three Years Penal Servitude.
DENNISON— NOT GUILTY . The COURT commended Robinson and Selby.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, June 24th, 1896.
(for cases tried this day, tie Surrey Caset.)
OLD COURT.—Thursday and Friday, June 25th and 26th. 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS, HORACE AVORY and HEWITT Prosecuted;
and MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and W. T. RAYMOND Defended.
LILLIAN ARCHER . I am a barmaid—I now live at 63, Gibbon Road, Nunhead—on May 18th I was engaged as barmaid at the Rising Sun for about four weeks—I was there for about three months; during that time the prisoner was manager of the house, and was living there with his wife—Miss Steele was also barmaid; Sherlock was cook, and Thomson was potman; he lived and slept on the premises—I slept on the second floor, in the same room as Miss Steele—the Allisons occupied a bedroom on the same floor—they appeared to live very happily together; the prisoner seemed very fond of his wife—she had been ill; she had broken a blood-vessel—it was the subject of a good deal of distress to him; he was very worried about it—she did not seem to get much better; she had been in bed for two months—she could scarcely eat anything, which worried him very much; he appeared very strange indeed at times—during the latter part of the time, about a fortnight before this happened, he drank some-times to excess—sometimes he would not drink at all for days together, and then he seemed very depressed and strange, more so than when he drank—he did not drink so much, I think, in the week before Mrs. Allison's death; he seemed very much depressed; he said he was going to be a teetotaler, and he did not drink much that week—I heard him say that he kept a pistol to shoot rats, and one night he shot a rat in the bar—I heard him say he would blow his brains out—that was, I think, about three weeks before Mrs. Allison's death—he did not seem to be drinking so very much then; he had been drinking before, but not so very much to speak of—I heard him tell a customer that he shot rats with the pistol; that was about three weeks, or a month, before Mrs. Allison's death—on Saturday, May 16th, I gave a week's notice to leave, to the prisoner—I said, "I wish to leave your employ this day week"—he said, "Very well"—I did not give him any reason, nor did he ask me for one; that was the whole of the interview—I had no conversation with Mrs. Allison in his presence about my leaving—I had been there about three months then—on the Friday, the 15th, as I came downstairs, the cook called me into the kitchen; the prisoner was not present then—on the Sunday afternoon I went out with Mrs. Allison—I was perfectly good friends with her, and she with me; we were always good friends—we went out at three, and I returned at ten minutes to six, before her; I left her at Buckthorne's—we had a drink together on a steamboat—she was all right when I left her; we each had a brandy and soda, not more while I was with her—she came back about a quarter-past eight; she seemed very strange then; I thought he had been drinking; she was different to what she was when I left her—the prisoner was at home that evening—a Mr. Davey looked in, and Mrs. Sharman, Mrs. Allison's sister—I was attending to my business in the bar—there was nothing strange about the prisoner that night; he seemed about the same that day; he had not been drinking; he was very much depressed in the afternoon, when I and Mrs. Allison went out together; in the evening he was still depressed—he went out with Mrs. Sharman just before closing time, and came back when the house closed, at 11.30—Mrs. Allison was then in the bar; she came home a few minutes after eleven—we were then all four in the bar together—Mrs. Allison asked Miss Steele to get four brandies and
a large, and we had it together; we all drank, including Mr. Allison—we stayed there together—I think it was about twelve when we went upstairs—we were talking about leaving—Mrs. Allison asked me why I left; he was present, and Miss Steele, who was also leaving—Mrs. Allison said we were all comfortable together, we all worked well together, and why not continue in the same way—we did not say we would stay or go then—I did not tell her why I was leaving; I did not make any answer at all, nor did Miss Steele—that would be all that passed, I think, nothing else of any consequence—the prisoner took no part in the conversation, not while we were downstairs—he only had that one drink—about twelve, or a little after, we went upstairs—we helped Mrs. Allison up; she was the worse for drink; of course, she could have got up, but we helped her; we took her into her bedroom—she sat down on the floor by the ward-robe—I took one arm, and Miss Steele the other, to help her, and she sat on the floor; she said she felt faint, and we bathed her face and hands with cold water—whilst we were doing this Mrs. Allison asked Mr. Allison to get four glasses of port; that would be a glass each—he went and got it—he had to go down two flights of stairs to get it—he brought it up, and some biscuits, and we drank it—I don't know whether he drank his, but I know Mrs. Allison, and Miss Steele, and I drank ours; he poured it out in glasses; he carried the glasses all in one hand, and the biscuits in the other—Mrs. Allison did not eat her biscuit; he asked her to—he said, "Try and eat it; it does worry me so to see you not eat, and not get better"—he seemed down-hearted and very miserable, and he sat down in a chair by the open window for a little while, and then Mrs. Allison made some remark; I cannot recollect what it was—I heard her speak, but I did not hear what she said—he made a response to her remark—he said, "I should think no more of it than this," and with that he threw his hat out of the window into the street—it was a felt hat; the hat that he always wore—Mrs. Allison saw him throw it out, and she laughed, and asked me to go downstairs and get it—I did so, and brought it back—at this time the house was locked up—I had to go down and unbolt the door, and run to the corner of the street where the hat lay, and then come back and bolt the door again, and bring it back—Mrs. Allison was sufficiently herself to notice this—I gave the hat to the prisoner when I brought it back, and he put it on—he was still sitting on the chair by the window—while we were in the bedroom, I think about one o'clock, something was said by the prisoner about my father having committed suicide, and that upset me, as it always does, and I began to cry—the prisoner said, "Don't cry; I knew poor Peter," that was my father—and Mrs. Allison kissed me and said, "There is always a home for you here"—that was just before the hat was thrown out, just before I left—on leaving them I said, "Good-night" to both—I left Mrs. Allison still sitting on the floor by the wardrobe, and Mr. Allison sitting on the chair by the window—Steele and I were both friendly, and so were Mr. and Mrs. Allison—I did not hear my name mentioned by them before I left the room, only about my leaving—Mrs. Allison said, "Miss Steele is going to stay on," and he said, "I think you had better go: I think you had all better go"—about ten minutes afterwards, when in my bedroom I heard the sound of a report; that was the first thing I heard; it was as if it came from the street, and
I looked out of the window—directly after that Mr. Allison came to our bedroom door; it was shut; he did not open it—he said, "Good-night, girls"; and he said something after that, but I could not make out what it was; it sounded as if he said it hurriedly; I thought it was, "Now, I shall finish myself," but I am not sure—I have given evidence before the Coroner and before the Magistrate, and I then stated what it was, I heard him say; it sounded like, "I have finished one, and now I will finish myself," having said that, he ran back to his own room and locked the door—I did not see him at that time, but I recognised his voice—when I first heard it, I called "Police," and said, "Did you hear that?"—there was a policeman standing at the corner—Miss Steele and I then left our room, and threw ourselves against the door of his room, and broke the door open, and just as the door yielded, I heard a second report—when I got into the room I found Mrs. Allison lying by the wardrobe on her back, in about the same place as I had left her—there was a dead light in the room; the gas had been turned down a little—I noticed Mrs. Allison's forehead bleeding; he was lying on the hearth-rug by the fireplace, opposite to her, about two yards from her; I knelt down by him, and put my arm under his back, and raised him up a little—he suddenly jumped up to his feet, and ran across the room; I followed him; he went towards the dressing-table; I did not notice that he had the pistol in his hand, but, when he left the dressing-table, he had it in his hand; he turned towards me—I could not tell whether he loaded it or not; I did not notice him loading it; he turned it towards his head; I wrenched it out of his hand—he tried to get it away from me again, and he had got it up to his shoulder, and it went off and burnt my right cheek—he was standing in front of me; he was pointing it to his breast; I was wrestling with it, trying to get it away, and I knocked it, and it went off—it was pointed to himself at that time; he did not point it towards me, I was so near to him—I tried to get it from his hand when I saw he was going to shoot again—when I first came into the room I did not see anything in his hand, or when he jumped to his feet; he went towards she dressing-table; he might have taken it from the dressing-table; when he was by the dressing-table I saw it in his hand, and it was smoking from the barrel before the shot went off; I can't say if it was a single-barrelled pistol, I don't understand it—I don't recollect his reloading it; I did not see him reload it; the fire of the pistol just passed my cheek—I felt dizzy, as if I was going to faint, but I did not just then—I walked a little way across the room to the door, and then I fell, and I remember no more until I came to myself at the hospital—I did not see Miss Steele come into the room after me; I saw her when I had got my arms trying to raise him up; she was kneeling down by Mrs. Allison—I did not see Sherlock in the room—I do not remember the policeman coming into the room—I remember Thursday, May 14th; the prisoner and his wife were together in the bar, just about closing time, about twelve, and I heard him say he did not wish her to drink in the bar, and she said she would; I heard him call her a bad name—she cried, and said it was not right to call her by that name, and I went to him and said it was a shame to call her a name like that, and he said that was his business, I was not to interfere—that was the end of it, as far as I knew—I did not hear them make it up again—after that,
Miss Steele and I heard them quarrelling in their bedroom; we heard them from our bedroom; they were quarrelling when we went to sleep—next day (Friday) they seemed to be on very good terms; they had a drink, I know—that was the week in which he was going to be a tee-totaler—I did not see him have any drink during the day, not till that night—he had not had much to drink—I saw him hare one drink—nothing was noticeable with Mrs. Allison with regard to drink that night—she had not had any drink to attract my attention; she did not seem the worse for drink on the Thursday night—on Friday I heard no reference to the quarrel—Mr. Allison did not sleep at home on the Friday night—Mrs. Allison could not go to bed that night—she slept on the couch in the sitting-room the whole night—she opened the house at six next morning—I was not down—we came down at eight—Mr. Allison had then returned—he came in just as we got down—he came in at the same time—I saw him come in—he made no statement in my hearing as to where he had been, but in the morning he said he was going to Tilbury, to see a friend who was going to Australia—I heard him say that to Mrs. Allison, and that he had lost the last train from Tilbury the night before, and that was the reason he had not returned—he seemed in his ordinary senses on that Saturday morning—he had not taken any drink at all.
Cross-examined. We had a customer who came to the house on Friday, who went away to South Africa—I am engaged to be married—the prisoner and my engaged went to Tilbury on Friday morning about nine, to see that man off, and when he came back on Saturday morning he said in my hearing that he had missed the last trail from Tilbury—my sweetheart was with him the whole time, as far as I knew—I had never seen the pistol before the night of the 18th; before the Magistrate I called it a revolver; I don't understand what it was; I don't know how it is loaded—on the Thursday night, when I heard the quarrelling, our door was shut, and their door also, as far as I knew—I could distinctly hear the quarrelling—I heard no quarrelling on the Sunday night—when I left the bedroom Mrs. Allison kissed me, and said, "Good-night"—when I left the bedroom, they appeared to be on the best of terms—I was very much upset when I found Mrs. Allison wounded—I have a distinct recollection of everything that took place—the pistol was not aimed at me—I was struggling with him when the third report went off—he was pointing it towards himself as I wrenched it away—there was no reason why he should try to injure me—the relation between him and me was simply that of master and servant, manager and barmaid—there was no foundation for jealousy on Mrs. Allison's part—she was anxious I should stop, and he was anxious I should go, because there was to be a clean sweep made—on May 14th, when the quarrel took place in the bar, he had lost his temper a good deal; he was sober; he had not been drinking that day—I saw him have drink in the evening, not beyond a pint of bitter; he had been drinking the day before—he was rather irritable the whole of the day, on the 14th—he had all kinds of drink on the 13th—the beginning of that quarrel was because he did not like his wife drinking in the public bar—I went to this house in consequence of an advertisement—she was then in the bar with Mr. Allison, and he engaged me to go en the Saturday, and when I went they told me she was very ill; she had suddenly broken a blood-vessel—I only stopped one day,
and then went to the Shakespeare, a public-house in the neighbourhood—Mr. Allison sent to me there, and said it was very unkind of me to leave while his wife was ill, and would I come back; and I then went back—at that time and till the night of the 17th, Mrs. Allison was always in a delicate state of health, as far as I could see, that preyed a good deal on the prisoner's mind, it worried him very much; I heard him say, "I shall throw myself off the roof of the house if Mrs. Allison dies"—that was immediately after I went there, when she was lying seriously ill in bed—she did not eat anything, she could not eat her meals at all—a little drink very soon affected her—he frequently begged her to eat more—he tried to tempt her with little dainties, but she could not eat—he has often complained to me that he could not sleep at night—many a morning he would get up and go out in the pouring rain for two or three miles' walk in his shirt sleeves, and then go to bed again, in order to tire himself out, and make him go to sleep; I have seen him come in wringing wet, after tramping out—if he was sober it would be just the same—he would be a teetotaler for days together, and then break out—he used to be very depressed, and he would take some brandy to enliven his spirits, because he got so miserable; sometimes it would be one glass, sometimes two, and sometimes he would continue drinking the whole day—I have heard him speak about his two dead brothers—I have heard him speak of his brother Robert, who committed suicide; I have heard him say that he felt tempted to do what Robert did; that was said when he was sober; I never heard him speak about it when he had been drinking; it was while he was discussing his wife's illness with me, and she did not appear to get better—Mrs. Allison has told me that she had tried to find this pistol, because he had threatened to take his own life—we tried together to find the pistol on Sunday morning, about a fortnight previously.
Re-examined. When he went out early in the morning it was not to go to the Meat Market—the butcher used to call for orders—he never went to the market—the prisoner went down and got the port wine while we were in the bedroom—I never told the prisoner why I was leaving.
JULIA STEELE . I live at Waverley House, Lancaster Road—I was barmaid at the Rising Sun up to May 18th—I was in the house on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, before the Sunday when Mrs. Allison was killed—I saw the prisoner on the Thursday—I did not notice anything peculiar about him on that day, or on the Friday—he left the house that day, and was away the whole day, and came back on the Saturday morning—I noticed nothing peculiar about him then—he had been drinking very heavily on the Saturday—I was not at home on the Sunday—I got to the house about three minutes past eleven on Sunday morning; he came in shortly afterwards—on Sunday night I was in the bar, with Miss Archer and Mrs. Allison—the prisoner came in, and we had something to drink—I had been given notice to leave by the prisoner on the Saturday morning—we were all talking in the bar, I do not remember what about—about half-past twelve we went upstairs to bed—Mrs. Allison had had a little more to drink than usual; she did not usually take much—I could not say that she was the worse for liquor—I did not assist her upstairs, she was able to walk up without assistance—we went up behind her—we went into the Allisons' bedroom—Mrs. Allison was sitting by the side of the washing-stand, on the floor; that was where we left her—I got her
some water; she said she felt faint; and she vomited a little—we gave her something to drink, and bathed her head and hands—Mrs. Allison said she was sorry for our leaving, and said she had never said anything wrong about Miss Archer—the prisoner said, "Oh, yes, you have"—nothing more was said—I remember some port wine being brought by Mr. Allison—he had to go downstairs to get it; Miss Archer went with him; they were not away many minutes—he brought it back, and four glasses were poured out, and some biscuits—Miss Archer and I left the room together about a quarter-past one, as near as I can remember, leaving the Allisons in their bedroom; Mrs. Allison was still sitting on the floor in the same place—I am not sure whether Mr. Allison was sitting on a box or a chair in front of the window—I remember his throwing his hat out of the window; I did not hear what he said—I heard nothing said about suicide—Mr. Allison said he knew Miss Archer's father—she commenced crying, and then we left to go to bed—whilst we were undressing I heard a shot—I did not hear anyone at oar door; I did not hear the prisoner speak outside our door—I heard another report, and Miss Archer and I went out, and together we forced open the door of the prisoner's room—when I got into the room I saw Mrs. Allison lying in the same place where I had left her, and the prisoner lying in front of the fireplace; I did not see anything in his hand—Mrs. Allison was wounded, and her temple was bleeding; I went to her, and gave her what assistance I could, and Miss Archer went to Mr. Allison and gave him such assistance as she could—I did not see him get to his feet, or see the struggle between him and Miss Archer for the pistol; I was downstairs, opening the door for the policeman—I had put my head out of the landing-window and called "Police"; I saw a policeman outside, and when I got to the door he was there, and I let him in—he went up to the bedroom—I heard nothing said by the prisoner; I was told to go and open the door for another policeman—shortly afterwards the deceased and the prisoner were taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. About three weeks before this I remember hearing the report of a pistol; I don't know when it was—I was at the end of the other bar; it appeared to come from the saloon bar—I saw the prisoner immediately afterwards; he had a pistol; he told me he was shooting a rat in the saloon bar—I knew that he had a pistol in the house, and so did Mrs. Allison and Miss Archer—it was at night that I heard the shot, after closing time—when Mrs. Allison went upstairs Miss Archer and I were behind her—Miss Archer went up with her—she supported her in case she fainted, not because she had had too much to drink—she had had two brandies and soda and a glass of port—I don't know what she had when she was out—she did not eat her biscuit; he pressed her to eat it, and appeared very much upset because she did not—we were all on the best of terms—Mr. and Mrs. Allison were on affectionate terms—Miss Archer and I were sorry to leave—I did not give notice—he said he thought it best that we should all leave—I heard him speak about the death of his younger brother, Robert; he told me that his two brothers had committed suicide—I never heard him say that he was tempted to do the same if his wife did not recover—he was very much upset about his wife, because she did not seem to get any better.
Re-examined. On May 14th I remember seeing Mrs. Allison crying—I heard Miss Archer say to the prisoner that he ought to be ashamed
of himself for saying what he had said to Mrs. Allison; that was on that same evening—he asked her what she meant—she replied, "What I say"—she said she should tell him in the morning what he had said—I saw Mr. and Mrs. Allison together on the Friday morning before he started for Tilbury; they seemed on very friendly terms then, as if the quarrel the night before had blown over.
LAURA SHERLOCK . I live at 38, Parkham Street. Surrey Lane, Battersea—I was cook at the Rising Sun for a week and two days before May 18th—I slept at the top of the house, my bedroom being over Mrs. Allison's—Mr. and Mrs. Allison seemed to be on very friendly terms—they lived happily together—Mr. Allison drank heavily during the whole time I was there—he said, on Wednesday, the 13th, he thought he was causing his missus great trouble, and that he would try and mend his intemperate habits—he did not mend—he continued his drinking—I saw him on Saturday, 16th—Mrs. Allison gave me notice to leave the following week—about 3.30 on the Sunday I told Mr. Allison, in the bar, I was leaving—Mrs. Allison and Miss Archer went out together—I told him the missus had given us all notice, and I wanted to know the reason why—only he and I were present—he said he was making a change all round—he was at home on the Sunday afternoon after that—Miss Archer came back something before six—I went out about six p.m., after Miss Archer came back—I came home at 11.10 p.m.—when I stood at the bar door Mrs. Allison asked me if I should like a drink—I had a drink with them all, and then went upstairs—Mrs. Allison and the two barmaids were in the bar—I drank lemonade; they drank brandy—Mr. Allison had not returned—I went to bed about 11.30, and to sleep—Miss Steele woke me, and I went down into the Allisons' bedroom—Mrs. Allison was lying down near the wardrobe—Mr. Allison was standing at the foot of the bed—he had in his hand a pistol—Miss Steele and Miss Archer were in the room—I knelt down by Mrs. Allison, and felt her heart, which was still beating—I said, "Missus is shot, but she is still alive"—I said to the prisoner, "Oh, sir, what have you done to the missus?"—he walked round by the side of the bed—I followed him—I said to Miss Steele, "He has gone for a razor; call the police"—he could hear—he was still in the room—I said again, "What have you done?"—he said, "I have shot myself"—Miss Steele having left for the police, I saw the prisoner struggling with Miss Archer—he had the pistol in his hand—I was very excited—I heard no shots whatever from first to last—in the struggle Miss Archer fainted, and fell in my arms—I laid her down beside Mrs. Allison—the prisoner lay down by the side of the bed on the floor—shortly afterwards Constable McLean came.
Cross-examined. I saw the constable make an entry in his book in the bedroom—I said before the Magistrate, "There was great confusion in the room when I entered it; the prisoner then seemed excitable, and not to know what he was doing; he appeared to me to be sober."
Re-examined. I mean, he seemed very excitable—he was not drunk at the time—I could not say why he was excited.
—as I went up I heard another report from the second floor—I went into the front room on the second floor—I saw the prisoner lying on the floor by the side of the bed, and Mrs. Allison on the floor at the foot of the bed, with Lillian Archer, the barmaid, lying by her side insensible—this saloon pistol was lying by the prisoner's side—on the dressing-table was this box of cartridges, open—I saw blood flowing from the left breast of the prisoner—upon seeing me the prisoner said, "Policeman, before I die, I want to make a statement; send a telegram to my governor, Mr. Davey, 1, Peckham Road, and tell him that I have shot my wife through jealousy"—he got up and fell across the bed; I noticed blood on the night-dress of Lillian Archer, and a wound in the right temple of Mrs. Allison—Miss Archer had only her night-dress on—with assistance, the prisoner, Lillian Archer, and Mrs. Allison were taken to King's College Hospital.
ALBERT BARNETT (112 E). I arrived at the Rising Sun after McLean—he said, in the hearing of the prisoner, "Look to those women; this man has shot them"—the prisoner said, "It is quite right, constable; I have shot ray wife," and he mumbled something about he had shot himself—I took Miss Archer to the hospital.
Cross-examined. The prisoner appeared very excited—it was two or three minutes after he said he had shot his wife that he said he had shot himself.
FRANCIS DAVY . I am lessee of the Rising Sun—the prisoner was my manager for eight months—he left for a time and came back again—I frequently called to see him—on May 17th I called from 8 to 8.30 p.m.—Mrs. Allison was in the bar—she appeared very strange; in such a way that I had never seen her before—I hardly know how to describe it—she was more peculiar than I had seen her before—she was always very peculiar; in fact, she would give one the impression that she had been drinking; but I have said, "Oh, she never drinks!"—she did not look as if she had been drinking—she had a peculiar manner always, but on this occasion it was very peculiar—I cannot explain it—she did not speak as she usually did—she clearly understood what I said—my two friends and I were the only persons in the bar; we were served all right—she did not have far to walk, but she was leaning against the counter; not because she wanted support; they do not lean always because they want support—she talked differently—she made peculiar remarks—she told me she had been out in the afternoon up the river—I did not pay attention to her conversation particularly, bat she said things she had never said to me before—I did not ask her where she had been—it had not anything to do with me at all—she had never spoken to me about such subjects before—I had frequently spoken to her—I could not say she had been drinking too much, or that I thought so—the prisoner was in the same condition as I have seen him the last few weeks previous to this occurrence—he was very excitable—he had not attended to his business in the ordinary way he should have done—I had spoken to him on the Saturday about it—I had sent for him to come to my private house on the Sunday previous to the 17th, to tell him about the erratic way in which he had been going on—I used those words; I told him if he did not attend to his business better than he had been doing the previous fortnight, something would
occur; he would have to go, or something of that kind—he said, "I will try and make an alteration, and see if things cannot go on better"—he said he had been taking a little too much to drink—he did not look like that on the Sunday—I do not know that it was a mere excuse—between the 10th and 17th matters did mend—on the 17th I had to complain of his not completing an order; he only attended to half of it—the beginning of the week matters improved—on the 17th I was in the house from twenty minutes to half an hour—that was the only time I saw him on that Sunday—when I left both he and his wife were in the bar.
Cross-examined. I was not called before the Magistrate, nor before the Coroner—when the gentleman from the Treasury took my statement I told him the prisoner said, "I have not quite known what I have been doing lately, but I have been quite upset"—the prisoner said that on the 10th—I knew Mrs. Allison had been very ill—he was severely troubled about her—but for that, I should have discharged him, but I made allowance for the mental worry in consequence of his wife's illness.
Cross-examined. I made a statement to a gentleman from the Treasury—I was not examined before the Coroner, only before the Magistrate—on Saturday, May 16th, the prisoner gave me notice to leave—I asked him why, and he said he wanted to make a change all round—during the ten weeks I was in the house, I noticed the prisoner acted very strangely at times—morning after morning, for a week at a time, he would go out in his shirtsleeves, no matter what the weather was, for from a couple of hours to half an hour—I spoke to him about it; he said he could not sleep; he told me so before he went out—I slept in the house—I have seen Mr. and Mrs. Allison together frequently—I very seldom served; my duties were more outside—they lived on affectionate terms—he appeared distressed and worried about her illness; he spoke to me about it, and I told him not to worry himself, and that she would get all right—he told me he was very worried about it; he did not think she would get over it—she was ill when I went there—he was upset about his wife's health the whole time I was" there; she did not get better so quickly as he expected.
By the COURT. His walks were between eight and nine a.m.
SARAH SHARMAN . The deceased Mrs. Allison was my sister; she was twenty-eight years of age—I used to visit her at the Rising Sun about once a week—she was taken ill on March 6th last; she was ill about seven weeks—she had been about for three weeks on May 17th; she had been to Hastings for a week before that—she was recovering on the 17th, but not quite well—she came to my home, 56, St. Agnes Place, Kennington, about 5.30 p.m.; that is about a mile and a-half from the Rising Sun—she stayed to tea with me, and left me between 6.30 and 6.45 p.m.—she seemed all right, in her usual condition—I went to the Rising Sun about nine p.m.—I stayed there till 10.50 p.m.—I went upstairs to her sitting-room for a little while; the rest of the time she was in the bar—I went to see the old house, the Rising Sun—I was with her some time in the bar—when I left she said she was very tired, and she looked very ill—I
noticed nothing peculiar in her manner—the prisoner was in the bar all the time—he seemed the same as usual—he appeared sober—he had been drinking, but not so much as usual—he used to drink very heavily—since his last brother's death he drank more—that was last November—he walked with me to Charing Cross when I left—he said he was worried because my sister did not seem to get better, that he went out one night in the week to do away with himself, as his brothers had done—I told him not to think of such a thing—he talked of her all the way, he was not talking of anything else—he left me at the corner of Parliament Street, about 11.20 p.m.—he seemed more cheerful—I told him he was not to brood over things, and he said he would not—the next morning I went, to the hospital, and identified the body of my sister.
Cross-examined. My sister had been married nearly five years—Allison was about the same age—I visited them frequently—before me they were always affectionate—in November, 1895, the prisoner's brother Robert committed suicide—the prisoner had not been a steady man—he drank more after November—the suicide seemed to upset him—he told me one of his chief reasons for worry was that his wife would not eat—he said he tried to press her to eat—I said he should try, but that she was so ill, she could not eat—she was faint and ill still—I recollect my sister saying that he said if she died he would do away with himself—he did not say in what way—I never heard her mention a pistol—I do not know Mr. Gregson—my eldest sister is housekeeper to Mr. Irvine, of Hope Manor, Surrey—on the way to Charing Cross the prisoner was very melancholy, "but he was quite cheerful when he left me.
By the COURT. I said before the Magistrate: "I did not notice anything; about her when I saw her at nine p.m.; I saw her have only one drink of brandy while I was there; that was about an hour after I got there"—the prisoner did not tell me he had tried to take his life that night.
EDWIN DIGBY (Inspector E.) On May 18th I went to the Rising Sun, about 1.30 a.m.—I assisted in taking Mrs. Allison to the hospital—she was not conscious—she died at 2.5 a.m.—I saw the prisoner at the hospital—I was in uniform—he said, "Is my wife dead? I wish I had killed her and myself, too"—he seemed in a very excitable condition—he was talking very freely—he was left at the hospital in charge of a constable—the pistol was handed to me at the hospital by McLean, with the box of about thirty cartridges—the description of the pistol is No. 22, single barrel, breech-loading saloon—the size of the cartridge is 2 30—it would require to be recharged after each shot—I found a discharged cartridge in the barrel—the same morning; I made an examination of the bedroom—I found two other discharged cartridges beneath the chair by the window, and a spent bullet lying on the carpet at the foot of the bed, where Mrs. Allison had lain—this (produced) is the spent bullet—it corresponds with the other cartridges—on May 22nd the prisoner was discharged at the hospital—I formally charged him with the murder of his wife and attempted suicide—he made no answer—the prisoner remained in the hospital from Monday, 18th, to Friday, 22nd.
Cross-examined. The pistol is an ejector—the action is very old—the cartridges are sold in boxes of fifty—these have been kept for some time, and grease is gathered over them—eighteen are
missing—the charge is three grains of powder—the bullet is small and conical—I have inquired of the maker, Reilly, of Oxford Street—the pistol has no number on it, and they are unable to trace it—before I was examined at the Police-court I received directions from the Treasury as to making inquiries—some evidence had been given, and Mr. Haynes, for the prisoner, cross-examined—I made inquiries as to the antecedents of the prisoner's relatives—the Thames Embankment, from the Temple Gardens to Charing Cross, is in my district—on June 12th, 1893, the prisoner's brother Joseph committed suicide in the Thames—the inquest was held on June 18th—his age was twenty-two—on November 13th, 1895, his brother Robert, aged twenty-seven, committed suicide by drowning in the Thames—the recorded verdict was temporary insanity; the constables are here—I have also made inquiries as to the prisoner's mother's side of the family, and seen Dr. Burns, of Lower Edmonton, about the uncles on the mother's side—it was stated the prisoner's uncle died in a lunatic asylum; but the result of the inquiry was not in accordance with the statement.
CONRAD CHARLES JAMES ERHARDT . I am house surgeon at King's College Hospital—on Hay 18th the deceased woman was admitted something before two a.m.—she died within a few minutes—she was unconscious the whole time she was there—she was suffering from a wound in the right temple—I made a post-mortem examination of the body—I found the cause of death was a bullet injuring the brain—the bullet had gone in at the right temple, and was found on the left side of the brain—a few hairs round the wound were singed—the edges of the wound were black, showing the shot was tired at close range—she had groiture; beyond that, there was nothing unhealthy—I saw no indication of her drinking heavily—if she had, I probably should find an indication of it in the liver, but not necessarily—I examined the prisoner on his admission—I found three wounds, two being wounds of entry and the other of exit, caused by a bullet or bullets—the first wound of entry was over the sixth rib on the left side, and about an inch behind; it was the wound of exit—the next was over the third rib on the left side—we know from the wound of exit how the weapon was directed—it would be about three inches nearer the middle line, horizontally backwards, and then to the left side—the wounds were not serious—the bullet of the second wound remains in the prisoner's body—we kept the prisoner to see if the bullet had gone through the lung, or injured the lung—if the bullet had entered the cavity of the chest it would have been dangerous, but neither bullet did—after Mrs. Allison was brought in, I went to see her behind the screen, and found she was still alive; I returned to him, and he then said to me, "Have I finished the job?"—I said, "Do you mean, is she dead? No, not yet"—he said, "I am sorry for that"—Mrs. Allison died within a few minutes of that—the prisoner remained at the hospital till Friday, May 22nd, and then was well enough to leave.
Cross-examined. If the barrel had been held more in front, the bullet would have reached the prisoner's vital parts—so far as I could tell, the wounds were intended to be serious—the prisoner seemed excited when admitted—there was very little pain—he seemed to understand what he was doing—he was sensible—the shock of seeing his
wife injured, and of the wounds he had inflicted upon himself by firing the pistol twice in his own body, might have affected his condition.
Witnesses for the Defence.
EGBERT ALLISON . I am the prisoner's father—I was married in 1865—I had eleven children, of whom seven are living, including the prisoner, four girls and three boys—two of my sons, Joseph and Robert, committed suicide, one in July, 1893, and the other in 1895—Joseph was twenty-two, and Robert twenty-seven—the prisoner is twenty-eight—I should think he has had somewhere about twenty-five situations; he left home to earn his own living when he was about thirteen—his first situation was with Messrs. Fetter and Galpin as a page; then he was at an hotel at Clapton, and ever since he has been engaged at public-houses—when he was about twelve he stopped away from school, and slept all night in an iron water pipe, where they were putting down the main pipes in Milford Road—I threatened to punish him for that—at that time my daughter Caroline was living at home—he got a knife, and threatened to cut his throat—I did not punish him, I chastised him—I gave him a good talking to—I was not present when he took the knife out—Caroline told me of it—as a boy, he was always very excitable—my wife's maiden name was Inglis—she had two brothers, Robert, who died in a lunatic asylum, and James, whom I lost sight of—he left his situation, and used to go wandering about, through a religious mania; he used to go about preaching; he was very religious—I did not see him when he was going about; beyond that, there was nothing extraordinary about him, as I saw—Inspector Digby called on me and gave me a full statement about him—I don't know whether, James is living or not—my wife has been attended by Dr. Burns, of Edmonton, fourteen or fifteen times, about eighteen months or two years ago—in consequence of what Dr. Burns said to me she was removed, from London, and I sent her to Clacton-on-Sea—she was there about fourteen months—I went there to see her—I had a sanitary job there, and went to see her—she was better there than at Edmonton—I understood she was suffering from religious mania; she did not recognise Dr. Burns—he asked her what was the matter with her, and she said she did not know—she is still living with me there—she is here to-day—I work in London, and go down to Clacton occasionally—she manages the house—one Sunday she was quite raving; that was at Edmonton—before she went to Clacton she was very hysterical, and I thought it high time to go for a doctor—she was screaming, and very mysterious; I thought she was going out of her mind—she was walking from room to room, downstairs and up-stairs, and screaming out very loud, and using wild, stupid words; it seemed to me that she thought someone was coming after her.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I have seen the prisoner on several occasions at his two last situations, the Grapes and the Rising Sun—I can't tell how long he was at the Grapes; I was at Clacton at the time, but I should think five or six months he was manager there—I did not notice him intoxicated at the Grapes; he would take a glass or two, but never the worse for drink—I did not notice that he was drinking too much while at the Rising Sun, but I thought he was very much upset by his wife's illness; I have never noticed that he was drinking too much—I did not go there above three or four times when I came up from Clacton—I have never at any time seen him the worse for drink, nor
ever he aid it—I always understood that he left his situations to better himself, to get more money—he was not dismissed as being incompetent or unable to do his work, rather the other way—he always left of his own accord, to improve his position—the last time I saw him before this May 17th was, I think, about nine or ten days before, on a Thursday evening—his wife was there that night; they seemed very happy indeed; he seemed all right—at the time he slept out all night we were living in Jessop Road, Loughboro' Junction; he was then at school; he was out with a lot of boys; that was the only way I could account for it—I went out to try and find him, and he got over the garden walls, and escaped from me; I saw him—I was angry with him, and was going to bring him home to chastise him; he knew chat, and ran away; and in the morning I found him close by, sleeping in the water pipe—I used no violence to him: he did not say he was afraid to come home; he seemed to treat it very lightly; that was the only time I had to complain of his sleeping out, but he was always very careless about everything.
Re-examined. He was very much attached to his brother Robert; he was very much upset about it, and also about the illness of his wife.
By the COURT. He went to a Board school in Jessop Road, opposite where I lived.
MARGARET ALLISON . My maiden name was Inglis—I remember my son Robert committing suicide—on the Saturday after, the prisoner said to me, "You will follow another one soon"—he used to say, "I wish I had died when I was young"—once he tried to cut his throat—he stayed out of a night; his father wanted to chastise him for it, and rather than be chastised, he took a knife and tried to cut his throat, but his sister took it away from him—my brother Robert died in Morningside Lunatic Aylum; he was eight years older than I—I had another brother named James; I don't know what became of him—I last saw him seven years ago at Edinburgh; he was a printer by trade; he used to preach about the streets for some years, I was told—I did not know much about him—my father suffers very much from depression—I have been staying at Clacton-on-Sea recently; my husband had work there, and I was staying there with-him—before going there, I saw Dr. Burns at Edmonton—he came one Sunday when I was very bad, with very bad pains in the head and he said change of air would be best for me—I suffer now from pains in the head, and so did my father.
Cross-examined. I have come up from Clacton for this trial; some of my daughters are living with me—we have a house there; I look after it—I once visited the prisoner at the Grapes, and once at the Rising Sun, before I went to Clacton, in February; I only spent half an hour with him—he seemed to be all right—I never heard that he had taken to to drink—it was twenty-six years ago that I last heard of my brother Robert being in an asylum, when I was at Chester; I had not seen him for a long time before that—my father used to visit him there; I had a notice of his death in a letter from my father.
CAROLINE ALLISON . I am the prisoner's sister—I am married—when I was living in Jessop Road, Loughboro' Junction, and my brother was about twelve, I remember his staying out one night—he came back in the afternoon next day, as far as I remember—father was going to punish him, and he picked up a knife, and was going to cut his throat, and
I took it away from him—it was a table-knife; he put it across his throat—I had a struggle with him—I was older than he—my mother has not been well for a long time, suffering from melancholy—she has been very strange at times—she took some laudanum once—she said she had pains in her head.
Cross-examined. She could not rest—that is about six years ago—I went for the doctor, and he told me to keep my eye on her; he did not come to see her; nothing was done by way of an antidote to laudanum—she got better—she was strange—she said she did not want to live, her life was a misery to her—the night my brother stopped out, he was brought back by my father in the morning, and he spoke to him, he did not punish him—I did not see him take the knife; he did not draw it across his throat; he said, "I will cut my throat"—I stopped him.
Witnesses in Reply.
HENRY CHARLTON BASTIAN . I am a Fellow of the London Royal College of Physicians, and Physician to the Hospital for the Paralysed and Epileptic in Queen Square—at the request of the Solicitor to the Treasury, I examined the prisoner in the gaol last Tuesday, with a view to his mental condition—I found no evidence of insanity at present.
Cross-examined. I was in court most of yesterday, and I have been in Court this morning—there is such a thing as hereditary insanity and recurrent insanity—I have heard the evidence of the witnesses for the prosecution, and I have had furnished to me some documents containing the evidence that has been given to-day—a man may be subject to a fit of insanity at one time, and afterwards be sane—I think it quite possible that the prisoner may have had a sudden attack of homicidal man is on the night of May 17th, looking to his family history—it sometimes comes on with all the abruptness of an epileptic attack, without any premonitory warning.
Q. By the COURT. What is homicidal mania? A. A man having certain tendencies will occasionally, without warning or provocation, commit a certain act of violence, sometimes suicidal, sometimes homicidal; something comes over him abruptly, suddenly, without any apparent reason, leading him to commit some act of violence, he being absolutely unconscious of the act; he may know what the act is, but not the quality of it—a gust of impulse comes over him so suddenly that he is not in a position to weigh or balance whether such a thing is right or wrong—under a homicidal impulse of that kind, I think it is perfectly clear that he would not know the nature and quality of the act.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. Deprived of reason, loss of will, and loss of controlling power; that would practically be his mental condition; bereft of reason and power of control.
Re-examined. I say it is possible; I cannot go further than that—in saying "I think it possible," I am influenced by this, the family history of the man, and his own personal habits being of such a nature as to make him a person who would be liable to an attack of homicidal mania; by habits I mean drinking habits; then I gather from the evidence that he was anxious and worried about his wife's condition, and even a few hours before the act was committed he seemed to bear her no ill-will, and was anxious about her condition generally; then we know that, up to within fifteen minutes of committing the act. he seemed
to be in the same sort of relation with his wife, there was no change; the barmaids, in an adjacent room, heard no sound of quarrel, although on a previous occasion they had heard quarrelling, with both doors shut; therefore it would appear that there could have been, at all events, no violent altercation between them; and that, with the, fact of the silence, makes it possible, as I have said, that the man may have committed the act under the influence of one of those sudden impulses—I do not think any of the other evidence is at all significant, except to show his unstable nervous system, his threatening suicide and talking of suicide.
Re-examined. The family and personal history might also make it more probable that he would give way to violent gusts of passion; that comes very closely to irresponsibility—I find no evidence, before the act, of his having any ill-will towards his wife; and from that, I say, it is possible that this act may have been done without any feeling of ill-will—I also lay stress upon the absence of any sounds of quarrelling within the fifteen minutes; in fact, I think the whole question is whether he did this thing under a homicidal impulse, or whether it was done without it—we know nothing of what occurred to induce him to commit it.
Q. Then, how would it be consistent with not being conscious, that the man, an hour afterwards, says to the surgeon at the hospital, "Have I finished the job? is she dead? if not, I am sorry for it"?
A. That is a very difficult question for me to answer; but I have had facts in other cases showing that after the man had made known the circumstance, he subsequently forgot everything about it—his saying he was sorry certainly looks as if he was sorry he had not killed her; it is a doubtful case in my mind; my explanation of that would be that we don't know the workings of his mind at the time; that sort of thing occurs again and again in these homicidal acts—we cannot know exactly what takes place in the man's mind; it may be some sudden thought that compels him irresistibly to do the act, and for some time the notion may linger in his mind—the only question is, whether the notion is a thing generated in his sane mind, or in the mind of a man who is insane—I feel the difficulty fully, and I go no further than saying, "It is possible"—I cannot affirm it any more distinctly.
JAMES SCOTT . I am medical officer of Holloway Prison—the prisoner has been under my special observation since his committal on May 29nd—I have conversed with him, and kept observation on him with a view of ascertaining his mental condition—so far as I have observed, I have not I been able to detect any trace of insanity about him.
Cross-examined. My examination was confined to his present condition—he did not seem to show so much anxiety as they frequently do in such cases—that led me to examine him more carefully—it did not appear to affect him in the same way—I have heard Dr. Bastian's evidence—I was present in Court yesterday and to-day—I furnished a report to the Treasury—I agree with Dr. Bastian that it is possible the man may have suffered from a sudden attack of homicidal mania at the time this act was committed.
Re-examined. I think his subsequent statement to the surgeon is consistent with some delusion leading him to suppose that he was justified in entertaining ill-will towards his wife—it looks as if he had an exaggerated idea of jealousy at the time he committed the act, which idea
might be an insane one; I take that along with the other circumstances in the case—some people do become ridiculously jealous at a trifle.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY. DEATH.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, June 25th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ROACH Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
ENBULE ALISON THELWALL . I am a clerk in Holy Orders, living at Monte Cristo Mansions, Green Lanes—about 11.50 p.m. on April 2nd, I was in Boiling Road, Dalston, returning home from Dalston Junction—I went into a urinal—as I was coming out the prisoner stood across my path, and looked up into my face—I thought he was going to speak to me; he took me off my guard—then a man behind him gave a signal with his hand to some men behind me, and I was immediately taken from behind by the throat and arms, and pulled down into a horizontal position inside the urinal—the prisoner then snatched at my watch—I had just time to put my thumb on the cord—a struggle went on between me and several of them, the prisoner principally; and then the cord broke, and they got my gold watch, of the value of about £2—meanwhile other men were rifling my pockets—they got off this ring in the scuffle; I heard it drop, and I and a policeman afterwards found it together with the other half of this locket—eight or nine other articles were taken from my pockets—the men then separated, and ran off as soon as I could about—most of them went up Boiling Road; it was too dark to follow them—Moore was afterwards arrested, and tried here for taking part in this robbery, and was sentenced—after the robbery, I went straight to the Police-station, and gave a description of some of the persons as far as I could, including the prisoner—I specially gave a description of him—I afterwards received a telegram, and went to Dalston Lane Police-station, and, after waiting in a room, I was called before eight or nine men, and from then a I picked out the prisoner immediately—I was very poorly for a week or fortnight afterwards, from shock and internal strain; I was treated by a doctor.
Cross-examined. The urinal is at the corner of Boiling Road; it all took place inside the urinal—I first saw the prisoner standing in front of me inside—I had not seen the men before—the struggle lasted a very short time—when I went to the station, and identified the prisoner, I did not look very much at the other men; I knew my man as soon as I saw him—I cannot say how the other men were dressed—I always wear glasses—I gave a minute description of two or three men to the police—I cannot say
how many of the men who assaulted me were behind me—no one was in the urinal when I went in.
BERNARD FINUCANE (Police Sergeant). On the night of June 4th I arrested the prisoner in the Crown public-house, at the corner of Shackle-well Lane—I said I should arrest him for being concerned with John Thomas Moore, already convicted, in a highway robbery, with violence—he said, "All right, governor"—on the morning of the 5th he was placed with nine other men, and Mr. Thelwall immediately identified him as one of the men who attacked him on the night of Thursday, April 2nd—when charged he made no reply—I had been looking for him from the date of the offence, and the first time I saw him was on the Whit-Sunday, but as I had my little child with me, and I could not get assistance, I did not arrest him—he was, with several others, standing outside the Lansdowne public-house, close to his home—on the night of the robbery I saw the prisoner in Dalston Lane, about 10.30—I have known him four or five years—the bottom of Dalston Lane is within twenty yards of Boiling Road—it is just across Kingsland Road—I saw him there with Moore, who was convicted here—no others were with them.
Cross-examined. I know where the prisoner's home is—I did not go there; I was afraid that by going there I should frighten him away—I did not know his home till he gave me his address when he was arrested—I knew he lived in Truman's Road, but I did not know the number—he gave his address as 52, Truman's Road when arrested—I had no opportunity of speaking to him on Whit-Sunday, he walked away so quickly—on the night of the robbery I saw him with Moore near the Tisson public-house, which is near the Crown and Castle public-house, about 10.30—I was directed to inquire into the matter the following morning—the eight or nine persons among whom the prisoner was placed for identification were fair samples of the prisoner's class—he was dressed exactly as he is now—most of them wore collars and ties—none except the prisoner wore a frock-coat—Truman's Road is 450 yards, I should think, from where the robbery took place.
HENRY ROBINSON (124. J). On the night of April 2nd I was on duty in Dalston Lane—I saw Moore and the prisoner in company there at 11.25—I knew the prisoner by sight before—I watched them for fifteen minutes—I lost sight of them at Carter's corner, where Carter has a big shop—I did not see them go into a public-house there.
Cross-examined. I did not know where the prisoner lived—I carry a watch—I fix the time I saw the prisoner as 11.25 or 11.26 by a big clock at a jeweller's and by the way I was working my beat—I believe I have not mentioned before to-day that I looked at the clock or my watch—when the prisoner was charged before the Magistrate, I went, at the prisoner's request, to ask his mother for some dinner for him.
E. A. THELWALL (Re-examined). When I went to the station and identified the prisoner I did so by his face alone; he was wearing different clothes to those he wore on the night of the robbery; he wore a short reefer jacket and a soft felt hat on that night, and a bowler hat at the station.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that about 10.30, or a few minutes later, he left Dalston, and went straight home.
Witnesses for the Defence.
PHCEBE AMELIA ROLLEY . I am the wife of Charles Rolley, who has been a carman in Mr. Thompson's employ for about fourteen years—we live at 52, Truman's Road—I have been employed for ten years in a laundry—I am the prisoner's sister—he is a musical artist, and gives sketches at music halls and theatres, among others, at the Washington Music Hall, Battersea—he was there on Easter Monday—on the day before Good Friday I came home from business between eight and nine—between 10 or 10.30 my brother, who lives with us, came in—I did not look at the clock when he came in—I and my sister, who is an invalid, were, having a little sing-song—my mother was also there—we kept the sing-song up to or past eleven, I should think—I went to bed after eleven—my brother was with us in the kitchen, from the time he came in till past eleven;—it would take about ten minutes to walk from our house to Carter's corner—when the prisoner went to bed I and my mother sat up for my husband, as he was late on the day before Good Friday in his business, delivering parcels—the prisoner lived at home from that day till he was arrested, going about just as he had done before—on Easter Monday he was singing at the Washington—I came home to dinner from twelve to one, and I saw him every day in the yard, feed rag his pigeons.
Cross-examined. I and my invalid sister were singing, from ten till post eleven, "Kathleen" and several songs—I cannot exactly think what they were—he sings and boxes at music halls—I went to bed long after twelve—I and my mother were the last up, and we always bolt the door—I I got home about 8.20; I sat down, and did one or two household duties—we had supper, and then sang.
Re-examined. One song we sang has the chorus, "Come back again; for without you the cot will be lonely."
PHOEBE AMELIA CLARKE . I am a widow—my late husband served from 1829 to 1859 in the 24th Regiment, and was afterwards a warder at the House of Correction, Cold Bath Fields—I am the prisoner's mother—I have lived at 52, Truman's Road for nine years—on the Thursday before Good Friday I was at home all day—the prisoner lives with me, and helps to support me by his earnings as a sketch artist—he had a partner, Thompson—he came home between 10 and 10.30 on that evening—I and my two daughters, who were singing, and he were in the kitchen—I should think the singing went on till after eleven—he was in my sight from 10 to 10.30 till after 11—he did not go out again—he lived regularly at home after that night till his arrest—he has been working, at the Washington, going out in the evening, and being about in the neighbourhood where anybody could see him if they wanted him.
Cross-examined. I cannot remember the names of any songs they sang that evening; I took no notice of them; if I heard them I should remember them—I remember one with the words, "Come back again; for without you the cot will be lonely"—that comes from one of his sketches.
Re-examined. I was called before the Magistrate with my daughter; my son was not then represented by a solicitor.
ANNIE TURNER . I am the wife of William Turner, a labourer—I live at 60, Truman's Road, a few doors from 52, on the same side of the way—I knew the prisoner, and his father and mother—since Good Friday I have
seen him three or four times every day down to June 4th, when he was arrested—he has passed my door and spoken to me—I have known him from a boy—he earns his livelihood as a performer at music halls and places of that kind—last year, I think, he was charged with doing damage to somebody's knocker; I don't remember what happened in consequence of that—with that exception, he has borne the character of an honest, steady, respectable young man—he brings his earnings home—his parents are respectable.
Cross-examined. He was convicted of doing this damage on the day of the storm last year, I think—I don't remember if he was committed with Gobbie—I was not at the Police-court—he was fined £5 or a month for wrenching off a knocker, I heard.
Re-examined. The day of the storm was when he was arrested on this matter.
ALFRED THOMPSON . I am a professional sketch artist, and live at 9, Stoke Newington Road—my father is a greengrocer at Neville Road—I have been in partnership with the prisoner for about two years—we have been going to our business as usual since Good Friday—we have been advertised as the "Astarte Troupe," the name we act under—this is the memorandum of agreement between our agent and our troupe, dated September 29th, 1895—anyone going to the music hall would see us—since Good Friday we have played at the Washington and Whitechapel, and at clubs at Haggerston and Paddington—every day during the Good Friday week I saw the prisoner, as we were working a new thing into the sketch which we were going to perform on the Monday—I saw him in the morning, when we had a box, which was part of the sketch—I saw him again between five and six p.m., and we went for a walk—I think it was not quite dark when I last saw him—I have known him for five years, and during that time he has borne the character of a hard-working, respectable man.
E. A. THELWALL (Re-examined by the COURT). On that night his mouth specially attracted my attention; it was very large and peculiarly shaped, and, when he laughed, it went out from ear to ear, as it were—I observed his mouth when he was in the dock before the Magistrate; and, when he was being charged at the Police-station, something caused him to laugh, and I was more convinced than ever of his identity—he laughed" when he stopped me in the urinal, looking up into my face; I thought he was going to ask me a question, and then I was seized—I have not observed him to-day.
P. A. ROLLEY (Re-examined by the COURT). The prisoner very often comes home late, after I and my husband have gone to bed—he then gets in by his latch-key; I am in bed, and do not hear him—his bedroom is the next bedroom to mother's, downstairs, and next to the room where the sing-song went on—I am positive he went to bed that night—he left the sing-song a little after eleven that night—I said "Good-night" to him, and I and mother sat up for my husband—after the prisoner had been in bed some time, he called out and asked mother to take him in a glass of water, and she did so; she does so every night if he calls out—my husband came in about one that night; he was very late—the prisoner could not get out of the front or back door that night without our hearing him.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted.
PIETRO MICCARIO . I keep a restaurant at 25, Villiere Street, Strand—I am an Italian—about April 15th the prisoner came to me, and produced this list (C), and said he belonged to the Italian Consulate, and that they had opened a subscription for the Italian schoolmistress, who was very ill, and asked me to subscribe to it—I looked at the list, and saw several well-known Italian names, and thought it was a genuine list, and gave him half a crown, and put my name down—after that our conversation fell on the Italian disaster at Ado was, in Africa—I said I had received this letter and document from the Italian Consulate the day before, inviting me to open a subscription in my establishment for the benefit of the Italian wounded in Africa—he said, "Give me this document, and I will go back, and tell the Italian Consulate you have already subscribed on another list"—I had already given four guineas for the wounded on another list—you spoke in Italian. (The evidence was interpreted to the prisoner.)
BERTOLOMEO CATTINI (Interpreted). I am a confectioner, of 12, Bradbury Street—in April the prisoner called and showed me this document, and said he came to collect on behalf of the Red Cross, and asked if I would put anything towards it—I said I would put 10s. for the disaster of the Italian troops in Africa—I thought he was appointed a collector for the Red Cross Society.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said you were a collector, and came from the Consulate.
DOMENICO TONIERI (Interpreted). I am an Italian—I am a plaster modeller, of 1, Waddington Road, Stratford—on May 12th the prisoner came and produced this Red Cross Hat, and said he came from the Consulate, and should be very pleased for me to put something for the Italian soldiers wounded in Abyssinia—I gave him half a sovereign—I believed what he said—he entered my name in my presence for the 10s. on this document—I introduced him to some English friends of mine for the same purpose.
Cross-examined. I asked you if you came from the Consul, and you said, "Yes."
MATEO CASTAGNETTO (Interpreted). I am a confectioner, of 135, Hoxton Street—on May 12th the prisoner came and showed me these documents, and said he came from the Consul, and was a collector, and was collecting money for the disaster of the Italian troops in Africa—I gave him 6s., and he entered it on one of the papers—I believed what he said.
AUGUSTO ODDENIO (Interpreted). I keep a restaurant at 203, Oxford Street—I was appointed secretary of the Red Cross Association for the purpose of collecting money from the Italians—I keep a record of the subscription lists I issue—the prisoner came to me for a subscription list; I refused to give him one, because I did not know enough of him—I would only give them to persons I knew—Mario is the Italian Vice-Consul; he distributed some of these lists, and gave one to Miccario—the prisoner has not paid any money into the Association—the subscription list closed at the end of March; after that no one had authority to
collect on behalf of the Association, although the Consul has received money people have since sent, and sent it to me.
Cross-examined. You asked the proprietor of Kettner's restaurant also for a subscription paper, and he sent you to me, but I did not give you one—you never said where you had deposited the money.
GEORGE BROWN (Sergeant J). On May 28th I arrested the prisoner in Church Street, Soho—Cura, the interpreter, was with me—he spoke to the prisoner, who said, in English, "I don't know anything about it"—I conveyed him to Dalston Police-station in a cab—he said, "I admit I received the money from Cattini, but I was going to pay it into the committee"—he had £14 19s. on him.
DAVID CURA (Interpreted). I live at 86, Derby Buildings, King's Cross, and am an interpreter—I am an Italian—I was with Brown when the prisoner was arrested—I interpreted the charge; the prisoner said, "I don't know anything about it"—when the charge was taken at the station, he said, "I received the money, and I was going to pay it back to the committee, as I have received some money from Italy," and he produced a letter.
The Prisoner, in his defence, which was interpreted, said that he had received the money, but had no intention to defraud.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. LOUIS Prosecuted.
HENRY KING . I am a carman, employed by James Nolan, of Central Street, St. Luke's—on June 17th I was alone in charge of my cart, with fifteen chests of tea and six quarter chests of currants—I left the van unattended for about three minutes or less, while I went to get goods out of London Wharf, and when I came back the van had disappeared—I ran up the street, and spoke to a boy, and went on with my search—at the top of the street I met one of our carmen with another of our vans—I jumped on it, and went to where I thought I should find my cart—as I was going through a turning in Commercial Road I noticed my van further down the street, turning into a side street—I pulled round and came up the main road, and a little way up the Commercial Road I saw my own van come out of the turning into the main road again—two men were on it—I followed them to Limehouse Church, where I met two constables—I caught the van up just this side of the Town Hall, Limehouse—the prisoner was one of the men inside the van; the other man escaped—the constable seized the horse's head, and the two men jumped off the van, and the prisoner fell down by the near-side wheel—I pulled him from under the wheel, but fell down in doing so—he got up and ran away, but was stopped by someone.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner I left the van to deliver some orders
—from where I delivered them I could not see the pony—I could not say you drove the pony away—I did not see it till I got to the water-trough; I then saw two men in the cart—it is a common thing for a man to ask a carman to give him a ride—you were not driving you jumped off when the constable seized the horse's head—I was out of breath with running.
JOHN BARTLEY , I am a clerk, living at 90, Ridgeway Road, Limehouse—on June 15th I saw a cart chased by a constable and another man—I followed—when they got by the Town Hall, Limehouse, the constable caught hold of the horse's head—the prisoner jumped off the near side, and another man got out at the off side and ran away—the. prisoner came towards me; I seized him by the throat and pushed him against a public-house window; he struck me a violent blow in the mouth with his fist—I held on to him—a constable came and secured him—I saw the prisoner from the time he got off the van till I seized him—I am sure he is the man—the other man escaped—when the policeman came the prisoner said he was avoiding the traffic, and running out of the way of the horses to avoid being run over—he said he was not in the van—no one at that time had accused him of being in the van—he struck two other men besides me; he struck out right and left.
Cross-examined. This was by Norway Wharf; you had passed the water trough—a man on a flour van' pulled up in front of you and stopped you—you lay down in the road, and got up and came towards me; the van had stopped then—the van had gone twenty or thirty yards when you of up—the carman pulled you out of the way, and saved you from being run over—you ran on to the pavement—you threw your arms about in all directions, and said, Let me ago "you gave me a direct blow with the intention of escaping—I got hold of your coat tails.
GEORGE CARPENTER (221 K). On June 17th I was on duty in Commercial Road, a little after four p.m.—I saw Constable Grey running "up the road after a van, which was going very fast, and be shouted, "Stop him"—he stopped the van and horse—the prisoner and another man tumbled off the van, one on each side, both slipping down—I was standing in the middle of the road—the prisoner passed me before I could catch him—he was stopped by Bartley and another man—he attempted to assault a third man, but I stopped him—after I caught hold of him he walked very quietly—when he was caught, he said, "I was not on the horse van; I was crossing the road, and was nearly run over in trying to clear the horse's head"—no one had then said anything about his being on the van—I took him to the station—he said, in answer to the charge, "I was not on the van."
Cross-examined. I could not see who was driving the van—there was a lot of traffic when the van was stopped—you ran from the road on to the pavement—you were on the pavement when you struck Bartley.
Re-examined. You ran about twenty yards from the van.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that he saw a man, who did not know his way, driving the van, and offered to show him the way, and that when the. police-man stopped the van, he got off in a hurry and on to the pavement, to avoid being
run over; and that he only shoved Bartley away, without intending to hurt him.
Four previous convictions were proved against the prisoner. There was another indictment against him for assaulting Bartley.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
The COURT ordered a reward of £1 to be given to Bartley for his courageous conduct,
509. GEORGE SHEPPARD (30) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for forging and uttering receipts for £6 5s.; also to two indictments for stealing sewing machines, and to forging an agreement for the hire of a sewing machine.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Friday, June 26th, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GILL and MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
After the commencement of the case, MR. PURCELL stated that as he could not resist the facts, he had advised the prisoner to
PLEAD GUILTY. The prisoner then stated that she was
GUILTY , upon which the JURY found that verdict.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
DAVID CLARK . I live at 10, Whitman Road, Mile End; the house is kept by Mrs. Nicholls; her two sons and her daughters live there, and I have three daughters—early on the morning of June 9th my door was opened, and then I saw it shut—I thought one of my daughters had brought some water in, but in about two seconds I heard the landlady scream out to her son and to me for help—I jumped out of bed, and saw the prisoner rushing across the landing and downstairs—I caught him at the bottom; he attempted to strike me, but I hit him and got him down—the door was opened, and the policeman, who was waiting outside, came in, and the prisoner was given in custody—the kitchen window was open; it was closed when I went to bed.
Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. I went to bed at eleven o'clock—this is a poor neighbourhood—there are their houses pretty much alike—nothing was taken—I do not know the prisoner; he could not hare flown down the stairs as he did if he was drunk—he was half-way down when I saw him, and had to go down seven or eight more stairs—I have seen men recovering from drink go very rapidly.
Re-examined. I had had my night's rest, and it was near my time to get up—he said, "Have not you had enough of this? you don't want to lock me up"—I say he was sober.
I heard a noise—I looked at my clock, and I heard the clock strike, but thought Mr. Clark was going out—I woke up again at three o'clock, and saw the prisoner standing over me there, with something over his eyes—I shouted for my son Arthur, and the prisoner held up his fist, and said, "You do"—he was caught downstairs, and given in custody—my daughter and I were up last—I fastened the house up, and we went up together—the doors and windows were all fastened—the back kitchen window was shut, but I did not fasten it—the front door was bolted—I do not know the prisoner—nothing was missing—he was perfectly sober—I did not hear him speak, but I know by the way he ran.
Cross-examined. I bolted the front door, top and bottom; no one could get in with a latch-key—he looked very dirty—he had not a dazed look, but he stared into my eyes for half a minute—I have been ill ever since—I have got oilcloth on my stairs—Mr. Clark goes out quietly, but I hear him—it was impossible for anybody to get in at the window, unless they climbed over five walls—mine is a corner house.
ARTHUR NICHOLLS . I am a son of the last witness, and live with her—early on the morning of June 9th I was disturbed by her screaming—I ran into the room, and saw the prisoner leave—I followed him down-stairs—Mr. Clark was in front of me, and we secured the man; he struggled to get away, and asked if we were going to lock him up—he was perfectly sober—a policeman was admitted, and he was given in custody.
Cross-examined. I went to the station with him, and was with him an hour altogether—Mr. Clark, did not hit him till he got to the bottom of the stairs—when he was knocked down he could not get up again, because we were both on him.
D. CLARK (Re-examined). One of the boys from upstairs opened the front door—the bolts had been drawn, and it was on the catch, but nobody could open it from outside without a key—if anybody wanted to escape quietly he could draw the latch.
HENRY KINGSLAND (544 K). On June 10th, early in the morning, I was in Whitman Road, trying the doors—I tried the door of No. 10; it was fastened—I heard a slight noise, and stood there ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I heard a rush on the stairs; the door was opened, and I went in, and saw a man lying at the foot of the stairs—I took him to the station; he gave his address, and said he hoped I should not go to his lodgings—I asked why; he made no reply—I was with him a quarter of an hour; he was sober—I examined the premises; the kitchen window was wide open; it looks into the back yard, which is enclosed by a wall, four feet six inches high—he would have to climb over five walls to get to the window—I found on him a knife, a latch-key, and a bank-book, with a number on it; he asked for it, and it was given up to him—I went to the National Penny Bank, and found that he had £8 odd there, and that the book belonged to him—he was employed by Keating and Hunt for two years—his breath smelt very slightly of rum—I made inquiry at his lodgings, and found that he had been there some time, and had been on the drink recently—the latch-key does not fit the door.
Mr. W. C. Steadman, a member of the Thames Conwrvancy Board and of the London County Council, and other witnesses, gave the prisoner a good, character, but stated that he had taken to drink.— Judgment respited,
512. CHARLES ALBERT MONTFORD (47) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Johannah Christina Nicholas, his wife being alive. The prosecutrix did not appear, and the police stated that she had gone to Belgium, and that the prisoner had taken £300 or £330 of her money.— Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, June 27th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his low moral character. — Four Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, June 27th, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
514. WILLIAM WIEDE , WILLIAM WIEDE, the younger, (29), HENRY WIEDE (27), and EDWARD WIEDE , Stealing seventy-seven yards of cloth, a serge suit, fifty labels, and a packet of tape, the property of Alfred Charles Newstead.
MESSRS. KERSHAW and SYMMONS Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN appeared for William Wiede, the younger, and Henry Wiede; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and MOORE for William and Edward Wieds.
JESSE CROUCH (City Detective). In consequence of information received from Mr. Newstead, I caused observation to be kept on No. 20, Bath Street, where William Wiede, the younger, lives, and on 58, Cottage Road, where Henry Wiede lives—on May 19th and 20th I received these two parcels from Detective Shepherd—I took them to Mr. Newstead's premises, and. showed them to Mr. Newstead—one contains a coat, vest, and trimmings, new; the other a coat, vest, and trimmings, and a coat made up—Mr. Newstead sent for William Wiede, the younger, who came into the room where Mr. Newstead, Shepherd, and I were—I told Wiede I was a police officer, and I had received these goods from Detective Shep-herd, which Mr. Newstead had identified as his property—he said, "Yes; quite right; there is no one else in the building knows about it except myself and Henry"—Henry was then called into the office—William said, "Henry knows nothing of the cloth, but he does the trimmings: we used to leave these premises with the cloth wrapped round us"—Henry said, "Quite right"—they were taken to the station and charged—I said, "I am going to your addresses"—William said, "You will find some cloth in the front-room cupboard"—that is 20, Bath Street, Poplar—Henry said, "You will find some on the chair beside the bed"—that would be 58, Cottage Road, High Street, Poplar—I went to 20, Bath Street, and searched the premises—in the room described I found four remnants of cloth, about 102 yards, and numerous other things which Mr. Newstead identified as his property—at 58, Cottage Road, I found a small piece of blue material—I searched the bedroom; I found nothing there—Constable
Thomson, who was with me. made a communication to me—from there Shepherd, Newstead, Thomson, and I went to 149, High Street, Poplar, the address of Edward and of William Wiede, senior—I saw Edward standing behind the counter—I said, "We are police officers; I have called for the parcel that the little boy just brought round here"—William, senior, came to the front—I said, "We are police officers, and have called for the parcel the little boy brought round here just now"—he said, "We have no parcel; I have seen no little boy; I have no time to attend to you; I must get on with my work"—he then returned into the rear of the workshop—he appeared to hear distinctly—I then went back to 58, Cottage Road, where I found the boy Cosgrove, and returned with him to 149, High Street—in the presence of Edward and William, senior, I said to the boy, "Repeat what you have already told me"—pointing to the elder prisoner, he said, "Mother told me to take the parcel round to you for you to keep, as the police were coming"—William, senior, appeared to hear the boy—he made no answer—the boy pointed and said, "That is the man I gave the parcel to"—I said, "I want the parcel; I must find it"—a younger brother, Frederick, not in custody, ran up the stair-case; I followed as quickly as I could, and he brought the parcel out of the front bedroom on the first floor, wrapped in a towel as it is now (produced), but not with this twine round it—it contains five pieces of calico and a boy's knicker suit—in the shop I showed the parcel to Newstead—he identified it as his property—I saw Newstead looking at this blue serge jacket and vest—William, senior, was agitated, and going in and out of the shop and the work-room at the back—Edward said, "That is sold to a customer, and the customer will call for it shortly; he will pay £3 10s. for it; that is your cloth, Mr. Newstead; cannot you let us have it? we will pay you for it now"—Newatead was looking round the shop, and saw a quantity of cloth on a shelf behind the counter—this is it—it has all been labelled, after identification, by Mr. Newstead—three or four of the pieces were exhibited in the window—Edward handed the various lengths on to the counter, and assisted Newstead, saying as he took them, "That is yours," "That is Venable's," and so on—amongst the goods on the shelf was this piece of wide check—Edward said, "That is Henry's"—I asked them if they had any receipts for the cloth—they said, "No," they had no receipts; they bought them from Henry and William Wiede—I said, "What have you paid for them?"—they said they paid on the Friday or Saturday—I said, "What did you pay for them?"—they said 4s. 6d. to 5s. 6d. a piece—that some-times Edward, and sometimes the father paid—I took them to Seething Lane Police-station, where I showed the whole of the cloth found at 20, Bath Street, to William, the younger—he said, "Yes, that is quite right"—they were all placed in the dock, and charged with being concerned together in stealing and receiving this cloth, and various other articles—William, the elder, replied, "I did not think you were going to keep us here," and that he had never seen the cloth—the other prisoners made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. Newstead had said if he found the Wiedes thieving, he should give them into custody, if he found them in possession of stolen goods—up to the time of entering the shop, I did not know Mr. Newstead's mind—having identified the stuff, he said he should
charge them—that was before I spoke to them—they did not say they had a quantity of goods, they had paid for them, and they had been, or ought to have been booked to them—Henry said they had purchased one piece of cloth—they gave us every information—they made no secret of having the goods.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Edward appears to be engaged by William, senior, as a servant—Shepherd was in the shop during part of the conversation—the City police only take notes of conversation in the more serious cases of arson or murder—I took no note of it—I trust my memory—if I notice a material omission in the depositions, I should call the attention of the clerk to it—that is my duty—I had a communication with Thomson, and had seen Cosgrove before going to Wiede, the elder—I had that communication in my mind at the time I was there—I omitted to say the elder Wiede said, "I have never seen a little boy"—I had no object in doing so—I also omitted that Edward said, "We will pay you for it now"—my memory is very clear—I do not think I told the Alderman that Edward said he had paid for the pieces of cloth sometimes—my memory does not improve with age—I did not tell the Magistrate that Edward said the check cloth "belonged to Henry—both Edward and William, the elder, were present—the statement was corroborated by both—I have not said till to-day that Edward said he had paid for the cloth sometimes—they were in such agitation—I was calm—I am now—the elder Wiede was throwing himself about the shop in a very excitable manner—I cannot explain the failure in my recollection—the father kept walking from the rear of his shop to his workshop, to and fro.
By the COURT. Whichever spoke at one time or another, the other did not contradict him.
CLEMENT SHEPHERD (City Detective). On May 19th I kept observation on 20, Bath Street, Poplar, the house of William, the younger—I saw Bonn enter—he came out with this parcel—I handed it to Crouch—it was afterwards identified—on May 23rd I was with Crouch at New-stead's premises, when William, the younger, and Henry were spoken to about the cloth—we subsequently went to the shop in High Street, Poplar—we saw William, the elder, and Edward—Crouch said to Edward, "We have come for a parcel that a boy has brought here"—policemen were in possession of the house—William, the elder, came forward, and they said they had not seen a parcel—Crouch fetched the boy—he said to Cos-grove, "Pick out the man that you gave the parcel to"—the boy pointed to William, the elder, and said, "That is the man I gave it to"—he said his mother had sent him with the parcel to High Street, Poplar, to his grandfather's, as the police were coming—both prisoners were present—Crouch said to William, the elder, that he wanted the parcel—William said, "I am too busy to attend to you; I have got some work to do"—that was just before the boy came—Crouch followed the younger son up-stairs—I assisted in taking the prisoners to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I had told Crouch where I got the parcels—it was arranged between us the prisoners should be given into custody—not before the prisoners were spoken to, or spoke at all—they were not given into custody till after the goods were seen.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I was acting under Crouch—I
have not made a note of the conversation—it is usual only in capital offences.
ARTHUR CHARLES NEWSTEAD . I am a wholesale clothier, of 11, Sparrow Corner, Minories—William (jun.) and Henry were my cutters—their wages were £2 a week—they have been in my employment six years—by my direction, Shepherd kept observation on the house at High Street, Poplar—I was present when the conversation took place and these goods produced, which I have identified—I afterwards went to the shop of Wiede, the elder, with Crouch, Shepherd, and two others—I have identified the whole of the seventy-seven yards found in the elder Wiede's shop as my property—there are thirty remnants of cloth, two of lining, one jacket, a vest, a boy's knicker suit, and five remnants of calico—the value of the cloth is from 2s. to 6s. a yard—there might be some as low as 4s. 6d. to 5s. 6d. a piece—I have never sold them; I have been through my books to see; I have the books here—I seldom sell remnants—if my servants want any for their own use, I have generally supplied them, but I have not supplied these—two and a-half yards would be required for trousers; if for a boy, less—it would be measured out; these have not been measured out for that purpose, because some of the lengths are useless; no cutter wants to cut a piece in two—they are never sold by me like that.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. What do you mean by "If the business is properly carried out?"—do you mean there are no proper entries in the books?—there are—Mr. Thornton keeps my books—Mr. Greenway is my manager—he or I would give out the cloth—it would be entered in the journal, and from that to the ledger—I did not take the business over—the prisoners were not employed there before I had the business, because I commenced it—Thornton is not here—Greenway would know better than I what was purchased.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHBGAN. I never saw Wiede, the elder, till I saw him in custody—the same with Edward—my cutters took stuff for the elder Wiede to make up.
By the COURT. I do not keep the books—they are accurately and properly kept—I never supplied the prisoners with goods like this—all William, the younger, had amounted to £1 12s. 6d., and Henry's account amounted to 14s. 6d.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. I paid the cutters weekly—I sent the elder Wiede his earnings by his two sons.
Re-examined, I never supplied the elder Wiede with any of these goods—he had no right to have them in his shop.
HENRY GREENWAY . I am manager to Mr. Newstead—this cloth about seventy-seven yards, comes from Mr. Newstead's warehouse, which is under my care—it was never sold—we do not send off cloth, but if we do the length would be cut as required.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. There is no mark on the cloth—we take stock once a year—the cutter would not mark the amount cut off—when the cloth comes in first it has a tab on it—no entry is made on the tab of what is cut off—I do not know what other firms do—cloth does leave our shop sold in a similar way to this—it is not specially made for us—we buy it from travellers—no pattern is the special property of our firm—I have not taken stock since the prisoners were arrested;
not since last Christmas—all these lengths match our pattern-book—all the workmen are entitled to have goods made up for them—we have ledger per and contra accounts—the contra would be deducted from the salary—Mr. Newstead would generally enter them—Mr. Thornton would enter them in the ledger—the entry would include the price of the cloth, and the cost for making it up—it would be one item—I should supply Mr. Thornton with the price—Mr. Newstead pays for the making up—it is charged to the men—every garment I give out is booked out to the work-men—I check it by my work-book, which Mr. Thornton can see—his ledger entry depends on the accuracy of my book—I can tell the cloth belongs to us by comparing it with our pattern-book; every pattern corresponds with the pattern in our book—when the piece comes in a small piece is cut off and put in the pattern-book, and a corresponding number put—all these patterns correspond with the patterns in our book—these labels have been added—the patterns are entered in the stock-book.
THOMAS COSGROVE . I shall be fifteen next birthday—I live at 58, Cottage Road, Poplar—Henry Wiede is my step-father—on Saturday, May 23rd, mother gave me a parcel and said something to me—I took it to High Street, Poplar—I gave it to the elder Wiede—I said, "Mother says, will you keep this parcel round here, as the police are coming?"—he said, "All right," and took the parcel—it was wrapped up in this towel—this parcel is like it.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The elder Wiede was in the back room, walking up and down, and then sat down and did his work—I was in the shop about ten minutes—I was in the back room waiting while the police were in the front—I went there just before the police came—the door that leads to the workshop was shut—a policeman bolted it—Wiede, the elder, was with me—the police were in the front, and Edward, too—that was after I gave him the parcel—Wiede did not kick the door; he sat down and did nothing.
By MR. GRAIN. My step-father was not at home when I was sent with the parcel.
Re-examined. When I had given Wiede the parcel I left the shop—Crouch came round to Cottage Road, and fetched me a quarter of an hour afterwards—then I was put in the back room—the police were not there when I took the parcel.
William Wiede received a good character.
WILLIAM WIEDE, WILLIAM WIEDE, the younger,
HENRY WIEDE— GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.
EDWARD WIEDE— GUILTY.Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY .— To enter into Recognizances to come up for judgment wlien called upon.
THIRD COURT.—Friday and Saturday, June 26th and 27th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
Buildings, Carey Street—I produce the file of the proceedings in the prisoner's bankruptcy in 1876—the total assets were £438 10s., the total debts £11,131 14s. 3d.—he got his discharge on July 12th, 1878—I also produce the file in his bankruptcy in 1895; the petition is dated January 3rd, 1895; the act of bankruptcy is non-compliance with a judgment for £750, and costs, after bankruptcy notice—on February 6th, a receiving order was made, and on February 13th an order for summary administration—he signed this consent to his adjudication: "Henry Lewis Phillips, 28, Browns wood Park, South Hornsey"—the witness's signature to that is "Henry Stracy Phillips"—he was adjudicated bankrupt on February 20th—the nett liabilities are £1,859 4s. 7d., and the assets nil—he is still undischarged from that bankruptcy.
Cross-examined. If the creditors of the first bankruptcy passed a resolution that the prisoner was not responsible, it would not appear on the minutes—the judgment was on a libel action—there were between £400 and £500 of secured debts, and the ordinary debts were about £150 to £200.
Re-examined. Among the creditors I find twenty-three booksellers, with total debts £152 1s. 2d., including Bumpus £3 17s. 6d., Sotheran and Co. £11 15s. 6d., and Elliot Stock £3 13s. 5d.
DAVID ENO REEVES . I am a bookseller, of 5, Wellington Street, Strand—on March 20th, 1896, I received this letter. (From H. Stracy Phillips, requesting him to send copies of Wraxall and Lamb, and, if clean, a copy of "Once a Week" as per catalogue, to 267, Green Lanes, Highbury.) I wrote, saying that, as he was a stranger, I should first like a remittance—I then received this letter of March 23rd. (From Mr. H. Stacy Phillips, stating that to declined to pay for books before receiving them, and that to had recently returned half the number of books he had purchased from another bookseller curing to misdescription.) I then sent specimen copies of Wraxall, Lamb, and "Once a Week"; the "Once a Week" was returned—later on I sent volumes to complete the Wraxall and Lamb; they came to £2 12s. 6d.—I received a letter from him, acknowledging them, and ordering other books; and I sent copies of Thackeray, Hamilton, and "The Ghost World," the value of those being 17s. 6d., making a total of £3 10s.—I wrote for payment, but did not receive it—some time ago I sent a book, value 3s., to Mr. Scott, of 28, Brownswood Park, for which I did not get paid—I had no knowledge that the prisoner was an undischarged bankrupt—I believed it was an ordinary honest transaction—the value of the "Wraxall Memoirs" alone was £1 6s. 6d.
Cross-examined. I believe he dealt a good deal with my father's firm, Reeves and Turner, in the name of Phillips; I believe he paid them considerable sums of money from time to time.
Re-examined. There is no connection between that firm and mine.
CHARLES JACKSON . I am a bookseller, of 22, Great Russell Street—on March 23rd I received this letter. (From H. Stacy Phillips, asking him to send certain books and a small portrait, as per catalogue, to 267, Green Lanes.) I sent the five books and the portrait mentioned; some of them were returned—shortly afterwards I received this letter. (Stating that H. Stacy Phillips had kept the books, except the "Pottleton Legacy," which had been returned, as it was in such poor condition, and
ordering other books to be sent). I sent some of them—I received this letter of March 30th. (Stating that H. Stacy Phillips was returning the six volumes of Canning, an they had paper labels, and ordering other books if they were nice copies.) I sent what I had of them—I then got this letter. (Stating that one book was being returned, and ordering others.) I sent the Marry at ordered there, at 4s.—my account came to £4 19s. 6d. for the books kept, allowing for those returned—I have applied for my account two or three times—I got no answer to my letters—I have never been paid—I did not know the prisoner, nor anything about him.
Cross-examined. I have not seen any of my books in the hands of the police; I have not got any of them back—he ordered the "Pottleton Legacy," which I sent on approbation; its value was £3 3s.—it was not in very fine condition—his order said I was to send it if it was—they were second-hand books named in my catalogue; in some cases they were as good as new.
EDWARD SAGE . I have no occupation—I live at 64, Lordship Park, Stoke Newington—I have known the prisoner about ten years—about two months before June 3rd, when I was examined at the Police-court, I received a letter from the prisoner, signed "Phillips," and dated from 28, Brownawood Park, and asking me if I would buy a "Wraxall's Memoirs," in five volumes, for £1 5s., as he had bought two copies, and did not want one—I wrote and told him I had spent all the money I had to spend on books until some more came in, and I could not afford to buy them.
Cross-examined. Twenty-five shillings was a fair price, and not under the value—the prisoner is a book collector; he has a fine library; I have been in it—he understands books thoroughly; he has been buying and selling books all his life.
Re-examined. His room is full of books; I was introduced to him as a buyer of books—I cannot say if he has been selling books—he had this valuable library in February, 1895—it was his.
WALTER JAMES LEIGHTON . I am a bookseller, of 40, Brewer Street—on April 8th I received this letter. (From H. L. Phillips, F.G.S., asking for certain books to be sent if in good condition, and the cost of binding a fine large paper copy of Percy's MSS., which he possessed, or what they would allow him for it.) I sent two books—I received these letters from him. (Asking him to send their copy of Percy's MSS., as, if it were nice and bright, he would take it in exchange for his: another letter said he would keep the small copy of Percy's MSS. sent, but returned the two other books sent as they were not up to description). I had sent my copy of Percy MSS. to him—the two books I sent were valuable first editions, for which there is great demand—I also sent Bishop Percy's "Ballads," at £5—I then received this letter. (From Phillips, stating that the Percy MSS. did not contain the "Loose and Humorous Songs" and asking for three other books to be sent.) I sent those three books, which came to £15 15s.—on May 9th I received this letter, asking what I would allow for a large paper copy of Percy's MSS., which cost originally £13 8s.—I also received this letter. (Dated May 9th, stating that Phillips had received Messrs. Leighton's invoice, and that he presumed he could have at least six months' credit, which he was entitled to; and that
he was sorry they could not allow him more than £8 for the Percy.) He never sent me the Percy; I got no part of the £15 15s.—I requested him to return the goods or the money, but got no answer—I got no books back—I saw them at the Police-court in the hands of the police.
Cross-examined. I think our Percy was sold to Bumpus for £4 10s., and the others for about £4—if the "Davenport Dunn" was sold to Messrs. Bumpus for £15 15s., that was a fair buying price, and that applies to the other books the prisoner sold of ours—there is a great deal of difference between buying and selling; and the prisoner agreed to pay my price—the invoice was sent to him on the 9th; he received it on the 11th, and he was locked up on the 13th.
By the COURT. I did not know that he was an undischarged bankrupt, or that, in his bankruptcy, debts were proved by booksellers amounting to £152, and that his assets were nil, or I should not have supplied books on credit to him—I refused to supply any more.
JESSE JAMES FLOOD . I am assistant to William Manning, trading as Carpenter and Wesley, opticians, 24, Regent-Street—on March 31st I received this letter. (From H. Stracey Phillips, requesting them to send an artists pocket diminishing glass.) We sent one valued about 9s.—on April 8th I got this letter. (From U. Stracey Phillips, ordering a pocket magnifier with three lenses, suitable for examining miniatures, etc., and a Claude Lorraine mirror, a silver pocket compass, not to exceed 25s. or 30s., and a Urinometer.) We sent those articles, which came to £4 17s. 6d., by hand, and with an invoice, on which was, "Terms, ready money"—that means we collect at an interval—we have not been paid for those goods—I did not know, when I parted with those goods, that the prisoner was an undischarged bankrupt; I had no knowledge of him—we thought we had had business with him, but we found we had not—if we had known his real position we should not have sent the goods without payment.
Cross-examined. Our customers take twelve months' credit—the first application that would have been made in the ordinary course for this-money would have been in June, at the end of the first quarter.
EDWARD JOHN AUVACHE . I am one of the firm of Bull and Auvache, of 35, Hart Street, Bloomsbury, booksellers—on April 9th I got this letter from H. L. Phillips, F.G.S., of 28, Brownswood Park, South Hornsey, asking us to send him certain books, and saying he would send a very fine R.C. music-book on vellum, if we bought such things—in answer, I sent the Johnson, Morrell, and Stafford, which came to £4 12s. 6d.—I received this letter. (Saying that he would keep the "Rambler," and that he would have kept the "Stafford Gallery," but the binding was so-damaged that he returned it; if they had a better copy, he would take that even at a higher price, or they might get the binding repaired; that if the binding was in fine condition, he would take Nichol's "Progresses," and Other books, if in good condition). I sent Nichol's "Queen Elizabeth Progress" for nine guineas—I received these letters. (Acknowledging the receipt of the Nichols, and ordering other books, and returning one.) On April 20th we sent Watt's "Bibliotheque Britannica" at £6 17s., after having it bound at £1 1s.—the total of the books we sent him came to £18 12s.—it is our practice to send invoices with, each lot of goods—we received this postcard on May 2nd. (Asking for one invoice for all the books, as the accounts they find sent appeared
lost or mislaid.) We did not receive any payment—we made application—this postcard, asking for an invoice, was the only answer we got—I knew nothing of the prisoner beyond these transactions—I had no knowledge that he was a bankrupt—if I had known it I should not have parted with the goods—several of the prisoner's letters had crests on the top, I don't know if all had—the writer of the letters appeared to understand books—I thought I was dealing with a collector.
Cross-examined. We made direct application for payment—we sent in the invoice shortly after the completion of the order—there was a former application, to which the postcard was a reply; I think my partner told me he had made an application.
ALFRED COOPER . I am a bookseller at 68, Charing Cross Road—on April 10th I received this letter. (In this Mr. H. Stacey Phillips requested a number of books to be sent, carefully packed, and carriage paid, to 267, Green Lanes, Highbury New Park.) I sent several of the volumes named, amounting to £3 12s., marking in pencil the prices against those I sent—I received this letter of April 20th (asking for other books)—I sent those, which came to £1 2s. 6d.—I sent an invoice to the amount of £4 14s. 6d.—about a fortnight afterwards I received this letter (asking for other books)—I did not send any of those, but I sent an invoice of them; I said I should be pleased to send them on receipt of payment—I wanted payment of the old account—none of the books were sent back to me—I saw them at the Police-court afterwards—I got no payment of my account—I applied for it once, but got no answer—I did not know the prisoner was an undischarged bankrupt; if I had, I should not have parted with my goods.
Cross-examined. I do not think that he has sold any of the books I supplied.
ROBERT HULL PHILLIPS . I am cashier to Henry Young, 12, South-castle Street, Liverpool—on April 8th I got a letter—I afterwards saw other letters in the same writing, and in consequence we sent a list of special books relating to Liverpool which was asked for, and also a general catalogue, to Mr. H. L. Phillips—I received this letter. (In this Mr. H. L. Phillips, F.G.S.; of 267, Green Lanes, thanked Messrs. Young and Co. for the two catalogues, and ordered three books, if nice copies with good bindings.) We sent one of those books, value 30s.; the other two had been sold previously—I received this letter of April 16th, ordering a number of books, including sixteen volumes of Bacon, carefully packed and carriage paid, if Messrs. Young would accept £18 for them—the price of them was £19 8s. 6d.; so that with the previous 30s., his total indebtedness would have been £20 18s. 6d.; but we only charged £18 for that lot of books, which we sent; that made the total indebtedness £19 10s.—we never got payment—we wrote on May 2nd, but got no answer—Mr. Young, a member of the firm, was in London on May 6th; in consequence of what he said on his return this letter—was written to the prisoner. (This stated that Messrs. Young had made inquiries, and understood Mr. Phillips had been in the habit of ordering books and not paying for them; that County Court judgments were registered against him, and they could prove he could not pay for the books when he had ordered them, and that if the books or their value were not sent by return of post, they should place the matter in the hands of the police.) This is the prisoner's answer
(Stating that he should hand their impudent and scandalous letter to his solicitor; that it was false to say that he was in the habit of ordering books and not paying for them, and that he was unable to pay for the books sent by them; that it was his intention to pay for them; that he had not disposed of them; that if he did not pay within a reasonable time they had their remedy, but ten days was not a reasonable time; that he had lived in his house for nearly twenty years, paying over £100 a year for rentand taxes; and that if they wrote him a letter of apology he might deal with them.) We were not aware when we wrote that he was an undischarged bank rupt—we wrote on May 8th, stating that we had put the matter into the hands of the police—we received this answer. (Stating that their threat of putting in force the criminal law to obtain payment of a small debt which was not yet due was actionable, and that they might be liable to serious-proceedings for endeavoring to compromise what they catted a criminal offence; that the principal purchase had been improperly described by them, and that he was entitled to return it.) We put the matter into the hands of the police, and upon our information and that of others, the defendant was arrested—I have looked through our books and papers, and I now remember having dealings with the prisoner in 1890 to the extent of 30s., I should think—we had very great difficulty about payment—we finally had to put the matter into our solicitor's hands, and we got the money, but not the expenses—the solicitors got the money before it went into Court—at that time we wrote this letter to the prisoner at 28, Brownswood Park, asking for our expenses of 6s. 8d.—we did not get the 6s. 8d.—we did not know that it was the same Mr. Phillips in April, 1896; to all intents and purposes, we were dealing with an entire stranger—the address in one case was 267, Green Lanes, and in the other 28, Brownswood Park.
Cross-examined. Our solicitors wrote to us that they had called on Mr. Phillips, who paid the money, and said he had not paid it because we had not applied personally—I am not aware that we continued to send our catalogues to him afterwards—he did not have dealings with us seven or eight years ago—he did not purchase a Dugdale for £30; this is not Our cypher—our invoice was sent on May 2nd, the same day as the goods, and the threat of police proceedings was on May 6th or 7th.
Re-examined. It was from what Mr. Young learnt in London that we wrote threatening proceedings.
HENRY DOUGLAS VINCENT . I am manager of the second-hand book department of Messrs. Bumpus and Co., Limited, 360, Oxford Street—in April 23rd I got this postcard from the prisoner. (This was written in the name of A. Scott, 267, Green Lanes, and asked what Messrs. Bumpus would give for six volumes, new, of Burton's "Arabian Nights") I wrote a reply, and then got this letter. (Asking £1 per volume for the "Arabian Nights" and which they would pay for four volumes, large paper copy, of the "Percy MSS." which cost £13 7s.) I wrote again, and received this letter. (Stating that he had sent off the "Arabian Nights," and should like their cheque for £4 10s., and asking whether they buy copies of Bacon's Works (sixteen volumes), "Progresses, etc., of James I. and Elizabeth," "Daven-port Dunn," first edition, and Lady Burton's "Nights") I received this letter of April 27th (Stating that he could not accept their offer of £12 for the works he offered), and this of April 27th. (Asking their buyer to
call and see the books.) On April 30th I went to the prisoner's house—I asked for Mr. Scott, and saw the prisoner, who showed me a number of books—there were a few books on the table, and others were brought in from a neighbouring room—I looked through them, and agreed to purchase "Davenport Dunn," and "Bacon's Works" at £8 together; "Percy MSS." at £4 10s.; "Herculaneum" at £3 10s.; the "Progresses of Queen Elizabeth and James I." at £7 10s.; Bradley's Dictionary at 15s.; "Tom Burke," and "One of Ours" at £5; "Luttrel of Arran" at £4 10s.; "Jar of Honey" at £1 5s.; and the "Scouring of the White House" at 15s.; in all £35 15s.—I saw the prisoner write out this list (Z) of the books—that was a fair buying price; we may not have a market for such books for years, and we have to allow for that—we got the books next day with this letter. (Asking for cheques for £35 15s. and £4 10s. separately). We sent him this cheque for £35 15s.; it is endorsed "A. Scott," and has been paid by our bank—I produced at the Police-court the books I bought, and several of the witnesses identified the books as those purchased from them—I had had dealings with the prisoner in the name of Scott—I did not know him in any other name, and believed that was his name—I directed my letters to him to Mr. Scott, and I had replies to them—we carry on business in Oxford Street and at Holborn Bars—as creditors in his bankruptcy last year we gave the address, Holborn Bars—when we purchased these books I did not know the prisoner was the Phillips to whom we had applied for money for books supplied—we did not know he was an undischarged bankrupt at the time we were buying these books from him.
Cross-examined. All the books I produced were identified, but not all the £35 worth—the "Progresses," Bacon's Works, "Tom Burke," One of Ours," "The Percy MSS., "Davenport Dunn," and the "Jar of Honey" were the only ones identified—I have no recollection of any previous dealing with the prisoner in the name of Scott—we had no other dealings with him beyond what were proved in the bankruptcy, as far as I know—he might have had dealings in the new book department in the name of Scott without my knowledge—if he had come or written in the name of Phillips, and we identified him as the undischarged bankrupt, I should not have purchased the books from him without inquiry—I saw no other books at his house—I went into the dining-room; I was not allowed to go into the library—he did not tell me some of the books I purchased, and which have not been identified, belonged to his wife, or that he was selling them on her behalf—I do not know whether he sold to our firm the Dickens and Thackeray Editions de luxe, under the name of Scott; I have no recollection of it—I remember to have purchased such books, but I cannot say from whom for the moment—I don't remember if he has sold altogether about £200 worth of books at different times in the name of Scott.
Re-examined. I had not, to my recollection, seen the prisoner before this occasion in April, when I went to see him—I do not know him as coming to the premises and dealing in second-hand books.
By MR. HUTTON. He did not show me £200 worth of books at his house—I could not say if he has dealt with us in the name of Scott for the last twelve or fifteen years—we buy as well as sell—we get many offers—we may have bought the Dickens and Thackeray from the prisoner; I do not remember—I could not tell unless I searched our books.
By MR. BODKIN. Booksellers usually put their private mark in books they buy—I should not assume if I saw the cypher of some well-known bookseller in a book, that it had been dishonestly come by.
CHARLES FOX . I am a clerk in the employ of Messrs. Thornhill and Co., silversmiths, of 144, New Bond Street—on April 28th I received this letter. (Mr. Phillips, F.G.S., of 267, Green Lanes, requested Messrs. Thornhill to send a tantalus spirit-stand and a pair of silver piano candle-sticks.) I made some inquiry, and then directed the goods to be packed and forwarded, and that was done—the value was about £11 7s. 6d.—I gave the porter special instructions—he afterwards came back with the goods, having followed our instructions—I did not know when I sent off the goods that the prisoner was an undischarged bankrupt; I found it out the next day—we should have had no objection to leave the goods if we had been paid the £11 7s. 6d., but we would not give credit.
Cross-examined. I do not believe that Mr. Thornhill is a friend of the prisoner—he is not acquainted with him, to my knowledge—I did not go with the porter to the prisoner's house.
FRANK HANSON . I am a partner in the firm of Trust love and Hanson, booksellers, of 143, Oxford Street—on January 19th, 1896, I received this letter from the prisoner ordering books—we sent them—we got another letter ordering other books—we got other letters from him) in consequence of which we parted with copies of "Pepy's Diary," the Strand said Windsor Magazines, "The Portfolio" (three volumes), "The Year's Art," and other books—our account came to £12 4s. 6d. altogether—we had the prisoner on our register at that time as a previous dealer with us—we had no knowledge that he was an undischarged bankrupt—we gave discount for cash—we are supposed to be paid immediately afterwards—our accounts would go in at the end of each month in the ordinary course—we sent the account to the prisoner—we got no payment, and no answer to our application—I went to the prisoner's house on two occasions, and did not see him—on April 30th I went again, and after waiting for half an hour at the house I saw the prisoner—I said I had called twice previously, and had called a third time, because I was determined to have an interview with him, as I had written for the account, and had had no reply, and I wanted to come to some arrangement as to payment for the books—the prisoner said if I had come for the money he certainly could not pay, because he had not got a mag in the world—I said it was very strange that he should have ordered books—"Will you pay for the books?"—he said he could not possibly pay anything, and I left on the understanding that be would look through his library, and return some of the books—before his arrest he called on us, and asked me who was making inquiries about him—I told him several people were, and that that morning I had had a letter from Phillips, of Liverpool, asking if I knew anything about him—the, prisoner asked me to write to Phillips, and say he had had dealings with me, and that they were satisfactory—I said, "I shall do nothing of the sort till you have paid my account"—he informed me on that occasion that he was an undischarged bankrupt, and that perhaps I did not know it before—I said I did not, or I should not have sent the books—when I called at his house he said that if I pressed him, my proper
course was to go to the County Court, and if I went there I should probably have to pay the costs, because he had not any money to pay me, but he would pay me if I would wait—he asked me if I was invited into the house or not; I said I was not invited into the house, but I was invited into the room by Mrs. Phillips—he then said I had rendered myself liable as a trespasser by coming into his house—I said he could go on with that if he liked—he said he had not ordered goods to the amount of £20; that if he kept under £20 he could order goods from thousands of persons, and was not liable (I suppose he meant criminally liable) under the 31st Clause of the Bankruptcy Act, I understood him to say; I think he quoted that—I never got payment.
Cross-examined. He did not read or repeat by heart the section of the Bankruptcy Act—he said he was not liable under that Act, for he kept tinder £20—I had not threatened to take legal proceedings against him—I said payment was very much overdue, and that I wanted it—I did not consider it a criminal act—I did not know then that it was an offence to get credit over £20—he did not say Messrs. Young had threatened him with criminal proceedings, or that he had gone for advice to know whether he had committed an offence—the gross value of the books we delivered to him was £12 4s. 6d., of which he returned books of the gross value of £2 10s. 6d.—when I first saw him he said that if I would give him time he would pay—he said he expected money which had not been paid—I can only trace one previous transaction with him, and that was some time before, for which we were paid or being paid—I was not a partner in the firm then—it was not a very large amount.
ALFRED WILLIAM ABLER , I am a bailiff employed by the Clerkenwell County Court—on May 10th, 1895, a default summons at the suit of Messrs. Pickering and Chatto, booksellers, of the Hayinarket, was handed me for service on H. L. Phillips, of 267, Green Lanes—I went there several times, but was never able to see the prisoner there, and so, personal service being necessary, I could not effect service, and I made a return to that effect—about April 11th a judgment summons issued at the Bloomsbury County Court, at the suit of Mr. Roach, bookseller, of Oxford Street, was put into my hands for service—I called several times at the house again, but was not able to see the prisoner—I used to wait about in the street, but could not find him—I returned it as unable to be Served on April 23rd—I had five or six other summonses to serve on the prisoner, issued from different County Courts, which did not need personal service, but can be left at the house with any person over sixteen.
Cross-examined. I never saw the prisoner when I went to his house; I have been half-a-dozen times—the first time was two years ago, I think, and the last two or three months ago—the first I had was from Ball; another was from Kent, of Holborn—the prisoner's address is now 267, Green Lanes; it was 28, Brownswood Park previously—it was altered before I became connected with the Court.
THOMAS HENRY GURRIN . I have had a long experience in examining handwritings—(MR. HUTTON stated that he did not dispute the writing of the letters)—I have had before me the paper Z, a list of books, and I have taken it as the proved writing of the prisoner—I have examined the exhibits in the cases of Mr. Reeves, Mr. Jackson, Messrs. Carpenter and "Wesley, Mr. Leighton, Messrs. Bull and Auvache, Messrs. Young and
Son, Mr. Vincent, of Messrs. Bumpus, including the endorsement to the cheque, and Mr. Cooper—comparing those documents with the proved handwriting on Z, in my opinion, they are all in the same writing.
ALFRED WARD (Sergeant N). I received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest about May 13th—on that day I saw him coming out of Clissold Park—I told him I was a police officer, and held a warrant for his arrest—he said, "What for?"—I told him for conspiracy with another person to obtain goods from Messrs. Reeves and Co., of 13, Cheapside, and a number of books from other persons mentioned therein—he said, "It is absurd"—I told him I should have to take him to the station—when going towards the station he said, "Who are the other persons?"—I told him some of the persons mentioned in the warrant—he said again, "It is absurd; I have a private income of £1,000 a year, and have some £3,000 or £4,000 worth of property in my house that I could sell and pay for at this moment"—when charged, he said, "It is absurd and false"—I found in his pocket this copy of Section 31 of the Bankruptcy Act, 1883—I afterwards went to the house—I found there this diary of addresses; at the beginning of it is, "Please forward to Mr. Scott, Green Lanes, when 2s. 6d. will be immediately remitted"—I found this sheet of note-paper with the reports of some law cases on it, and other letters and papers,—there were books arranged on shelves as if in a library, and all over the house, from top to bottom; it was full of books; there were thousands, I might say; some in cases, some on shelves, some on the floor, some reaching from floor to ceiling—I made a search for some of the books of which I had the names, parted with by the prosecutors—I produced them at the Police-court, and have got them now—on May 25th, after the arrest, I called at the prisoner's house to see Henry Stracy Phillips, and Mrs. Phillips brought into the room a Claude Lorraine glass and pocket diminisher, and said, in the prisoner's presence, "These were the things you were asking me about the other night"—I said, "Yes"—the prisoner said, "They are the things you got, Stracys"—I brought them away.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he had been a large purchaser of books for some years, and had made considerable profits out of them; that his wife was entitled to considerable property, and expected a considerable sum on January 1st, making, with his income, about £1,000 a year; that she had promised to lay out £100 upon their son, arid that he, having advised their son to lay out some of the money upon books, had written, in his son's name, to booksellers, and selected books for him; that no misrepresentation* were made; that everything so purchased was kept intact; that the credit period, usually allowed had not expired; that he did not conspire with his son; that he had carried on business in the name of Scott; that the purchases he had made in his own name he had made on account of his wife's trustees, to be paid from the trust estate, and the booksellers would have been paid in due course, but had only recently delivered the goods; that he had only sold five books, and that because he found he could replace them for less than he sold them for.
Witnesses for the Defence.
years, in Moorgate Street, as a merchant, in the name of Scott and Co., and latterly as Phillip, Scott and Co; he relinquished it within the last two years, I should think—he uses our family crest—this is his wife's marriage settlement; I am a trustee under it—she is entitled to the interest on £12,500 at five and a-half per cent, on the mortgage of a mine in Cornwall—that interest would be due in January last, but was deferred because arrangements are pending to pay off the mortgage, and pay, I think, £3,000 for certain shares that were allotted to us, the trustees—interest should be paid up to the time of the new arrangement; I cannot explain that—she is also entitled to the interest in some leasehold property in Whitehall Place at the death of an aunt of 95; that was also due—there are an enormous number of books in the prisoner's house; the major part of them belonged to the wife—with her consent, they can sell whatever they please in the house—the house is filled with books, which represent a very large sum of money—the income derivable from the invested capital is £657 a year—of quite recent years there has been no income; the property largely consists of mineral rights in Cornwall—it never amounted to more than £657 a year—that did not leave a margin for the purchase of all kinds of valuable works; but the major part of these works were in my brother's possession at the time of the marriage in 1876, and were settled on her—he is a Fellow of the Geological Society—I know he was a bankrupt last year, and I have heard that among other debts he owed £152 1s. 2d. to booksellers, which has not been paid—he has always borne the character of an honest, respectable, straightforward man—the interest on the trust property has been in abeyance during recent years—I could not tell how long without reference to the trust papers, which I have not got with me—I cannot say if we have had any interest since 1887, the Jubilee year; it has been a very small sum, if anything—I have been a trustee from the time of the settlement—I did not take an active part in it until recently; my cousin did, but he is now paralysed.
W. G. BEETLESTONE (Re-examined). The first bankruptcy is on, August 2nd, 1876; the adjudication on August 16th, 1876; and the discharge in July, 1878—the file states, "Property as per list G, £438, consisting of cash at bankers, etc.;" it says nothing about books—there are no assets except list G—the £438 realised £245 10s. 5d.—the total debts are £11,131 14s. 3d., due to several creditors.
FREDERICK PHILLIPS (Cross-examined). Mrs. Phillips has a separate settlement for her own use—I am a trustee under that—the property in this settlement was settled on them both for their joint lives, and for the survivor and children ultimately—I do not remember if the prisoner had any other property than that scheduled in the settlement—they were married shortly after the settlement in 1876—I don't remember if he was bankrupt in the autumn of that year—I was frequently abroad—my co-trustee is not here—money from this property has passed through my hands many years ago—I should say some had since the bankruptcy in 1876—some of the mineral properties had been sold—I did not know the accounts relating to the trust would be required here—I have been living at my brother's house since these proceedings have been taken—up to within the last two years, I think, my brother was carrying on business at 57, Moorgate Street, as a merchant, I should say, dealing in
books and other articles—he had his name up—I don't know what else he dealt in—I should say he was connected with some very genuine companies—I should infer he had an income of his own, because he paid the rent of £250 a year for his office, and £100 a year for his house—he was for many years at his offices—I cannot say why they were given up—he was handling large sums of money—I don't know what his business has been for the last two years; I have not asked him—he says he intended to pay the booksellers—I did not ask why he did not pay his just debts—it would have been the right thing to do to pay off the book-sellers—I should not have ordered the books if I could not pay for them—under he trust he has power to buy and sell—I don't think he was buying books for his own purposes irrespective of the settlement—he settled, for a large number of books bought previously—I believe he bought books to sell for himself—I have not been through the books in the schedule, but I believe they are still in the library; books purchased since the settlement come under its provisions in the way of replacing—books bought and sold on his account would only come under the settlement in the way of replacing others—perhaps his income was £1,000 a year; I should say he was spending that, judging from his household and his manner of living.
Re-examined. There has been no income from the property settled on his wife for the last two or three years; so that the £1,000 a year has come from his trading, or some source known to the prisoner—this is one of the memorandum forms he used-in his business.
W. G. BEETLESTONE (Re-examined). In the first bankruptcy only two persons claimed against the prisoner for goods; none for books—this is the resolution discharging him (produced).
ALEXANDER WILLIAM KBREY . I am a solicitor, of 14, Great Winchester Street—I have known the prisoner for more than twenty years—my father transacted his legal business, and when I went into my father's office in 1875 I got to know the prisoner—this settlement was made in our office—since that time, until almost quite recently, he has carried on business, almost continuously, I think—I only knew him personally—I knew he did some business in the name of Scott, which was on the door—I have always regarded him as a respectable and honest man—at the time of the first bankruptcy, in 1876, he was in a very large way of business in connection with some Cornish mining and arsenic works—Cornish mining was then a much more important industry than it is now—he was the vendor to a silver mine company, and a question was raised whether he was liable for some portion of the purchase-money which he had received, and he was held to be liable—that contest was in the Law Courts at the time of his marriage; it went to the Court of Appeal, and they held he was liable for £3,000 odd—in other cases that decision has since been held to be bad, and, had his case gone to the House of Lords, he would probably never have been bankrupt—I recognise in the list of creditors very few I do not know as personal friends outside this debt—my father is down for £1,000, and he was vary friendly with the prisoner then—when this resolution for his discharge was passed by the creditors, it was known that this settlement had been made—its validity was questioned—we fought it out afterwards—in those days, if the majority of the creditors were of opinion that the bankruptcy was not his fault, they would be able to out-vote
the company—I presume he was made bankrupt on the judgment against him—it was before I entered my father's office—it is only brought to my knowledge by what has occurred to-day—we have continued to act for the prisoner up to now—he purchased the Cornish property, and had most exaggerated notions of its value, and held on when he might have sold, and for years past every penny he could scrape up has been put into the property to prevent its being forfeited—I have asked him since the last bankruptcy, and since he gave up his office, how he got on, and he has told me he often made a little money by buying and selling books—I believe he sold a cycle patent—I have known him to go into half-a-dozen companies or so in the last few years; I have acted for him in one or two—they had not a very long life. The creditors knew of the settlement being made pending the action, and were satisfied—the prisoner has given a large amount of time during two years to a cycle invention; he was a very ingenious person—he made several hundred pounds out of the tandem bicycle, and put the money into further experiments—I knew he possessed a very fine collection of books—I did not appear for him in his bankruptcy proceedings last year—I heard the books in the house were sold by the Receiver, because the prisoner asked me to go and purchase some of them—I defended one or two actions for disputed amounts, and the prisoner paid the debts.
HENRY MARSHALLM . I live at Loughton, and am a book-keeper—for ten years, from 1883 to 1893, I was in the prisoner's employ—he was trading as a bookseller and buyer, and he also carried on two other businesses—I left him before he gave up business—during the time I knew him he bore the character, among those who knew him, of an honest and respectable man.
Cross-examined. My salary was 25s. a week—from time to time he employed other people as they were required—his other two businesses were small glassworks and tinplate works—I left him to better myself—I do not know who took my place.
SAMUEL TOMKINS . I live at 50, Pelham Road, West Kensington—my business address is 18, Eldon Street, Finsbury Square—I am a vice-chairman of the British Sheba Consolidated Mining Company; it is a tin and arsenic mine in Cornwall, in which the prisoner's wife's trustees are interested to the extent of twelve and a-half percent.—I do not think any interest has been paid, because the property was taken over subject to a mortgage with interest running at a prior date—I believe interest is due now—the mine had not been worked for some time, and the company took it over, with the intention of putting in capital, and working it—the property was bought for a consideration in shares, subject to a mortgage, which was to date from a year ago, roughly—no interest has been paid—the prisoner was chairman of the company at £350 a year; that has not been paid—I have known him, I think, from last October.
Cross-examined. I have no shares in it at present, but I shall take my qualification—I believe there have been official quotations about it on the Stock Exchange, but very small; it was a private arrangement between some of the people who promoted the company and some of their friends—the Adventurers' Exploration, Limited, were the promoters of the company; the prisoner had nothing to do with that, nor had I—the
Adventurers' Exploration, Limited, was a promoting company who formed the British Sheba Company, and went to the trustees; it has not gone very far at present, but we have had applications for shares, and have held over the allotment—the directors will not take their qualification till the thing goes through—we have got the property—the contract to buy it is between the Adventurers Exploration, Limited, and the original trustees of the prisoner's wife's marriage settlement, I suppose—the mine is near Tavistock, on the Tamar—there is machinery there on which a very large sum of money has been spent—the tin got out has been sold for the last year or two; the mine was worked before the company took it over—our company has not worked any tin out of the mine; we have great prospect of doing so—there is a clause in the articles of association to the effect that a bankrupt may not be a director—I put that difficulty to the prisoner, and he said the article was drawn to apply to a member of the Board who became bankrupt, and that it was only future in its operation, and not retrospective; so that an undischarged bankrupt could be a director, but if a director became bankrupt, he would cease to be a director—I did not like it, but I took the solicitor's opinion who was advising us—it was against the spirit of the articles of association, and against the interest of the shareholders, that the chairman should be an undischarged bank-rupt, and yet I accepted the position of vice-chairman—there was one other director.
Re-examined. I had the opinion of the solicitor before I accepted the explanation—I have heard of occasions when a director has become bank-rupt, and has been re-elected on the Board; it has not come within my knowledge—there was an intention to sell this company to a wealthy group of capitalists; that is pending—I consider the property is good, and that it would pay anybody to put a small working capital into it, and work the mine for their own benefit—I look on it as a thoroughly good thing, and I would put my name on a prospectus inviting the public to put money into it, although the chairman was an undischarged bankrupt; his professional knowledge was valuable—there would be no difficulty in changing the chairman.
Two other witnesses deposed to the prisoner's good character.
516. HENRY LEWIS PHILLIPS was again indicted, with HENRY STRACY PHILLIPS , for conspiring to obtain goods from Messrs. Reeves & Sons, and other persons by false pretences, with intent to defraud. Other Counts against Henry Lewis Phillips, charging him with obtaining goods by, and credit under, false pretences.
MR. BODKIN stated that as the prisoners were father and son, he should offer no evidence upon the conspiracy counts.—
NOT GUILTY upon the conspiracy counts. The other Counts against Henry Lewis Phillips were not proceeded with.
HENRY LEWIS PHILLIPS— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
The COMMON SERJEANT considered that the prisoner was an agent and not a servant.
NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MILNER PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. LOUIS Prosecuted.
TUCKER— GUILTY, but not esponsible, by reason of the state of his mind. To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure. Milner's father-in-law undertook to look after him. MILNER—Discharged on Recognizances.
MR. BIRON Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted.
LYDIA KATE CORBETT . I did live at 21, North Road, Walthamstow—I am now living at the Piper's Buildings, Peckham—I was married to the prisoner in March, 1894, and I lived with him down to May 2nd, 1896—our married life was not a happy one—on May 2nd I arranged to live apart from him; he said he would not keep me—he was not doing any work at the time—he said he would not work to keep a wife and baby—when he did work he was a horse-keeper—on May 2nd I went to live with my aunt at 21, North Road—on the 9th, the following Saturday night, my husband came there; he slept there that night, downstairs in the kitchen—I saw him on the Sunday morning, between half-past seven and eight, before breakfast; he went for a walk, and came back for breakfast—I did not have breakfast with him—he went out again; I saw him about half-past twelve or one—I did not have dinner with him; we had dinner before he came home; he had dinner in the house some time afterwards—I went up to baby's bedroom, and mended my husband's trousers; he was in the room—when I had finished his trousers he put them on, and I went up to my bedroom—I was in the act of making my bed, when he came up and deliberately stabbed me with a knife in the throat—he said nothing—I felt a gash in my throat; I fell on the bed, on my face, and he stabbed me in the back of my neck—I had not heard him come up the stairs, and did not see him till he put up his hand; then I saw the knife—I had sharpened the knife on that Sunday to peel some potatoes—I ran downstairs, scream
ing out, "Oh, auntie, he has cut my throat"—she passed me on the stairs as I was going down—I was taken to the German Hospital, and remained there till May 17th as an in-patient, and I continued as an out-patient till the Wednesday week following.
ANNIE CORBETT . I am the wife of Charles Corbett, and am aunt to the prisoner—I live at 21, North Road, Walthamstow—I know that the prisoner was married in March, 1894—I saw him occasionally from that time to this—I don't know what he did; he was a horse-keeper by trade, and lived in London—I only know by what his wife told me that he ill-treated her very badly—on Saturday, May 3rd, his wife came to me alone; she came to live with me, and stayed till the 9th—the prisoner came to the house on the 9th, and slept in the house that night—on the Sunday, after dinner, she went upstairs—I heard her keep saying, "Don't, Tom"; that's all I heard—I afterwards went upstairs, hearing her scream—she said, "Oh, auntie, he has cut my throat"—I caught her in my arms at the top of the second landing; she was bleeding dreadfully from the back of her head; I bound up her throat—I saw the prisoner, and said, "Oh, Tom, what have you done t"—he made no reply—he was in his shirt-sleeves, and he stood and saw me binding her throat up—he remained about three minutes—I said, "Whatever shall I do? Shall I fetch a policeman?"—he said, "Give me a coat, I am off"—he took my husband's coat from the hall; his own coat was upstairs, he did not stop to get that—I found lots of blood about the bedroom, and this knife was on the floor; it is bent now; it was straight and clean about half an hour before, when I used it.
WILLIAM HASPINALL (41 N R). On Sunday, May 10th, I was called to North Road—I saw the prosecutrix sitting on the stairs bleeding very much from the throat—she made a communication to me, and I sent for a doctor—I afterwards took her to the German Hospital, and left her in charge of the doctor there—she had handed me this knife while I was with her; it was covered with blood, and bent as it is now—I did not see the prisoner till a week afterwards.
HANS LUCE, M.D . I was house surgeon at the German Hospital on May 10th—about six in the evening the prosecutrix was brought there—I examined her; she was conscious, and was bandaged about the throat; the bandage and clothes were covered with blood—I opened the bandage, and that opened the wound, which immediately began to bleed seriously; it was about three inches in length, on the left side of the throat—it was deep, penetrating to the cartilage over the windpipe; a large vein was cut through—there was another wound behind the right ear, at the right side of the neck; that was not very deep; it was not a shot wound, but from a knock or fall; it might have been from a kick, or a blow from a fist—the first wound must have been done with a sharp instrument; this knife would have done it—she continued an in-patient till the 17th, and afterwards attended the hospital for two or three weeks to have the wound dressed—rather great force must have been used to inflict that wound—the cartilage would have been sufficient to bend the knife—the wound itself was not so bad, but she would have died from the bleeding without help.
said, "Yes, she deserved it, or she would not have got it; I ought to have murdered her instead of marrying her; women are a bad lot"—I took him to the station, where he was detained.
GEORGE SHANKKS (Inspector V). On May 15th, at night, I saw the prisoner at Peckham Police-station—I said, "I am a police officer; are you Thomas Corbett?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am going to take you into custody for attempting to kill and murder Lydia Kate Corbett"—he replied, "Very good, sir"—I conveyed him to Walthamstow—in the train he said, "Where are we going?"; I said, "To Walthamstow "; he said, "I should like some food; it will be no use denying it"—I found a recent cut on his right arm—he said, "You know how that was done."
Prisoner's Defence: I have been unfortunate to be out of work—my wife has given me a lot of trouble—during the evidence there has hardly been a word of truth. I plead not guilty of the attempt to murder, nothing of the kind.
ANNIE CORBETT (Re-examined). The prisoner had his dinner in my house on the Sunday, and his breakfast also—he had a pot of tea, no whisky or anything that I know of—we took dinner together very friendly—he was not the worse for drink.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted.
WILLIAM EDWARDS . I am foreman to Cory and Sons, coal merchants, of Victoria Dock Tidal Basin—on June 16th I was on duty at the wharf—the premises were secured at six p.m.—shortly before four a.m. I saw the prisoner near the blacksmith's shop, and said, "What are you doing there?"—he said, "I am looking for a convenience"—I directed him to one, and communicated with Davies.
THOMAS DAVIES (Sergeant, Dock Police). On Tuesday, June 16th, I was on duty at the docks, and went to Messrs. Cory's smith's shop, and found four panes of glass taken out—I saw Edwards afterwards—I went to the Albert Dock, and saw the prisoner, and found this putty-knife, a pair of shears and a pair of pliers up his sleeve, and this was hanging over his shoulder—I said, "Where did you get these?"—he said, "On board a barge," and that he had used the knife for a scraper.
THOMAS CORNISH (688 K). On June 16th, at 7,30, the prisoner was given into my custody—I told him he would be charged with breaking into a workshop and stealing a quantity of things—he said, "I did not break into the workshop."
Prisoner's Defence: I did not break into the shop; I found the things in a water-closet.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
WILLIAM CHARLES NISBIT . I live at 61, Arthur Road, Grays, Essex, and am Secretary to the London and Grays Seaborne Coal Company, Limited—there were negotiations as to the prisoner entering the company's service as traveller, and he was, during inquiries, in their service at £3 per week—the negotiations came to an end about January 1st, and we received a postcard from him, "I shall call and see you tomorrow"—he did call, and an arrangement was made that he was to get orders for us and receive 3d. a ton on them—he had no authority to collect money on our behalf—I never saw these two cheques (produced), or knew anything of them—I received a note, dated February 4th, 1896, asking for a cheque, as he wanted it very badly, and here is another of February 24th, "Kindly make out my commission for coal supplied to Drew and Pollock"—I paid him 10s., and I see here "Received on account, W. H. Armstrong"—he did not say a word about receiving a cheque for £11 5s. 1d.
Cross-examined. I became Secretary in December, 1895—a receiver was appointed to the company; I cannot tell you the date, it was not April 1st—after January 1st he was to get what orders he could—it was before there was a permanent engagement that I said, "I did authorise him to get orders for coal at a salary, no commission"—if he had brought me an order for £10 for coal, I hardly know whether I should have taken it—£1 12s. 6d. was owing to him at the date of these two cheques—I cannot tell how much was owing to him on March 23rd. (The COURT, at Mr. Warburton's suggestion, amended the indictment by inserting the name of James William Hockley, instead of the London and Grays Sea-borne Coal Company.)
JAMES WILLIAM HOCKLEY . I am a greengrocer and coal merchant, of 69, Station Road, Forest Gate—on December 24th the prisoner gave me a card, and I gave him this cheque for £11 1s. 3d. on account of coal bought from the Seaborne Coal Company—I also paid him this cheque for £7 19s. 8d., still believing that he was acting for the Seaborne Coal Company.
Cross-examined. I did not see the coal brought—I have had the value for the cheques in coal—if he had asked me to make it payable to him I would have done so.
By the COURT. I meant to pay it to the Seaborne Coal Company; if I had found that he had no authority to receive the cheques, I should have stopped payment of them—I rather think he asked me to make it payable to the firm.
MR. WARBURTON submitted that the indictment ought to be quashed, as there could be no larceny from the company of a cheque which never came into their possession, and that the prisoner ought to Jwtve been indicted for obtaining the cheques by false pretences. The RECORDER considered that if it was a case of false pretences, it was a case of larceny as well, as the cheques were given to the prisoner as a conduit pipe, and he never handed them over.
HENRY KING RICHE . I am a railway clerk, of 71, Woodford Road, and know the prisoner—he brought me this cheque on February 10th, 1896, and I got it cashed for him, by Mr. Alsept, and also this other cheque of March 20th.
LOUIS LIDDELOW (Detective K). I took the prisoner on May 30th, at nine p.m., and said, "I hold a warrant for your arrest for stealing £27 10s. 3d., belonging to the Seaborne Coal Company"; he said, "Oh, that is nothing."
Cross-examined. I have known him before—no previous charge has been made against him.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH NEWMAN . I am a housemaid to Mr. Dudson, at 88, Wickham Road, Bromley—on May 10th I went to bed about eleven p.m.—I was the last up; I fastened the doors and windows—the kitchen window was shut, but the catch was not fastened, as it was broken—the shutters were closed, but there was no screw to fasten them—when I came down next morning, at 6.40, I found the cook there; she called my attention to something—the kitchen window was pushed up about half way, enough for a person to get through—I missed, from the sideboard in the dining-room, these things produced, including fish and dessert knives and forks, and a spirit-stand, and I also missed five overcoats and two bags—all the things were safe the night before, when I went to bed—I found the dining-room clock behind the scullery door; it had stopped at 4.40—the property taken was of the value of about £40—on the kitchen table I saw this jemmy and knife, and they were not there when I went to bed; they never belonged to anyone in the house so far as I knew—the kitchen window looks out into the back yard; anyone could easily climb in if the window were open—the cook came down first.
EMMA MUDD . I am cook to Mr. Dudson—on the Monday morning, when I came down, I found the kitchen window open about half way, so that anyone could get in—the scullery window and door were open—I went into the yard; I found the drawing-room clock lying on the path by the scullery door; it had stopped at 4.45—I also found the plate basket and a silver-mounted stick—I saw the jemmy and knife on the table—then the housemaid came down.
WILLIAM NEWMAN . I am a dealer in antiques, at 79, High Street, Deptford—on Monday evening, May 11th, the prisoner called and offered me these two cases of fish and dessert knives and forks for sale for 55s.—he said he had got them in the ordinary way of business—I told him I had information that they were stolen, and that I should have to send for a constable—he said, "Well, I can produce the man I bought them of, and I will be here at twelve o'clock to-morrow morning"—he went away; I kept the boxes in the meantime—I had known the prisoner before—I gave
information to the police—the prisoner did not come back on the Thursday, but I was in the Borough, and saw him in Tabard Street, and followed him, and asked a constable to charge him, and he arrested him—I have known the prisoner about four years as a cabinet-maker and dealer—I did not know his address.
WILLIAM ZEBEDEE (15 M R). At 12.20 on Thursday, May 14th, New-man pointed out the prisoner in High Street, Borough—I went up to him, and put my hand on his shoulder, and said, "I want you for half a moment"—he turned round—I said, "You know this gentleman"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am going to take you into custody for a case of burglary"—he said, "I know nothing about it"—he gave me an address, 46, Tabard Street, Borough—I went there; we found there this spirit-case, carving-knives, two mustard-pots, a salt-cellar, knives, and spoons—all those things were plated—all the plated articles taken from Mr. Dudson's have been recovered—the prisoner said he bought them from a man whom he had known years, but he did not know his name, and could not describe him—some of the things were found in the bedroom; the knives were downstairs on the couch, wrapped up in a black bag—these scales and troy weights were in the top drawer downstairs.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that a man offered him the things at so high a price that he would not buy them, but that he tried to set them. for him.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of felony at Enfield on March 16th, 1896. Inspector Fox stated that the prisoner was a receiver of stolen property from burglars.— Fourteen Months' Hard' Labour.
The RECORDER commended the. conduct of William Newman.
Before Mr. Recorder.
527. RICHARD KENT (29) , to forging and uttering a warrant for the-payment of £60, with intent to defraud; also to forging and uttering a notice of withdrawal from a savings bank.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
MR. DAVIS Prosecuted.
WALTER SINGLETON . I am a painter, and live at 18, Lower Grove, Wandsworth—at twenty minutes to one on the morning of June 5th I was in bed—a constable knocked at the door till I was awoke—I got up and went down into the kitchen, where I found the prisoner lying on the floor, apparently asleep—a constable was outside; I let him in—I said nothing to the prisoner—the constable threw his light upon him, and asked what he was doing there—he said he came in for a sleep—he was lying on the bare boards; his boots were outside the window; I saw them afterwards—I had shut the kitchen window when I went to bed, but did.
not fasten it—when I came down, the bottom sash was wide open—I did not find anything disturbed—the window was about three feet six inches from the ground.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I cannot say whether you were drunk or sober; you were not very drunk—my wife and three children were in the house that night, no servant.
JAMES LONG . I live next door but one to the prosecutor—at twelve o'clock at night, on June 15th, I heard my dog barking—I went down, and saw the prisoner inside my back yard; he had got over a gate six feet high—I asked him what he wanted there; he said he had come to have a lay down—I said nothing more; I went back, and put on some clothing, and when I came down he had gone into No. 18—I do not know him.
WILLIAM MOUNT (691 V). Long fetched me; I subsequently went to No. 18, and went round to the back; the window was wide open, and these boots were outside in the yard, on the flagstone—I looked through the window, and saw the prisoner lying down in the kitchen; he was awake; I turned my light on him—the prosecutor came, and let me in—I asked the prisoner what he was doing there—he said, "All right; I am doing no harm; I came in to sleep, the same as yourself"—I noticed a lot of matches that had been struck, and a lot of burnt paper—he was quite sensible, and spoke rationally—he refused to give his address, or any account of himself.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I could not get lodgings, and went there to lie down; I had no bad intention."
Prisoner's Defence: I had been drinking for two or three days; I came to look for lodgings; a man directed me to two houses—I went to several places to try and get a sleep, but could not—I did not know that this place was a dwelling-house—I had no intention of doing anything bad—I wrote to the inspector for a lodging, and he found out that I had been looking for a lodging—I had been drinking very heavily—I am a respectable man, and did not want to trouble them.
GUILTY. Judgment respited for inquiry.
MR. STMMONS Prosecuted.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
531. CLAUDE JAY (22), to three indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of £5 4s., £8, and £8, with intent to defraud. He had borne a good character in the Army for two years, and his brother undertook to send him abroad.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
532. JAMES WILLIAM GRIFFITHS (27), to feloniously marrying Elizabeth Emma Page, his wife being alive. He received a good character.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted.
CHARLES SAMUEL PHILLIPS . I am a shorthand-writer, of 121, Lorrimore Road, Kermingbon Park—on June 5th, about 1.10 a.m., I was opposite the Obelisk, at the corner of St. George's Circus—the prisoner and a taller man passed me and walked about ten yards ahead of me, and suddenly turned round—the taller one put his hands upon me and threw me backwards, and' the prisoner rifled my pockets—I had no money, but he took a snuff-box, from my waistcoat pocket, which I had seen ten minutes or a quarter of an hour before—I was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I am in the habit of passing there—I was lying on the ground while you were going through my pockets—he constable and you helped me up—I used my snuff-box in the Blackfriars Road a quarter of an hour before.
CHARLES HUNT (58 L). I was in St. George's Circus in uniform, and saw the prosecutor cross from Blackfriars Road, and the prisoner and another man followed him, passed him, and turned back—one knocked him down, and the other searched his pockets—I took the prisoner—he said, "All right, governor; I am only helping the man up"—I took him to the station—I am sure he is the man I saw feeling in the prosecutor's pockets.
Cross-examined. The back of the prosecutor's head was towards the Borough Road, and he was lying on his back, and I saw you leaning over him—I was about a yard and a-half from you—I assisted him up, and held you; I picked up his hat, but did not leave go of you.
Prisoner's Defence: I was going across the London Road, and saw some men knock this man down; I ran and picked him up, and picked his hat up, and put it on his head, and the constable took me; I had been having a drop of drink. The constable says he kept his eyes on me the whole time. If I had the snuff-box, where is it?
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Newington on September 15th, 1891. Four other convictions and three summary convictions were proved against him.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL appeared for Kendall.
FREDERICK GOULD . I live at 6, Cream Road, South Bermondsey—I am a salesman in the leather market—on May 12th, about two o'clock, I was in Wensall Street, and saw James Walkeden on the ground, being subjected to considerable violence from the three prisoners and five or six more—Israel was kicking him—I said, "For God's sake, don't kick the man"—the other two prisoners were stooping over him—I was struck behind—I had released him—Israel struck me on my face—I tried to catch hold of his hand, and somebody else pushed us both down, and he tried to take my watch from my pocket—he took it out, but I would not let go of it—I was kicked on my ribs and head—Israel had my watch in his hand, and I held him some seconds, till it was passed to somebody—I lost Israel, and went to the man who had the watch; he passed it to
Unwin—we had several tussles, and I would not leave them—someone said, "Why don't you look in the road for your watch?" and somebody picked it up—the police came to me, and I went to the Miller of Mansfield, and picked out the three prisoners from ten or twenty in the bar, and the police took them.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The Miller of Mansfield is in the same neighbourhood—Kendall is a shop-keeper in the same neighbourhood; I cannot say whether he had anything to do with me—the first thing I saw was Mr. Walkeden on the ground—two horses and a van were standing near—I did not hear anything said about anybody being hurt—Weston Street is a big business thoroughfare—when I saw Kendall in the public-house I said, "I know you; you were there"—he said, "I was not"—he was not charged with stealing my watch—I did not hear him say that it was a drunken quarrel, arising out of his quarrel with Walkeden.
Re-examined. I am sure Kendall was there at the time my watch was taken from my pocket.
JOHN RANGE . I am barman at the Rose, Westminster—on May 12th I was outside the house, and saw Mr. Walkeden rush out of the bar; he had stopped with his water-cart to get refreshment; he was pulling his beard, and then Kendall struck him in the face, and he struck him again—Gould said, "Don't kick the man," and Israel struck him; they fell, and while on the ground Israel took his watch out of his pocket; Gould tried to get it, and somebody said, "There it is on the ground"—Kendall took no part in stealing the watch—they all ran away—I afterwards picked out all three prisoners.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Kendall is a marine store dealer—Walkeden is a mineral water traveller, serving our house, and Kendall did something to his horse—directly he came out he kicked the horse, and said he would do it again, and Kendall struck him, and afterwards Israel struck him—I do not know whether Kendall was sober—he had been in the house—I did not know that they were part of a wedding party.
Cross-examined by Israel. There were not a dozen men round, only about four—there were other men with you, but not on the same side of the road.
Re-examined. The three prisoners were together for an hour before this occurred.
JAMES WALKEDEN . I am a mineral water traveller, of 23, Peabody Buildings, Westminster—on May 12th, about 2.30, I was in the Rose, and in consequence of something I heard I went outside, and saw Kendall kicking my horse's legs—I asked him to leave it alone—he told me to go to—and Israel poked me in the face with his finger, and pulled my beard—I pushed him away—he gave me a severe blow on my mouth, and we both fell, and I was kicked, I do not know who by, and was severely handled, and became unconscious.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Kendall was kicking my horse on his hind legs—he gave no explanation why he did that—he did not tell me he was wiping his boot on the horse; he said something about taking our dirty ginger-beer off—he was sober; he did not appear to be wiping his boot.
and I went to the Miller of Mansfield, and saw the three prisoners—Gould said they were the three men who had robbed and assaulted him; they said nothing—they were charged at the station, and said nothing.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: Kendall says; "I simply wiped my leg on the horse's leg." Unwin says: "I can't see that there is any charge against me?"
Kendall and Israel received good characters.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour each
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and BIRON Prosecuted.
JAMES THOMAS COLLIER . I am clerk to Messrs. Hickling, Washington and Pasmore, solicitors, of 1, Trinity Square, Southwark—they are solicitors to the South Metropolitan Gas Company—on May 2nd, 1895, the prisoner commenced an action against that Gas Company in the Lambeth County Court—I produce the summons and the particulars of the claim, showing that he claims damages for personal injuries alleged to have been sustained by him on February 1st, 1895, in consequence of an explosion on Southwark Bridge—on June 18th, 1895, I was present at the trial of the action before his Honour Judge Emden—I took a short-hand note of the evidence given by the prisoner—I produce this correct transcript of my notes—after he had given evidence, a witness was called for him, who gave the name of George Beard, and began to give evidence—Mr. Washington, who appeared for the Gas Company, then admitted that the explosion had taken place, and, in consequence, it was not necessary to proceed further with George Beard's evidence, the only question being as to liability and damages—in the result the Judge found a verdict of £12 for the prisoner—I produce a certified copy of the entry in the minute book of the County Court, containing a record of the judgment—the Gas Company appealed to the High Court on the ground that they were not legally liable—the appeal was heard on November 9th, 1895, and decided against the company, dismissing the appeal, and the damages and costs were paid to Mr. Roland Ward, who acted as the prisoner's solicitor—the prisoner was duly sworn in the County Court before he gave evidence—on April 17th, 1896, our firm received information which led to this prosecution—a warrant was applied for and granted about May 3rd. (The transcript of the shorthand notes of the prisoner's evidence was read. In effect he stated that he was proceeding over Southwark Bridge on February 1st, when he was injured by the explosion; that he was taken to the Mansion House Station, and then went home, and that owing to the explosion he was prevented from working for about five weeks.) I took down his questions and answers—he said he had been working for the City Sewers, with a man in the court, and that he had been helping Mr. Duncan in that way.
GEORGE EDWIN DUNCAN . I am a lighterman, of Ness Street, Spa Road, Bermondsey—I have known the prisoner for some time—I was at the County Court when his action was heard against the Gas Company in June last year—I saw the man, who gave evidence for him, who gave the name of George Beard; he was a man named Munro, who is now dead—I know he is dead through his friends and acquaintances—I did not hear the prisoner say at the County Court that he had been with me on the morning of February 1st to the City Sewers to draw 30s. for labour done, or I should have contradicted him—I was in Court—he had not been with me that morning to the City Sewers—I went on that morning to the City Sewers with Munro—I had written them a letter complaining of snow being shovelled from the Tower Bridge on to my head, in consequence of which I had to go to Guy's Hospital, and I received 30s. as compensation, and signed this receipt—the prisoner was not with me on that day.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. We did not have some rum before you went over the bridge on February 1st—I did not put you on your feet and rub you down—I believe I was taken to the solicitor one day when I was in drink, and I signed something, but I do not know what the statement was—I made a bother with Mr. Ward or his clerk outside, because I could not get my day's pay—I wanted my day's pay for seeing you up there with Munroe—I only had a drink for being there—I had a subpoena to appear for you—I don't know where I got it—I was at the solicitor's office—I don't know whether I signed a document, or what it was; I was drunk at the time—I was not with you on the day of the explosion—I had two sums of 30s. and one of 15s. from Mr. Washington or his firm—Sinnett and Sullivan came to me and asked me to give evidence, and say you were with me on the day of the explosion, and I went with them, and said you were with me on there day—it was not true, and at Lambeth Court I corrected it, and spoke the truth, and said it was Munroe who was with me on that day, and not you—Sinnett and Sullivan came and told me there was plenty of money in the job, and convinced me you were with me on that day, and not Munro, but since then, looking back, I remember perfectly well it is Munroe, and not you—I do not know who was with me when I made the statement; I was made pretty well drunk; I had rum and cigars given to me by Sinnett—I was not in a condition to give a statement; anything they wrote down I signed—Sinnett and Morrissy told me I should have plenty of ooftish from Pasmore and 'Washington it I could get a conviction—I was not employed to get evidence—I was not with you on February 1st.
Re-examined. I am sober now—I remember going to draw this money on February 1st from the Commissioners of Sewers—I was not on the bridge when the explosion took place; I should remember it if I had been—I was sober when I went to the Commissioners of Sewers; about four o'clock I was drinking rum, it was snowing very hard—I did not see the prisoner blown up, nor did I help to pick him up—I was not with him that day at all.
WILLIAM KEILER . I am superintendent of the cleansing department, City Commissioners of Sewers—their office is at 82, Upper Thames Street—on February 1st, 1895, between ten and eleven a.m., Duncan came to our
office, and I paid him 30s., and got from him this receipt; he signed it in my presence—he was apparently sober—the prisoner was not there at all—he was not paid 30s. for labour done—no one was paid 30s. on that day except Duncan.
THOMAS CHARLES COLE . I am manager of the American Wringer Company, of 132, Southwafk Street, Borough—in January, 1895, the prisoner called—he carried his right arm in a sling—he said he had stumbled over an iron coal cover which was slightly above the surface of the pavement, and which had thrown him heavily and broken his arm; that it would in-capacitate him for working, and as he depended on his work, it would be a serious loss to him; and he wanted to know what I was going to do—I said I did not recognise my liability—he went on to say he was a poor working man, and it was a bad job for him—I said, "What do you want?"—he said, "£2"—I said I would consider the matter if he would call later on—she called again on February 1st, and still asked for £2—it was between two and three when he called on February 1st; I fix the time because it was soon after my return from luncheon; I go to luncheon usually about 12.30, and am away for about an hour, or a little longer—to the best of my recollection, his arm was in a sling on February 1st—after some discussion I paid him 30s. as compensation, and he signed this receipt, which I made out—he did not say a word about having just met with an accident on Southwark Bridge, or having been in the explosion, or anything of that sort—there was not the slightest appearance of his having been blown up—my office in Southwark Street is quite a short distance from Southwark Bridge.
Cross-examined. I did not say the first time you came that I should have to write to the head office in America.
JOHN DAVIS . I am a Carman, living at St. Olave's Chambers, Sylvester Street, Borough—I work for Mr. Jeffreys, a carrier, in the Borough—in 1893 I met the prisoner at one or two places; I have been on casual jobs with him at the docks and Hull—I did not see him between 1893 and 1895—in April or May I saw him outside the Monument public-house, and we talked about how we were getting on—at the time the explosion happened I was between Park Street steps and Southwark Bridge, not exactly on the bridge—I told him I had been working on the bridge at the time of the explosion—he said I was just the man he wanted, as he was going to nut up a job about the explosion for damages done to him, and he asked me to be a witness for him, to swear that I saw the explosion, and that he had been injured—I said I would have nothing to do with it—he said it was all a bunkum affair, and he would get some other witnesses—I Was working on the bridge for the St. Saviour's District Board of Works at the time, and he thought I would be a good witness—from where I was working I could see the people on the bridge at the time of the explosion—we were shoving snow off the pavement as far as Park Street, and I was about eighteen to twenty yards from where the explosion took place—after it took place I saw two people taken away—one was taken away in a cart, and one was taken into a picture-shop—I dropped my scraper, and ran up and had a look at it; I did not stay there very long, because our foreman ordered us off the bridge—I did not see the prisoner there at all.
GEORGE WILLIAM BEARD . I am a lighterman—I live at 8, Lee Street, Burdett Road—in February, March, and April, 1895, I lived at 56, Blackthorn Street, Bow—I have known the prisoner for a number of years as a lighterman—I met him on the Saturday following the explosion in Fenchurch Street—he asked me whether I had heard of the explosion—I said, "Yes"—I had read of it in the evening papers—he said, "I was there at the explosion, and I was injured; have you got time on your hands to come over with me and have a look at it?"—I said I had about an hour to spare, and I went with him, and he showed me the place where the explosion took place on Southwark Bridge—the paving-stones were all up, and there was a barrier round them—he told me he was crossing over the bridge from the Surrey side on the day before, and got injured there, and he asked me if I would be a witness for him, to prove that he was injured—I had not been there the day before—I had not seen him the day before—I told him I would consider it—I thought he meant me to give false evidence in the Court—when he was showing me the place he did not appear to have anything the matter with him; he was not bound up in any way, or injured, or anything of the kind—he told me he had broken his leg, and had been to a doctor the night before—I next saw him about a fortnight afterwards, and then I went with him to the South Metropolitan Gas Works in the Old Kent Road, I believe—he said he was going to see the proprietors or manager, Mr. Livesey, to see whether he could get some payment for the injuries he stated he had received—when he came out he told me they would not entertain his case, because there was something pending between the Gas Company and the Electric Light Company; they could not come to a settlement, and could not entertain the case—I went with him soon after to Mr. Ward's, the solicitor's office in Walbrook—I saw a clerk there—the prisoner gave him my full name and address as a witness—for the time being I had consented to go as a witness—two or three weeks before the case came on in the County Court I met the prisoner in the City, and he said he had been to my house to try and find me, and that he had a subpoena for me from the County Court—I said I thought better over it, and had entirely made up my mind that I would have nothing more to do with it, because I had never given a statement or anything—he was rather out of temper with me at the time; he said, "I can do without you," or something like that; he said something to the effect that he could get someone else to do the job—I did not go to the County Court when the case was heard—after it was tried I saw a report of it in the newspaper, and saw my name as a witness who had appeared there—about a few weeks after I was in the City on business, and I called at Mr. Ward's office, and spoke to Mr. Ward; the prisoner was not there—I never received a farthing from him.
Cross-examined. I know it snowed on the morning of the accident—I was at Black wall at 11.30—I was not with you at Southwark Street, and you did not give me 10s. to get a pair of boots—I was a witness in the St. George's in the East election petition, and a witness against Mr. Tillett for the Morning newspaper in a libel action—I was president of the Cambridge Club, within 100 yards of where Mr. Tillett made the speech—I was not in the City on the day of the explosion.
Re-examined. I did not have a farthing from the prisoner on that day.
THOMAS SAUNDERS . I am manager of Lett's Wharf, one of the City Commissioners of Sewers' wharves—on February 1st, 1895, I was in charge of men clearing away the snow at the foot of Southwark Bridge—the explosion took place between 1.30 and 1.45, as near as I can tell—one of the men who worked there was slightly hurt by it—I saw him attended to, and I also saw that a woman was hurt—not many people were passing over the bridge at the time; it was the quiet time of the day—I saw no man with his arm in a sling, injured—no man was blown up and thrown down by the explosion—I did not see the prisoner.
WILLIAM O'SHEA . I am a porter in the Borough—I live at 2, Brewer's Road—I remember the explosion on February 1st, 1895—I was fifty yards or a little more from it, going from the Surrey side towards it—it happened in two places; I could not see that on the right, but I saw that on the left-hand side—when I went up to the place I saw it was on both sides of the arch—I ran with others to the place, and stayed ten or fifteen minutes—I saw two women taken away who had been hurt—I looked at the place—I knew the prisoner before by sight as a lighterman; I did not see him there—I saw no man there with his arm in a sling.
ROBERT LANDER . I am a lighterman, in the employ of the London and Tilbury Lighterage Company at Hambro Wharf, Upper Thames Street—I have known the prisoner for some years by sight and to speak to—on February 1st, 1895, I was passing over Southwark Bridge when the explosion took place—I was going to the Surrey side—the explosion happened about three yards from—me, I should think immediately in front of me—I should have been in it if I had been two or three minutes ahead—I stayed a little while; I saw a woman fall in the hole, and helped out—I did not see anything of the prisoner there, or at all that day—there is no truth in his statement that he met me coming over the bridge just after the accident.
Cross-examined. I did not. see you; you did not point to your shoulder covered with dirt; I did not see it.
ALSAGER VIAN . I am secretary to the French Asphalte Company, of Lawrence Pountney Hill—on March 31st, 1895, I received from the Clerk, to the Commissioners of Sewers some letters which had passed between them and James Price, and on April 2nd, 1895, the prisoner called on me—he told me he had had an accident; that, as he said in his letter, he passed through Philpot Lane, I think on, March 1st, and tripped up in a hole and injured himself, and had been laid up for several weeks—after conversation with him I paid him £2 to settle his claim—he signed this receipt in my presence; I should say his signature and that to the letter of March 19th appear to be the same—he said the accident had happened to him on March 1st, 1895, and I understood he had not been able to get to work then; it was a month later—he said he had been sent to me by the Commissioners of Sewers, who had sent the correspondence to me—I was surprised that he was so ready to settle for £2 for four weeks' injury—I paid him the money.
JOHN THORLEY (Sergeant P). On May 12th I went to Vine Cottage, Gunnersbury Lane, Acton, where I found the prisoner was living—his wife has a laundry business there—I read to him the warrant charging him with perjury—he said, "A man named Lander saw me coming over the bridge just after the accident; he works at Hambro's Wharf, Upper
Thames Street; also a man named Crusty Walsh, who was throwing snow into the river; he was working for the Vestry; I also met Shannon at the foot of Southwark Bridge; he said, 'Jim, I saw that accident; why don't you go to the hospital? you look bad '; I said, * No, I am not hurt,' and when I got home I went to Dr. Thornton, of Uxbridge Road; I saw Shannon last Friday, and he treated me, and told me he had received some money from Mr. Washington, a solicitor, and he said, 'Three of us went away with him in a cab, me, Beard, and Duncan; what matters it to us so long as we can get some money?' I said, 'You are trying to mix it up for me all right'; he said, 'What matters as long as Washington gives us some money?' I said, 'You are a dirty dog'; he said, 'We are doing it, so that you can get some money out of them for false imprisonment; you can stand on me for that'; I said, 'I want no more to do with you' and I went home, and have not seen them since. The day I received the money they came to my house at Acton, and received, £2 5s. between the three; George Beard had £1 10s. out of it, and he said, 'Is that all? You are a beauty, you are'; one of them said to the wife, 'This is all right; it has come off all right,' and went and got half-a-pint of stout for her"—the prisoner said he had seen Shannon, who had told him there was a warrant out for him, and advised him to go away, and he said he would not go.
The Prisoner called
WILLIAM JOSEPH SHANNON . I live at 107, St. George's Street, East—I used to live at 26, Red Lion Street, Poplar—I am a waterman and lighter-man—in the winter time, last year, I saw you in a street leading off Cannon Street, in the afternoon—I was reading the newspaper—you told me you had been hurt on Southwark Bridge; you did not say how it happened—Sennett and Sullivan came to my house on several occasions for about three weeks in succession, in my absence, my people told me—on a Saturday night Sennett came again, and saw my sister, and I walked in at the time—he said, "Mr. Washington wishes to see you"—I said, "What does he want to see me about?"—he said, "You recollect meeting Price on Southwark Bridge"—I said, "No, I did not meet him on Southwark Bridge; I met him coming in that direction"—he said, "If you come along with me, and find George Beard, I shall be over at your house to-morrow morning, at seven o'clock"—he came on the Sunday morning, and asked me to go to the Club, to try and find Beard, which I did, but I did not find Beard—some few days after that I went reluctantly to Mr. Washington's, with Sennett and Hayter, and I saw Mr. Collier, Mr. Washington's clerk—he said, "Is your name Shannon?"—I said, "I believe so"—he said, "Do you recollect February last year?"—I said, "Yes, I recollect the very severe winter we had"—he said, "Did you see Price walking over Southwark Bridge?"—I said, "No; I met Price coming from that direction"—he put down that statement—I had been three or four nights with a float on the river, and had a little drop more than I ought to have had on the day I went to Mr. Washington's; it was cold weather—Mr. Collier wanted me to say you were not on the bridge; I would not do it—I could not recollect what he said—he wrote something on a sheet of blue paper, and I signed it—the Magistrate at Lambeth asked me, "Have not you read it?"—I told him I did not know what was down there—he said, "Is this your signature?"—I said, "That is partly
my signature"—Sennett and Morrissy said I would get a ton of money—Sennett and Hayter were haunting my house; I was glad to get rid of them, because it is a respectable neighbourhood.
Cross-examined. When I met the prisoner I was going towards Thames Street, down Cannon Street, and down the turning leading to Southwark Bridge; I don't know the name of the street—he was coming up from the Surrey side of the river, and I was going towards it; he was coming from the bridge—I did not see the explosion—I did not say I did—I told him, if he was hurt, to go to the hospital—I did not tell him, "Jim, I saw that accident; why don't you go to the hospital?"—I did not tell him I saw the explosion—he had not got his arm in a sling when I met him—it was about four p.m., perhaps, when I met him; I could not swear to the time—I think I said to him, "It is a good job no one was blowed overboard," or something like that—I don't recollect what the prisoner said—I don't think he said, "I will have a go for it"; if he did, I don't remember it—I met the prisoner a day or two afterwards in the City—he did not say he should want me as a witness to say he had been blown up; I do not remember his ever saying that; he looked to me too ill—he did speak—I went by the County Court when the case was heard by accident—I did not go inside—I knew nothing of the action, or anything, when it was coming off—I saw the prisoner outside, and asked him to come and have something to drink, and I partly helped to carry him across the road to a public-house; when I saw the prisoner outside with two others, I knew the case was going on—I believe Jack Munro was one of the two, and I think Duncan was the other—I don't know that Munro gave his name in the witness-box as Beard—I signed every page of this statement when I was drunk; Mr. Washington, might have read it over first—I did not take any notice of what he read—I could not tell you how long that bout of drunkenness lasted, but I have been so, on and off, for some time, on account of a death in the family—I signed my deposition at the Lambeth Police-court, say, on May 5th; I was not then exactly in my proper senses; I was muddled like; I have a little drop extra now and again; I was not drunk—the account I gave to the Magistrate was true; as far as I can say, it was very nearly true—T saw the prisoner coming away from Southwark Bridge. (The witness's deposition was to the effect that on February 1st he met Price at ten in the morning in Fenchurch Street, and again about four p.m. at the Skinner's Anns, Cannon Street; that he read an account of the explosion from the newspaper to Price, who said he would have a go for it, but did not say that he had been there, or was hurt.)
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was coming over the bridge with Beard and Duncan when the explosion happened; that Seard picked him up, and brushed the mud off him; that lie afterwards met Shannon and Lander, and that some of the witnesses desired to get him convicted because he had taken a great part in the Free Labour Association.
GUILTY .**—Sergeant Thorley stated that the prisoner had made other claims for alleged injuries, and that he belonged to a gang who made a living by bogus claims for injuries, and had obtained, £1,000 in the City alone during the last four years.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
538. HENRY NATHANIEL GEORGE OXLEY (21) , Unlawfully and carnally knowing Susan Mary Maud Oxley, a girl under thirteen; Second Count, indecently assaulting her. After the prisoner had been given in charge to the JURY, he stated in their hearing that he
PLEADED GUILTY , and thereupon they found him GUILTY.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JULY 20TH, 1896.