CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 8TH, 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 FOE THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KNET, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Tuesday, September 8th, 1896, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR WAITER WILKIN, Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir WILLIAM RANN KENNEDY, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Knt., Alderman of the said City; Sir JOSEPH RENALS, Knt., GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., ALFRED JAMES NKWTON, Esq., FRANK GREEN , Esq., JAMES THOMSON RITCHIE , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., GEORGE WYATT TRUSCOTT , Esq., RICHARD CLARENCE HALSE , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., Judge of the City of London Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
WILKIN, MAYOR. ELEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger †that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 8th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
CHARLES L'ENFANT . I am a clerk in the Bankruptey Court—I produce the file of proceedings against Arthur William Hodges—he was adjudicated a bankrupt on April 13th, 1894, his liabilities are stated at £5,921 2s. 3d., assets £98, and a bad debt of £5—his examination was concluded on July 5th, 1894.
GEORGE MUDGE . I am a livery stable keeper, at St. Andrew's Pavement—the defendant came to me in September last year, and hired a horse and carriage—at the end of the year his liability to me was £7 10s.—he paid me that—I afterwards had an agreement with him for the hire of a carriage at fifteen guineas a week, from January 1st this year for ten hours per day, and two shillings an hour for extra hours—at the end of January his debt to me was £18 12s. 6d., and for February £19 8s. 6d.—no payment was made till the end of February; he then paid £15 4s., leaving a balance of £23 owing; in March he paid several sums on account, leaving a balance of £45—he never told me that he was an undischarged bankrupt—I did not find that out till some time after May 14th.
Cross-examined. In February this year I did not call at the office of the prisoner's solicitor, Mr. Watts, I do not remember doing so—I know Mr. Watts' office, but I do not remember calling there—I might have called to inquire if Hodges was there—I have seen Mr. Watts, but not to speak to him—on February 14th I went to 77, Gresliam Street and asked for the defendant—I did not send in my account for the hiring of my brougham—I am certain of that—I did not ask Mr. Watts if he had any money of Mr. Hodges in his hands—Mr. Watts did not say that Hodges had received from him all the money that he had in his hands, and he thought I should be all right, as he had a large sum coming to him, but that I must be careful, as he had been adjudged bankrupt
—I am quite sure he never told me that—I did not reply, "Oh, yes; I have heard so"—that never took place at any time—nothing of the kind passed—I did not meet Mr. Watts with the defendant—I afterwards took civil proceeding; they were dropped, and, on the advice of my solicitor, I took criminal proceedings—I had got judgment—I never at any time heard from Mr. Watts that Hodges was an undischarged bankrupt—I recollect on one occasion going out of my office with Mr. Watts, and walking down Gresham Street in the direction of the Bank; but that was about March—I don't think I was fidgetty about Hodges til! February; it may have been about March; he paid me £15, and that satisfied me—he did not complain to me of Mr. Watts having told me that he was an undischarged bankrupt; nothing of the kind passed—I knew nothing about his being an undischarged bankrupt, or I should have stopped the proceedings.
Re-examined. I recovered judgment against him—I subsequently made inquiries in order to realise the judgment; it was not satisfied, and then I took criminal proceedings.
Witnesses for the Defence.
WILLIAM FRANK BURGOYNE WATTS . I am a partner in the firm of Burgoyne Watts, solicitors—I have known the defendant six or seven years, he was an insurance agent for some years—he was engaged in the promotion of companies—it was in connection with that business that he hired this brougham—he had met with a severe accident last year, and was unable to get about—he had done some business for us which brought him in £200 or £.300—on February 14th or 15th the prosecutor came to our office as I was leaving it—my clerk makes the entries in the call-book, this is it, as I had not seen it for some time—we got into conversation—I knew that the prisoner was making money, and that he owed small sums, which I paid for him—the prosecutor said to me, "I understand you have some money in your hands belonging to Mr. Hodges"—I said, "How much does he owe you?"—he said, "£15 or £16"—I told him that he must be careful an Hodges was an undischarged bankrupt—we walked down the street together, and we met the brougham with Hodges inside we went up to him, and he said, "Mr. Watts has told you that I am an undischarged bankrupt, and I think that was very unfair"—that was said in the presence of Mr. Mudge—Hodges was not a client of mine at that time; he was some time before his bankruptcy, but not since—I am positive that it was in February that this happened.
WILLIAM TARRANT . I am at present a sergeant in the Berkshire Regiment, and am employed by Messrs. Burgoyne Watts and Co., solicitors, in Gresharm Street—it was my duty to keep the call-book, and to enter the names of callers as they arrived—this is the book; the entries fire in my handwriting—I set the name of Mudge here as calling about February 14th; that is in my handwriting—he called about 5.30—I have a note here that he was seen by Mr. F. Watts, the last witness.
By the JURY. I only saw Mr. Mudge that once, and never before or since. The office closed about 6.30 or 7. I made this entry myself.
NOT GUILTY .
The following prisioners PLEADED GUILTY.
609. THOMAS WILLIAM ALLEN (21), to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Stein, and stealing an opera glass and other property. A previous conviction was proved againtt him at Lewes in 1892.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
611. THOMAS NOJSE (21) , to three indictments for stealing letters containing halves of bank notes whilst employed in the post-office.— Eight Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
612. JOHN McKANE SMITH (24) , to stealing, whilst employed in the post-office, two letters containing a half-crown, shilling, and sixpence.— Ten Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
615. HENRY WILLIAMS (73) , to unlawfully obtaining the sums of 2s., 1s., and 1s., by false pretences, and to a previous conviction.— Twelve Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
616. EDWARD WILLIAM CHARLES RAINBOW (28) , to stealing a post-letter containing postal orders, the property of the Postmaster General, he being employed under the post-office; also to embezzling £5 received by him for and on behalf of the Postmaster-General.— Ten Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended. GEORGE VOIGT. I am in the employ of the Comptoir for Black Hat Plushes, at 4 and 5, Love Lane—Julius Hatry is the manager for England—we have a customer Mr. Belhomme, who had bought plush about a week before June 11th—on June 11th the prisoner called and said a he came from Mr. Belhomme—he brought this memorandum form, with a printed heading with Mr. Belhomme's name, and underneath, "please supply bearer one piece of extra best plush Belhomme"—I asked the prisoner why they wanted another piece that day, because they had two pieces the day before—he said, "We want another piece, because we have so much to do"—I gave him a piece of the best plush, of the value of £25 3s. 11d., and an invoice—he signed a receipt in the name of "G. Thompson"—he took away the plush and the invoice—a month afterwards, in the ordinary course of business, a statement was sent in, and we discovered that Mr. Belhomme knew nothing about it—I gave a description of the person who called to Mr. Hatry and the police—on July 31st I was taken by Inspector Hobson to Jay's hat factory, Southwark—I passed through one room, in which twenty or thirty persons were working—I looked round, but saw no one I recognised—then I went into another room, in which about twenty-five people were working, and I recognised and picked out the prisoner without difficulty from among them—when I gave the piece of plush to the person who called I believed he eame from Mr. Belhomme.
Cross-examined. The person who called was a stranger—we only supply the trade there were only one or two persons in the room when I saw him—there were not more than a dozen persons in the warehouse the whole day—only one clerk was in the room when he came, and that
clerk was about as far from me as I am from the clerk of this Court—that clerk was writing, I suppose; he is not here—he was not before the magistrate—the person who came was only there about five minutes—I had no reason to notice particularly the time or the person—I found out that my firm had been defrauded on July 24th—my attention had not been called to the person between June 11th and that date—I did not communicate with the police—Jay is a customer of our firm—I did not pass through the second room at the factory before I picked out the prisoner; I passed about half a dozen before I did so—the lad who obtained the plush from me was fully dressed, and had on a cap or round hat; I think he took it off—Belhomme's business place is at Great Newport Street, Charing Cross; anyone coming from him would wear a hat and coat—the workmen in the factory had no hats on—before I went to Jay's I had seen the prisoner's signature to his indentures of apprenticeship with Messrs. Jay—I did not compare the signature with the receipt for the plush.
Re examined. The other clerk in the room had nothing to do with serving the person; he made out the invoice.
CYRIL EMILE BELHOMME . I am a hat manufacturer, of 11 and 12, Great Newport Street, Charing Cross—I am a customer of the Comptoir for hat plush—on June 10th I had ordered plush from that company—I do not know the prisoner—this order is a forgery—I did not give an order to anyone on June 11th to get plush for me—the printed heading on the order is an imitation of my firm's, but the paper is not the same.
SIDNEY HOBSON (Detective Inspector, City) Before July 31st this matter was put into my hands, and I made enquiries—on July 31st I went to Jay's hat factory—I was in the building, but I was not present when Mr. Voigt picked out the prisoner—after he had picked him out, I said to the prisoner, "I am a Police-officer, and I am going to arrest you, and you will be charged with stealing a piece of plush, value £25, on June 11th last by means of a forged document from 4 and 5, Love Lane"—he said, "when do you say it was?"—I said, "About the 11th of last month"—he said, "I don't remember anything about it, but I suppose I shall have to face it out"—at the station, in answer to the charge, he said, looking at Mr. Voigt, "I don't know that man; I don't know the firm, and I don't know anything about the goods."
Cross-examined. I had been to Messrs. Jay's before that day, and at my suggestion they had procured some of the prisoner's writing, which I compared with the writing on the receipt—I thought it would be better for Voigt to see the prisoner when he was working among a large number of people, rather than at the station.
Re-examined. About one hundred people were working in the building; I did not go into the room in which the prisoner was; I am told thirty people were working in the first room, and thirty in the second.
JOHN OTWAY (Detective, City). On July 31st, afier the prisoner was charged at the Police-station, he asked to be allowed to write a letter—I supplied him with pen and ink, and saw him address this envelope "F" and put the letter "D" into it. (The letter, addressed to his father and mother, stated that he had been taken into custody on a charge of forgery; that he knew nothing about it, and that he had forgotten the name of the firm.)
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been employed there for eighteen months, or a little more—since his committal for trial he has been out on bail, and has gone back to the firm and worked there—my employers directed me to get the writing from him.
GEORGE SMITH INGLIS . I have had many years' experience as an expert in writing—I have compared this document "C", a letter "B," and these articles of indenture with this order for the plush "A," and the "G. Thompson" on the receipt for the goods, and I believe they are all written by the same individual—I can give my reasons for arriving at that conclusion.
Cross-examined. Mr. Gurrin and Mr. Chabot are experts in writing—sometimes I am on one side and another expert on the other, expressing different opinions.
Cross-examinsd. I work in the same room with the prisoner—I cannot say where I was on June 11th—I should say that in June we worked from eight till five or six—we are paid by piecework—we can go away when we like—the apprentices do not have to stay for certain hours; they are paid by the piece—they can go away for half a day if they like; they can come and go as they please—lately they have had to ask whether they can go away—a book is kept in which the amount of work done is entered.
EDWARD THOMAS FLEURY (Re-examined.) The book does not show the amount of work a man ddes each day—when a man completes a certain number of hats he sends them in, and they are entered in the book, and then the book is made up once a week—on Monday, June 8th, there is the entry against the prisoner's name of 3s. 8d.; on the Tuesday, 3s. 6d.; Wednesday, 2s. 5 1/2d.; Thursday, 4s. 4 1/2d.; Friday, 5s. 2d.; and Saturday, 4s. 4 1/2d.; those would be the amounts entered when he sent the hats in—on June 11th the commissionaire booked the prisoner in at ten o'clock; no one books anyone out; the employes go out when they like—the firm pay so much per dozen for the bodies of hats—there is nothing to show whether the prisoner was at work on the Thursday, except that he was booked in at 10 a.m.—he could go in and out when he chose—5s. would be a very good day's earning for him—June was a pretty busy time—the prisoner might go out for half a day and not be missed—the amount against his name on any day would represent the hats sent in on that day, and might represent the work of other days.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, September 8th 1896.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ERNEST FREDERICK JOHNSON . I am salesman to Mr. Gay, of Covent Garden Market—on July 20th, about 7.45 a.m., the prisoner came and asked the price of onions—I said, "half-a-crown a dozen bunches"—he made me an offer, which I refused, and then we came to terms, and he gave me a half-sovereign from his trousers pocket, I believe—I said, "This will not do for me"—he said, "Why?" and put his hand in his pocket—I told him it was a sixpence; that I should not like to charge him, but if I saw him change it I should—he had been there before, and I found nothing wrong—afterwards I saw him purchasing some cabbages at Denson's stall, almost opposite mine—I went up and spoke to the salesman—the prisoner was not there then—he showed me a coin—I said, "This is the one he gave me," and gave it back to him—I next saw him at Bow Street, with several other men, and picked him out.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You have laid out a few shillings with me before—I refused the coin, and told you what it was.
EDWARD CHAPPLE . I am salesman to Mr. Denson's stall at Covent Garden Market—on July 20th, the prisoner bought some cabbages, and gave me a half-sovereign—I gave him the change—Johnson spoke to me almost immediately after, and I looked at the coin, which I had put in my pocket, where I had only silver—I showed it to him, and he handed it back to me—this is it—I went to look for the man, and found him in Russell Street, about five minutes' walk off—I said nothing to him, but gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. You did not run away when you got your change; you had to call a porter to carry your goods out—you have laid out some half-crowns and shillings with me—I had no gold in my pocket before—I found you about five minutes afterwards.
ALBERT WITHERS (Police Sergeant 13 E). On July 13th I was on duty in Covent Garden Market—Chapple came to me, and I accompanied him to Russell Street, and found the prisoner at a coster's barrow, and told him that Chapple charged him with passing a counterfeit half-sovereign—I took him to the station, searched him, and found a good half-sovereign and 13s. 6d. in silver, all in his trousers pocket—Chapman showed me this gilt sixpence—he gave his sister's address; he had been living there, but had left.
Cross-examined. You did not say, "I think I have got another in my pocket."
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he took three half-sovereigns at his barrow, and did not know that any of them were bad.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
ERNEST WIGGS . I assist my father in the Artillery Tavern, Bishopsgate—on the Sunday before Bank Holiday, about 8.50, the prisoner came in with another man for a pot of ale, price 4d.; he gave me a florin, and I gave him 1s. 8d. change, and put it in the till, where there was no other florin—this is it—he came back for a quarter of an ounce of tobacco, and gave me this other florin—I tested it, found it bad, called the door-man, and sent for a policeman.
WALTER KERRY . I am door-keeper to Mr. Wiggs—on Sunday, August 2nd, the last witness made a communication to me—I went with him to the Paul's Head, and he pointed out the prisoner—I told him he had been to our house round the corner and bought some tobacco, and tendered bad money for it—he said, "Yes; I took it in the Lane this morning"—I handed him over to the police—the boy said that the prisoner had given him two bad florins—the prisoner said nothing to that.
JOSEPH BATES (Policeman). I was called to the Artillery Tavern, and saw the prisoner—Wigg said, "This man has passed two bad two-shilling pieces"—the prisoner made no answer—I searched him at the station, and found three shillings, two sixpences, two pence, and two halfpence, but no bad money—he was charged with uttering counterfeit coin twice—he made no answer.
Prisoner's Defence: I own to changing one. I don't know anything about the other one. I know nothing about bad money. I never did such a thing in my life. As to changing two, I am innocent of that.
GUILTY —Nine summary convictions were proved against the prisoner.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
ARTHUR EDWARD BALL . I keep the Sultan, Hackney—on 24th August, about six p.m., my father was assisting in the bar; he is unwell, and unable to come—the prisoner came in, and ordered some ale; my father served him; he put some coin down, and received the change—my father handed it to me, and I saw that it was a gilded sixpence, and told the prisoner so; he said, "I never heard of one before; I took it from my employer for my wages, and I am near-sighted "; I gave it back to him, and received my change back—he started to go, but another customer came in, and said, "How did you get this coin stuck into you?"—he said, "I bought two dozen cigars, and received it in change"—he went away to the Frampton—I next saw him at the North London Police Court, and identified him from a number of others—I can almost swear this is the same coin, because there is a little white knob on it, and a white line.
GEORGE EDWIN WHEELER . I am landlord of the public-house, Queen of England—on August 29th, between six and seven p.m., the prisoner came in for half a pint of ale, and handed me this coin, head uppermost—I asked what he called it—he said, "half-a-sovereign"—I put it in my pocket, and said, "You can't have it again; it is a Jubilee sixpence"—he said that he got it from a bookmaker—I gave him in custody, with the coin.
JAMBS EDWARDS (434 J). I was sent for to Mr. Wheeler's public-house, and found the prisoner there, and this Jubilee sixpence—the prisoner said, "I got it from a bookmaker"—I said, "When?"—he said, "In the Ebor Handicap"—I said, "How much did you make?"—he said, "11s. 8d."—I said, "How much did you bet?"—he said, "5s. on the winner"—I asked him the price—he said, "2 to 1"—I said, "You ought to have had 4s. more"—he said that he was going to have the 4s. the next day; I asked him where the bookmaker was—he said that he could not find him, and that it was a curious thing; he went into the Frampton, and put down the coin—I asked him to turn out his pockets, which he did, and there were a number of old coins—I said, "According to your statement, you should have had 14s., and in the change from the Frampton you had not enough"—I asked him where it was; he said that he must have lost it.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I got it honestly for 10s., and I don't see why I should not part with it for 10s. I do not suppose I shall see the party again."
Prisoner's Defence: I got it honestly; I had 11s. given me. When I came out of the public-house, of course, I only had 1s. I knew it was a Jubilee 6d. when they told me it was.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on May 18th, 1896, of unlawfully uttering a counterfeit half-sovereign.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
DAVID HONOR 9City Detective). On July 20th, about 11.30 p.m., I was on duty, and saw the prisoner come out of a public-house in Bevis Marks and go to Lockyer's, and then to 53, Finsbury Pavement, come out, and go to the Moorgate public-house—he discovered me following him, and went to London Wall—I followed him, and asked what he had in his hand—he said, "A shilling"—I said, "This shilling is counterfeit"—he said, "Well, I know that"—I said, "You must come with me to the Moorgate public-house"—I asked a young woman behind the bar if she knew him—she said, "Yes, he paid me 1s. for a glass of drink"—I took him to the station; he said that he had the shilling given to him, and was not going to be done out of it—he said nothing about working for it.
PIETRO RODINI . I am a confectioner, of Finsbury Pavement—on July 20th I served the prisoner with a bottle of ginger beer, price 1d.—he gave me 1s.—I bent it in half, and gave it back to him, saying that it was bad—he said, "Well, it is a shame to bend that shilling like that;
I am a poor man"—he turned to the table, and I said, "You get out of the shop"—he went off with the shilling.
ROSE STEPHENS . I am barmaid at the Moorgate public-house—on July 20th, a little after twelve o'clock, I served the prisoner with half a pint of ale—he tendered 1s.—I told him it was a bad one, and asked if he had got any more—I bent it, but did not break it—he gave me a penny—he said he had been working an hour for it.
GUILTY .—Several convictions toere proved against him.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 9th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. A. GILL, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
— GUILTY of the attempt. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 9th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
628. THOMAS PAGE (24) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a watch from the person of William Pottinger Daniels after a conviction at the West London Police Court on October 17th, 1895.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
630. WILLIAM HAVERS BEDINGFIELD (40) , to stealing £394 0s. 2d. of the London and County Banking Company, Limited, his masters; also to wilfully making alterations in a cash-book belonging to his said masters.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
JOHN COMPTON . I am in the Secretary's department of the General Post Office—I was entrusted with letters to Palmer's Green, all going to the workhouse, and found it necessary to test the prisoner—on August 2nd I made up a letter with two postal orders and a dozen postage stamps in it, and addressed it and posted it myself—I called at the work-house next morning, and found the letter had not been delivered—I saw the prisoner, and said, "You changed this postal order this morning at a pawn-shop. Where did you get it?"—he said, "I picked it up"—I told him about my making up the letter, and said, "Do you mind being searched?"—he said, "No"—nothing was found on him—he was left alone with me—I said, "What have you done with the 5s. order?"—he said, "That will be found in my tunic at home"—I said, "What have you done with the stamps?"—he said, "I tore them up"—I said, "When did you steal the letter?"—he said, "This morning."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. All the loss was in the workhouse—I took the numbers of the orders I purchased—there were no losses till you had been there two months—you were always going to the lavatory—no two orders bear the same number.
Re-examined. The 2s. order was No. 993897, and the 5s. one 087180, issued at the Northern district office.
ROBERT GEORGE FRAZKR . I am a constable of the General Post Office—on August 8th I kept the prisoner under observation, I took up my position near the house where he lodged, and saw him come out about 9.20—he crossed the road, and went into a small shop, turned round, and came out—he then went to a pawn-shop; he was there five minutes—I entered directly he came out, and a young man handed me the postal order for 2s., No. 993897—it has the young man's initials on it—I then went to the prisoner's lodgings, and found in his tunic another order, No. 087180—in the tram we talked about his foolishness, and he said that he might have known there was nobody of that name living at that address—I cautioned him.
GEORGE ALBERT JOHNSON . I am head-postman at Palmer's Green—the prisoner was employed there as auxiliary postman—a letter posted at Winchmore Hill in the evening would arrive at 6.30 a.m., after which the prisoner had access to them for sorting.
ALFRED SMITH . I am assistant to Mr. Wedge, a pawnbroker, of Whittington Road—on August 8th, between nine and ten o'clock, the prisoner came in and bought something which came to 1d., and asked me to change this postal order, to save his going to the post-office—I did so—I put my initials on it in Frazer's presence.
Prisoner's Defence: The letters were not missing from my delivery—I picked the orders up when I arrived that morning—the first bag had been sorted; I only sorted the second bag.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. JARVIS Prosecuted.
The amounts in dispute were received by the prisoner as rent of certain premises of which the Prosecution denied that he was the lawful landlord,
but the Prisoner produced as his title to the premises a three years' agree ment between himself and J. R. Kean, upon which the COMMON SERJEANT directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
HUGO KNEIGE (Interpreted). I am a baker—on Sunday, August 16th, about one a.m., I was in Commercial Street, and was attacked by three or four men—(I am not quite sure, but I think Runacre had passed me that morning)—one man put my hands behind me, another caught my coat with one hand, and put it over my eyes, and the third man rifled my pockets—they tore my watch-chain off; my chain was torn from my watch; they pulled a ring off my finger, and took my purse, containing 10s. in gold and about 1s. 6d. in silver—a policeman came back with Holt.
Cross-examined by Holt. I cannot say for certain that I saw you.
WILLIAM THIN (77 H). About five or ten minutes to one a.m. I saw Runacre seize the prosecutor by his throat, and put him against the shutter of No. 19—I did not know him before—four other men then surrounded him, and rifled his pockets—I ran across to them—I was in uniform—they ran away—I chased Runacre 150 yards without losing sight of him; I was never more than six yards from him—I laid hold of him, and took him back to the prosecutor, and then to the station, where he was charged—I do not recognise the others.
Cross-examined by Runacre. After I had taken you back I said, "I shall lose my holiday through you"—I was going for my annual holiday—I was on duty.
JOHN SULLIVAN . I am a labourer, of Leman Street—on August 16th I saw the three prisoners together—Runacre caught the man by the collar, and pushed him against the shutters, and Holt put his hand in his pocket, and Mercer took hold of his hand, and took something off it—I had seen them in the street before, and in consequence of what I heard them say I followed them—I ran after them and lost sight of them, and saw a policeman bringing Runacre back—I saw Mercer at ten a.m. on Sunday, and pointed him out to a policeman; he said that he was not there—I saw Holt in the street at a quarter to nine—he said, "Oh," and went to the police-station, and told them—I went back, and he was standing against the churchyard—I pointed him out to a policeman, and he was taken—he said that I was the bastard who put his mate away that, morning, referring to Runacre.
Cross-examined by Runacre. You did not charge me with assaulting a young girl, and say, "I shall have you before the night is out round at the coffee-stall"—I said that I would lock you up—when the sergeant brought you back you tried to get away, and I blew my whistle.
Cross-examined by Holt. I spoke to you outside a public-house at a little before nine—I went to the station, and saw you again at 10.30 or 10.45—I spoke to you when I passed you, and I said that you had told a lie.
Cross-examined by Mercer. I followed you to Coram Street, and saw
you take the ring off the man's finger in Commercial Street—you were arrested at 10.30.
GEORGE POYNTER (206 H). I arrested Mercer; Sullivan pointed him out—I said I should take him for robbing a man—he said, "I was not there; I was at the Salvation Army shelter in Whitechapel Road, and the watchman will prove I was in bed all night."
Cross-examined by Mercer. I went to the watchman, and he said he did not know you.
Runacre's Statement before the Magistrate: "I left work at two o'clock on Saturday. I went and had various drinks. Sullivan said, 'Now I have got you,' and whistled."
Witness for Holt.
RICHARD ASH . I am a pedlar, of 270, Whitechapel Road, a Salvation Army shelter—on Saturday night, before Holt was arrested, he had some supper with me about 9.30; I was only in his company a few minutes; he gave me two slices, and I gave him one—I went to bed, and do not know what became of him.
By the COURT. I know Mercer, he came in about 9.50, went to bed about ten, and slept in the next bed to me—he did not go out again—he went out next morning—I went to sleep, and he was there the next morning, and was the last one to get up—I do not know that he did not go out again—I actually saw him get into bed—if he remained in bed he could not have been in Commercial Road at one a.m.—fifty or sixty of us slept in the same room—we do not have breakfast there—he went to a coffee-house, and got twopenny-worth of cheese—he had a two-shilling piece tied up in a corner of his handkerchief.
Cross-examined. Lumley, who is paralysed in his right arm, slept on the other side of me—the beds are like boxes; we undress when we get into them, and put our clothes underneath—it would take me six or seven minutes to go from the shelter to where the robbery took place—I am quite sure that Mercer slept next to me—if you go out you have to pay to come in again; but you can have your 2d. returned as you go out, and they could let your bed to somebody else; but I am a regular customer there—I sleep pretty soundly, because I am walking about the best part of the day, and I do not go to bed to keep awake.
Runacre's Defence: I was drinking a cup of coffee at a stall, and the witness came up and said, "I will have you presently;" a policeman came up and said, "You will have to come along with me, and I shall lose my b—holiday over you," and I was charged; I had earned 4s. 6d; I had 7s. 6d. in my pocket; Sullivan said that five or six weeks ago I struck him in the face for knocking a girl about, and that is the reason he has done this; he hangs about public-houses, and has money given him by policemen, and keeps a whistle in his pocket; I did not need to do this, because I can earn 4s. 6d. a day.
Holt's Defence: I know nothing about it, I was in bed; if I had done such a thing I should not have stopped there; this man carries a Policeman's whistle.
J. SULLIVAN (Re-examined). I have known Holt about three weeks—I have seen him with thieves in the Commercial Street—I had no quarrel
with him before this case—I only know him by sight, but two or three of his pals have been knocking me about—I have given information before—the police whistle was not given to me for my protection; I had it by me—I work in Old Kent Road.
Mercer's Defence: I went in at ten minutes to ten on Saturday night, and went to bed, and in the morning I gave the witness 2d. I had spent 1s. 6d. I was in Commercial Street; a friend came up, gave me some grapes, and said, "Look out, there are the coppers over there, he might be after you." As I went along Shepherd Street, a policeman took me, and said, "I suppose you know what it is for?" I said, "No," and when I got to the station I was charged with robbery with violence, but I am innocent of the crime.
R. ASH (Re-examined). I had the supper with Holt in the dining-room, which is on a level with the street—I do not know whether he went out; I went upstairs—there are two separate sleeping-rooms; the one on the ground-floor holds about forty more than the other—there are two rooms upstairs—I do not know where Holt slept—I slept in the top room—if I was sleeping I might never-see the man again who slept next to me—a regular man takes the 2d.; one of the Salvation Army men; he would know everyone passing in and out—they do not have to pay to go into the dining-room—they pay for what they have—they can come out in the night, but they forfeit the 2d.—if a man is not in at ten o'clock, when they come to turn the lights down, the bed may be occupied by somebody else.
WILLIAM TURRELL . I am a warder—I received Runacre in custody at Pentonville on June 17th, 1890—the charge was stealing a puree; he was sentenced to three months—the certificate is attached to the depositions—I saw him daily—he is the man—I had known him years previous to that.
The Prisoner. I have never been at Pentonville. Witness. Here is your photograph (produced)—that was when you were in the name of Collins.
GUILTY. Several other convictions were proved against him.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MERCER— NOT GUILTY . The JURY ware unable to agree as to HOLT, and they were discharged without giving a verdict. (Seepage 1015.)
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, September 9th, 1696.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. BURRELL Prosecuted.
of his marriage with Mary Ann Lucas; I have compared it with the record at Somerset House; it is correct—I also produce the certificate of his marriage with Decima Jones at Manchester.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Inspector Morgan handed me the first certificate.
Cross-examined. I saw you, twelve months ago last Whit week, pass my door with the prosecutrix—since your marriage I have not seen you in your wife's company.
JOHN WHITLEY . I live at 25, Renshaw Street, Manchester—I saw the prisoner married to Mary Ann Lucas in 1880—she is alive; I saw her on August 3rd, this year, at Douglas, Isle of Man—she recognised me as a witness at her marriage.
Cross-examined. Since your marriage you have come across to my door alone.
Cross-examined. I first knew you eight years ago, when you came to an hotel in Manchester, and we were fellow-servants together there—shortly after I left, and went to a situation in Higher Broughton—while there a woman came and said something about you, and brought a letter I had sent you—she said she was your wife—in September, 1894, we went to Pendleton to give notice of marriage at the Registrar's Office; the marriage did not take place—in March this year my mistress saw you, and through her we got married—you had no money to pay for it—my sister-in-law said my mother had received a letter twelve months ago, saying that you had gone through a form of marriage previously, I believe—the letter my mother sent was returned to her; she gave me no explanation till I went home—I saw you in company with a woman once—I did not know for certain you had been married before.
The COURT directed the JURY to acquit the prisoner, as there was no evidence that he knew his wife was alive at the time of the second marriage.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
ROBERT HENRY BICKNELL . I am an engineer, of 11, Auckland Road, Primrose Hill—the prisoner was in my employment as a shorthand clerk up to July 27th, I think—I did not discharge him; he absented himself; he should have come on July 31st, but he did not—I employed him on alternate weeks—the first thing that made me suspect anything wrong was when Mrs. Townend brought me these two cheques, and asked whether they were mine—they were out of my old cheque-book, which was in a drawer in my office; the prisoner would have access to the cheque-book if he opened
the drawer; he had no business with the drawer—I know his writing well—I believe these cheques are written by him—I did not write them—they are drawn payable to Addison, and endorsed Addison—one is signed Robert H. Bicknell, and the other R. H. Bicknell—I went with Mrs. Townend to the Police-station, and made a communication to the police.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Before I went away I asked you to clear out a lumber cupboard, which contained a lot of old drawings and papers—I cannot say that there were any cheque-books there—these cheques are drawn on a bank in London, where I have £5—I have an account in the Capital and Counties Bank at Boston—you were not discharged—the morning I went away I asked you if you had seen my cheque-book—I afterwards received it from Mrs. Bicknell; you told her that you had found it—that was the Capital and Counties Bank cheque-book—the signature to these cheques does not in the least resemble mine; it is not even a colourable imitation—you arranged to work for me for £1 a week.
MABEL TOWNEND . I am the wife of Percy Townend, of 174, Prince of Wales' Road, Kentish Town—the prisoner lodged with me—on July 24th he was in my debt—his wife gave me this cheque for £2 5s., and I gave her 16s. 5d. change—I put the cheque in my purse, and on the following Monday the prisoner's wife told me something which roused my suspicion, and after speaking to my husband I went and asked Mr. Bicknell if these cheques were all right before I presented them.
Cross-examined. Your wife has since paid the money—I declined to prosecute at the time.
GEORGE WALLACE (Detective Sergeant Y). I arrested the prisoner, and told him I should take him to the Kentish Town Police-station, where he would be charged with being concerned, with his wife, in forging and uttering two cheques on the National Provincial Bank, St. James' Street Branch, and thereby obtaining money—he replied, "My wife is perfectly innocent of any knowledge of the cheques being forged; I alone am to blame"—when I asked for the cheque-book he said, "Here it is," and handed it to me at once—it contains counterfoils corresponding to the cheques.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had written the cheques, but without any intention to defraud, as Im hoped to obtain extra work and replace the money.
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY, owing to the circumstances under which he was placed. There was another indictment for forgery against the prisoner.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HEWITT Prosecuted.
The evidence was interpreted to the prisoner.
MALCOLM ARTHUR PRITCHARD . I live with my father, Alfred John Pritchard, at 14, Warwick Road, Kensington—I am an articled clerk—on July 27th I went to bed between eleven and twelve, after fastening the back door and the dining-room door—I know the front door was fastened—about 3.15 or 3.30 I woke up and heard voices downstairs—I went
down and found policemen there—the doors were all open—I saw that certain things had been taken—I Saw some of our plate in the next door garden.
RICHARD WILMOT (87 F). About three a.m. on July 28th I was on duty in Warwick Road, and when passing the area gate of 10, Warwick Road 1 noticed that a private mark I had left had been disturbed, and on the lawn I saw this salver near the wall—I called for assistance, and other policemen came.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not notice anyone scale the wall—about five minutes afterwards I heard a noise as if some windows were broken.
THOMAS POPLOTT (Inspector F). About 3.40 a.m., July 28th, I went to the block of houses, 10, 12 and 14, Warwick Road, which I found surrounded by police—after searching for about an hour I withdrew all the men except four, one at each corner, so that no one could leave without being seen—I examined No. 14—the window of the w.c., about sixteen inches square, was open—it is four or five feet from the garden—the w.c. door leads into the passage, from which access can be gained to the rest of the house.
FRANK SAVILLE (322 F). At 6.30 or 6.45 a.m on July 28th I saw the prisoner in the area of No. 10; he was just coming out from a cellar—I apprehended and searched him; I found on him ten keys, three pairs of pliers, two files, a screwdriver, a drill, a vice, a chisel, a piece of candle, two pocket-knives, and a shoemaker's knife, two pawntickets, and other things, and 1s. 3d.—I took him to the station—I first went to Warwick Road at six o'clock; the house was then surrounded by police; I relieved a night-duty man.
Cross-examined. I did not examine the door.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that on his way home from work he met a fellow-countryman, who said he wanted assistance to break into a house, and who, by the exercise of a demoniacal power, compelled the prisoner to accompany him; that he sat on the steps of a house while the other man got over the wall into the next garden; that when the police came the other man got away; and that the tools found on him he used in his trade of locksmith and electrician.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PROBYN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HORNE (536 X). At 11.50 p.m. on August 9th I watched the prisoners in Cambridge Avenue, Kilburn—at the top of the High Road I went into a garden and took off my uniform, and got over two walls to the back of the house, No. 29—I watched Wallace go into a window—Ward walked up and down outside—I crossed the road, and lay down by the side of the wall—I saw Wallace come out of the window, and I caught hold of him—he said, "Oh!"—I asked him what he was doing—he said, "Nothing"—I said I should take him to the station—he said, "Very well, I mean to have a go for it"—he attempted to get away, and scratched my face—I was taking him down the road when I met Ward, with a man and two women—I seized Ward, and told him I should take in to the station for being concerned with a man in committing
a burglary up the road—he said he knew nothing about it—the other man with him said, "You shall not take him," and kicked me twice on the leg, and pulled Ward away—I blew my whistle for assistance, and they all ran up Chichester Road—I again seized Ward outside the Brondesbury public-house—I told him I should take him to the station—both prisoners clung to the railings; assistance came, and they were taken to the station—I arrested Wallace in the garden as he came out of the window.
CHARLES HARDING (Sergeant 41 X). On August 10th, after the two prisoners were charged, I examined the premises, 29, Cambridge Avenue—I found the dining-room window broken just above the fastening, and this stone was lying on the window-sill outside—the window seemed to have been cut with something and then knocked out—I entered the house, and found everything all right as far as I could tell—it would have been very easy to open the window after it had been broken.
HAROLD PIFFARD . I am an artist, living at 29, Cambridge Avenue—on August 2nd I left my house quite secure, and went for my holiday—I came back about the 17th—I found the dining-room window had been broken; a small piece had been cut out, just near the latch—nothing was missing from the house.
WARD PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in September, 1893.— Six Months' Hard Labour each.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HENDERSON Prosecuted.
ERNEST WARNER . I live at 4, Brook Cottages, Enfield—about 10.30 p.m. on Saturday, August 8th, I was with Alfred Sells, going towards Ponder's End—the prisoners walked up; Walters snatched at my chain, and took it, and my watch, and they ran off—I gave chase—they went into a field opposite the Social Club, and there we had a struggle—I had Walters down, and was hitting him, and my friend came and helped me, and then live or six men came up and knocked me down, and kicked me in the head and face half silly—on the Monday I saw the prisoners again—this is my watch and part of my chain—I am quite sure about Walters, but not about Woodman.
Cross-examined by Walters. I was sober, and you seemed sober—I cannot swear that Woodman was with you—no third man was with me—I did not say to you, "Hold my watch while I have this row"—I did not pull off my coat.
Cross-examined by Woodman. I cannot swear to you.
ALFRED SELLS . I am a mechanic, of 3, Jasper Road, Enfield Highway—at 10.30 p.m. on August 8th I was walking with Warner along Enfield Highway, when the prisoners came up and asked me for a match—I was feeling for one when Walters snatched at my friend's watch—Warner said to me, "I have lost my watch; come on," and we ran after the
prisoners—then Warner had Walters on the ground in the field, and I went up, and we both leathered into Walters, and he said to us, "I will give you your watch back if you will let me get up"—then Woodman and some other men came up, and Woodman slipped into me and got me on the ground, and hit me in the eye—I hit him back on the nose—I left my friend, and went over to the Social Club, and asked for help—I heard Warner holloaing out, "Dick, come on," and I went back, and a lot of men had him on the ground; they said, "Kick his brains in," and "Let us go down his breeches"—the men ran to the other side of the field and got away—I saw both prisoners again on the Monday night—I and Warner pointed out Woodman to Sergeant Dixon—Woodman did not deny having any connection with this affair—I have no doubt about him—there were scars on his face.
Cross-examined by Walters. You did not kick, or strike, or touch me—I am quite sure Woodman was with you—there were only two of us—I did not have my coat off in the road—Warner did not say, "Come, let us have that £10"—we had no row; we were walking side by side—I saw Woodman when he slipped into me in the field—I identified him because he had a black eye and a swollen nose.
Cross-examined by Woodman. I identified you by your face, and I saw you when you were in the field—you struck me in the eye in the field—I fell to the ground; you did not.
ALFRED JENNINGS (Detective Sergeant). On August 10th I went to Miller's Field, where I found this watch, lying face uppermost, in a furrow, ten or twelve yards from a spot which Warner and Sells had pointed out as where the struggle took place—there were signs of a severe struggle round there—I apprehended Walters at Lower Edmonton Station the same Evening, at 8.30—I said I was a detective sergeant, and that I should take him into custody for highway robbery, which I believed at the time it was—he said, "You will have to prove it; I was not there; I was at the Britannia," meaning a music hall—on the following morning, while taking him to Tottenham Station, he said, "The lad was not there" (meaning Woodman); "I will not see him put away"—on the following Thursday these scraps of paper were handed to me—I was present when Woodman was arrested, but I did not hear what passed between him and Dixon—I stood on the outskirts of the crowd to prevent violence.
CHARLES DIXON (Detective). I was with Jennings when the watch was found in the field opposite the Social Club, and I was with him when Walters was arrested—I afterwards arrested Woodman—Warner and Sells pointed him out as the person who stole the watch on the Saturday night—I told Woodman he would be charged with being concerned with a man named Irish Mick for high way robbery—he said, "I know nothing about the young man's clock; as to Irish Mick, I saw him in the Cock about 9.30; I afterwards saw him fighting; if he likes to speak the truth he can tell you that I don't know anything about the watch"—at the station he said, in answer to the charge, "I don't know anything about it; I can prove where I was at the time"—he was bleeding from the nose, and the end of his nose was very swollen—several times Warner and Sells pointed out the marks, and especially Sells, as he remembered punching him on the nose—Woodman said he could account for that by a fight with somebody on the Bank Holiday,
which was on the 3rd—the Cock public-house is about 200 yards from where the assault took place.
Cross-examined by Walters. Warner and Sells both pointed out Woodman—Sells might have said, "There is your nose, that shows"—there was a great noise at the time.
Cross-examined by Woodman. Your nose was bleeding when I arrested you—that was not on the Saturday night.
HARRY GEORGE . I am a gardener, living at Bruce's Row, Edmonton—I know the prisoners by sight—on August 13th, when Walters got out of the prison van, in which he had been driven to the Police-court, he gave me these three papers—I cannot read—I put them in my pocket, and gave them to Jennings—Walters told me to give them to Dick French.
Cross-examined by Walters. I did not say to you, "Have you got 1s.; if you pay my tram fare, I will have Dick up."
The papers were read as follows:—"Dick, listen to the case as it goes, and when I ask you 'Did I have any marks on my face through the week?' you say 'Yes '; and if they ask you do you know me, say by sight only; and say also when you and Jim Fenn and Luck, and whoever else will come up, were going home on Saturday night, and that you see me about half-past ten standing at the top of Bounce's Lane, and that I was drunk, and I said I had just come away from Cock Fields, and was going home; say I did not look like as if I had any fight or anything, and tell the others to do the same, and say that is all you know. If they ask you how long were you talking to me, say about a quarter of an hour or ten minutes, and then I went down Bounce's Lane; be careful how they go about things, and do not make any bloomers. Tell Joe I am afraid Woodman will split, but he can depend on me getting him out of it if possible, Mick. Drop me a bit a snout in; if they prove this it means a fiver; so do your best. Give this to Dick French, to bring me in some dinner, and a bit of snout, Mick. Tell Joe to be very careful, and if they snip him, to say he was not in my company."
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Walters said: "I plead guilty to taking the watch and chain; this lad was not in it." Woodman said: "I am not guilty."
——PERKINS. About 9.30 p.m. on August 8th I saw the prisoners at the Cock; I was with a friend; they went in the direction of Ponder's End together—on August Bank Holiday I had a fight with Woodman, which he caused, and I made a mark on his face—when he returned on August 8th, at 10.30 or 10.40, his face was bleeding, and he looked frightened—he had not been there ten minutes before he drank out of a pot which my mother was drinking out of, and he went in the direction of the roundabouts and swings, which were opposite; and we followed across, and went into the Cock Fields, where the round-abouts were.
Cross-examined by Walters. Woodman looked as if he had been running, and had had a scuffle—I do not owe you or him a grudge—you did not come back—Woodman's face was bleeding freely—on August Bank Holiday I marked him when I fought him.
Cross-examined by Woodman. I was not there when Walters was fighting on the Saturday night.
Walters, in his defence, said that Woodman was not with him, that he saw three men fighting in the road, and one asked him to take care of his watch, and that he ran off with it, but used no violence. Woodman asserted his innocence.
GUILTY .— The JURY recommended Woodman to mercy.
WALTERS then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in October, 1894, and WOODMAN to one in May, 1896. WALTERS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. WOODMAN— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SCOTT-CRICKETT Prosecuted.
ALEXANDER RAMSEY . I live at 6, Charles Street, Clerkenwell—about 11 p.m. on August 4th I went to bed, leaving my house fastened up as usual—in the passage of the house was a child's mail cart—about 1.30 Mr. Davis, my lodger, knocked at my bedroom door, and said someone had entered my house with a key, and taken my mail cart—I had left the door shut, but not bolted—I gave notice to the police, and about six I went to Old Street Station, where I saw and identified the mail cart.
Cross-examined by Jones. I cannot say I was the last one to come into my house on that night—I do not know who last came into the house that night—I have four lodgers.
Cross-examined by Findon. I came indoors about 10.30, and went to bed about eleven.
JOHN LLOYD DAVIS . I am a lodger in the prosecutor's house—I went to bed at 12.30 on August 4th—I saw the front door shut, and the mail cart in the passage—my room is opposite the street lamp—at 1.30 I woke up, and heard someone come in with a key; thinking it was a lodger, I went off to rest, but I heard a wheel that was without a tyre go bang on the steps, and looked out, and saw the prisoners quietly wheeling off the cart—I woke up the prosecutor, and went for a Policeman—I was on the same floor as the passage, and next to the street-door—I turned back my blind, and saw the prisoners by the light of the lamp just opposite ray room.
Cross-examined by Jones. I am positive you took the cart from the passage; I saw you go out; I saw you passing my window—I saw you again at the station.
Cross-examined by Findon. There are four lodgers, two married couples with children.
FREDERICK HANKS (46 G). On the morning of August 5th I saw Jones wheeling a go cart, accompanied by Findon, through Lever Street—I stopped them, and asked what they were doing at that time in the morning—Jones replied, "It is my sister's; she has been at Southend to-day, and we have been to meet her; somehow we missed her, and we have stopped about since"—I let them go, but watched them, and saw them take it to 1, Waterloo Street—two hours afterwards I was informed that a house had been broken into, and this cart stolen—I communicated with my inspector—we visited the house, and in the passage saw the cart
—we woke up Jones, and said he would be taken into custody for stealing this cart from 6, Upper Charles Street—he said, "I know where we got it; Findon was with me; he can tell you where we got it from"—he was taken to the station—I went to Findon's house, and said to him, 'Jones is in custody, and I shall take you to the station"—when charged at the station he made no reply.
Cross-examined by Jones. You did not tell me you had found the mail cart.
Jones, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that he saw the mail cart outside the house, and having had some drink, he wheeled it about. Findon stated they found it on the pavement, and Janes wheeled it away.
JONES then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in September, 1895.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. FINDON— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
645. HARRY ATKINSON (20) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the shop of the Express Dairy Company, Limited, and stealing two boxes of cigars and £1 3s. 10 1/2d.— MR. WHEATLEY, of the St. Giles' Christian Mission, had an interview with the prisoner, who subsequently stated that he was willing to go to sea.—Discharged on Recognizances. And
646. EDWIN STANLEY COX (25) , to stealing two blank cheque forms, the property of William Penman; also to forging an order for the payment of £5 19s. 6d.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 10th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MESSRS. BODKIN and E. PERCIVAL CLARKE Prosecuted, and LORD COLERIDGE, Q.C., and MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Defended.
THOMAS HOLLIS (21 G). I have been accustomed to the making of plans—I have surveyed and made a plan of the basement of No. 40, North Street, King's Cross; also a plan of the ground floor of 42, and the yards at the rear of the two houses—there is no dividing wall between the two yards; it is quite possible to get from one house to the other at the back—entering the back door of 40, there is a passage, and, going along ten or twelve feet, there are two steps, and then the door of. the back kitchen, and another, 7 feet 3 inches, into the front kitchen, which is about 12 by 13 feet—the back kitchen is 11 feet 6 inches by 7 feet 10 inches.
Cross-examined. There was a table in the middle of the front kitchen—anyone standing at that table could not see into the passage if the door was shut; if it was open you could not see anyone at the two steps unless you were very near the door—I made the plans on July 6th—there is no light in the passage—there is a gas light in the back kitchen, over the mantelpiece, and one over the table in the front kitchen.
Riley was a builder—I had an office there—42 is the next house; that also belonged to Mr. Riley—the prisoner was a weekly tenant of those premises—he carried on a butcher's business there, at the rent of 27s. a week—on July 4th, in consequence of instructions from Mr. Riley, I wrote out this paper and this envelope: "To Mr. C. Galley,—I hereby give you notice to leave, and deliver up possession of the premises known as 42, North Street, N., on July 4th next. Dated August 4th.—J. RILEY"—I wrote that out about one o'clock, and left it on Mr. Riley's desk—I did not leave it at Mr. Galley's, or see it left—I left about half-past one—that was the last time I saw Mr. and Mrs. Riley—I had been with Mr. Riley five years—I was in the habit of going into their living rooms—the front kitchen was used as a sitting-room—there was a close tirerange there, with a curved fender—some fire-irons were usually kept there, a poker and a rake—I could not answer for their being there on that day—these (produced) are they—I identify the rake, I could not swear to the poker—in the back kitchen there was an elliptic stove, with an open grate, and a place on each side to put things on—I have been in that room from time to time—I never noticed any fire-irons there.
JAMES HOLTON . I live at 212, Kilburn Park Road—I was in the prisoner's employ for about twelve months before July 4th at 42, North Street, assisting in the shop—I was there on July 4th all day—about ten that evening, which was a busy time, I was serving in the shop at the scales—the prisoner was outside, attending to the customers—he had a cuttingup knife in his hand—this is it (produced); it is the knife he generally used; he was cutting up some meat with it—he came round the counter to me, and put an envelope in my pocket, and said, "Take care of this, Jim," and he went downstairs into the yard at the back—he was away from about three to five minutes—I was in the shop when he came back—he said, "Jim, fetch a policeman," and he went and sat down in a chair in the parlour at the back of the shop, and said, "I am done, Jim"—I noticed that he was bleeding from his forehead—a few minutes afterwards he said, "Give me that slip back, Jim"—I gave it him—I did not see what he did with it—very shortly afterwards a policeman came in, and the prisoner was taken away—I had not noticed the knife that evening—I saw the prisoner using it all that evening outside—I did not notice the handle; he wooden part of it was broken on one side, chopped—he always put something round it, to keep it together; twisted some string round it—I have seen it used at times in the shop—I had not noticed anything wrapped round it; a piece of cloth is round it now, such as the meat is wrapped in.
Cross-examined. I had never noticed the knife that evening—I was inside, he was outside—I could not say what he was using—the blade is here—Mr. Galley had worked up this business for about two years—he began with nothing, and worked it up to a nourishing business—the success of a business like that greatly depends upon its position; you get customers in the immediate neighbourhood, and if you go out of the neighbourhood you lose them—I used to see him every day—he is a sober man—he is married, and has four children—I have observed him in his domestic relations—he was very kind to his wife and family—the deceased was a tall, powerful, man; he was about six feet, and about forty-five years old—I think he was a passionate man; little things put him
out very much—I believe he was in the habit of constantly going to the police about one matter and another—at the time the prisoner handed me the envelope he was quiet—when he came back I noticed the wound in his head; it could be seen at once; it was bleeding, running down his face.
Re-examined. I had never been to Mr. Buoy's house—I say he was passionate; if there was an organ or a band outside, he would turn it away; if children came round his door to play, he would edge them away, push them—I don't know of anything else—I don't think he was much respected in the neighbourhood—a lot of lads used to stand about the corner, and he would send for the police to send them away; they were not loafers, but lads about sixteen; they made a bit of a noise sometimes, and he used to send for the police to clear them away—I don't know that he complained to the police about.
ELIZABETH ALICE RILEY . I am nine years of age—I can read—I know that I am to speak the truth. (The witness commenced to sob very violently, and after a time her examination was postponed to give her an opportunity of recovering herself.)
ROBERT WAGG (328 G). On Saturday evening, July 4th, about ten, I was at the corner of North Street, about 100 yards from No. 40—somebody came and spoke to me—in consequence of what was said I went straight away to No. 40; I saw the little girl, the last witness, standing at the corner of the passage—I went through the passage to the ground floor at the back—I saw a man and woman lying dead inside the back kitchen—I did not move them—Iliad seen the prisoner that evening just outside his shop, attending to his customers—it was about five minutes after that that the man came and spoke to me—while I was at 40, Constables Cowley and Nutt came there.
Cross-examined. I found no constable when I got there—I was the first on the scene—when I went to the station I left another constable in charge of the place—the bodies were not moved till the doctor came—I noticed this poker lying between the two dead bodies in the kitchen; I did not move it; there was blood on it—I did not notice that it was bent—I did not notice a fire rake close to the poker.
ARTHUR NUTT (387 G). About half-past ten on Saturday evening, July 4th, I went to 40, North Street—I there saw a man and woman lying on the floor in the kitchen—I came upstairs, and saw the little girl on the steps leading to the back part of the house—she made a statement to me—I went to the prisoner's shop, at 42, and saw him in the parlour at the back of the shop—he spoke first—he said, "All right, policeman; I will come quietly"—I said, "I have been next door, and from what I have seen and heard, I must take you to the station"—he said, "All right, I will come quietly; only let someone look after my wife and children"—I then took him to the station.
ELIZABETH ALICE RILEY (Re-called). I am now living with my uncle at Wood Green—I used to live with my father and mother at 40, North Street—I have two younger sisters—I was at home on the evening of July 4th; my father and mother were also at home—about ten I was in the front kitchen, with my daddy and my little sister—there was a gaslight in the kitchen—I was standing against the table near the fire, daddy and sister were against the dresser—my sister was sitting on a chair, and father was unlacing her boots—mother and my other sister
were in the back kitchen; there was a light there—Ihe door of the front kitchen was wide open—I heard a sound by the back door of somebody talking; it was Mr. Galley's voice—he called my daddy, and he went up the steps to the back door—I moved from the table and went to the dresser; the door of the kitchen was open—Ihere was no light in the passage—I looked through the door down the passage, and saw Mr. Galley and my daddy—I heard what was said—Mr. Galley spoke first—he said, "What is the meaning of this?"—daddy said, "What it is"—I did not notice whether Mr. Galley had anything in his hand—daddy came down the steps into the front kitchen—Mr. Galley came down the steps after him, and came to the front kitchen door—mamma came from the back kitchen to the front kitchen door; the door was a little bit open—mamma went in at the front kitchen door, and Mr. Galley struck her; I don't know what he struck her with—I did not see how he moved himself when he struck her; he moved his hands, and she fell down inside the front kitchen—Ihe door was then open—daddy got the poker; it was against the fire-place—I here was something else against the fireplace, I don't know what you call it; it is a thing to get the ashes out with; the things were lying down; I don't know whether they were lying together or on opposite sides—daddy got the poker, and did something to Mr. Galley; he went to the front kitchen door, and did something to Mr. Galley with the poker; I don't know what he did to him—he had the poker in his hand; his hand was out like that—Ihen Mr. Galley struck daddy; I don't know what with; his hand moved when he struck, and daddy fell down against the door, and Mr. Galley ran down and out by the back kitchen door, and I did not see him any more—I began to scream, and went to the kitchen door that looks on to the street—a policeman afterwards came—when mamma was in the back kitchen she was washing my sister's face—when she came out she did not say anything to Galley, or he to her; she never spoke—father and mother went out that evening before ten; I don't know at what time it was, or where they went.
Cross-examined. I was very much frightened—I was standing at the table when Mr. Galley came in, when he first came to the back door—I here was no fire in the back kitchen—tere was a fire in the front kitchen—I did not see Mr. Galley come in at the back door—I did not see him come in with a bit of paper—I recollect being asked that question when I was here last time—I then said I saw him with a bit of paper in his hand—I did not see him with it—I can't remember one way or the other—Mr. Galley came into the kitchen, but no further—I said before that he walked down the front kitchen; I can't remember—mother came into the kitchen before Mr. Galley; I am quite sure of that; I can't remember one way or the other—I saw nothing in Galley's hand except the bit of paper—nothing happened to my father before he went to fetch the poker—I did not see any blood on Galley—I said in my last examination that I saw blood flowing from his hand; I can't remember—I said I saw blood flowing from his hand on to mamma's skirt.
(During the whole Cross-examination the witness was violently sobbing, and with great difficulty answered the questions put to her.)
Re-examined. When mamma came out of the back kitchen she had a towel in her hand—father only went once to the fireplace and back again.
SAMUEL PARLETT (Inspector G). On the night of July 4th I was on duty at King's Cross Police-station—Ihe prisoner was brought there a little before eleven—I asked him his name—he said, "I can't give you my name, I will write it down for you"—I gave him a piece of paper on which he wrote his name—I told him he would be detained for causing the death of two persons, which might result in a charge of wilful murder being preferred—he said, "After working a business up from an empty shop to £50 and £55 a week I have this put into my hand to-night," at the same time handing me this notice to quit; he took it out of the envelope—they have since remained in my custody—he said, "This is the envelope it came in; that is all I have to say; this is through no fault of my own, which will, no doubt, come out later on"—I cautioned him that it was not desirable for him to make any statement, and left him—a few minutes afterwards he sent for me, and said, "The knife you had better get as soon as you can; it is through the shop, down the passage, on the right-hand side, in the corner; I only hid it away from my wife before the constables came, and I was waiting for them to come in"—I communicated that to Inspector Briggs.
Cross-examined. When I asked him his name he apparently had a choking sensation, he was very much affected—I produce the paper he wrote it on—it is not spelt quite correctly, the "1" is omitted.
WILLIAM BRIGGS (Inspector G). Shortly after ten on Saturday night, July 4th, I received information, and went with Dr. Miller, the divisional surgeon, to North Street—just this side of No. 40 I met the prisoner, accompanied by Nutt, who, in the prisoner's presence, said, "The man and woman have been murdered at 40, North Street, and I am taking this man to the station"—Ihe prisoner said, "That is right, sir"—I directed him to be taken to the station, and went with the doctor to the house—I went in at the front door, and went down to the basement—at the foot of the steps, on the floor, outside the front-room door, I saw a vast quantity of blood; there was also blood on the door-post and on the walls—I went into the back kitchen, and there I saw the dead bodies of a man and woman lying side by side—I examined them with the doctor—both bodies had been stabbed—I examined the front kitchen to see if there had been a struggle there—I saw no signs of a struggle—just inside the front door there was a pool of blood, and from there I traced droppings of blood to the fireplace of that room; there they ended in a small pool of blood to the left of the fender, the side nearest the chest of drawers—I then traced the droppings back to the door of the front kitchen—those two droppings of blood were distinct—I went again into the kitchen, and standing up against the wall I found this poker and rake—I searched the house particularly, looking for traces of a struggle, but found none—after that I went out to the prisoner's house next door, No. 42—I entered by the back—the yard is common to both houses—I went up the two steps to the ground floor, which is on a level with the street, and in a corner immediately beside the parlour door in the passage I found this large butcher's knife—Dr. Miller was with me when I found it; this piece of cloth was wrapped round the handle—the knife was covered with wet blood—I then returned to King's Cross-station, taking the things with me—I saw the prisoner in the charge-room, and said to him, "Mr. and Mrs. Riley
are both dead, and you will be charged with their murder"—hemade no reply—I then noticed that he was suffering from a wound on the forehead, over the left eye, and I said to him, "The doctor will dress your head"—he replied, "Oh, that does not matter now, sir"—the divisional surgeon dressed his head, and he was then charged with the murder of both Mr. and Mrs. Riley—the charge was read over to him; he was not cautioned—he replied, "All right, sir"—at nine next morning I visited him in the cells at King's Cross-station, on my duty—he said to me, "Are they both dead?"—I replied, "Yes"—he said, "I was mad; I must have been mad"—on the night of the 4th he appeared to be in a dazed condition, but appeared to know exactly what he was doing.
Cross-examined. He did not seem to express any surprise on the Sunday morning at hearing they were both dead—I do not remember saying so on the last occasion—I had told him on the Saturday that they were both dead—I have learnt that he was a sober, industrious, hard-working man, who looked well after his family and his business—from my inquiries, he has borne up to this time the character of a steady, well-conducted man.
ROBERT HARDING RAINS . I am a medical man, practising at 57, Caledonian Road—a little after ten on the night of July 4th I was called to 40, North Street—I went to the foot of the stairs leading from the shop to the basement—I saw a pool of blood in the passage, extending about a yard to the doorway of the front kitchen; I noticed two bodies lying in the doorway—Mrs. Riley was lying on her face, with her head near to the door-post, and the body of Mr. Riley was lying on its back, with his head and shoulders turned over slightly to the right—his right thigh was lying across the woman's right shoulder—They were both dead—the poker and rake were lying between the two bodies—one end of the poker stood against the door-post, and the poker itself lay over the woman's shoulder; one end of the rake rested against the door-post on my right, and was across over her shoulder—the bodies were afterwards moved into the back kitchen—subsequently, with Dr. Miller, I made a post-mortem examination—on the man's body I found eight separate wounds; one was a scalp wound on the left side of the back of the head, commencing about half an inch above the ear, and extending horizontally backward about three inches, cutting fight down to the bone; it was an incised wound—such a wound would have bled very freely—on the left side of the neck there were two wounds; one a punctured wound, about two inches deep and an inch and a-half long, and dividing the internal jugular vein; the other was a similar wound, on the same side of the neck, about an inch lower, an inch and a-half long, and two inches, or a little more, in depth, penetrating to the spine, and also severing the internal jugular vein—there was a similar wound on the left side of the breast, about an inch and a-half in length, or scarcely so long, about an inch and a-half from the margin of the breast bone about an inch and a-half in width, penetrating through the first left intercostal space between the first and second ribs, penetrating the subclavial under the arm; and there was another similar wound in the abdomen, a transverse wound, about an inch above the anterior side of the spine, almost on a level with the navel; that was a punctured around right through the abdominal wall to the intestines; it was such a wound as would be made by a butcher's knife—there was a similar
wound in the left thigh, about an inch below the groin, penetrating up-wards and inwards, and dividing the femoral vein—there were also two incised wounds, one on each thumb, just across the outer side of the thumb, down to the bone, about three-quarters of an inch in length—all these wounds could have been caused by the same instrument, such as the knife produced—the wound in the neck penetrating to the spine would have caused death rapidly, certainly in two or three minutes; both those wounds in the neck were almost equally fatal; both divided the internal jugular vein—the wound in the abdomen was a fatal wound, though not so immediately fatal—the wound in the thigh was also a very fatal wound, but not so immediately fatal; death would have happened after such a wound—after the wound on the scalp the person would be able to move about he would be able to move a limb, but not to walk, after either of the other wounds—I also examined the body of the woman—I found on her four separate wounds—the character of each of those Bounds was similar to those on the man, evidently having been inflicted with the game instrument—there was an incised punctured wound on the left side of her neck, about an inch and a-half in length, and two inches in depth, penetrating the internal jugular vain; another slighter wound in the neck fat under the chin, down to the angle of the jaw; also a wound in the chest piercing the left ventricle of the heart; that was about two inches from the left margin of the sternum, extending upwards and inwards, about an inch and a half in length, and also piercing the ascending aorta to the extent of three-quarters of an inch—the fourth wound was a deep incised one on the palm of the left hand, from two to three and a-half inches down to the bone—the wound in the neck was rapidly fatal; in two or three minutes, perhaps—the wound penetrating the heart would have been immediately fatal; the person receiving that wound would not be able to move in the least; she would fall at once—the man, after aving fallen, might have turned over—the position of his legs gave that idea—the cuts on his thumbs were most likely to have been caused by the butcher's knife sliding along the poker, or rake—in my opinion, the hand was grasping the poker; the wounds on each thumb were identically in the same position; being pierced and carried along the poker, or rake—I did not notice the two tracks of blood from the front kitchen door—I should say the woman died first.
Cross-examined. I was examined before the Coroner and before the Magistrate, and on the last occasion here—I have not before to-day started the theory of the man holding up the poker in one hand and the rake in the other—if the poker was grasped by both hands the wounds would not have been in that position; one blow would not have cut both hands—the poker was very slightly bent—either the poker or rake if used with sufficient force, would have caused the wound on the skull—the height of the man was six feet, and his weight wa, about fourteen stone—all the wounds on both bodies were in front; they were facing each other.
JOHN ALEXANDER MILLER . I practise at Percy House, Percy Cireus, and am divisional surgeon of police; on the might of July 4th I went to 40, North Street with Inspector Briggs—on going into the basement, into the front kitchen I saw two tracks of blood to the fireplace from the door of the front room to the left side of the fireplace—immediately beside the fireplace there was a small pool of blood—I traced back again to the
door another track of spots of blood, that was quite distinct from the first—I afterwards assisted Dr. Rains in the post-mortem examination—I have been in court and heard his description of the different wounds upon both bodies, and agree generally with that description—I believe the scalp wound on the man was the first inflicted—I agree with Mr. Rains that the wounds in the neck, the abdomen, and thigh would each of them have been fatal—I think that on the base of the neck, puncturing the spine, would have been the most rapidly fatal; they must have been inflicted in rapid succession, and caused excessive hæmorrhage—I also agree with Mr. Raynes' description of the wounds on the woman—they would have been fatal in a few moments—the wounds were probably almost instantaneously; they would stop the circulation immediately; they would cause the woman to fall almost immediately—the man would be able to walk after receiving the scalp wound, but not after the others.
Cross-examined. The scalp is full of small blood-vessels; they bled freely when injured—I examined the prisoner; he had a wound on his left forehead, undoubtedly given with considerable force, exposing the bone—the skull was not fractured—that wound would cause the blood to flow freely; afterwards it would coagulate and stop the hæmorrhage—it would be likely to increase the man's temper—it did not stun the man—it might or might not.
Before the Magistrate the Prisoner said: "I plead Not Guilty."
He received a good character as a quiet, peaceable, energetic, industrious, sober man.
GUILTY of Manslaughter.
PLEADED GUILTY of Manslaughter, and Mr. BODKIN offering no evidence on the charge of murder, the
JURY returned a verdict of NOT GUILTY of Murder. The sentence upon the manslaughter was a double sentence of Twenty Years' Penal Servitude, the two sentences to be concurrent.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, September 10th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
650. THOMAS ATKINSON DUCKETT (47) , to forging and uttering a request for the delivery of a coat, waistcoat, and umbrella; also an order for the payment of 20s.; also to obtaining 30s. from Louisa Blackman,— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
651. EDWARD KIRKPATRICK (39) , to feloniously marrying Florence Rosetta Bridgman, his wife being alive, having been convicted of a like offence at Winchester on November 8th, 1884.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
655. GEORGE MUIR (41) , to committing an act of gross indecency with Herbert Chamberlain; also to a like offence with several other persons.— Two Years' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NOT GUILTY .
LOUISE BAKER . I am a school teacher, of 21, Walton Road, Hackney—on August 15th, about one o'clock, I was in Liverpool Street—someone pulled my dress back, and I felt a hand in my pocket—I saw the prisoner running—a policeman caught him, and he gave me my purse back; it contained £1 17s. 3d., and eleven stamps.
FREDERICK PIKE (889, City). On August 15th I was on duty in Liverpool Street, and saw two ladies standing on the rest, and the prisoner behind them—I saw him take his hand from one lady's pocket and go to the off-side of a cab—I gave chase, and caught him; we had a struggle, and both fell—I took him back, and he gave the lady the purse, and said, "I hope you won't charge me, lady."
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenweft on September 26th, 1887, and five other convictions were proved against him.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
PLEADED GUILTY .
WILLIAM FITZGERALD (City Detective). On July 5th, about 1.15, I was with Detective Gillard, in Broad Street, watching the prisoners for half-an-hour, loitering about Mr. Ward's shop, where bags were hanging in the doorway—Jones looked in at the window, and Wilson went to the door-way—they then went to the other doorway, and Jones stood there examining the coats, and Wilson at the window—they both went to a public-house in Bishopsgate Street, and came back, and acted in a similar manner, finding out how the coats were fastened—Jones was covering Wilson's movements—he took this bag, and both hurriedly went away—we took them together, and Wilson had this bag under his coat—he gave the name of Jones.
Jones' Statement before the Magistrate: "I admit being in Wilson's company, but I had nothing to do with taking the bag."
Jones' Defence: I did not steal the bag, nor did I assist Wilson. I had no idea what he was going to do.
JONES— GUILTY . Twelve convictions were proved against him.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. WILSON— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
ARTHUR HUNT (19 S). On July 19th I was on duty, and saw the prisoner outside 22, Victoria Road—he saw me, and came towards me; he was very bulky—I asked him what he had got—he said, "Halfpenny papers," and asked me to direct him to Dr. Philpot, but said he was going to have a bath first—I saw the breakfast-room window open—I gave him chase, and he was stopped—I told him I should take him for burglary in Victoria Grove—he said, "I did not do it; a man broke in and handed me out this box, and I took the sealing-wax"—I asked if there was anybody in the house—he said, "Yes"—I blew my whistle, but there was nobody there—I found this box in the area, and the contents strewed about.
JOHN STEWART . I live at 24, Victoria Road, Kensington—on July 19th, about six o'clock, I was aroused by the police, and found that this box had been abstracted from the breakfast-room table—the window was closed; some supports were put underneath to keep it up when my niece had left.
Prisoner's Defence: I had no intention of stealing anything; the box was handed to me by a man who I had never seen before; I have no friends; I come from Liverpool.
GUILTY.— Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY.—Judgment Respited.
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, September 10th, 1896.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. HAWKE Prosecuted, and MR. RANDOLPH Defended.
ANNIE GREGORY . I live at 1, Laburnum Villas, Peel Road, Willesden—there is one house nearly opposite mine, just across the road—on August 4th I went away—I asked Miss Wood to look after my house while I was away, and gave her the key—I returned on August 13th; my sons had arrived before me—I missed a grey tweed suit, a frieze over-coat, two watches, brooches, four silver teaspoons, scarf-pins, a lady's hand-bag, a writing-case, and various other articles—on July 22nd, 23rd, and 24th, the prisoner had been employed in the house, painting and whitewashing—I found in a cupboard on the Friday morning a suit of bluey-grey tweed clothes, a soiled pink shirt, a dirty pair of blue socks, and a dirty collar—the prisoner had worn that suit of clothes when he was painting my house—in the pocket of the coat there was a large nail and a wooden wedge—on the floor of the downstairs front room I found his screw-driver on the Saturday—it does not belong to me.
Cross-examined. I did not take particular notice of the coat the prisoner wore, only I knew the colour—I cannot swear this is the same coat that he wore, but to the best of my belief it is—he used to take his coat off—he was working with two boys—I cannot see very well without
glasses—I don't know that I took particular notice of what the prisoner wore, only he had a grey coat and black-and-white trousers, and a pink shirt—the pink shirt might have been the one he has on now; he did not wear the coat he has on now—I seem to know this one produced—I came home four days after the burglary—my sons came home on the Sunday night—when I found the clothes I said at once, "That is the painter that was here"—I did not see Simpson till I went to Edgware—at the Police-court I identified the prisoner from seven or nine—I think I first went up to another man—I did not see the prisoner till he came to my house to work—I have since missed a pink and white shirt, belonging to one of my song—I have not got any of my property back.
Re-examined. When I went to the Police-court I looked down the row, and then went to the prisoner and picked him out as the man who had been painting in my house—I saw his coat each time he came.
EMMA. WOOD . I live nearly opposite to Mrs. Gregory—when she went away she entrusted me with the key of her house, and I went there every night about 8.15—it was all right till the Sunday evening—on the Saturday evening at 8.15 it was all right; I went next on Sunday, August 9th, at 5.15, and I found all the doors and cupboards and drawers open, and completely ransacked—I gave notice to Mr. Gregory's brother, who had come that night to stay with me, and he gave notice to the police.
CHARLES SIMPSON . I live at Byron Road, Wealden, Harrow, and am an accountant—the prisoner lodged with me from Wednesday, March 18th, till Monday, June 15th—I then left the house, leaving him behind me there—I do not identify this coat or shirt, but I feel very confident about the trousers—the prisoner had them in the house—he led me to believe he had them to repair, that he was a tailor—these clothes were brought to me about August 15th by the police, and I was asked to whom they belonged, and I told them I felt certain about the trousers—I had heard nothing of any robbery.
Cross-examined. These clothes look like one suit—I have not seen the coat before—to the best of my knowledge, the trousers are the prisoner's property—Owen had three rooms in my house—he has a wife and family—I was in his sitting-room six or seven, or it might have been a dozen times—I did not notice exactly how he was dressed; I could not say whether his coat and trousers were the same—I carry on business at home; I have done very little since November, when I met with an accident, but I work every day—I hold a large insurance business for the Union Office—I am paid on commission—I sent them a proposal five or six days ago; I have sent them about 100 since January 6th—I have six on my table ready to go—I am not unfriendly to the prisoner—I left my house because I could not pay the rent, and the brokers came in—the landlord is friendly and satisfied with me now—my wife lent the prisoner's wife 5s.—I had no dispute with the prisoner about it; I did not threaten to make it warm for him if he did not pay me—I wrote him a letter to the effect that he gave me a false reference when he came to my house—the land-lord let him stay on when I left—I said I should let the people know where he went to the same as I had heard about him—he paid me my rent up to the last—I know nothing about the 5s, my wife lent his—I do not say I have seen the prisoner wearing this pair of trousers; I hare seen
them in the house—he said he was a tailor's cutter—I had not seen the trousers for two months before August 15th—I am prepared to swear to the pattern of them.
JAMES EDWARDS (Detective F). On 11th August I was called to Laburnum Villas, and I examined these premises—I found entry had been made by forcing the kitchen window at the side of the house—Mrs. Gregory gave me a list of the stolen property, and produced this suit of clothes, collar, and socks—I took the clothes to Simpson, and he gave me some information about them, in consequence of which I made inquiries, and I arrested prisoner in the Gray's Inn Road at 8.45 a.m. on August 20th—I said I was a Police-officer, and that I should take him into custody on suspicion of breaking into the Laburnum Villas—he said, "It is a mistake; I was working there"—I said, "You had better not make any statement till you get to the Police-station"—the file and the piece of wood were handed me by Mrs. Gregory—they were evidently used to open the window; there are marks on the piece of wood where the file was used as a lever on it.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Gregory gave me the clothes—I did not go to Simpson in consequence of information I had from her—Gray's Inn Road is about twelve miles from Wealdstone—the prisoner lodges at Calthorpe Street—I have made inquiries about him; he has been at Wealdstone about two and a-half years—I have nothing to say against him—I never saw him before this case—I found on him some references—after taking the prisoner to the station I went back to Calthorpe Street, and asked his wife if she had any pawn-tickets—she showed me two old ones; she said she had no recent ones—she told me I could search the house—I examined it as much as I wished to—I found no stolen property, or any pawn-tickets relating to it.
Re-examined. I went to Simpson's because a constable told me the prisoner had lodged there.
MR. RANDOLPH stated that he had witnesses for the defence; but the JURY intimated that they had made up their minds, and found the prisoner
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted.
WALTER FOSTER PINK . I am manager to Frank Knowles—about the beginning of May I had a transaction with the prisoner, who is a meat salesman at Wolverhampton—on May 23rd I received this cheque for £14 10s. from him inpayment for meat I had alread y supplied him with—the cheque is on the Bilston Branch of the Metropolitan Bank—it was presented and dishonoured—I communicated with the prisoner about it, and afterwards I received from him a banker's draft on that bank, taking up this cheque—after that we supplied him with more goods, and in payment we received this cheque, "B," for £25 on the same bank—that was presented and dishonoured—after that we sent him more goods, believing the statements he made—we then
received this cheque, "C," for £13 10s., which was presented and dishonoured—another cheque was then sent us for £12—before sending more meat we wrote to the prisoner. (This letter was to the effect that they should not send meat the next day unless they received a telegram that the £14 cheque would be met, and that they would not present the £12 cheque until the next Tuesday.) The £14 cheque referred to the £13 10s.; it was a mistake—we received this telegram in confirmation of the letter, "Cheque £14, as stated this morning, perfectly right"—on receiving that we sent more meat, eighty-six stone of mutton and forty-five stone of beef, value £12 10s. together—we presented the £13 10s. cheque in the usual way, and it was returned dishonoured—the prisoner is indebted to us £29 19s. 6d.—we sent goods on the faith of various cheques.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When you sent the £25 cheque you intended to cover the £14 10s., and send enough money also for the next order that came.
JOHN BENT . I am cashier at the Bilston Branch of the Metropolitan Bank—the prisoner had an account there; he has not used it for some time—this is a certified copy—on June 11th he had a balance to his credit of 1s. 2d.—on June 16th £7 2s. 6d. was paid in; on June 8th £9 12s. 6d. was paid in, and there is a debit of £14 on the same date—on June 15th there is a credit of £7 2s. 6d., and on the 19th a debit of £9 5s.—the sum to his credit on any day was never more than £7 2s. 6d.; he never had a credit to the extent of £25 or £13 10s.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had men telling meat for him, and that they had disappeared, and not brought the money to him, and that two quarters of meat were bad owing to the hot weather, and could not be sold; that lie had been unfortunate, and had not been able to pay money into the bank, but that lie had no intention to defraud.
NOT GUILTY .
662. WILLIAM SMITH (62) and CHARLES HOWSON (27) , Being found by night with house-breaking implements in their possession, without lawful excuse. Other Counts—For attempting to break and enter the shop of Joseph Tanner and the warehouse of David Thomas Kenning, with intent to steal therein.
HOWSON PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. CALTHORPE Prosecuted.
GEORGE STAINER (917, City). On Sunday morning, July 19th, about 4.5, I saw the prisoners in Bloomfield Street, and I followed them through London Wall, Aldermanbury, into Phillip Lane, where they were conversing together—I stood for a minute or so in Aldermanbury Avenue—I heard something drop, and I ran round and saw Smith standing there—when he saw me coming he walked into Wood Street—as I walked towards him Howson followed him—I overtook Howson, and called on another constable to stop Smith—I said to Howson, "What are you doing at this time of the morning?"—he said nothing—I found this jemmy in
his inside breast-pocket—I took them to the station—I found in Howson's inside breast-pocket some small mahogany chips—I went to 48, London Wall, and there I found some chips from the door corresponding with those found in Howson's pocket—this padlock had been wrenched off the door, and there were marks on the side of the door which this jemmy fitted—I went into Phillip Lane—this padlock was found by a constable lying on the doorstep, and marks on the door corresponded to this jemmy—I went back to the station, and told the prisoners they would be charged—when charged, Smith said he did not know Howson—I saw them together for ten or fifteen minutes—they talked together.
Cross-examined by Smith. As soon as you saw me you walked off, and Howson followed you—Howson denied all knowledge of you—he said, "I do not know the man; I merely met him sitting on a doorstep, and asked him to come and have some coffee; it is a shame the man should be here; if you send for the constable on night duty in Finsbury Square he can prove ten minutes ago he woke the man up"—a constable afterwards said he had seen Smith in Finsbury Circus about 2.30, sitting down, apparently asleep, but he was not asleep.
DAVID STEADMAN (115, City). On Sunday morning, July 19th, I was on duty in London Wall—I found the padlock wrenched off the door of 48A, London Wall, at 3.10—a few minutes past two I passed there before, and tried the door, and it was all right—there were several marks on the door, apparently produced by a jemmy or crowbar.
Cross-examined by Smith. I was not called at the first hearing to give evidence.
CHARLES GASKILL (118, City). On Sunday, July 19th, I was on duty in Aldermanbury, and about 4.15 I saw Smith and Howson pass along London Wall in company—Smith looked back at me—I was about 100 yards off—I went on my beat, and when I got to this place in Phillip Lane, about 4.20, I found the padlock wrenched off—I went to the station and found the two prisoners in custody—I had tried the padlock at 4.10, and it was then all right.
Cross-examined. You were with the other prisoner—I was not called at the first hearing before the Magistrate.
SMITH— NOT GUILTY .
MR. HARDY Prosecuted.
HENRY DADLEY . I am a brass-finisher, living at 21, Drummond Crescent, Seymour Street, St. Pancras—on July 31st, about ten o'clock, I had just come from Gower Street Railway Station, and, as I was crossing Euston Street I was attacked by a gang of roughs, knocked down, and
violently kicked about the lower part of the body—when I got up, I found ray watch and chain were gone—I ran after the prisoners, and called out, "Police," but I lost sight of the prisoners—next morning I went to the Police-stationwhere the two prisoners were among twelve or fourteen men—I immediately recognised Jackson, because I had seen him loitering about the district for years—I have lived there for over twenty-two years, and have known him from a boy, though he did not know me—as soon as I went into the room I recognised him; I passed up the row and said, "That is one," pointing to him—the superintendent said, "You must touch him"—I touched him, and then I came down the row and immediately I got in front of Savage I said, "This is another of them."
Cross-examined by Savage. I was told two men were arrested—Jackson was at the furthest end from me; I went and touched him, and then coming back I recognised you—nobody spoke to me in the room.
ELLA SNELLING . I am eleven—I live in Seymour Street, Somers Town—one evening at the end of July I saw Mr. Dadley walking in front of me in Seymour Street, when three boys walked round him, one of them caught him round the waist, and another one hit him—they knocked him down and ran away—the prisoners were two of the three boys; I had seen Jackson before—on the following morning I went to the Police-station and picked out Jackson; I picked out another boy for Savage—when I got outside I found out my mistake, and I said, "I have picked a wrong one for him"—the man I picked out and Savage were dressed nearly alike—no one had told me anything; I am quite sure about Savage now.
Cross-examined by Savage. No one told me anything—I did not go back and tell them I had made a mistake; not till I saw you in the dock—I last saw the men who did the robbery at the bottom of Lancing Street—I and the gentleman were at the top—I ran past to catch up to them—the gentleman had a big bruise on his leg—it was between 10.5 and 10.10.
RICHARD DRING (203 Y). About 1.30 a.m. on August 1st I saw the prisoners in the Euston Road, and took them into custody—they said they had just come back from Liverpool—I took them to the Police-station, where they were placed among twelve or fourteen others, and identified by Mr. Dadley and the little girl—Hall was with me.
ARTHUR HALL (631 Y). I was with Dring when the prisoners were arrested—I said they had to come to the station with me—before I told them the charge Jackson replied, "I know nothing about the job; I like to go fair"—I said they would have to come to the station on suspicion of being two men concerned in stealing a gold watch in Seymour Street last night—they said, "It could not be us; we come from Liver-pool "—when charged at the station, Jackson said, "I was not there; the people of the Rising Sun public-house will tell you where I was at that time; I was in there having a row, and I was in Somers Town all day "—Savage made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined by Jackson. I did not see you at a coffee-stall—no names were mentioned at the Police-station when the report was made.
FREDERICK BUTTERS . On 31st July I saw the prisoners together, and with others, between 3 and 4 p.m., in Chapel Street, and again in Church Street, about 200 or 300 yards from Seymour Street, about 10.15 or 10:20—Savage
and another man were breathing very hard, as if they had been having a sharp run, and Jackson was speaking to a young woman.
Cross-examined by Jackson. You stopped as soon as you saw me coming, and the other two came on.
Savage, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he came to Somers Town to find his relations, and, meeting Jackson, they drank together, and got into a fight outside a public-house, and ran away.
Jackson in his defence, said that the constable had a grudge against him. Savage said that he had not been properly identified.
HENRY DADLEY (Re-examined by the JURY). I did not know Jackson's name till he gave it at the Police-court the next morning—I described the men who attacked me as well as I could; I did not give their names.
JACKSON— GUILTY .
SAVAGE— NOT GUILTY .
Jackson PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in April, 1896, Seven other convictions were proved against him.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WOODCOCK Prosecuted.
The evidence was interpreted to the prisoner.
PHILLIP FORMAN . I am a bootmaker, of 8, John's Place, Old Montague Street—on the night of July 26th I went to bed, leaving the house locked up, except the back door which could be opened from the outside—I woke up at two o'clock, and found the prisoner getting away from the room on the bottom floor—he went into the yard; I started to scream "Stop thief!"—the prisoner went over the wall into another yard, and a policeman came and took him there—I did not see the prisoner's face before he was taken—these things (produced) are my property; I found them in the yard.
WILLIAM BROWN (117 H). On the early morning of July 27th I was on duty in Montague Street, Whitechapel—I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and ran into Crown Court, where I saw Forman at a door—he said, "This way"—I ran through the front room into a back yard, in which these things were scattered—I put my light over the wall, and saw the prisoner go into a w.c.—I got over the wall, and brought the prisoner round into Crown Court and to No. 8—he had some wet rags tied round his feet—I took him into custody—I found this certificate and three pawntickets in the w.c., and a ring, a knife, and a silk handkerchief.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that, having nowhere to sleep he went into the house next to the prosecutor's and slept on the staircase, and that, hearing a noise, he secreted himself.
He PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of felony in May, 1895.
Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GEE Prosecuted.
ROSE SILVERMAN . I am the wife of Jacob Silverman, a watch-maker, of 51, Commercial Street—on August 20th I saw the prisoner lying face downwards on my bedroom floor—T thought at first he was my son, and
said, "What is the matter?"—I had no answer, and I said to my husband, "Somebody is in the house"—then the prisoner stood up before me, and I held his hand and said, "How do you come in my room?"—he said, "I don't know; let me go; I will go out"—there were a lot of goods in my place—I held him; he went to my window; my husband shut the window, and my son came in, and I said, "Something is the matter"—the prisoner began to struggle, and Barney, held him; he struggled to the door, and I pushed him the other way, and he fell with his head in the window, and broke the glass, and cut his head, and I held him till a constable came.
DAVID SALES (19 H). On August 20th, at 5.30 a.m., I was on duty in Commercial Street, Spitalfields, about twenty yards from No. 51—I heard a smash of glass, and ran up to the door—as I got up the door was opened—I looked in the shop, and saw Mrs. Silverman struggling with the prisoner—she told me he was in there for the purpose of stealing—I took him into custody—I examined the premises—I found the catch of the window leading from the back yard into the sleeping-room had been put back, and the window lifted—I searched the prisoner, and found this knife in his pocket—it corresponded with a mark on the catch of the window—I took him to the station, and he was charged.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had no lodging, and, having had a drop of drink, he went into this place to sleep, not knowing it was a bedroom, and having no felonious intention.
—He PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in November, 1895, and stated that he was a sailor, and would go to sea at once.—Discharged on Recognizances.
667. JAMES STEVENS (28) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Howard Jones, and stealing a bag and other articles; also to a conviction of felony** at this Court in April, 1894, in the name of Spencer.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
668. WALTER FULCHER (35) , to feloniously stealing twenty-one pieces of dress material and ninety-five postage stamps, the property of William Leaf and others, his masters; also to stealing 161 pieces of Iace, the property of Walter John Bullymore and others, his masters, and to stealing a chemise and other articles, the goods of Walter John Bullymore and others, his masters.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
669. CHARLES DENNISON (18) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Southgate, and stealing a fork and other articles; also to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Adam Stoddart, and stealing two brooches; also to a conviction of felony in February, 1895.— Discharged on his own Recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
670. GEORGE THOMPSON (30) , to stealing a bag, coat, and other articles, the goods of Henry Vaughan Hunt; also to stealing two bags and other articles, belonging to George Jenkins, and to stealing a bag and other articles, the goods of the London and North-Western Railway Company.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Friday, September 11th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUNT Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended. During the progress of the case, the COMMON SERJEANT was of opinion that no Jury would, be likely to convict.
The JURY found the Prisoner. NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUNT offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
674. HENRY UNGLESS (57) PLEADED GUILTY to the sixth, tenth, and thirteenth counts of an indictment under the Bankruptcy Acts; that is, to unlawfully obtaining goods on credit, he being an undischarged bankrupt.— Twelve Months on the Sixth Count; Six Months on the Tenth, and Six Months on the Thirteenth; the sentence on the Sixth and Tenth Counts to run consecutively.
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Fourteen Days' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, September 11th, 1896.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MESSRS. W. WILLIS, Q.C., and ELLIOTT Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Saturday, September 12th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Saturday, September 12th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
FREDERICK SHAW . I am a salesman in the employ of Singer's Manufacturing Company—on July 27th I was with Barlow, a collector, and the two prisoners drove along in a cart, and Bendon said that a friend of his was going to get married, and wanted a sewing machine the same as his—I handed him a price list, and this hiring agreement (produced), which he signed in the street, as Joseph Fitzpatrick—I knew him before—the value of the machine was £10 5s.—he said he would pay 7s. 6d. deposit and 1s. 6d. a week, but he did not pay it then—it was delivered by the carrier at 19, Heneage Street next day, and I went with the carman and the boy—both the prisoners were there—it is a private house—Fitzpatrick paid 6s. deposit—Matilda Place is a short walk away, and on the following Tuesday I went there, and saw it there; that was part of my duty—machines are let out on condition that they are not moved without permission—I saw it there twice—I called again soon afterwards, and saw Mrs. Bendon, and it was not there—on August 5th and 6th I called again, and on August 6th I took Bendon to the office to see the manager—he said, "I have found out where the machine is; I have nothing to do with it."
Cross-examined by Turner. The other traveller did not get up into your cart—I gave you permission to shift the machine—you had no right to sell the machine before you had paid the instalments—you did not say that you had sold it for two sovereigns—I never saw you in my life till I met you in the cart.
Cross-examined by Bendon. You had no transaction in selling the machine—you did not pay me any money.
REUBEN NABARRON . I am a collector to the Singer Machine Company, High Street, Whitechapel—on July 27th I was with Shaw in Stoneman Street, and saw the two prisoners in a cart—Bendon gave his name as Abendana, and introduced Turner as Fitzpatrick, who was going to get married, and wanted a machine the same as his—Shaw showed him the price list, and Turner selected a machine at £10 5s., and signed the agreement, in the cart; it was delivered the next day at 19, Heneage Street, Spitalfields—I went with the carman, and saw it delivered—Turner signed the delivery book as Fitzpatrick; Bendon was present—Turner, I think, asked if it might be taken to 5, Matilda Place—Shaw said, "Yes"—that is Bendon's place; he was removing there from Heneage Street as a lodger—I called with Shaw on the Monday, and it was there, but it was not there on the Tuesday—Fitzpatrick said that Turner had put it in his cart and drove to his mother's in Grady Street, Mile End—it was my duty to call and collect weekly—he spoke of him as Fitzpatrick—I went there; the mother was not there, but we saw the landlord.
Cross-examined by Turner. We were all three in Harris's cart—I know one of Shaw's customers, living at 19, Heneage Street.
Cross-examined by Bendon. I do not know you to havt anything to do
with selling the machine—you gave the carman a few coppers; I did not ask him to come to the Police-court.
JAMES BURNS . I am carman to Mr. Harris—it is part of my duty to deliver sewing machines—in July I delivered a sewing machine at 19, Heneage Street—Fitzpatrick signed the book in the name of Fitzpatrick in Bendon's presence, and Bendon gave me 2d.
Cross-examined. Bendon and Shaw rode in the cart with me, and I and Shaw took the machine out of the cart and put it in the passage, while Chapman stood in the van—four persons were in the van with myself.
THOMAS HARDY . I live at 210, Gray's Inn Road, and travel in grocery—on July 27th I called on Mr. Osler, a customer, of 3, Matilda Place, Cripplegate, and in consequence of what I was told I went to No. 5—a sewing machine was pointed out to me—I did not take it away then—I called again on the 29th, and saw it in a room on the third floor, and paid 30s. to Mr. Osler; that was all the money I had—it is rather a small house, and appeared to be let out in tenements—I saw a man besides Osler and Bendon's wife; she was present at the conversation between me and Osler; she was in the room when I arrived—she did not see me pay any money—on August 2nd I went to 3, Matilda Place, and saw Osler and the two prisoners; he is a mineral water manufacturer—I paid him the balance, £1, and then said, "Have you got the receipt from the company?"—he said, "No, I have not got it now"—I had done business with him before—I said, "You look here, Osler; if you are not acting straight with me I shall punish you"—Bendon said, "I have known Mr. Osler fifteen years, and have not known him to do anything but what was straight; this is the young man it belongs to,"pointing to Turner—I said to Turner, "Have you got the receipt?"—he said, "I have not got it here"—I said, "Give it to Osler before next Wednesday"—I call on Wednesdays as traveller—Osler said to Bendon, "Hand him the sovereign; I owe you 12s.," and gave him the sovereign, and he gave him 8s. change—I then went away—I called at Osler's on the Wednesday, and he handed me this receipt: "Mr. Turner, 21, High Street, one sewing machine, £3 10s."—the prisoners were not there—in consequence of that I went to 21, High Street; it is a sausage-shop—I called on the following Thursday—I did not see Osler, but Bendon was opposite his house, watching me—I saw his daughter—it is a very narrow turning; No. 3 is opposite No. 5—he said, "Would you mind giving me your name and address?"—I said, "My name in Hardy; I live at 210, Gray's Inn Road; why do you ask?"—he said, "There is a new shop going to be opened in Sidney Street, and Mr. Osler told me he sold sugar, and you might do some business there; the name is Plunkett, and you must tell Mrs. Plunkett you are recommended by a man who sold pickles"—that was the first time I saw him—I was told that the receipt would be forthcoming on Wednesday, and then I went to make inquiries, and saw Bendon; I did not know that he had anything to do with the shop—I did not know that he was present when the order was given and the machine delivered—I never knew his name.
Cross-examined by Turner. I bought the machine without looking at it—Osler told me it belonged to a young man who had bought it for his sweetheart, with whom he had fallen out—he asked £4 10s. originally,
and I agreed to give £3 9s.; I did not know how much it had been used—I gave the name of Harding, 210, Gray's Inn Road—I do not know what Osler owed you 12s. for.
Re-examined. I did not see him write my name down.
GEORGE HENRY BARKER . I am manager to this company at 120, Bishopsgate Street—on August 5th I went to Matilda Place, and saw Mrs. Sanderson, a lodger on the first floor, and had a conversation—on the same evening Bendon called at our shop, and asked me what I meant by two gentlemen going to his house that morning and frightening his wife—I asked him if his name was Bendon or Bendall—he said, "No, my name is Abladana"—I said, "Do you know Bendon?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Where is the machine?"—he said, "I don't know; I know nothing about the machine; Mr. Turner brought it to my house, and while I was out took the keys of my stable to got the cart, and took the machine away"—the distance is only just across the road—he said that he had not seen Turner since he took the machine away; I mean fined for 10s. belonging to me—I said, "I have proof you were present when the machine was delivered"—he said that he was not; he knew nothing about it—I said, "If the machine is not found by to-morrow morning we shall take proceedings against you and Turner"—he said, "I am a member of a working man's club; I shall be going there this evening, and I may find something out, and let you know to-morrow morning"—hesaid nothing about Osler—next morning I went to 5, Matilda Place, and did not see him—I went back to the office, and he called about half-an-hour afterwards and said, "I met a man named Rafel in the street, who told me where the machine is, and gave me this paper, 'Mr. Harding'" and said that Rafel had written it, because he could not write—I said, "I shall go to Harding"—he said, "I will go with you;" and when we got outside he suggested that we should take a detective with us, as he believed Harding bought this sort of stuff—I said, "That would be a very good thing"—I gave information to the police, but did not take a detective, and, going along, Bendon asked me if I thought the constable would take out a warrant against Turner—I said, "I don't know"—he said he had been hunting him up till 1.30 that morning, and saw him go into a lodging-house in Thrall Street, but did not know the number—I then went to Mr. Hardy, Bendon waiting outside—I identified the machine which I had lent to Fitzpatrick, and Mr. Hardy identified Bendon—I went out, and saw Bendon—he said, "I have been keeping the cab waiting twenty minutes, thinking you would bring the machine out"—I said, "Mr. Hardy won't let me take it at present"—I did not know Bendon as having had a machine before—before he left me he said, "You know where I am, and you can find me there."
WILLIAM BLIGHT (Police Sergeant H). On August 10th, at ten a.m., I saw the prisoners detained at London Street Station; Bendon said, "I know nothing about it"—Turner said, "The others know as much about it as I do."
Turner's Defence: A gentleman gave me the machine to sell, and I sold it for £3. Would any man in his senses make an arrangement with a man like ine in the street for £10 5s.? I am perfectly innocent of hiring the machine.
Pendon's Defence: I was there when the machine was delivered, but
am innocent of selling it. I was at Worship Street Police-court at the time as a witness in a case of breaking a man's arm. If I had anything to do with selling it, should I ask him to go to Bishopsgate Street, and take a detective with him? I did not give the carman 2d.
—BENDON then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of stealing a sewing machine on November 19th, 1895, and three convictions were proved against TURNER.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. ABBOTT Prosecuted.
GEORGE BENJAMIN ASHMEAD . I am a naturalist, of 35, Bishopsgate Street Without—on March 23rd the prisoner called and showed me this paper. (Signed "W. Eugene" on a printed heading of Watkins and Doncaster, naturalists: and ordering feathers). I gave him a sample, and he came again on another day, and had a dozen, which he paid for; he finally took away goods amounting to £7 13s. 6d.—knowing that it was for someone in the trade, I let him have them at a low price.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I read the letter you brought; you left it with me, and I produced it at the Police-court—I was not persuaded to make this charge by anyone, but I heard you were in custody on another charge, and went there; you were brought out with a lot of others, and I identified you.
FRANK WOODHAM . I am assistant to Watkins and Doncaster, naturalists, of 36, Strand—I do not know the prisoner, or his writing—no one in the firm writes in that way, but it is on one of our billheads.
Cross-examined. Mr. Watkins is not still a member of the firm.
ELLEN HARPER . I am a naturalist, of 24, Chevalier Road, Hornsey Rise—on May 24th the prisoner came to me and said, "I have come from Mr. Child, a naturalist, of 33, Mildmay Park, for some feathers which he has not got"—he brought a letter, and in consequence of what was in it I gave him seven skins, value about £2—he did not pay anything—he came back the next day, and brought one back, and said that the quantity I had were no use except the dun cocks—he brought a letter signed, "James Gardner," which he took away—I let him have two dozen, value £5 4s., and have never been paid for them—I saw him next on the 24th—I afterwards communicated with the police.
Cross-examined. I fully understood that they were for samples, but not for you, or I would not have let you have them—when you asked for them first I said, "Are you Mr. Child?"—you said, "No, but I am acting for him"—you did not represent that you had been recommended by him—I had a visit from Mr. Watkins last Monday; he said that he had had no dealings with you for seven or eight years.
JAMES HARPER . I live with my sister, the last witness—on May 13th the prisoner came, and produced a letter from Mr. Gardner which remains in his possession—I gave him goods for Mr. Child, value £5, with a memo. of them on an invoice—I have never been paid—I did not know the prisoner, and would not have trusted him if it had not been for Mr. Child.
Cross-examined. You did not say that you were recommended by Mr. Child.
FREDERICK JAMES MASON . I am manager to Mr. Child, a naturalist, of 33, Mildmay Park, who is eighty-three or eighty-four, and takes very little part in the business—I do not know the prisoner; he does not represent the firm in any way—there is no shop; it is a private house.
JAMES GARDNER . I am a taxidermist, of Oxford Street—the prisoner has come in to make inquiries for several years, but I have had no business with him, and never authorised him to represent me, or act for me—I never told him to go to Mr. Harper.
Cross-examined. You called frequently, and asked the price of goods, and occupied my time by making inquiries.
SIDNEY CANDALLS (Policeman Y). I took the prisoner at Sydenham on July 24th, and saw Miss Harper identify him at Sydenham Station—I read the warrant to him, and took him to Holloway Station—he made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. I paid a visit to your house—your second wife was living there, and she said that she did not want to see you any more, and that all the furniture belonged to her, and that you simply had one little room to do what little business you had to do—you are her second husband.
F. WOODHAM (Re-examined). Mr. Doncaster can write very well, but he is deaf and dumb, and persons converse with him on their fingers.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he had much better opportunities of defrauding Mr. Ashmead if he wished, but that he merely wished to get the goods at the lowest possible price; that lue called on Mr. Ashmead several times, and brought back, on approval, any skins which he had; that the name of Doncaster was never mentioned, or tlie invoice would have been made out to him; that he had the goods on sale or return, and they would have been paid for on his next visit, as all the others had been, and that fie was advised to say that he was recommended by Mr. Gardner that he might get the goods cheaper; and that he intended to pay Miss Gardner for the samples.
G. B. ASHMEAD (Re-examined). When I gave these invoices to the prisoner the name of Doncaster was on them all; it is torn off now.
GUILTY .— Eight Month's Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Saturday, September 12th, 1896.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
681. HENRY LAVENDER, alias T. HENDERSON (68), and WILLIAM DEAR (60), PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining from Katherine Mina Courtauld eggs and butter, and from other persons other goods, by false pretences, with intent to defraud.
682. HENRY LAVENDER and WILLIAM DEAR were further indicted, with PETER HENRY BOCK (33) , for conspiring together, and with persons unknown, by false pretences to obtain from divers tradesmen their goods, with intent to defraud; and for obtaining from William Alstone and others certain quantities of glue by false pretences, with intent to defraud.
MESSRS. MUIR and E. PERCIVAL CLARKE Prosecuted.
EDWARD SALTER . I am clerk to Messrs. Parker and Co., of 23, Warwick Lane—Mr. Josiah Parker, a member of the firm, is the owner of 11, Paternoster Square—in February, this year, one second-floor back room at that address was let as an office—Dear called on me at Warwick Lane about February 26th, and said he was a manufacturers' agent; he wrote down as a reference, "H. Lavender, 11A, Wormwood Street"—I called there, but Lavender was out, and then I wrote and received this answer from him. (Stating that he had been dealing with Dear for a con-siderable time, and that he was a most respectable man, fully able to pay the rent. The letter enclosed a card, "H. Lavender, Dealer and Contractor in Foreign Produce and Provisions, etc.") After receiving that reference I let Dear the office; he went into possession on March 1st—he paid me one month's rent about April 29th; he has not paid any since—I have several times tried to collect the rent—I saw Dear, and asked him for it, but he put me off from time to time, saying he expected money, and so on—I saw the names, T. Henderson and W. Dear, on the office door—Henderson's name was in paper letters, I think—Dear told me Henderson was a friend he had known for a number of years, and that he wished to address his letters there, and he let him do so—I saw Lavender at the office; neither he nor Dear said who he was.
By ilie COURT I still act as agent for the owner of the premises.
HENRY JOHNSON . I am a van-boy, employed by the Midland Railway Company—in March and April I was employed by Mr. Bailey, on the ground-floor of 11, Paternoster Square, as a carman—I saw Dear at Mr. Bailey's office—he asked me if I was taking in goods that came addressed to Henderson and Co.; he said some eggs and glue would come—eggs and glue came, addressed to Henderson and Co.—when I next saw Dear I said they had come, and he asked me if I would bring them upstairs—I saw Lavender once at the office, once at the street door, and once in Mr. Bailey's office—Dear said to me, "This is Mr. Henderson," and he said to Lavender, "This is the lad that works at Bailey's, and takes in the goods for us"; that was three or four days after they first took the place, early in March—Lavender said, "Will you be kind enough to take in all the goods that come for Henderson and Co., and Mr. Dear will pay you for your trouble?"—I did so—I left about the middle of April—ten to fifteen boxes came each week, addressed to Henderson and Co.—I told my master about this.
EDWARD CREASEY . I am a porter in the employ of Mr. Crowley, a carpet agent, who occupies part of the ground floor of 11, Paternoster Square—I saw Lavender two or three days after Dear came to the office on the second floor—a week or ten days after Dear said to me, "This is my friend Henderson, an old friend I have known for years"—after Dear had been there some time people repeatedly came and made inquiries at the office—I told Dear several people had called—I missed Lavender from the office for some time, and asked Dear, "What has become of your old friend, Henderson?" and he said he would turn up presently; he had gone into the country travelling—one morning, when I asked Dear where Henderson was, he said, "Oh! I wish I had never seen that man; if I
had known what occupation or business he was going to carry on, I should not have allowed him to have part of my office, for he filled it up with muck, and I have had to get the City Sewers to take it away," and he said he should get rid of him as soon as possible—letters came there, addressed to Henderson and Co.; I repeatedly found them in our box; I gave them to Mr. Dear at first, till I thought something was wrong, and then I transferred them to their box, which had no lock or key.
By the COURT. I did not communicate with the police—the Commissioners of Sewers came there, and removed a lot of straw and grass that butter was packed in.
MINNIE BROOKS . I manage the poultry department upon our farm, Burton Grange, Northamptonshire—in the early part of this year I advertised in the Bazaar, Excltange and Mart—I received this letter. (This was headed "11, Wormwood Street, English and Foreign Produce and Provision Stores, T. Lavender"; and requested twelve dozen eggs to be sent as a sample, and asked for information as to prices and the quantity that could be supplied per week.) I believed a genuine business was being carried on at that address by that person, and supplied him with the eggs—on April 19th I received this letter, enclosing a French draft for 187f. 50c.—my brother took that draft to the bank; it was afterwards returned unpaid, and we had to pay expenses—the draft was drawn by Sebar Baring and Co.—we did not supply goods after the return of the draftr—on March 10th, 1896, I received this letter from Lavender. (This asked her, as fa was starting on business for the Continent to consign all goods for him to Henderson and Co., of 11, Paternoster Square, whom he had entrusted with his business during his absence. A letter was also read of March 12th, from T. Henderson and Co., merchants and importers, of 11, Pater-noster Square, to the witness, stating that they had taken over Lavender's contract, and that all goods must be forwarded direct to them). I believed T. Henderson and Co. were a genuine firm, and continued to supply goods to them—on March 21st I received this letter, enclosing this bill from them. (This letter stated that they had communicated with Lavender, and awaited his reply, and that, in the meantime, they enclosed a draft for £10.) That draft was drawn by Sebar Baring—my brother passed it through his bank; it was returned unpaid, and we had expenses to pay—I received these letters on April 2nd and 4th. (The first acknowledged the receipt of a letter, and stated that they had wired to Lavender, who was still away giving him notice of the return of the £10 draft. The second referred to the unpaid draft, and enclosed shares in a Belgian tramway, and in oil wells in Roumania.) I also received this letter, offering to send £1 at once and £2 monthly until final settlement—I think my brother had begun by this time to write—I then received these two letters from S. Baring, 155, Whitecross Street. (The first stated that, in accordance with instructions from Henderson, he had returned two empty boxes, carriage paid; that he was expecting a further delivery of eggs from Henderson, and as his customers would be waiting for eggs, he wished to know if twenty-four dozen would be sent next day. The second, dated May 2nd, stated that as Henderson's had not carried out their contract, he must claim damages; that he wanted more eggs next week, and that they could have a cheque on account if they wanted money.) I had nothing to do with suing Henderson in the County Court—I was never paid.
Re-examined. I did nob send any eggs to S. Baring, nor any more to Henderson.
WILLIAM JOSEPH DOVER . I am a clerk in Holy Orders, and live at Rodmartin, near Cirencester—I advertised in the Bazaar, Exchange and Mart last February—I got this letter from 11A, Wormwood Street (asking for sample butter and eggs)—I believed a genuine business was carried on at the address given, and supplied butter and eggs from time to time—I received this letter, enclosing a foreign bill of exchange for 186f. 60c.—I thought it was genuine, and continued after that to supply goods—on March 7th I received this bill of exchange at two months, drawn by Sebar Baring and Co., and continued to supply eggs and butter—on March 12th I received a letter from Henderson and Co. (asking far eggs and butter to be sent)—I believed they were carrying on a genuine business, and sent them eggs and butter—the foreign bill was returned about March 14th or 15th, and I wrote to Henderson, and received this letter of March 23rd, 1896. (Asking him to send the draft, and they would take steps about it, and enclosing a bond for £500 to bearer, and another bond for £500 in a Belgian Tramway Company.) On the 26th I called at Paternoster Square, and saw Dear—I asked him if Henderson was doing a substantial business—he said he was doing a large business, but if he owed me any money I had better not let him go too far—I asked him if Henderson was in—he said he was in the country doing business, and he might come back that evening, or might not; but if I would leave the returned draft with him, he would undertake to collect it, and send me the costs at once—I left the draft with him, and received a postal order for 12s. 11d. for the costs, the next morning—I asked him how the business came to be transferred from Lavender to Henderson—he said Lavender had gone abroad to undertake a commission agency for friends in Germany or France, to sell goods for them in England—he said he did not think he was a substantial man—he said that he and Henderson shared the office—he said he himself was a commission agent, and showed me samples of linen and cotton fabrics; he was not in the same line as Henderson—on March 31st I received this further letter from Henderson and Co. (Stating that, as additional security, they enclosed shares in different companies.) The total amount of my debt was £32 19s. 8d.—the £10 bill was sent back—I supplied no goods after that, I think—on April 30th I received this letter from S. Baring, of 155, Whitecross Street. (This was in similar terms to those written to Miss Brooks by S. Baring.) I have not been paid one penny for the goods I sent.
By the COURT. I did not send any goods to S. Baring; I wrote and suggested that he should pay for the dishonoured bills.
HARRY CHILDS . I am clerk to Mr. Meggin, a poultry, eggs, cheese, and butter salesman in the Central Market—from time to time, from March, 1895, to the present time, he has sold goods for Lavender for what they would fetch, without any reserve price.
GEORGE HUBBARD . I am a commercial traveller, in Mr. Bryant's employ—on April 12th I went to 11, Paternoster Square, and at an office, with the name of Henderson and Company on it, I saw Dear and a man
called Henderson, who, I believe, is Lavender—I showed them some "samples of tissue paper—Dear said he thought he could sell some, and gave me this order for twenty reams of tissue paper—it is on a form with the printed heading, "T. Henderson and Co., Merchants and Importers"—I saw him sign it "T. Henderson and Co."—I believed they were carrying on a genuine business—I took the order to Mr. Bryant, and the paper was supplied—I could not swear if I took any subsequent orders.
GEORGE BRYANT . I am a stationer and fancy-box manufacturer—I received this order from Mr. Hubbard, and supplied the goods—after that I received a second order by post, and supplied more goods to the same persons—I also received this third order, of April 13th, from T. Henderson and Co. for more tissue paper, and supplied that—before supplying the last order I went to the office, and saw Mr. Dear, and said I should be very much obliged if he would settle my account—he said that was all right, with a wave of his hand; "You need not trouble about that; I will send it on to you"—at that time the order was on the way, and the goods were supplied—altogether I supplied 100 reams of tissue paper to their order of the value of something over £12—I have repeatedly applied for payment, but have not been paid—when I supplied the goods I believed they were carrying on a genuine business.
CHARLES CLARKE . My father carries on business as a book-binder, in St. George's Road, St. Luke's—I delivered three dozen and eleven books at Henderson and Company's, Paternoster Square; with one they had for a pattern, it made four dozen—I saw Dear, and he signed this receipt in my presence, "T. Henderson"—Pegg, a traveller, was with me when I delivered the goods—I applied for payment, on behalf of my father, four times; I found the office closed every time—I have not been paid.
CHARLES CLARKE . I am a book-binder—I received this order from T. Henderson and Company, importers and manufacturers' agents, from Pegg, for fourdozen account books at 30s. per dozen—I executed the order—I tried to get payment, but have not been paid—these (produced) are two of my books; the others were precisely like these.
By the COURT. If I got an order signed by Aldgate Pump and Co., for a dozen books, I should supply them.
CHARLES ALFRED PEGG . I am a stationer and paper-dealer; I buy and sell on commission; I have no shop—I got this order from Henderson and Company, and gave it to Clarke—I had known Dear for some little time as representing Henderson and Company; he said he was their manager—I knew nothing of Henderson and Company apart from that—I knew Clarke was going to supply these goods on credit—I helped to deliver them, at Clarke's request, at Henderson and Company's office—the same night I was in possession of two of the books, because I bought two of Dear—I did not pawn the other twenty-five at Goff's; I knew nothing about the others.
By the COURT. I was to get a commission from Mr. Clarke—if I got an order from Aldgate Pump and Company for fifty books on the chance of getting a commission, I should pass on the order without making any inquiry; I only pass it on.
ALFRED ALEXANDER GOFF . I am an assistant to Kimball, pawnbroker, of Aldersgate Street on June 1st twenty-five books like these two were pledged with us in the name of Thomas Henderson for £2 12s. by a person whom I
have known for ten years as pledging goods with us in the name of Cooper—neither of the prisoners is he—I don't know his occupation nor his address—that was the last time I saw him—this is the contract note.
EMILE HARROWITZ . I am a clerk in the employ of Samuel Goldflam, a box manufacturer, of Spitalfields—I decide whether orders shall be accepted—I got this order from a traveller for a gross of costume noxes—it has the printed heading, "T. Henderson, Foreign Importer," etc."—I agreed to supply the goods, believing that T. Henderson was carrying on a genuine business—the carman delivered the goods, which were of the value of £1 14s.—I got this receipt, signed "T. Henderson," for half a gross, 17s.; the other half-gross were delivered at another time—I have since seen some of the boxes produced by the police—the traveller I took the order from was a strange man; I do not know his name—I went twice for payment, but met no one there.
Cross-examined by Lavender. I saw no one in the place.
By the COURT. I supplied the goods without knowing whether there was a Henderson; I thought it was Henderson and Co.
WILLIAM MILLETT . I am clerk to Mason and Co., of 15, Barbican, house and estate agents, who had the letting of 20, Australian Avenue, in July, 1895—I let the premises to a man who gave the name of Winter—neither of the prisoners is he—Winter went into possession of a room with an office partitioned off on the third floor—this is the agreement—the name put on the door was Charles Winter and Co., and some time after Walker, Son, and Co. was put up, I think—I never saw Bock there; I only entered the premises once—I heard of Bock's arrest in April—after that the premises were not occupied, to my knowledge, by anybody, so far as this agreement with Winter is concerned—we re-took possession when we had occasion to relet, about a month ago—so far as I know, no one has been in possession between Bock's arrest on April 10th, and a month ago—no rent was paid.
By the COURT. We had a reference, and made inquiries, and handed the result to the landlord; we got our commission—the landlord still employs us.
SAMUEL BACON (Detective, City.) On April 10th I had Bock in custody—he gave the name of John Block—I searched him at the station, and found on him four keys—I asked if they belonged to 20, Australian Avenue he said, "I know nothing about Australian Avenue"—I also found some papers and envelopes with the name of Walker, Son and Company on them—I went with Downes to 20, Australian Avenue; I found one of the keys fitted the street door, another fitted a small padlock out-side the letter-box on the street-door (the name Winter and Company was above the aperture of the letter-box, and underneath it was Walker, Son and Company), another fitted an office door on the third floor, on which was the name Walker, Son and Company, and the last key was that of Bock's private house.
JOHN THOMAS PECK . I am a traveller for D. R. Evans, tea merchant, 68, Farringdon Street—I had formerly done business with Mr. King, a grocer, of 98, Westminster Bridge Road—in October, 1895, I called at that address, and saw Bock—I told him I had served the shop before, and should like to do business with him—he represented himself as Mr. Williams, which was, to the best of my belief, the name over the shop
facia—he gave me a general order to the amount of £2 16s. 3d. that month—I cannot say whether it was the first time I called—he paid by cheque, I believe, which was met—after that he gave me a further order to the amount of £1, and after that an order to the amount of £3 16s., and that was met—then he gave an order to the amount of £15 0s. 6d., and paid me £3 14s. for sundry goods, leaving a 200lb. chest of tea unpaid for—after that the shop was closed—the £11 17s. 6d. was never paid—I called at the shop every Tuesday, from October to about December, and nearly every time I saw Bock—all that time he gave me the name of Williams.
Cross-examined by Sock. You never told me you were only manager; you always said you were Williams—I do not recollect a bank clerk saying at the Mansion House that you were not Williams—I do not know if the bank clerk was there.
CHARLES CLARKE . I am a carman and contractor, of the Westminster Bridge Road—in October and November, last year, I was employed to take bacon, ham, butter, and eggs from 98, Westminster Bridge Road to Mr. Freeman, a salesman at Central Meat Market, by Bock—I knew him by that name—sometimes I took nearly one ton, at other times half a ton, or fourteen, fifteen, or seven hundredweight—after a time I refused to work for Bock any longer.
Cross-examined by Bock. I knew Mr. Williams; you are not he, I believe—I took goods to several places—the shop was not shut up while I was working for you—two days before Christmas I could not do any more, because the shop was shut by the Sheriff of London—I have seen Mr. Williams.
EDWARD JAMES FREEMAN . I am a salesman in the Central Meat Market—I did business for a person or persons trading at 98, Westminster Bridge Road, about twelve months ago—Williams called and asked us if we would dispose of provisions for him—Bock looks like Williams; he is slightly altered in some respects, but I should say he is the man—we sold for him five or six hundred weight of margarine at a time, and perhaps a couple or three bales of bacon, and a few hams—we sell wholesale by contract, with no limit, for what the things will fetch—we do not keep goods on hand, but clear out daily, or if not one day we do the next—in consequence of the nature of the transactions I had with Bock, who I imagine is Williams, I communicated with the police, but I heard nothing from them, and so I went on selling for him, and the money I received I handed to Williams.
Cross-examined by Bock. It is some time since, but from your general appearance you are the only man I know as Williams, and the only man I saw in respect of this matter.
FREDERICK CROSS . I entered into possession of 98, Westminster Bridge Road on April 13th, this year—I found there 3,000 to 5,000 paper-bags, I should say, with the name William Williams on them—several people called with respect to Williams; they wanted money—I believe the shop had acquired the name of "The Long Firm" in the neighbourhood.
Cross-eramined by Bock. I never saw you there.
CARL BRENNIER . I am cashier to Jacobs and Haste, accountants, of 4, Goswell Road—we had the letting of 4, Great Arthur Street—on March 25th we let it upon this agreement to Peter Henry Bock—there is a
stipulation, among other things, that the tenant is not to sublet without the landlord's consent—the landlord gave no such consent—I found that part of the premises had been sublet—before letting the premises to Bock he gave a reference to Walker, Son, and Co., of 20, Australian Avenue—this is their reply. (This stated that they had done business for Bock, and had found him a respectable, sharp business young man, and that they had no hesitation in recommending him as a very respectable tenant.) I first went to see Bock to try and get £3 10s., I think the amount was, which he had undertaken to pay for the agreement, and 5s. for the stamp—on another occasion I spoke to him about under-letting part of the premises—he said he had not sublet—when I first went I saw Dear on about six occasions—I never saw Lavender—I got no rent—we have taken possession—we had another reference to 58, Trinity Street, Borough—this is the letter we received from there, signed "C. R. Wright." (This stated P. H. Bock had been his tenant for seven years, and that he had always found him a respectable man, and that he had no hesitation in recommending him as a tenant.) I believed that those references were genuine or we should not have let the premises to him.
Cross-examined by Bock. On the first two occasions I came to the premises you occupied the first room on the right-hand side, but the third time I came you occupied the basement; I did not see you then, but the names Bock and Willis was up—I told you you were not to underlet—I saw Dear on six occasions—the last time I came I saw him, but I did not see you—you did not have the agreement, because I would not let you have it without paying for it; you made me no offer; if you had offered me 10s., you should have had it—you did not offer me £1 1s. for the agreement.
By the COURT. I made no inquiries beyond writing to the references.
EDWARD LANZENBERG . I was in the employ of Lavender, under the name of S. Baring, at 4, Great Arthur Street—there was a table and desk, and one or two shelves in the office there—I was alone there—I did not see any books—my duty was to answer people who came, and take in parcels, and so on—butter, cheese, and fowls came there—I was there for six or seven weeks—I wrote two or three letters—I was paid 2s. 6d. or 3s. a day; it worked out at £1 a week—I knew the shop, 155, Whitecross Street; it did not belong to the business—Lavender (or Baring, as I knew him) asked me if I knew a place where he could receive some private letters, and I said, "Yes, I think somebody at 155, Whitecross Street will," and I asked my friend there, and he said, "Yes, certainly," and Lavender had letters addressed there to S. Baring—I fetched letters from there for him—I saw Bock at 4, Great Arthur Street; he was the land-lord; he had nothing to do with Baring's business; he had an office on the top floor.
Cross-examined by Bock. I don't know if you did business with Lavender; I never heard about it; I know Lavender said he paid you the rent; I don't know anything more.
Cross-examined by Dear. I never saw you at that address—I was there all day long.
Cross-examined by Lavender. I have been to call on Mr. Jones at Wormwood Street—I do not know 9, South Place, Finsbury—I have not sat all day there for you—I knew Mr. Jones knew you—I did not say I
could get a store-room for you to store provisions in at Whitecross Street, and that I could receive goods in your absence—I had nothing to do with your business—I did not represent the place at Whitecross Street as a place where business could be carried on—I did not sign letters myself—you always paid me.
HENRY TALBOT . I am a hairdresser's assistant, and have lived and worked at 155, Whitecross Street for about eighteen months—no person called S. Baring has carried on a provision business there for the last eighteen months—I knew Lanzenberg—I agreed to receive letters addressed to S. Baring, and I received from ten to fifteen letters so addressed, and handed them to Lanzenberg.
Cross-examined by Lavender. He did not ask whether I had a back room to let—he paid no rent—he did not ask me to receive parcels.
ARTHUR EDWARD SKINNER . I am a poultry farmer at Spilsby—on June 5th I advertised poultry for sale in the Excliange and Mart—I received this letter, headed "Farm and Dairy Produce Direct Supply Association, 4, Great Arthur Street; S. Baring, manager," asking for six pairs of chickens to be sent, and what the price would be for a regular supply—I sent six pairs of fowls, of the value of 30s., to that address—I then received this letter. (Acknowledging the fowls, and asking for a regular supply of twelve pairs a week, and enclosing a French draft for 186f., drawn by Forrest, Son and Co.) I paid the draft into my bank; it came back, and I had to pay about 12s. 6d. for charges—I tried unsuccessfully to get payment from S. Baring—I have not been paid—I believed the Association was a genuine concern.
Cross-examined by Lavender. I did not write to tell you that the draft had not been paid; this is it.
ANNIE CUTHBERT . I am the wife of George Cuthbert, a police constable—in 1891 we lived as caretakers at 77, Fetter Lane—Kreko had an office of two rooms on the second floor there—he sublet one of those rooms, and the name of Forrest and Son was on the door of that room—I saw Lavender there as the tenant of Forrest and Sons' office—he was the only person I ever knew in connection with that office—when letters came, addressed to Forrest and Son, I gave them to Lavender.
WILLIAM ALSTONE . I am a partner in the firm of Alstone, Wilson and Adey, glue manufacturers, of Bermondsey—we manufacture Lloyd's Household Glue—in February last Crofts was in our employ as traveller—he entered our employ about December 14th, 1895, giving, as a reference, Lake, of the Clapham Road; he continued with us until about April 7th—he is now being prosecuted at the Mansion House in connection with Long Firm frauds, as to which I am giving evidence—we received this order from him on March 5th, headed "Walker, Son, and Co., Importers of Foreign Produce and Manufacturers' Agents, 20, Australian Avenue," and giving an order for glue to the value of £3 10s.—that was paid by cheque—on March 12th we received this order, through Crofts, for £1 4s. worth of Lloyd's glue in 4d. and 6d. tins, from Henderson and Co., merchants and importers, 11, Paternoster Square—that order was executed—it was never paid for—I called several times, and saw Dear, and asked him where Henderson was; he said, "Not there," and he did not know where he was, or when he would be in—I wrote to him, but did not see him—I called twice—on March 27th
received this order from Walker, Son, and Co., of 20, Australian Avenue, for glue in 28 lb. tins, to the value of £7 12s. 6d.—that was the only consignment in 28 lb. tins we ever sold; it was 280 lb. of glue altogether—we sent the invoice to Walker, Son, and Co.; we have not been paid—I believed they were carrying on a genuine business, or I should not have supplied the goods—I have seen all the ten 28 lb. tins in the possession of the police this is one—these smaller tins are ours—I cannot say whether they were those supplied to Henderson or Walker.
Cross-examined by Lavender. I never saw you—I called for my account a month after the goods were delivered.
JAMES FERGUSON (Detective, City.) On June 8th I kept observation on 11, Paternoster Square—early in the morning I saw Dear enter the place and come out with some letters in his hand—he opened the envelopes, read the contents, threw the envelopes away, and tore up the contents—I picked up an envelope, and found it addressed to Henderson and Company, 11, Paternoster Square—about three p.m. the same day I saw Dear enter the same premises and come out shortly afterwards with a card, which he tore up and threw away—I picked it up and pieced it together, and found it was addressed to Henderson and Company from Williams Brothers and Company—on June 11th I saw Dear at 11, Paternoster Square, and I followed him to the Police-station, at Upper Street, Islington—he stayed there a quarter of an hour, and then I followed him back to Paternoster Square, and then to Farringdon Street Station, where he met Lavender—they remained together for two or three hours, going to several public-houses—in one of them Dear said to Lavender, "They took him in last night for two of the books; I have been there this morning, and they had to let him go"—upon inquiry at Upper Street, I found that that referred to Pegg—on July 13th, after the arrest, I went again to Paternoster Square, and in Henderson's office I found several letters, two from Miss Brooks, and an account from her, and a letter from J. W. Clarke, and one from the Rev. Mr. Dover.
Cross-examined by Bock. I saw you one day when I followed Lavender—after he left Dear he went to 4, Great Arthur Street, and I saw you there—I was at 4, Great Arthur Street several times; I saw you there.
Cross-examined by Lavender. Three of you were in the public-house, and a fourth man.
Gross-examined by Dear. I never saw you at Arthur Street.
FREDERICK BARUM (Detective, City.) On July 27th I arrested Bock on a warrant, charging him with obtaining ten tins of glue—Ferguson read the warrant to him—I searched his house at Silvester Road, and found five 28 lb. tins of glue like this—after he was taken back to his house and saw the glue, he said, "I wish I had never had anything to do with Lavender; I thought he would get me into trouble; I have only known him about three months."
Cross-examined by Lavender. I have seen you at 4, Great Arthur Street, where some of the glue was found; I have not seen you doing anything in connection with the glue—you did not claim it; Bock told Outram in my presence that the glue was his; I don't know whose it was.
with another officer, I saw Lavender in an office on the ground floor at 4, Great Arthur Street—the name of Selman was on the office door—I told Lavender I was a police officer, and held a warrant for the arrest of T. Henderson, trading at 11, Paternoster Square, and I said, "I believe you to be the man"—I called him to the door, and read the warrant to him—he said, "My name is not Henderson, my name is Lavender; I know nothing about these goods"—I referred to the other two men, Selman and Baker, and asked who was the landlord of the premises—at first Lavender said he had no office there—I sent for the landlord, Bock, who was on the premises; Bock came down—I told him I was a police officer, and I had arrested this man on the premises for obtaining these goods by fraud, and asked, "Has this man an office here?"—he said, "No"—I said, "What do you know of him?"—he said, "I have seen him once or twice; I know nothing of what he is doing here"—I asked him some questions with reference to some persons there—I took Lavender away then—I saw some property in Selman's office; two men were there—there were cases of eggs and baskets of butter there—Barum searched Lavender in my presence, and found on him some bonds, two bills for £10, a bill of exchange for £10, drawn by 8. Baring on T. Henderson, and accepted, payable at the National Provincial Bank of England; a bill of exchange for £10, at two months, drawn by S. Baring and Co. on T. Henderson, and accepted by him, payable at the same bank; a number of letters ready for posting to persons in the country, enclosing envelopes addressed to 4, Great Arthur Street, and headed "J. Castell, Provision Merchant and Importer," asking for bacon to be sent, and signed "Pro J. Castell, H. L"—I found this document, headed "Bock and Willis, Manufacturers' Agents and Merchants": "Received from H. Lavender, 2s. 6d. for rent of back office, 4, Great Arthur Street"—I found keys on Lavender—on going back to 4, Great Arthur Street I told Bock that on searching Lavender I had found this receipt, signed "Bock," and I asked him if it was his writing—he said it was—I said, "To whom did you give it?"—he said, "I did not give it to the man you took away"—I said, "It was made out in his name"—he said, "I gave it to a dark man with a dark moustache"—I said, "Where has he gone to?"—he did not know—I said, "Where is his office? I will go and have a look at it"—he said he could not get in—I said I could; I had the key—I opened the door with the key I found on Lavender, and I found in the office five 28 lb. tins and seven 1 lb. tins of glue, and several other jars and things—the name on the door was J. Castell—I said, "I believe this to be this man's office; who do these things belong to?"—he said, "They belong to me"—I said, "Where did you get them from?"—he said, "I bought them at Joseph's, at Ball's Pond Road, under the hammer, about five months ago, a job lot"—I locked up the office, and went further through the letters, and on the Monday I went back to the office, and said, from inquiries I had made, I believed it to be Lavender's office, and I should take the glue away—he said again he bought the glue from Joseph, and he took a note of what I took away, and said, "I shall soon have them back"—I saw in his own office on the top floor five 28 lb. tins—I left those there, but took away the five tins from Lavender's office—on July 7th I obtained a warrant for Dear—I first had a conversation
with him on June 8th, when, owing to complaints, I went to make inquiries at 11, Paternoster Square—I saw the names of Dear and Henderson on the door, but I found no one in—I met Dear in Newgate Street, and asked him who Henderson was—he said, "He is a man I met in the street four years ago; he asked me to let him have part of niy office," and he said he did, to ease the rent—I said there had been a lot of complaints—he said, "Yes; he has gone; I don't know where he has gone to"—I asked him to describe him to me, and he described him as a dark man, and promised that he would let me know if he heard anything of him—I saw him on June 19th, when I went to his office with Hubbard, and spoke to him in reference to Bryant's paper, and, after some questions, Dear said, "I might as well be candid with you; Lavender introduced this man to me"—I said, "I know Lavender; is he Lavender, now you have mentioned his name?"—he said, "No; he is not; he is a dark man; I described to you the other man; I heard he was seen about a fortnight ago in Gray's Inn Road"—I met him afterwards in the street, and asked him if he could give me information about the man—on July 7th a warrant was obtained for Dear's arrest, and on the 8th I arrested him in the Woolpack, Coleman Street—he knew me—I said I had a warrant for his arrest for trading with Henderson or Lavender—he made no reply then, but on the way to the station he made this statement, which I put down when I got to the station, and he signed: "I may as well tell you all I know; Lavender got me to take the office at 11, Paternoster Square"—I then said to Dear, "Is Lavender Henderson?"—he said, "I am drawn into this"—I said, "What about the paper?"—he said, "Lavender sent a porter for it, and took it away; I don't know where to"—I said, "Some account books were also sent"—he said, "Yes, you will find some pawned in Aldersgate Street; a man named Pegg came to me with a sample of books, and I wrote out the order; you will find the boxes in my office at 11, Paternoster Square"—at the station Dear further said, "I may as well be just; Lavender had no benefit out of the books; as regards the butter and eggs, these contracts were made by Lavender previous to transferring the name to Henderson"—on July 24th I got a warrant for Bock's arrest—I was present when it was read to him at the station—he made no reply—he was searched, but nothing relating to the charge was found on him—this bond of the Sociètè de Transports Maritimes was found on Lavender.
Cross-examined by Lavender. When I read the warrant to him he said he did not know you were Henderson—Selman was talking to you in the office when I went in—I asked him if he knew you; he said you were going to do a little business for him—you said you were not Henderson.
JAMES FERGUSON (Re-examined.) I saw the letter purporting to be a testimonial to the character of Bock, signed "C. E. Wright, 58, Trinity Square, Borough"—that house was empty—I made inquiries of the land-lord—I could not see any person, C. R. Wright, or learn that there had ever been such a person.
FREDERICK CLARKE . I am clerk to Messrs. A. Keyser and Co., foreign bankers, of Cornhill—these bonds of the Sociètè de Transports Maritimes, face value 500f.; of the New French Cab Company, face value 500f.; of the Belgian Tramways, face value 500f.; and of the Petrolieum Mines of Roumania, face va lue 500f., are worthless; this one of
the New Caledonia Exploration Company, face value 500f., is worth about 2s.
ALBERT EDWARD HALL . I am a clerk in the office of the Registrar of Joint Stock Companies, Somerset House—the Monte Carlo Gold Mining Company is in liquidation—the order to wind it up was in June, 1890.
Lavender, in his defence, stated that he expected money to come in which would have enabled him to pay for the things, and that he had no intention to defraud; that he was a stranger to the glue transaction, and that the glue had been left in the office which he took from Bock.
Dear said he never saw Bock till he was in custody', and knew nothing of his transactions.
LAVENDER and DEAR— NOT GUILTY .
BOCK— GUILTY of obtaining the tins of glue. LAVENDER, DEAR, and BOCK— Five Year' Penal Servitude each.
OLD COURT.—Monday, September 14th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted, and MR. COONEY Defended.
OSCAR ADOLPH OTTO . I am an engineer, of 10, Clare Terrace, Earl's Court—on August 8th, about half-past two, I was standing outside my shop in Finborough Road, Kensington, and saw the man Matthews coming along, wheeling a bicycle—I did not know him before; I might have seen him on one or two occasions—he had nothing in his hands or arms that I saw; he stopped and spoke to me—I should say he was very slightly inebriated—he went down Finborough Road, wheeling his bicycle with his hands—I saw the prisoner come running up, with a very old man and a young lad—the prisoner said, "Here's a job," and he immediately followed the prosecutor down the road, and I heard him ask Matthews if he should wheel the bicycle for him—a discussion took place on the pavement, rather loudly—they stopped a little while, and then moved on a few paces—I heard one of the bystanders say, "Oh, let them fight for it"—that referred to a half-crown—when they had stopped by my shop, the prisoner asked for a half-crown as payment—I heard them talking, but could not distinctly hear what they said, and I then heard the prisoner say, "I would not strike a man in your condition;" immediately after I retraced my steps towards my shop, I happened to glance round, and I saw the prisoner strike out with his fist and fell Matthews to the ground with one blow—it was a blow straight out from the shoulder—it struck Matthews between the eyes—he was standing with his back to the kerbstone—his heels were level with the kerbstone, and his hands were hanging loosely down by his side—his bicycle was about a yard and a-half from where he was standing, leaning against the kerb—when the blow struck him he fell flat on his back, striking his head with full force on the ground; it sounded something like a broken
slate cracking—I then went quite close up to them—the prisoner was taking up his flower-pots that he had with him, and was going to walk off—I said, "As you have knocked the man down, you had better pick him up," and he did help to pick him up, and carried him into the Jubilee Hospital—I did not assist; I walked by the side of them, with another gentleman.
Cross-examined. This happened on the left side of Finborough Road, as you go to the hospital on the opposite side—my shop is in Finborough Road, about forty yards from where this happened, but I had gone twenty-five yards nearer—I could partially hear what was said, not all—they were constantly moving down the road, and I stayed where I was—I was about thirty yards from them when the man said, "Let them fight for it"—I heard the deceased say, "If I can't wheel the bicycle home, I can fight you"—he seemed to be in a fighting attitude then—I did not see him spar up to the prisoner, wanting to fight him—I saw a man on a horse there—I think I heard a man say, "I will hold the stakes if they fight"—from what I could gather from the conversation, the stakes were the half-crown—I did not hear the prisoner say twice over, "If I can ride the bicycle home I can fight you, and I will"—I did not see any money produced—the old man was about two yards from the prisoner—they were standing in a cluster—I understand he was the prisoner's father—I did not see the prisoner get behind the old man, as if to avoid the deceased—the deceased seemed to wheel the bicycle steadily along—when he was struck he was standing on the edge of the kerbstone, with his back to the road—they were both on the footway—I should should say the altercation lasted five or six minutes; I could not say exactly.
ALFRED BLOODWORTH . I am a tailor, of 13, Onslow Mews—on August 8th I was in the Finborough Road about 2.30 p.m.—I saw Matthews wheeling a bicycle—he was a stranger to me—he had been speaking to the last witness—he continued towards Wharfdale Street—I was about forty yards away—an elderly man and a boy about 16 were with the prisoner—I followed them, and then got in front about forty yards—I heard the prisoner use high words—I saw Penfold strike out at the deceased, and give him a terrific blow in the face—I crossed the road, and Penfold turned to walk away—Otto said, "You knocked the man down"—the prisoner had asked about taking the bicycle home for half-a-crown—the deceased said, "I do not want anything to do with you; you go away"—the deceased was standing on the kerb, his back to the roadway and his face to the railings—one hand was on the machine, and the other was down on his left side.
Cross-examined. Wharfdale Eoad is about twenty yards from Richmond Road, and thirty to forty yards from Otto's shop; I never measured it—from the shop to the back yard is about 160 yards—about half a dozen people were about—I did not hear any of the crowd say, "Let them fight for it," nor the deceased say, "I can fight you"; nor the prisoner say, "I will not take advantage of you in your state"—the deceased was pushing his bicycle as a man that was sober; he might have had a glass or two—he was walking on the kerb—I heard nothing about a stake of half-a-crown—I saw their side faces—their words ceased to reach me when I was forty yards in front—I looked round when they halted—I passed them about ten yards off—I still kept looking round—
in about three minutes I saw the prisoner give a terrific blow in the man's face—when I walked across the road he was then lying about three feet from the kerb—he was standing on the kerb when he was struck—he seemed to be taken unawares—I did not hear the deceased use any offensive expression to the prisoner—I did not see the prisoner get behind the old man—they were standing close together—they halted about three minutes when the blow was struck—I heard the blow—it was like a person falling on to the pavement, and a crack—I did not see any squaring up, or fighting or threatening attitude by the deceased before he got the blow—the deceased's hands were resting; he never lifted them to the prisoner.
FREDERICK DEAKIN . I am a fitter and turner, living at 259, Kennington Road, Lambeth—on Saturday, August 8th, I was going along the Finborough Road; I saw a crowd—I went up to it and saw Matthews lying in the road—I helped to carry him to the Jubilee Hospital—on the way I asked the prisoner how it happened—he said they were going to fight for a half-crown, and "I hit him; I did not think it would turn out like this"—at the hospital I heard the house-surgeon ask him the same question—he made the same answer—he described where he hit him—he said he had hit him once between the eye and the nose.
Cross-examined. The prisoner assisted me on the way to the hospital—I did not hear him say he did not wish to fight—he said in the hospital the deceased was pressing him, and he did not want to fight him, but his temper came over him, and he hit him—I do not remember his saying the deceased was pressing him to fight, nor that he avoided the deceased for some time—I called again at the hospital to see how he was getting on—that was the Tuesday following the accident.
THOMAS BIGGOTT (36 FR). About 3.30 on August 8th, I received information, in consequenca of which I went to the Jubilee Hospital—outside the hospital I saw and said to the prisoner, "Do you know anything about this man who has been assaulted?"—he said, "Yes, sir, I did it; we were going to fight for half-a-crown; I knocked him down"—I took him into the hospital, and afterwards to the police station—he was there charged with assault—when I took him he said on the way to the station, "All right, sir, do not handle me; I will go with you."
Cross-examined. He also said, "I am very sorry'—I asked him noquestions—I did not take a great deal of notice of what he was really saying—he did say they were quarrelling a little time before this-happened—he used the expression "Quarrelling," or something similar, I could not recollect the exact words—he said the deceased used offensive language; he wanted to fight him, but he did not want to; not that he tried to avoid fighting him—he did not attempt to escape or run away.
JAMES HURLEY (46 B). On August 8th I was in charge of the police station when the prisoner was brought in and charged with assault—I read the charge to him—he said, "I volunteered to take his bicycle home for him; he said something very beastly to myself; that led up-to an altercation between us; someone suggested we should fight for half-a-crown; Matthews said, 'If I am not too drunk to ride my bicycle, I am not too drunk to fight you, and I will;' I then struck him once between the eyes, and knocked him down, and I assisted to take him to the
hospital"—on the second occasion, when he was charged on the 16th, he said, "I am very sorry for his poor wife and children."
Cross-examined. After the man was dead, the prisoner remarked that he did not want to fight the man, but after the charge was taken he did not say the man pressed him, or wanted him to fight him.
JOHN BICHARDSON (Sergeant B). On August 16th I saw the prisoner in York Road, Battersea—a charge was pending against him for assault, and he was out on bail—I crossed the road with Sergeant Hurley, who said, "Penfold, I am sorry to tell you Matthews is dead"—he said, "I am sorry to hear it, sir"—I said, "You will now be further charged with causing his death"—he said, "All right, I will go quietly, where are we going to?"—I said, "To Chelsea"—on the way to the station he said, "I am not only sorry for the man, but I am sorry for his family; I only struck one blow, and when I found I had hurt him I helped to take him to the hospital"—when charged at the station, he said, "I am very sorry."
Cross-examined. He did not give me particulars of the altercation—I did not know him—he is a costermonger—I know nothing against him.
ROBERT FRASER CAMPBELL . I am a registered medical practitioner and house-surgeon at the Jubilee Hospital—on August 8th, about 3.30, I saw Matthews brought there—J examined him—he was in an unconscious state, due to concussion of the brain—he had a small scalp wound on the back of the head; it was bleeding very profusely—the nasal bone of his nose was broken, and his nose was bleeding profusely—his left leg was also injured about the ankle, probably a sprain—on the following day the eyes became black—he remained in an unconscious state till August 11th, when he was transferred to St. George's Hospital, at the wish of his employer—that was after a certificate by another doctor—I protested against the removal—he was not in a fit state to be removed.
Cross-examined. It would require very great force to break the nose—I heard Dr. Blackitt's evidence—the deceased did not leave the hospital in a conscious condition—in the hospital he shouted for water—he could not recognise his friends—he did not show signs of concussion of the brain—the treatment I would adopt would be absolute rest—he was not kept in a dark room—he had no ice or cold wraps to his head—his treatment was in abeyance during his removal—I did not know of compression of the brain—I heard of the report of the post-mortem examination being made—a fracture at the base of the skull is fatal, not always, but as a rule—a man could not go about with a fracture at the base of the skull; he might if he had recovered—laceration of the brain is consistent with recovery—so, possibly, is laceration of the interior part of the right frontal lobe—whether it is fatal depends upon its state, the extent of laceration, and its position—it is not invariably fatal—a clot on the brain might cause compression; it depends upon the part of depression—a clot found on the right side of the brain would cause compression if it was large enough—the prisoner came in with the patient—he said he had struck the deceased, that it was a fight—I did not pay much attention to his statement—he told me how he was struck, and that he fell on the pavement—he said he tried to avoid fighting—he made a long statement; that the patient wanted to fight, and he struck a blow in self-defence, as he did not want to get the first blow—
the signs of fracture on the post-mortem examination would be due to falling on the road, not to the blow, except the blow on the nose—it was not certain there was a fracture of the crown, which is sometimes not very prominent, and there was no bleeding from the hair; we could only suspect it till the post-mortem examination—assuming effusion of blood on the right side of the brain, an extensive fracture at the base of the skull on the left side which exposed the bone downwards to the cranium, extending on the other side to the right temple bone, laceration at the base of the brain and the interior part of the right frontal lobe, I should think death would be the only result—it would be hardly possible for the patient to survive—compression and concussion may coexist.
EDWARD JOSEPH BLACKITT . I am a medical practitioner, and one of the house-surgeons at St. George's Hospital—Matthews was brought to the hospital about 8.30 p.m. on August 11th—when I first saw him in the surgery he was in a semi-conscious condition, and answered to his name—he was taken to the accident ward, where I examined him—he had a slight scalp wound at the back of the head, bruising on both eyelids, extensive bruising on the left leg, extending from the knee to the ankle—he became unconscious, and remained so till he died on August 16th, about 8.10 a.m.—I was present at the post-mortem examination—on opening the skull there was found to be an effusion of blood over the right side of the brain—on moving the brain there was found to be laceration at the base of the brain, with effusion of blood, also laceration of the interior frontal lobe of the right side—on examining the bones of the skull there was found to be an extensive fracture extending from about the middle of the left half of the occipital bone, running down-wards towards the foramen of the cranium, and extending on the right side from the foramen of the cranium upwards to the right temporal bone—there was also found to be a fracture of the nasal bones, and slight disease of the aorta, not dangerous to life.
Cross-examined. The deceased was not suffering from compression when he arrived—he seemed to be recovering from compression or a shaking up of the brain—compression is due to pressure on the brain, under which the patient lapses into a state of coma—it is usually fatal—I said before the Magistrate I did not think the removal was wise—I think so still—the bleeding that I found would be from the lacerated portions—I think it must have occurred at the time of the accident—probably not the whole—symptoms of compression manifested themselves about two hours after he arrived—Dr. Soluble made foe post-mortem examination; we do not make our own, but we are present when they are made—a fracture at the base of the skull is not jinvariably fatal—laceration at the base of the skull, such as this man had, would be fatal—the immediate cause of death was compression of the brain, due to bleeding from laceration and the fracture at the base of the skull—the fracture was semi-circular—not a V, but a U shape—a fall on that portion would account for the fracture and the laceration, and consequent compression from the bleeding parts, which caused death—the fracture of the nasal bones did not contribute towards his death.
Re-examined. I do not think the removal made any difference—after the post-mortem examination, I think there could have been no other result but death.
Witness for the Defence.
WILLIAM PEXFOLD . I am a costermonger, and live at 26, Gunberg Yard, Battersea—I hawk brooms and brushes—the prisoner is my son—on the day in question I was going along Finborough Road with my son, with some flower-pots—the deceased came behind us and caught us up, and asked my son to wheel his bicycle for him—my son said, "I will run it home for you"—the deceased turned his bicycle round and said, he was going to fight—I got in front of my son, and he told the deceased three times to go away—the deceased squared up his fist, and wanted to fight, and after that he wanted to fight him for half-a-crown; he pulled out a lot of halfpence and half-a-crown, and then put it back in his pocket—he pulled me on one side—my son did not want to have anything to do with him—I did not see my son strike him; I was looking down the road—I had my back turned; it was done in a moment—I did not see the deceased fall, or hear his head strike—I saw nothing else—when I looked round he was down on the ground—two men, coming by, said, "Now you have hit him, pick him up;" and my son helped him to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I did not hear the deceased say to my son, "I don't want anything to do with you; go away"—my son told him three times to go away—my son was carrying flower-pots—he put them down by the hospital gates as soon as the conversation began—the deceased would not let us go away—he held his fist at my son—he meant fighting him—I did not see him strike my son—my son put the flower-pots down when he was asked to take the machine.
GUILTY of Manslaughter. Recommended to Mercy by the JURY .— Eight Months Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. ROOTH Defended.
SUSAN SNELL . I live at 109, Torriana Avenue, Kentish Towu—Maria Louisa Snell is my daughter—the prisoner walked out with her—they have kept company since Easter Jast—on August 22nd the prisoner called about 8.30 p.m.—I showed him into the breakfast-room—he shook hands with me and sat down—I went and told my daughter he was there—she was upstairs in iny bedroom—I came down and said, 'Have you not received a letter from Loui this morning?"—he said, "Yes," and asked where Loui was—I went up to my daughter again, and was in conversation with her only a second when the prisoner, who had followed up behind, pushed the door open—my daughter pushed it to keep him out—I left them to speak to themselves, and went away—in two or three minutes I heard my daughter scream out, "Mother! mother! He has stabbed me! he has stabbed me!"—I ran upstairs, and saw my daughter in the passage, bleeding from the left arm and the right chest—there was a light—candles were on the bedroom mantelpiece—I went downstairs with her—the prisoner came down a minute or two after wards—he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and in a second flew to the area door to get out—my husband rushed to stop him—the prisoner passed the breakfast-room, where my daughter was—that was the room where I had first seen him—my husband and the prisoner fell to the ground,
and the prisoner got up and rushed out of the door—when he came he seemed quiet, but he was always rather quiet—I did not notice any difference when I opened the door in his demeanour—he talked about his place, but his conversation had nothing to do with my daughter.
Cross-examined. He always treated my daughter with the greatest respect, and was affectionate towards her—I heard some months ago he had lost £30—I think it weighed upon his mind—he did not talk much about it—he was extremely reticent—he had told me he had a sabre wound—I knew he had been a soldier, and I had seen a scar on his head—I believe be bore an excellent character—he was at the time a hall porter at White's Club.
MARIA LOUISA SNELL . I am the daughter of the last witness, and live with my parents—I was engaged to, and kept company with, the prisoner since last Easter—I merely walked out with, him—I have known him about a year—I was first introduced to him by my brother—I wrote and posted this letter to him on August 22nd—that evening, about 8.45, my mother came to me upstairs, went down, and returned to me—we had a conversation in my mother's bedroom—the prisoner came to the door and pushed his way in—I pushed on the opposite side—mother was on the mat outside the door—the prisoner said, "Do not let us quarrel"—he sat down at the foot of my mother's bed—I asked him why he had come into the bedroom, but he did not answer me—I asked him if he had received a letter from me—he said he had—I said I had told him in that letter all I wanted to say, and asked, "What do you want here?"—then blew the candle out on the mantelpiece—then I was stabbed in the right chest—he was sitting at the foot of the bed when I blew the candle out—then he stabbed me twice in the left arm—I was between the bed and the mantelshelf—I had this blouse on (produced)—he allowed me to pass him—I had seen nothing in his hand—I screamed out, "Oh, mother, he has stabbed me!"—the prisoner was still in the bedroom—I walked past him, went downstairs, and locked myself in the lower room, the breakfast-room—mother met me on the stairs, and we went in together.
Cross-examined. This is my letter: "Dear Walter,—In answer to yours, I would rather you did not come on Sunday. I daresay you think it unkind of me; but I must tell you that I do not seem as if I can make myself take to you. I do not know why, for you have treated me with great respect in every way. You must have seen this, I think, because you have remarked, once or twice, you did not think I cared for you. It is my duty to tell you before letting it go too far, or going for a holiday. I hope you will thoroughly enjoy yourself, and I hope to mine. You would think me very cruel if we had gone for a holiday, and to have told you afterwards. That would have been very paltry On Wednesday I did it for the purpose, when we missed catching each other; I did" not want to see you. It may be wrong, but I cannot help it. It is not that there is anyone else on the scene. No such thing. But I cannot seem to settle to anyone lately. I may write again in a day or two, but no more at present. From L. S."—it is true he treated me with the greatest respect, and had been very affectionate—there was no personal objection to him; nothing in his conduct—I thought he would be upset when I wrote, and that an interview would be painful—I said at the Police-station the meeting would be unpleasant—I closed the door because
he had no right there—he made no threat-the three stabs were given quickly, one after the other—he did not prevent my leaving the room.
JAMES SNELL . I am the father of the last witness—I was waiting at the door, when I saw the prisoner leave the breakfast-room—I next heard my daughgter call out, I am stabbed; he has stabbed me!"—the prisoner came downstairs—he was getting quickly along the hall or prisoner came downstairs—he was hatless, and going towards the area door to the street—I had come in at that door—after hearing the scream we struggled along the passage, and I tried to prevent his escape—I said, "You cannot go; you have stabbed my" daughter"—the police came—I prisoner had always been quiet in demeanour—that night he seemed rather crestfallen.
Cross-examined. He did not seem the same as usual, and did not give me the same warm grip of the hand—I have known him six or seven months—I have heard of his fall from a tree in China, and about a sunstroke, but I do not remember about a sabre wound—he was very reticent.
Re-examined. I did not notice anything in his hand.
WILLIAM WELCH (277 y). I saw the prisoerrunning down the Kentish Town Road—I stopped him, and asked him where he was going—he said, "I am going home"—I told him I had received information that he had stabbed a woman—he said, "I have not"—I then noticed blood on his hands, mostly on the left—I asked him how he came by the blood on his hand—he said, "I have been fighting"—I took him to Holme Road Police-station—he was charged with attempted murder—he made no reply—I searched him, and found half-a-soverign in gold, 8s. 6d. in silver, a watch and chain, a 2s. piece, silver, and a bunch of six keys—I found no kinife.
Cross-examined. The papers produced were found at his lodgings—they are Army Reserve papers to get his pension—he appeared a bit dazed when I stopped him—I have made inquiries—he bears a most excellent character.
GERORGE ALLGOOD (50 Y). On August 22nd, in consequence of information, I went to 109, Torriana Avenue, about 9.10—I searched the front room on the ground floor, which is in a line with the front door, the floor above the basement, and, about a yard inside that room, found this pocket-knife on the carpet—both blades were closed—I opened it, and found something greasy on it, not like blood—I saw blood in the basement at the bottom of the stairs, not in the room—I went to the front bedroom.
CECIL LEWIS . I am house-surgeon at the North-West London Hospital—I was present about 9.30, when Miss Snell was brought in—I examined her, and found her suffering from three incised punctured two on the left arm, one above the other, and one on the right side of the cheset—the lower wound, on the arm, wass two inches in length, and three inches in depth; the one above it was one and a-half inches in lenth, and two inches in depth—they were quite distginct—the wound on the chest was an inch in length, and one and a-half inches in depth—it did not penetrate the chest cavity—the wounds might have been caused
by such a knife as this—she was not able to appear before the Magistrate for ten or eleven days—she has now, I think, recovered.
Cross-examined. I should not expect her to feel any serious effect from the wounds in future—they were not dangerous—if I had allowed her to go before the Magistrate sooner, some inflammation might have set up, or she would have been longer getting well.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, September 14th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
and MR. DRAKE appeared for David Batchelor, and MR. GRAIN for David Samuel Batchelor.
EDWARD BURMAH . I am assistant secretary to the Sun Insurance Company, 66, Barney Road, St. John's Road—I produce a fire insurance policy for £450, effected by the prisoners in that office, insuring the stock, utensils, and fixtures of a scene-painter, in a railway arch at Peckham—there is an endorsement on it of March 29th, 1893, sanctioning the removal of the property to an arch at 9, Madeira Road, Brighton—on March 30th I received this letter, dated the 29th: "Dear Sir,—I regret to say a fire happened at 9, Madeira Road, Brighton, late on Wednesday night. I have seen your agent here, and explained fully who I am. He tells me to give you formal notice. The claim shall follow immediately made out.—Yours truly, pp., D. BATCHELOR, D. S. B."—I also received this letter of April 2nd, 1894, dated "The Limes, Richmond Terrace, Clapham." (Stating that the letter of the 31st was forwarded by his manager, and that he found that the damage to the house would for exceed, the amount of insurance, asking for an appointment to meet the surveyor, and stating that the fire was caused by some scoundrel putting a light in the letter-box.) On April 4th I received a letter from The Limes, enclosing a statement of the claim, and alleging the loss to be £708 6s.—I placed the matter in the hands of Mr. Eiloart, of Chancery Lane, and after an examination by him the company refused to pay the claim, and it was referred to arbitration by Mr. Creswell, on May 12th, 13th, and 14th—I was present, and heard the younger prisoner give evidence in support of his claim—before the matter was referred to arbitration, these two letters were received by two of the directors—they are identical in terms.
Cross-examined by LORD COLERIDGE. The insurance was on premises at Peckham for £300—before the insurance was effected an inspector named Ravenstock went and examined the premises—some goods were then removed to an arch at Brighton with consent given—Mr. Towner was the agent who examined the premises there—the policy had been increased; it was then £450—this (produced) is the original proposal form for £300—I have only seen the younger prisoner since the fire, within two or three weeks of the fire—he said that the manager had sole control
of the Brighton business, and he had a good business in London apart from that, and left the Brighton manager very much to himself.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I never saw the elder prisoner before the insurance—I never saw him write—our inspector saw the premises, and, no doubt, cast his eye over the stock before we took the risk—I have been in the business forty-two years—the inspector looks at the stock, and, probably, if he found it grossly excessive, he would say so; if not, it is not part of his duty to report on the value.
Re-examined. The inspector is sent merely to ascertain the nature of the risk—the younger prisoner came to our office, and said that he had left the things at Brighton entirely to his brother, who was the manager.
FREDERICK EILOART . I am a fire assessor, of Chancery Lane—on April 4th, or soon after, the claim of David Batchelor was put into my hands—I communicated with him by letter, and he called at my office on April 16th—I had already received this schedule (produced.) and on that day, or a day or two after wards, he handed methese receiptsinsupportof his claim—Nos. 6, 7, and 8 are partially burnt—No. 6 is a letter of September 29th, 1892, written on a printed bill—head of Shaw, Culmore Road: "If you will purchase the diorama, 'Round the World,' containing 250 pictures, complete for, £225, out of this I will purchase from you, fitup containing five cloths, painted both sides, with usual wings, etc., and allow £125, the balance, £100, to be paid in cash.—J. D. SHAW, February 2nd, 1893. Received by cash,£100, also fit-up, value £125, with thanks"—the second is to Mr. D. Batchelor: "Fit-up; containing thirteen cloths, twelve usual wings, proscenium and border, two sky borders, cords, etc,. £90. Settled, 12/6/92 "; and the third is: "Gaiety Theatre, Brighton. Received of Mr. Batchelor the sum of £60, for a quantity of scenery, as follows: Act drop, wood scene, street scene, kitchen, eight wings, sky borders, lines complete. With thanks.—H SHKPHERD, £60. March 15th, 1892"—he said that those were the receipts for the goods that had been burnt, and if I wanted any more information I could go down to Brighton and see his brother, who was his manager there, and lived at Gerrard Street, Preston Park—about the same time he handed me these three railway delivery notes, "K. L. and M.," and said that he found them among the ruins after the fire—a little later on he handed me this stock-book and sale-book (produced)—I asked if he kept any books which, would verify his claim—he said that in order to conduct his business in London as well, he always kept duplicate books, and kept a check on his brother—those books contain entries which purport to relate to scenery similar to this in the claim—I have examined the claim with the receipt—I have not examined the first nineteen items—the nextitem, "New diorama, 'Round the World,' "corresponds, and so do the words, "act drop," "wood scene," "chamber scene"—on, I think, May 19th, 1894, I went to Brighton, and met the younger prisoner—it is one of the arches which opens on the beach—Madeira Road runs along the arches—I asked him if he was Mr. Batchelor's brother; he said, "Yes"—I said, "You are older than he is"—he said, "Yes; I am his elder brother; I manage for my younger brother"—I asked if he could tell me anything about Shepherd's receipt; he said that he himself conducted the transaction—I asked him where Shepherd was to be found; he said that, in all probability, we should find him in some of the restaurants; I went to three
or four, but could not find him—on May 31st I received document No. 9, headed "The Limes, Richmond Terrace, Clapham," and signed "D. Batchelor," and in the same writing; it says, "I have made inquiries for Shaw, Shepherd, and Baker"—I made inquiries, but could not find any of those persons, and, in consequence of my report, the office resisted the claim—I was present at the arbitration, when David gave evidence, and saw the elder prisoner in the room the first time; he was described as the father of the younger one; he spoke of him as his father, and said that he spoke of him as his brother because his father did not wish to be known, as he had some legal proceedings—the Arbitrator stopped the case a whole afternoon, and gave him the next day to produce his father—I heard him state that the documents were in his father's writing, and that his father was going to be called—the case was adjourned in the afternoon, and the whole of the next day given for the father to be produced—the father was called, but did not answer, and he never did attend—I can speak to this photograph being correct.
Cross-examined by LORD COLERIDGE. The younger prisoner handed me these receipts in London; I never saw him in Brighton—he did not hand me any receipts in a sealed envelope; I will swear that they were in an envelope directed to me—he told me that his brother, who managed the business at Brighton, would answer any questions with regard to the claim—I cannot say whether he said, "I found them among the ruins," or" They were found"—he did not say that his brother had sent them to be handed to me—I saw that they were partly consumed by fire—I remember, on the hearing, the younger prisoner's attention being called to some receipts from Shepherd; he was asked about that at the examination, and I think he said that it was referred to at the arbitration—he used to advertise, in various names, in the Exchange and Mart, and other papers—he said that the editor objected to answer advertisements under the heading "Private," and to prevent it being supposed that he was in trade, to advertise in various names, and the advertiser if he continually advertised in the same name, would think he was in the trade, and would not deal with him—I remember Shaw's receipt; he stated at the hearing that he had been in partnership once with Shaw in Culmore Road, and that it was dissolved three or four years before, and that Shaw had destroyed all the stationery they had, which was headed "Shaw"—I never heard that till I was at the Police-court—with regard to all these documents, Mr. Woodhill represented the company—I remember Shaw's receipt for £100, but not that one of the prisoners as Leslie had the payment for these goods for a small sum; I was ordered out of Court—I did not hear the elder prisoner questioned before the Arbitrator as to whom Leslie was, and hear him say that he knew nothing about the transactions of the diorama at all—the correspondence between Leslie and Bailey about the diorama was put to him, and he said he did not know, and that he saw the letters for the first time.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I inquired into this matter in April, 1894, and then made the report to the Sun Fire Office—my report was adverse to the prisoner's claims—the arbitration did not take place till 1896—the senior prisoner afforded me every information about the claim which was being made—I do not remember his telling me that some of the scenery had been improved after it came into his possession; I think
I should have if he had said it, and I am quite sure he did not—I have not been asked the question before.
Re-examined. I heard David Batchelor asked questions about these receipts in his examination-in-chief by his own Counsel. (Severed extracts from David Batchelor's evidence before the Arbitrator were here read. I) heard him say that he had assumed those different names so that they should not recognise that he was in the trade—I remember his being asked about a letter written to him at the Bazaar and Mart in the name of Wright, and he admitted having written to the Bazaar and Mart, complaining that they had put his name in their black list or exclusion list—the explanation may have been given on re-examination—he was asked why he did not say that the other prisoner was his father; he said that there had been some previous fires in which his father had been interested—I remember Lord Coleridge asking me whether the younger prisoner did not give an explanation why his father was passed off as his brother—he admitted that he had made a claim on another insurance company, that he had purchased a premium of somebody called D. S. Batchelor.
ALBERT SHAW . I live at Marsh Street, Hartley, Staffordshire—in 1894 I was living at Merthyr Tydvil, and advertised some theatrical scenery, asking £3 15s. cash, and received this reply. (Dated February 26th, 1894, and signed W. H. Shephierd, 11, West Street, Brighton," asking for full particulars.) I answered that, and got this letter of March 2nd, and another of March 5th. (Requesting that the scenery should be sent on approbation, if it would not cost more than 17s. 6 d.; referring to Batckelor and Co., Madeira Road, Brighton.) I did not refer to them; I sent it without—on March 19th Shepherd wrote: "Duly received the scenery, and it is in a wretched condition"—he offered me various things in exchange instead of payment, but all I got was a second-hand banjo, which I sold to a dealer for £1—I received this letter of April 2nd, 1894, from Shepherd, five days after the fire. (Stating that he had declined, in his previous letter, to pay cash, complaining of the scenery, and stating that he, should have to supply new wings, etc., as lie should be very sorry to put them on any stage in Brighton, but would return them at once if the railway expenses were paid.) That was after they were burnt—in April, 1895, he wrote: "I send you the banjo back; you must understand I do not send it to you to sell"—towards the end of exhibit No. 3 here is "Act drop, 'Grecian Temple,' by Stewart Henry Bell, Marine Painter to Her Majesty"—the biggest part of the scenery I sent was painted by Stewart Henry Bell, and corresponded with that description; and there was a deck scene.
JOHN BRODIE . I am a brick-maker, of 2, Back Street, Sunderland—the last witness left some scenery in my charge, and in March, 1894, I forwarded it to H. Shepherd, of Brighton—I signed a consignment note in respect to it.
FREDERICK GEORGE LATCHAM . I am a clerk to the Brighton Railway Company at Brighton—about March 8th, 1894, I received this letter, marked "50." (From H. Shepherd, stating that he would receive a quantity of scenery from Mr. Shaw, of Sunderland.) The goods were delivered at No. 9 Arch.
GEORGE ALBERT BAILEY . I live at Edinburgh—in 1892 I advertised a diorama of thirty-two scenes, in the Bazaar and Marl, and received this letter from 147, Commercial New Road, signed "George Leicester" (Asking far full particulars)—on November 14th I received this letter. (Stating that he thought the diorama would suit him, and referring to Mr. Baker, of 4, Newngton Causeway, and offering a number of things in exchange.) I did not write to the reference—I ultimately agreed to exchange the scenery for a banjo and guitar and £3 cash—I sent it off, and got the banjo and guitar, but not the £3—I tried to get it through the Exchange and Mart Office, but did not—I sold the banjo and guitar privately for about £2 7s.—I see in this document, No. 3, a description of "a splendid diorama of 'Round the World,' beautifully painted," that contains a list of fifty-seven pictures, out of which I recognised thirty-two as mine.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I am a harpist, engaged in Edinburgh—I had an idea of bringing out an entertainment, and required scenery—a Mr. Stockwell painted thirty-two pictures for me, for which I paid him £7 10s.—it was not worth £250—I know what touching it up means, but it would not make that difference.
Re-examined. I asked £15 or £20 for it in the Bazaar and Mart.
ALBERT FRIARS . I am a boat-builder, of Arch 10, Madura Road, Brighton, next to Arch 9, occupied by the elder prisoner—I went in from time to time—I have seen him write, and am acquainted with his writing—these documents, 1, 3, 4, and 5, are his writing, and so are these letters to Shaw, signed "Shepherd," marked 10 to 21, and also letters 22 to 35 (To Bailey signed "Leslie ") also this railway consignment note, signed "E. S. Batchelor;" also letter No. 50—it is his ordinary writing—I recollect I the fire at No. 9 Arch—after that both the prisoners came to see me at different times—nothing was said about my giving evidence—the elder prisoner asked me if anybody had been inquiring as to the fire, and asked me to say that the stock was worth between £700 and £800; I declined, because I did not think it was worth it; I think I said, "I should not think so"—the original letter, proposing the insurance, dated 1890, is the father's writing, but it is signed "David Batchelor."
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. This document is signed by me in pencil, in the month of the arbitration; I read it over on the afternoon Mr. Batchelor brought it to me in 1896—I was called as a witness before the Arbitrator—what I signed is true—I remember the fire on March 28th, 1894, at Mr. Batchelor's warehouse, Madeira Road, Brighton—before the fire took place, I saw the manager leave the place apparently
safe and sound, about four p.m.—other people were with him—I have a shop near there, and about eight o'clock I placed my bicycle near that arch, and, as far as I know, everything was safe and sound; there was no sign of fire to me then—I had been to the warehouse many times for four or five months previously, and occasionally found work going on; and I once saw the scenery being touched up—Mr. Batchelor, senior, was the artist—I never saw him painting scenery but once—I have said, "A large quantity of scenery was delivered before the outbreak, which blocked up the place."
Re-examined. What has been read is what is called a proof of my evidence which I was willing to give for Batchelor at the arbitration; he wrote it down for me to say; it says, "I can confirm what Mr. Willis says about the fixtures, etc., £60 or £70"; that means that the total value of the things that were burnt was £60 or £70—I was two days in attendance at the arbitration, but they did not call me—Batchelor said I was to wait outside till I was called, and I never was called.
By the COURT. I never saw any artist there painting or improving the scenery.
GEORGE SMITH INGLIS . I have been an expert in writing, for many years—I have examined the three receipts, which have been partly burnt, purporting to be signed in the names of Shaw, Shepherd, and Baker, and have compared them with exhibit No. 1, the letter, the claim, No. 3, and the two letters to the directors, marked 4 and 5—the receipts are written in the disguised hand of the person who wrote letters 1, 3, 4, and 5—assuming those letters to be written by D. S. Batchelor, the receipts are his also—I have compared 10 to 21, Shepherd and the others, and the two in Leslie, and they appear to be in the same writing as the other documents and as the receipts.
By the COURT. Shepherd, Baker, and Shaw are in the same writing, undisguised, but the receipts are disguised—the way bill, signed "D. S. Batchelor," is D. S. Batchelor's writing.
Cross-examined by LORD COLERIDGE. I devote the skill of a lifetime to deciphering writing—when a man disguises his writing, he does it to prevent people discovering it—these receipts are in different disguises, and it requires the skill of an expert to do it.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I was not told the purport of the inquiry, or asked to say if the writing put before me and alleged to be the elder prisoner's writing was in the same hand—I did not know any side at all; I do not think I knew that I was inquiring for the Sun Fire Office, or that the Sun Fire Office was ever mentioned—I was employed by a solicitor; it was for the purpose of the arbitration—I was there, and gave evidence for the Sun Fire Office—I believe the whole of these documents are in the prisoner's writing, but an ordinary person might think they were not in the same writing.
Re-examined. Nos. 6 and 8 are the ordinary writing—8 is the most like—this (produced) is the claim which I had to compare them with, and, comparing 8 with 3, I trace it as the same writing—I gave my opinion long before the arbitration took place, and long before the prosecution—it was upon my opinion that the prisoner was examined and cross-examined at the arbitration.
notes in the case of Batchelor v. the Sun Fire Office—I took the notes of Batchelor's evidence a portion of the day on May 12th, and the re-examination of Batchelor, junior.
FRANK HEWITT . I live at 11, Tulse Hill, and am the owner of the house and shop, 140, Camber well New Road, which was occupied in November and December, 1892, by a tobacconist and news agent—I never heard of George Leslie living there—the premises merely consisted of a shop and a cupboard or two.
WILLIAM POTTINGER . I am a rate-collector of St. Mary, Newington—2, Bodley Street, is in that parish; it is a private house—there was no Baker there in 1892—I have seen David Batchelor there, going in and out—I live opposite Bodley Street.
WILLIAM WILLIAMSON (Police Sergeant.) On the morning of July 23rd I went to 10, Richmond Terrace, Clapham, and asked for Mr. Batchelor—a woman opened the door—I spoke to her, and heard some one going upstairs; I followed up, went into a bedroom, struck a light, and saw a pair of boots protruding from the bottom of the bed; the face and body were covered—I pulled the clothes down, and found David there—before I spoke he said, "I am not him"—he was fully dressed—I said, "I am a police officer, and hold a warrant for your arrest for attempting to obtain money by forged receipts"—he said, "I am not the man"—the landlady came in with a lamp, and said, "Mr. Batchelor, why don't you tell the gentleman who you are?"—he said, "My father is the man; I know nothing about it"—I locked the room up and took him away—I searched the room next day, and in a box I found two documents, one referring to Shaw, of Culmore Road, and the other to Baker, of Bodley Street, and two savings bank books, one in the name of Baker, and the other of Evans, 63, Derby Street, and a number of banjos, concertinas, ladies' saddles, and guns; a van-load of things was taken away—I have got the two bill-heads.
Cross-examined by LORD COLERIDGE. There was every sort of miscella-neous article which you would get from the Exchange and Mart—I found a book on the premises which enumerated those articles, and there is a book which I cannot understand; the solicitor has it—I explained to the land-lady that I was a police officer, and asked if Mr. Batchelor was at home; she said, "No; he won't be home for a few days"—I then heard footsteps running upstairs.
Re-examined. These are the two documents I found in the room, one of Baker, and one of Shaw—the bill-heads correspond with two of these alleged receipts.
interrupted me, and said, "What are those amounts, and the dates?"—I re-read the warrant, and he said, "Yes; that is" all right"—I then cautioned him that what he said I should use against him at his trial—he said, "Oh, thank you; then I shall say nothing"—I took him to Bow Street, and charged him the same night—he made no reply.
ALFRED HAMMOND LEE COX . I am head clerk at the London Joint Stock Bank, Prince's Street, City—this is the pass-book of Mr. Howard Williams at our bank—I found in it some cheques which have been drawn; I compared them with the stock-book and sale-book; they are in the same writing—the person who had the account in the name of Howard Williams is apparently the same.
Cross-examined by LORD COLERIDGE. The cheques were met.
GUILTY . DAVID SAMUEL BATCHELOR— Three Years' Penal Servitude. DAVID BATCHELOR— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
ELIZA CORRI I live at 18, Gardner's Lane, Putney—I am separated from my husband; he allows me £1 a week—I carry on a boot and shoe business—I have known the prisoner about eleven months—he said about Easter that he should like to buy my business if I would wait till he came into his money in September—he borrowed money from me from time to time, about £20 altogether—he wished to learn the business; I undertook to teach him, and he came to the shop regularly from Easter until August—in August he took fo sleeping at the shop—I had hitherto been sleeping at my father's house at Chelsea—after I took to Bleeping at the shop my housekeeper left through the prisoner—he said that it was just what he wanted to get her out of the house, that he might remain there, and give up his apartments—I told him she might come back—he said that it did not matter, and that if I did not give him £1 a week, he would say that there had been connection between us, and get my allowance stopped—that was about August 19th—he said that, by my going into his lodgings, he could ruin me, and that he would summon me for £19 wages, and would write to my husband—eventually I ordered him out of my place—I know his writing, and received a letter from him on August 22nd, another on the 24th, and a post-card on the 27th. (The first letter stated, "I shall be in Gardner's Lane on Saturday. I shall try and stop all your customers from coming into your shop. I think I can stop your £1 a week; Mrs. Mills knows I have cohabited with you." The second letter stated: "If I do not receive a reply I shall write to your father; you must let me know what you intend doing, or I shall write to Corri," etc. The post-cardwas: "Don't expect cheque to-day; I have posted my letter to Mr. Corri.") On receiving that postcard I went to my solicitors, who took proceedings.
The Prisoner. I admit writing the letters, but I did not know she was going to have me arrested for it.
HENRY FOWLER . I took the prisoner at Broadway, Walham Green, and said, "I hold a warrant for your arrest; I will read it now if you like, or, if you prefer it, when we get to the station; there is a large crowd"—he said, "Read it at the station; whether I win or her remains to be seen"—he was charged, and made no reply.
Prisoner's Defence; Gentlemen,—She has committed perjury three times, I never'did anything dishonest, I leave myself to your mercy. I shall certainly take out a summons against her.
GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
FOURTH COURT.—Monday and Tuesday, September 14th and
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. COHEN Protecuted.
CHARLES VICTOR JOHANSEN (Interpreted.) I am a seaman on board the ss ✗. Warenbot, now in the West India Docks—about five p.m. on September 7th I left the ship and went to the Eastern Hotel, and met some of my ship-mates—at 11 p.m. I was at the Oporto public-house, sitting with some ship-mates, when Donovan came in—I knew her before—she asked me to treat her, and I did so—I went home with her to 5, Rich Street, and slept the night there—I had two £5 notes and my discharges, which I placed under the cover on the mantelpiece—in the morning I dressed, and looked for my money and discharges; they were not there—I asked Donovan if she had seen the money—she denied it—I asked her if anyone had been in the room—she said, "No"—I said, "You have got my money"—she said, "No"—I asked her a second time if anyone else had been in the room; she said, "No"—I said, "No one else has my money, only you; if you do not give me up my money I shall go for the police"—she sat down in a chair, and took one £5 note out of her stocking and gave it to me—I said, "If you have this £5 note I shall not take it; you are bound to have the other one"—I did not take it; I went and got a policeman—in the evening I had given her one shilling for drink—I did not give her anything in the morning—I found my discharges in my left waistcoat pocket—someone had moved them from the mantel-piece.
Cross-examined by Donovan. I knew nothing against you before—when you came back at twelve with some beer I was asleep, but you asked me to have a drop in the morning—I did not give you a £5 note to get a bottle of whisky.
CALEB CARTER (Inspector K.) About 7.30 a.m. on September 8th, the prosecutor called me, and I went with him to 5, Rich Street, Lambeth—in a room on the ground floor I saw the prisoners—I said, "This man complains of having lost two £5 notes here last night"—I knew Williams before; he assists to conduct this house; it is a brothel—Williams said, "I have never seen a £5 note"—Donovan said, "Come upstairs to my room"—I went upstairs with her, and she produced this £5 note from her breast—she said, "I picked this up on the floor; I have received no other money; he only gave me 1s. last night"—I found 3d. on her—I went to the shipping office, and found out the numbers of the two notes, paid to the prisoner—later on, I said to Williams, "I find you changed a £5 note last night at the Great Eastern Hotel for a bottle of whisky"—
he he said, "I never had a £5 note "he was placed among other men, and identified by the barman—he said, "Let me go; I am an honest man; I gave Mother Jeffreys all the money I had last night; Annie gave me the note"—Donovan was recovering from a heavy drinking bout—I should think the man was sober—he said, "Johansen paid me 2s. 6d. for the room last night."
GEORGE BROWN . I am barman at the Great Eastern Hotel, lime-house—on the night of September 8th, about five minutes before closing time, Williams came and purchased a bottle of whisky from me and tendered in payment this £5 note, No. 23036—I did not know him before—I deducted 3s. 1d. for the whisky, and gave him about £2 in gold and the rest in silver and copper.
FREDERICK HAWKRIDGE . I live at 7, Rich Street—about 11.45 on September 8th Mrs. Dixon came into a shop, which is in the house in which I live, with something under her apron—she pulled out a reticule, and said to my landlady, "Take care of this until it is all over, a I will pay you well after it is all over"—she immediately left the shop—the bag was afterwards handed over to the inspector.
CALEB CARTER (Re-examined.) Mrs. Dixon is the landlady of 5, Rich Street—she was charged and discharged before the Magistrate—the bag, as she left it with the landlady of No. 7, has come into my possession—it contains £2 10s. in gold, £1 13s. 3d. silver and coppers.
Donovan, in her statement before the Magistrate, said that Johansek gave her the £5 note to get a bottle of whisky, and that Mrs. Dixon said she would take care of the change till the next morning.
Williams stated that he cfianged the note and got the whisky.
WILLIAMS— NOT GUILTY .
DONOVAN— GUILTY .— six Month's Hard Labour.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted.
The prisoner had filed a plea of justification, but this he withdrew, and pleaded
GEORGE PARIS SANDEMAN . I am a member of the firm of Boulton, Sons, and Sandeman, solicitors, of 21, Northampton Square, Clerkenwell—the firm has been in existence since the commencement of the century, I think—in 1893 Mr. George Boulton was senior partner in the firm—his deceased brother's (Mr. Frank Boulton) widow is Mrs. Emma Boulton, who has a daughter, Miss Frances Boulton—she was a ward in Court, and her mother was her guardian, but Mr. George Boulton acted in loco parentis—in the year 1890 the prisoner's conduct was brought to my attention, and, on information that was given to me, I wrote to him, and I also wrote in February, 1891, to him—after that I received from time to time a number of letters, and a large number of letters from the prisoner, and about twenty pamphlets were brought to my attention—at this time Mr. George Boulton was Mayor of Eastbourne—our firm are solicitors to Clerkenwell Vestry—that was an appointment held by the firm—in
September, 1893, this registered letter, addresst, to my firm, was received at our office—it was opened in my presence by my direction—both letter and envelope are in the prisoner's writing—I have had scores of his letters—the Mr. George Boulton referred to in this letter was then the senior partner of may firm; he has since retired through ill-health. (This letter contained the passage: "As Mr. George B., as and for his firm, published two forged letters to me of Miss E. F. B.'s honoured name of dates July 20th and September 11th, 1892, and as he knew when he published these letters Jjthat they were certainly lies, if not forgeries of Miss E. F, B.'s fair hand, I certainly decline to meet Mr. George B. in the manner his lettei indicates." The letter further stated that he would meet Miss B. in the presence of two clergymen, whom he named, if they consented; asked whether Mr. George B. and Mr. James B. were still members of the firm, and whether the firm still acted for Mrs. Emma Boulton, and concluded with the postscript: "The letters referrred to were forged, to pervert the course of justice. Will Mr. George B. say from whom he received them?—L. C.") On receipt of that letter, I took the advice of Counsel (I had previously taken the advice of Chancery Counsel), and a summons was taken out at Clorkenwell Police-court for criminal libel, and the case came on before the Magistrate—the prisoner was represented by Messrs. Boulton and Co., and by Mr. Besley, the Counsel—the case was committed for trial to this Court, and a true bill was returned on October 16th, and the trial was fixed to take place on October 21st, but the prisoner did not surrender to take his trial—after that I received a number of communications and pamphlets from him from Boulogne, through 1894, 1895, and 1896—I received this letter of July 29th, 1894, from Boulogne. (This informed them, in order that they might have no difficulty in proving publication, that he wrote and published the pamphlets, "Honour Proclaimed," and "My Lady's Honour," and they might be included in the indictment particularly as they said the first was libel on Mr. George Boulton, and the second was like the first, and that he was making arrangements to surrender at the September Sessions, and should require Mrs. Emma Boulton and Miss Boulton as witnesses in regard to Miss Boulton's alleged letters of July 20th and September 11th, 1892, and in regard to other parts of the alleged libel.) I received, among the other pamphlets, these: "Oliver for Roland," and "Forgery on the Court of Chancery"—this letter of August 29th, 1894, is in the prisoner's writing—from 1893 down to the other day a warrant was in existence, and in the hands of Inspector Leach; the prisoner was arrested at Dover, and brought to London.
(The prisoner, at great length, cross-examined the witness, and made statements with regard to correspondence, pamphlets, and other matters, although he was repeatedly told by the COURT that he was dealing with matters with which the JURY had nothing to do.)
EMMA FRANCES BOULTON . My mother is Emma Boulton, widow of the late Mr. Frank Boulton, my father—I made the prisoner's acquaintance in 1889—I was then fifteen years old, and still at school—I wrote this letter of July 20th to my uncle, while I was away—I afterwards wrote a letter of September 11th, of which this is a copy.
(The first of these, addressed to her uncle, expressed her sorrow at the Annoyance and insults she had received from the "awful creature," Collins,
to whom she had never given any cause to make the false and absurd statement that she liked hims and stated that now she hated him as sincerely anyone forgiving such trouble to all friends. The second was: "Mr. Collins, I cannot think why you persist in annoying me and my friends, as you have done for so long. I never gave you reason to think I cared for you, and, certainly, now I dislike you thoroughly. If you have any sense of honour, you will immediately desist from your persecution, and believe that it is my express wish to have no further attempts at communication from you or with you.—Miss Boulton.)
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. On July 20th, 1892, I was in Germany, at Mar✗enbad. (The prisoner was proceeding to Cross-examine as to the contents of the letters, when the COURT pointed out that the question for the JURY was not as to the contents of the letters, but whether Mr. Boulton, had forged them.)
Re-examined I wrote the prisoner four or five letters, acknowledging books and flowers he had sent; in my last letter I say the flowers and fruit arrived, and I was just off to school—I was at school then.
EMMA BOULTON . In 1889 I was living at Baling with my daughter—in that year I made the acquaintance of the prisoner—in consequence of his presents of books and different things to my daughter, I wrote to him in July, addressing him as "Dear Mr. Collins," and asking him to cease life attentions to her, and not to send the things—I afterwards wrote to him in September, and said I was surprised that he should resort to the ruse of sending a registered letter—early in 1891 I went abroad with my daughter, and remained abroad for several years.
Cross-examined. We did not return before March, 1893—I first met you on April ✗4th, 1889—for the first few weeks I had no idea that you were anything but a gentleman of position and honour; your behaviour made me think you had lost that title. (The prisoner began to cross-examine the witness upon the correspondence that had passed between them, but the COURT held that it was irrelevant to this inquiry.)
The Prisoner, in his address to the JURY, dealt with various matters not material to the charge.
GUILTY.— Judgment Respited for enquiries.
MR. COHEN Prosecuted.
ELIAS FREDERICK HAMMOND . I live at 15, City Road, and am a cloth-dealer—about midnight, on July 22nd, after locking up the premises, about 9.30, and going to bed about 10.30 I was disturbed by a smash of the plate-glass window in my shop—I got up and dressed, and saw the plate-glass window was broken, and I missed a paddock-coat, worth 35s.—I saw the prisoner walking up the City Road with the coat on his right arm—I recognised the coat; I could see very clearly—the prisoner was twenty or thirty yards up the road—I could not leave the shop—the smash had come from a brick, which I found inside the window—I saw Constable Finch five or six yards from the shop, and spoke to him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I sleep in the shop—the corner where the Castle is is thirty or forty yards from my shop; I saw you pass there with the coat on your arm—I could not swear to your identity; I never
saw you before—I saw a man with the coat on his arm—I did not hear Finch blow his whistle—I reported to him.
ARTHUR FINCH (468 G). I was standing in the City Road about 11.10 on July 22nd, and I saw the prisoner at the corner of Leonard Street, City Road—I saw him again about 11.25, opposite 27, City Road, which is close to 15, City Road—I did not keep him in sight—about midnight I heard a crash of glass, and went in the direction of the noise, and saw the prisoner about two yards from the doorway of 15, City Road, running away from it—the plate-glass window there had been broken—the prisoner had something on his arm; I could not see what it was—I ran after him and blew my whistle—he turned round, and I saw his face under a street lamp—I did not catch him—I next saw him on July 29th in the Police-station with others, and picked him out immediately.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I was at the corner I was about forty yards from the prosecutor—I saw you about two yards from the door-way—I chased you about 500 yards, or slightly over or under—there are many courts about there, and I do not know the ground.
Re-examined. He had something light in colour on his arm.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was not near the place.
FREDERICK MELLARS (Detective G). I was in Old Street about 12.45 a.m. on July 29th, when I saw prisoner loitering up and down outside No. 319, a tailor's shop—I got the assistance of another officer, and we kept watch for about ten minutes, and saw him take something out of his pocket and place his hands against the rails—I then heard a crash—he then put his hand in, and tried to pull something out, and ran towards Shoreditch—I ran and stopped him—I took him back, and inside the doorway I found a large hole in the window, and two pieces of cloth had been removed towards the hole—he was taken to the station and charged—he made no reply.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was thirty or forty yards from you, at the corner of Curtain Road, outside Wallace's—I saw you for about ten minutes before I apprehended you.
GEORGE DAVID EPPS . I am manager to Mr. Woodhouse, tailor, 319, Old Street, Shoreditch—I heard the breaking of glass; and I heard the bell, and went to see what it was—I found the shop window smashed, the blind disturbed, and two lengths of cloth drawn towards the hole in the window, having been removed from the block, which was itself shifted towards the hole—it would take about two minutes to unfold it.
The Prisoner's Defence: When the crash of glass was heard I was twenty yards from the place.
MR. COHEN Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
692. JOHN LOCKARD (31) and JAMES CRAWLEY (23) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Ferdinand Lelievre, and stealing therein a coat and other articles, his goods; and a coat and other articles, the goods of Henri Moons.
MR. PROBYN Prosecuted,
FERDINAND LELIEVRE . I am a tailor, of 7, St. James's Residences, Little Pulteney Street—I went out about 10 p.m. on August 2 9th, having locked up my premises—I returned about 10.30—I found the door open, and a piece of the panel of the door broken—a dress coat, partly finished, had gone, a waistcoat, a frock-coat and pair of trousers, and my little children's Sunday things, a clock and a little dog—I afterwards went to the Police-station, and found the prisoners there, and identified my property—one of them was wearing my overcoat—some of the things belonged to Mr. Moons, who lives with me.
Cross-examined by Lockard. I had never seen you before.
THOMAS GREGORY (Detective C). I was in Cambridge Circus shortly after twelve on August 30th, when I saw the prisoners carrying two bundles—I stopped them, and said to Lockard, "What have you got in that bundle?"—he said, "I have got an old dress for my missus, that a foreigner gave me"—I said to Crawley, "What have you got?"—he said, "A coat and waistcoat, that were given to me"—I said, "You will have to come to the station," and they were taken to Vine Street Station—I made inquiries at St. James's Residences, and saw the prosecutor, and brought him to the station—when he identified the property they were charged—Lockard said, "You know, governor, I didn't do that"—Crawley said, "The owner has got the dog"—they gave an address where they lived casually.
Cross-examined by Lockard. I have known you about twelve years—I have not known you do anything wrong before—you work for a lot of foreigners—I can't say that you often have parcels given you in the street.
The prisoner's statements before the Magistrate: Lockard says, "I was at the Round House about 9.45 on Saturday evening, when a Frenchman came up with this bundle, and said, 'Here is some things that will do for your wife.' "Crawley says," I received my bundles at the same time from a German waiter."
Lockard, in his defence, said the bundle was given him by a foreigner lie knew, but did not know his name.
Crawley's Defence: The parcel was given me. I am quite innocent of its being stolen.
—LOCKARD then PLEADED GUILTY to convictions of felony in June, 1892, and in September, 1895.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.
Empire Chambers, Queen Street, Covent Garden—I sleep on the premises—I was in the office at about 10.15 p.m. on September 5th, when I heard a smash of glass; I went out in the back and found a window on the ground floor, broken—I called my deputy, and gave him certain instructions—I went to the room where the broken window was—it contained seven beds—two men were sleeping there—I looked under the beds, and found the prisoner lying under a bed, on the left-hand side of the room—he bad been a lodger there occasionally, but had not taken a bed that night, and had no right to be there—I took hold of him, and sent for a constable—I told the prisoner he would be charged with breaking and entering—he was taken to the station, and I returned to the room with an inspector and constable—we looked under the bed, and found this (a produced)—it corresponds with the marks on the window—they are casement-windows, and fasten inside—they would be closed about eight o'clock—that window looks on the sky-light of the basement—no one standing there could fall in at the window—they would have to get up about three feet—when I took the prisoner from under the bed, and asked him what he was doing, he made no reply, and asked me to let him go—a ticket was found on him at the Police-court, taken by John Driseoll—also some keys belonging to Driscoll—he is not here—the keys fitted the lockers.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There are six w.c.'s in the yard, facing the window—it would not be possible to force the window without being seen, if there were anyone in the yard—there would not necessarily be many people in the yard at that time—we don't close till two o'clock on Saturday night—we don't get anyone to go to bed before ten on a Saturday.
GEORGE BAXTER (14 E R). I was on duty in Seven Dials at 10.15 p.m. on September 5th, when I heard a police whistle, and went to 20, Empress Chambers—on the ground floor I saw Doyle holding the prisoner down between two beds—he gave the prisoner in charge for breaking and entering the house—the glass was broken, and had fallen inside—the prisoner made no reply—he was taken to the station—I went back to examine the room, and saw Doyle pick up this jemmy under the bed—I examined the frame of the window on the west side of the room, which had very distinct marks, corresponding exactly with this jemmy—I took it back to the station, and told the prisoner the jemmy was found in the room where he was arrested—he said, "Perhaps it might be; it does not belong to me"—he was then charged with breaking and entering the dwelling-house, and attempting to steal—he said, "I fell through the window, going to the w.c."—I examined the yard, and took two measurements on two occasions—it would be impossible for a man going to the w.c. to fall through the window—it is between nine and ten feet from the w.c., and anyone going there would not go near the window—I searched the prisoner, and found a metal ticket No. 53 and a chain, with two keys attached—he said the keys belonged to his locker, and that he lodged there sometimes—I went back, and found this key fitted a locker.
Cross-examined. Anyone in the yard would see a man forcing the window—I have seen the man the keys belong to—he said he lost them and the bed-ticket—he did not say you had borrowed them—he refused to come here, and said he could not say how he lost them.
W. C. GOOD (Re-examined). The prisoner had no use for a locker there that night—the jemmy was not there before.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that the house was a lodging-house, when a bed could be got for 4d. a night; that, having had a little to drink, he went there, and, not having enough to pay for his lodging, he found the window open, and went in to lie down, end slept, and was awoke by the prosecutor. He denied all knowledge of the jemmy.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in March, 1896.— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
JOSEPH GODFREY . I am in the employ of Mr. Leonard, a farmer, at Shepperton, Middlesex—on August 17th three stacks, his property, were burnt—a little after ten on the morning of that day I paid the prisoner for his work—we had a dispute with reference to the wages—at one o'clock he came again, and started talking a little bit loud, being dissatisfied with the money, as he wanted a day's work, not a quarterday—the ricks were set on fire about 4.40—I paid him 4 1/2d.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I paid you 1s. 4 1/2d. on the Monday; that included Sunday's work—I refused to pay you, unless you got a ticket from the foreman—there were two other men besides you; you were the spokesman for the three—you grumbled about the money—I did not hear you say anything about a day's notice; you said you were entitled to a day's pay—you were sent off the job there and then—when men are engaged, it is to work from six a.m. to six p.m. for 1s. 6d. a day, with half-an-hour for breakfast and half-an-hour for dinner; they come and go—I gave you 4 1/2d., according to the ticket.
Re-examined. He used no threats.
ALBERT SELWIN . I am foreman to George Leonard, of Shepperton, a market gardener—several ricks were standing in the yard—at two p.m. on August 17th I saw the three ricks safe; at from 4.30 to 4.40 I saw them on firer—about 9.40 that morning I had discharged the prisoner and Johnson—the men were dissatisfied; they wanted a day's pay—about two I saw the prisoner in the farm-yard, close to where the ricks were—he followed me across the orchard, and said to Johnson, "Smash the b—," meaning me.
Cross-examined. I discharged you and Johnson for neglecting your work—I said, "Where have you chaps been to?"—I told you you had no business to neglect your work at the public-house, and said you had better get your money and clear off, and you had more than was due to you—when you crossed over the road, and I heard that Johnson was going away, New put down his tools and came away—after that you came and asked me for a ticket, and you had one—I did not hear New and Johnson say, "We will have all the men out"—I was not there then—I did not hear what you said really when I was going across the orchard.
RICHARD GOLDING . I am a farrier at Shepperton Green—Mr. Leonard has some huts about fifty yards from my workshop—between 1.30 and two p.m. on August 17th, I was close to the huts, and, as I passed by the door of J. Beard's hut I heard the prisoner, who was inside, say
that he would set fire to the b——ricks—I have no doubt the prisoner said it.
Cross-examined. I did not see you when you used that expression, but you came out of the door of the hut soon afterwards—John Beard was there—I know your voice—at Staines I said it was two o'clock; but I have since seen it was before two—Detective Wilson did not tell me the time; no one told me to alter it—I last saw you at 3.30 p.m.; you were then going to the w.c. by the side of my shop—I did not say I did not see you after two—I did not see you at all when the fire took place.
JOHN BEARD . I work for Mr. Leonard, and live in one of the huts at Shepperton Green—on August 17th, between one and two p.m., I was having my dinner in the hut—the prisoner came to the door; he was grumbling about the pay he had received for that day, and said, "If I do not get a full day's pay, I will set fire to something for revenge"—Golding was there at the time; he was speaking to me a minute or two before I went in to see after the dinner, and after the prisoner used those words, and I saw him standing there for a bit afterwards.
Cross-examined. Golding was talking to me before" you came up—you were not in the hut; you came to the door outside—you only used the phrase once—if you were outside the door, Golding must have seen you—I did not see you enter the hut—I last saw you about 1.20—Johnson and New went away the same day that you did—they were rather friendly—I never had much to do with you or them—you never made a friend of anybody particularly.
THOMAS GREEN . I live at Shepperton Green, and am a market gardener—on Monday afternoon I was close to my house, and a few minutes past five I saw the prisoner coming from the direction of the fire towards the village—he was about 300 yards from the fire—I after-wards met him between the Barley Mow and my place—I saw two other men coming in the same direction, about 100 yards, or a little further, from the prisoner—I could not identify the other men; I did not take much notice of them.
Cross-examined. I did not see you on Leonard's ground—I know nothing of you.
JAMES PURDUE . I am a ferryman at Shepperton—on Monday, August 17th, the prisoner and two others crossed the Thames by my ferry to Weybridge, on the Surrey side, at 6.15 p.m.—when the other two got out of the punt the prisoner remained in, and he told me he had been working for Mr. Leonard, and had turned the job up that morning, and before he left, he said, he set fire to his b——ricks—he was a stranger to me—I had not beard of the fire at that time—my ferry is about one and three-quarter miles from Leonard's Farm.
Cross-examined. You had had quite sufficient to drink—you did not get out at the same time as the otner men; you stopped behind.
ALFRED JOHN BETTISON (111, Surrey Constabvlary). I am stationed at Weybridge—on August 17th I was called to eject the prisoner from a public-house at Weybridge—I took him into custody—on the way to the station he said, "As soon as I get out of this b——job I will burn your b——place down; I have already burnt down two or three places to-day"—he was very violent—I searched him at the station, and found several matches in his pocket.
Cross-examined. When I locked you up you were shamming fits—
I charged you with being drunk and disorderly—I knew nothing then about the fires—you were not insensible when I picked you up—I first spoke about what you said about the fire when you were taken before the Magistrate—I volunteered uiy statement.
GEORGE BOON (Inspector, Surrey Constabulary). On this Tuesday I was in charge of the Chertsey Police-station, when the prisoner was detained there—about 3.30 p.m. he said to another prisoner in an adjoining cell, "I have been working for old Leonard, Shepperton Green, and got the push; I wauted him to pay me another day's pay; he Would not; I thought I would make him pay for it, sol set light to his stacks, but no one saw me do it."
Cross-examined. On Wednesday, the 19th, when you were going to be brought up on a charge of being drunk and disorderly, I ordered you to be brought up on this charge.
GEORGE LEONARD . I am a market gardener, of Shepperton—I have a farm and premises at Shepperton Green, with ricks standing on it—on this Monday three ricks were burnt; they were insured for about £200—the prisoner has worked for me for some years.
Cross-examined. I did not charge the other men; they did not say they had anything to do with it—I charged you because you had said you would fire the ricks—I found nothing awkward with you when you worked with me.
GEORGE WILSON (Detective, T). On Tuesday, August 18th, I made inquiries, and next day I went to Chertsey and found the prisoner detained on another charge—after he came out I arrested him, and told him I was a police officer, and should take him into custody for mailciously setting tire to Mr. Leonard's ricks on Sheppeiton Green on Monday evening—he said, "I know nothing about it; you have made a mistake"—I conveyed him to the Staines Police-station; he was charged; he made no reply.
Cross-examined. I have not made any witness alter his statement—I did not see you on the Monday night, not till the 18th.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said lie and other men had been drinking pretty heavily all day, and they went to Weybridye, and he did not remember what he said, and that the other men were as much to blame as he was.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour .
MR. ELLIOTT Prosecuted.
GEORGE SMITH . I live at I, Percy Cottages, Hall Eoad, George Lane—on August 19th I was at work at the White Swan beer-shop, in Yabsley Street, Poplar, and about 12.50 I left my grey gelding and cart by the side of the road, and went to have dinner; the cart had one wheel chained, and the other tied up, and the pony had a nosebag and cloth on—when I came out at one o'clock it was gone—I went to Poplar Police-station—that night I had a telegram, and went to Shadwell between one and two a.m., and identified it—my name was off the cart then—the zinc plate on which it was had been torn off the cart—this is the rope I had used to tie up my wheel; it was cut.
Street—the prisoner drove past me in a pony and cart about 2.10, and about two minutes afterwards I saw him lying unconscious in Tarling Street—I took him to the London Hospital—as there was no name and address on the cart, I asked him to whom they belonged, and if they were his own—he said they belonged to a man in Poplar, but he did not know his name and address—I was not satisfied—I went back to the hospital to see how he was getting on, and asked him again, and he said between one and two a big, stout man outside the Eagle public-house, in the East India Dock Koad, asked him to take the pony and cart as far as the Clyde public-house, and he would meet him there and give him 2s., after going to Black wall—I asked him if he knew the man—he said. "I never saw the man before in my life"—he was not going in the direction consistent with his story when I saw him, but the other way.
STEPHEN LEACH (Sergeant K). On August 20th I went to the London Hospital, and told the prisoner he would be charged with stealing a gelding, set of harness, cart, and other things, value about £16—he said, "A strange man asked me to drive the pony up the road for him; I don't know who the man is"—I said, "Are you known by the nick-name of Chinaman?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Are jouthe man that was seen to put the bridle and bit in the horse's mouth?"—he said nothing—when charged on the 22nd, he said, "Well, I cannot understand that, if that man asked me to go for a drive; I don't know who the roan was"—a man that saw a grey pony and a man driving was brought to identify, but he said he could not'recognise the person be saw drive past him in the street.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 15th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and E. PERCIVAL CLARKE Prosecuted, and
MR. BURNIE Defended.
CATHERINE WHITE . I am the widow of the deceased, Edward White, and lived with him at 7, Upper Well Alley, Wapping—he was thirty-two years of age, and was a water-side labourer—we have lived there seven years last April—Mr. and Mrs. Jones lived at No. 8, next door—I knew the prisoner as her son; he lived with them when he was at home, bub he was generally at sea—I only knew him for four or five months; I onty spoke to him once—before August 6th there had not been any dispute between me and Mrs. Jones—on Monday, August 3rd, Bank holiday, there had been a few words between us—I did not know that she had taken out a summons complaining of threats, only on Friday, the 7th, when I had the paper—on Thursday, the 6th, I was in the White Lion public-house, Green Bank, with my sister, Mrs. Metterson—the prisoner was in there when I went in, he was standing against the bar; we were hardly in there when he began speaking—he was speaking to me; he was looking over towards me—he
said he had a good father and mother, and he was going to look after them—I said, "If you have a good father and mother, you ought to chastise them for insulting all the neighbours in the street"—he said, "You are a woman; I don't want to have no talk with you; I will speak to your husband when I meet him, and I will show him what I can do for him "—he had his hand on the bar, and he said, "I know I am to be hung, and I may as well be hung first as last"—nothing else was said; I came out and left him there—I next saw him on the Sunday night after this was done—my husband went out that night about twenty minutes to eight as near as I can tell—I went to bed a little after ten; he had not come home then—I slept some time; I was awoke by the people in the street screaming—I got up, and looked out of the window looking into Upper Well Alley, and saw my husband on the ground—I holloaed out of the window, and came downstairs on to the doorstep—I saw the prisoner outside the house when I opened the door; he pointed his left arm, and said, "There is your good husband,"pointing to where he was lying; "go and look at him; I have done for him; I have had revenge"—I went back into the house, and soon after a policeman came and took the prisoner away—I afterwards went to the Police-station, and identified the body of my husband, and stayed with him until just upon four in the morning.
Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner four or five months, no longer—I said before the Coroner that I had first seen him three or four months before—the first time I had spoken to him was on the Thursday: he generally went to sea—I said I did not know of any ill-feeling between him and my husband, and I did not—my husband had not seen him for six weeks; he had not seen him at all before this night, as far as I know—the first time I spoke to him was in the public-house on the Thursday, and I have not spoken to him since—there were two other persons in the bar besides me and my sister; I don't know them—the landlord's brother served us, and then the landlord came out—we were there from ten minutes to a quarter of an hour at the most—the prisoner spoke to me first—he spoke loud enough for our ears, the box was not very big—the brother went into the bar-parlqur, and the landlord came out afterwards, when he heard the words; he heard the talk, I suppose—he did not know the man when he came out—all I said to the prisoner was, if he had a good father and mother he ought to teach them not to insult everybody in the street—I did not speak to him till he spoke to us—I went out of my own accord, when I had finished my drink—Mr. Lawrence did not ask me to go out—he said he did not wish any jangling in his house—he did not say it either to one or the other—we only had a little to drink, and we came out ourselves—Jones stopped there—I did not notice what he was drinking—that had nothing to do with me—I did not look—I have told you all that was said—Mr. Lawrence did not ask me to go out—he only said he did not wish any wrangling in his house—I could not tell whether the prisoner had been drinking—I did not take much notice; the man was a stranger to me, why should I?—I could not say at what time Mr. Lawrence came to the bar; when he was called he came out—I did not take much notice whether the bar-parlour door was open—I did not speak first to the prisoner when I went in—we had bad a few words with his mother on the Monday before; he was away at sea then—he did not come home till the Monday night.
Re-exmmined. I have not here the paper that was left on the Friday—I forgot it, and also another—they are both at home.
MARY METTERSON . I am sister of the last witness—on Thursday night, August 6th, I was with her in the White Lion—I lived at 8, Upper Well Alley till Friday; I have moved—it was the same house where the prisoner lived—when we went into the White Lion the prisoner was there—directly we went in he looked at Mrs. White, and kept looking at her all the time, and began talking, jangling—he said he had a good father and mother, and he was going to look after them—Mrs. White spoke to him, and said, "If you have got a good father, you ought to try and stop him from interfering with the neighbours in the street, and insulting them"—he said to her, "You are a woman, I don't wish to speak to you; if I meet your husband, you will see what I will do for him;" and he made a gesture with his right hand on the bar—he said, "I know I have to be hung, and I may as well be hung first as last."
Cross-examined. Mr. Lawrence was in the bar-parlour at first—I was there from ten minutes to a quarter of an hour—Mrs. White had not a good deal to say; what she said she only said once—we were a good while listening to him before she spoke to him at all—the bar-parlour door was shut, I believe; I could not exactly say; I think it was shut; I did not look—there was no excitement when he struck his fist on the bar—it did not make a noise of jingling the glasses—I was not excited—I took particular notice of what the'prisoner was saying to Mrs. White, and her answer to him—I did not take any part in it; it did not concern me—Mr. Lawrence's brother served us—I don't know whether he listened to what was said; they were speaking rather loud—then Mr. Lawrence, the land-lord, came out of the bar-parlour, and said he could not have jangling there, he did not ask us to drink up and leave the house—nor did his brother, in my hearing—if it was said, I should remember it—Mrs. White and I did leave—I spoke about this after the deceased died; after I went before the Coroner—Mrs. White went before the Coroner some time before me—I was not there at the same time; I was not in the hall, I was outside the door, in the street, with her baby—Mrs. White did not tell me what she had said before the Coroner—I did not read it in the papers; I had no occasion; I knew what had happened—what was said in the papers did not interest me—Mrs. White and I went together to the Coroner's—we did not go before him together.
Re-examined. When Mrs. White and I left the public-house we left the prisoner in the bar.
WILLIAM LAWRENCE . I keep the White Lion at Green Bank, St. Gsorge's-in-the-East—on Thursday, August 6th, I was in the parlour—I came in close upon four—Mrs. White and Mrs. Metterson came in in the afternoon—my brother was serving in the bar—the prisoner and two friends of his were in the bar—a wrangle took place respecting family affairs—as soon as it commenced my brother asked them to drink up what they had and leave the house, and they did so—I stood at the door of the bar-parlour, and heard what they said.
Cross-examined. The door of the bar-parlour was wide open—my brother was in the bar—he is not here—the women were in the house when I came in, also the prisoner and his friends—the women had been served—the wrangling commenced after I had been in the house some
minutes—there was no wrangling when I came in—I asked them all to drink up and leave—the women left; Jones and his friends remained some time afterwards—they were quite quiet—as soon as the women left there was no more jangling.
THOMAS METTERSON . The witness, Mary Metterson, is my wife—on Thursday, August 6th, between eleven and twelve, there was a lot of jangling at our door—there were five or six women there—I did not notice who they were—I did not hear what was said—I caught hold of the prisoner, and said, "Come inside," and I led him into the passage—he said, "I don't want nothing to do with you at all, old man; it is Ned White I want"—I said, "See him in the morning, when you are sober"—he was slightly under the influence of liquor—we got along the passage and got into the yard, and he seemed to lose all control over himself; a furious temper came over him, and he said, "It is my old man that is causing all this trouble; when I get upstairs I will cut his b—head ofl"—that was all that passed.
Cross-examined. I was examined before the Coroner—I said there that the prisoner was inebriated—I am not aware that I said, "Nastily drunk"—I might have done so—I did not notice the women, or whether Mrs. White was there or not.
JOHN HAGGERTY . I am a dock labourer, and live at 19, Loder Street, St. George's—I know the prisoner, and I also knew Ned White—on Sunday evening, August 9th, I was with Hooper and Martin at the corner of Green Bank and Old Gravel Lane—as I was talking to them the prisoner came by; he called Martin away from us—I did not hear the conversation—the prisoner drew a weapon from his pocket, or some part of his underclothing; it was a knife about five or six inches long, and he said, "I am going to do for him"—I did not know who he meant—he was about five or six yards from me at the time I heard him say that; it might be a little more—the knife was open; it was similar to the one produced; a sheath knife; it does not shut; he placed it back in some part of his clothing, and walked towards Prussia Street, a turning out of Old Gravel Lane, and I saw no more of him that night; this was between six and seven in the evening.
Cross-examined. My wife is half-sister to the deceased—I was about five or six yards from the prisoner when he said this—I was standing, with Hooper—I did not go home after this; I stopped in the house till it closed, as I generally have done—I did not see the deceased in the morning before he was killed—I did not try to find him—I cannot say how long he was talking to Martin; it might be five or six minutes—he called him away from us a few yards—he came up, and said, "Joe, I want you"—Martin's name is not Joe, but it is a bye-word—we call one another "Joe."
JAMES HOOPER . I am a coal-porter, of 20, Loder Street—on Sunday, August 9th, between half-past six and seven, I was with Haggerty and Martin, at the corner of Green Bank and Old Gravel Lane—he called Martin on one side—I could not hear what they were saying—while they were talking together—the prisoner drew the knife and put it up to Martin's face, and I heard him say, "I will do for him to-night"—he went across the road, came back, and said to Martin, "I mean it for him "—he then put the knife back into his pocket—I saw the blade of it;
it was about five or six inches long—it was something similar to this—he then went away, dovvn Prussia Street—I did not see him again that night—Martin came back and joined us.
Cross-examined. I married the deceased's cousin—Martin stopped, Jones went away—I did not hear Martin give his evidence at the Police-court—we were all standing together till the prisoner called Martin on one side—they were talking together for about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I heard nothing of the conversation, only that about the knife—I am sure that the prisoner came back a second time, and said, "I will put this to him tonight—Martin was then standing about two yards away from us—I cannot say if Haggerty heard him say that, he was on the other side of me, Jones shouted the words; there was nothing to prevent Haggerty heating him.
Re-examimd. I was nearest to the prisoner, on the same pavement.
FRANCIS MACNAMARA . I am sometimes called Martin—I am a dock labourer, and live at 23, Loder Street—I know the prisoner well; he goes away to sea—on Sunday, August 9th, about six or seven in the evening, I was with Haggerty and Hooper, standing opposite the White Swan—the prisoner came and stood alongside of us; he did not speak to me; I was nearest to him; the other two were standing on my left—he did not show anything to me; be pulled his hand from his pocket; I did not see anything in his hand; there was nothing in his hand—I don't know which hand he pulled from his pocket; it was from his pocket he pulled something, what it was I could not tell; he murmured something—he stood by me about twenty minutes; he was not talking at all—he went away, but which way I could not say.
Cross-examined. Haggerty and Hooper were close to me, one on one side of me, and Jones on the other—the public-houses had not been open long; they generally open about six—I did not notice whether Jones had been drinking.
JOHN HARNEY . I am a labourer, and live at 3, Raymond Street, St. George s—I knew the deceased, Ned White—on Sunday evening, August 9th, he came to our house at quarter or twenty minutes past eleven—he might have stayed ten minutes—while he was there I had to leave him and go upstairs to change my things to go to my work, and while I was up-stairs he went—I next saw him at the top of Anchor and Hope Alley in Red Lion Street, between five and ten minutes to twelve, he was talking to a few men there—I did not stay with them, because he had advised me not to go to work as I had lost my little boy.
Cross-examined. I believe it was Mr. Berry that he was talking to—he had a little drink in him.
ALICE BROWN . I am the wife of Albert Brown, of 11, Upper Well Alley—I had known the deceased, Ned White, for some years—I knew the prisoner by sight; I saw him on Sunday night, August 9th, about eleven—I was standing outside my own door, and he was standing out-side his door; he was alone—he walked up and down the alley several times—I stayed there till after the clock struck twelve—he stopped at times at his own door; the last time he stood there he put his hand behind him, and took out something that flashed; he settled it in his hand and looked at it, and then put it back behind him again—soon after that I
saw Annie Tuck—after that I saw the deceased coming from Green Bank he passed me—the prisoner came back and raised his hand as if to strike—I screamed out, "Ned, Ned, mind; I think he has got a knife"—then I saw the prisoner strike White several times, and he fell—I could not tell which hand he struck him with; as I screamed I covered my eyes—I did not see anything in his hand then: I did afterwards; it was something that shined; I could not say what it was; I was not close enough to see—I never heard a word said—when White fell I saw the prisoner run over to him, and he did something to his clothes; I thought he was undoing his clothes from his neck, and I screamed and said, "Oh, don't, don't"—a Mr. Buckley came up the street, and said, "What are you doing; what do you intend to do?"—the prisoner made some reply, like "Mind your own business," or "Get away, or I will serve you the same"—he then looked up to the window of the room of No. 8, where his mother and father were; I could see them there, and he said, "I have done it, now perhaps you are satisfied"—soon after, Mrs. White, the widow of the deceased, came down—there was a crowd in the street then—I did not hear anything said to her by the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I had known Mr. White all my life; I had never spoken to him or the prisoner—I did not know of any ill-feeling between them—when I saw Mr. White come down the street I was standing out-side my own door——he would pass me—I did not see him till he got quite close to me—I did not speak to him—I followed him with my eyes as he went towards the prisoner—after he passed me he would have his back to me—I saw a blow struck; the two men closed together—I could not tell whether there was more than one blow struck before they closed together—White did not strike the first blow; he had his back to me—there was a watchman on duty in a box there; he was nearer than I was—he was almost opposite Red Lion Court—I did not speak to him—I heard no words spoken—the watchman was right close to them—they were only closed together a few seconds—it was after they had struggled together that I saw something in the prisoner's hand—it was not then that I called out, "Ned, Ned, he has got a knife!"—I called out at first, as I saw White coming, as I saw the prisoner come towards him, before they closed—I said so before the Magistrate—I am quite sure—I don't remember that the clerk read over what I said; I remember signing my name to a paper—after the struggle, and after I saw something shine in the prisoner's hand, I saw the deceased stagger across the road, and I believe he fell on his back—I was examined before the Coroner—I said there: "As the two men closed together I called out, 'Ned, Ned, mind; he has got a knife!"—it was after the men closed that I saw the knife, and called out—I could not see the knife when the first blow was struck—the struggle did not make any noise; it was very quiet—I did not see the watchman come out of his box; I did not see him till I was at the Police-court—I did not know that the prisoner's father was out on this night—I very often see people waiting about in Little Well Alley after the houses are closed—I do not know that seamen carry knives like this.
Re-examined When I saw the deceased coming down he was walking quietly in the road; he seemed particularly sober—there was no pavement in the alley then; it has been repaired—as the deceased got between Nos. 8 and 9 the prisoner made a step towards him; he had his hand raised—
I could not tell which hand it was; I know that he had one hand raised—I could not tell whether he struck him then—I was so frightened that I screamed at seeing the knife in his hand; before that, I saw him raise his hand—I could not say whether he struck him—I saw him make a blow, as if to strike him; I cannot suy whether he struck—he was close to the deceased at the time; they were facing each other—after I called out I saw that the prisoner had something in his hand; he seemed as if he was striking the deceased with it, and then I saw the deceased fall—throughout the transaction I did not see the deceased strike any blow; he seemed as if he was defending himself.
By MR. BURNIE. I was asked before the Magistrate whether Mr. White struck back again, and I said I did not know; I could not say. (Her deposition stated: I cannot say they were not punching."
ANNIE TUCK . I am a single woman, living at 12, Upper Well Alley—on Sunday, August 9th, I remember talking to Alice Brown about midnight—we were standing between Nos. 11 and 12—I saw the prisoner at the corner of Red Lion Court at his own door—I saw Ned White come from the direction of Green Bank—he passed me and Brown—the prisoner walked towards White and blowed him with his hand—he struck him a blow—then he pulled something from his side that glittered, and raised his hand as if he was going to use it on White—then they struggled, and White fell to the ground then Jones went towards White when he was on the ground, and raised his hand again; something glittered—he stooped down as if he was doing something to him—I saw Mr. Buckley some up—I went in a faint.
Cross-examined. Q. I will read from your deposition before the Coroner: "Jones struck deceased with his fist, then they struggled and staggered, then I saw Jones take something from behind him which glittered:"? A. That is not right, I said after Jones struck White with his hand Jones took something from the side of him, and raised his hand as if he was going to use it. Q. (Reading): "He raised his arm with the glittering object in his hand." A. That is not right—I did not say, "Then they struggled and staggered, I saw Jones pull something from the side of him, and then they stumbled together"—what I said before the Coroner was read over to me, and I signed it—that was before I was examined before the Magistrate—I knew White—I never spoke to either of them—I was frightened, and did not take much notice—I said before the Coroner that I White never moved after he fell—I agree with the last witness that White fell on his back—the watchman's box was nearer than I was—I told the Magistrate I saw Jones raise his hand with the glittering thing when White was on the ground—I cannot say if I used the word "raised."
Re-examined. I said before the Magistrate, "I saw the prisoner put up what he pulled from his side as though he were going to stick it into Mr. White"—that is right—when White was on the ground I saw the glittering thing in Jones' hand—I said before the Coroner, "Jones did something to deceased, but I cannot say what; but I saw the glittering thing still in his hand"—he appeared to be using the glittering thing—I heard nothing said by the prisoner before he struck White.
scuffling, fighting, as I thought, about ten feet away—I next saw the man lying on his back—I saw several blows struck before he fell—I did not see anything in the other man's hand till he walked across the road to examine something, then I saw a knife distinctly—he had hold of the handle, and the point between his fingers, and turned it to examine both sides—then he came back to the body, and danced, jumped I should say, around him—he said, "I have killed you now, you b—, I have!"—somebody came up and shoved him away—the prisoner is the man, I am sure.
Cross-examined. I heard no more words than usual between two men quarrelling—it did not last a "few" minutes—before the Coroner I might have said, "I heard a lot of words pass between the two, but I could not hear what was said"—I am rather deaf—the other man was shorter than the prisoner—the prisoner spoke loud: he shouted.
Re-examined. I heard no more than murmurs till the man was on the ground—Jones struck the blows—I did not see the other man strike any blow—he tried to defend himself.
WILLIAM BUCKLEY . I am a labourer, living at Grocer's Court, Upper Well Alley—on Sunday, August 9th, I was attracted by women screaming, about 11.40 p.m.—I went and saw the deceased lying on the ground outside the prisoner Jones' house—the prisoner stood facing Red Lion Courtr—several people were about—I stood over the deceased—a constable came up—I saw the prisoner fling his knife towards the policeman as he came into Red Lion Court—the prisoner said, "Here I am; I have done it"—I Mrs. Jones, the prisoner's mother, was looking out of her window—I recognised the deceased as Mr. White.
RALPH COURT (330 H). About midnight, on August 9th, in consequence of shouting, I went to Upper Well Alley—as I came up, the prisoner threw the knife on the ground, and said, "Here is the knife; I have cut the man's throat; I intended doing for him; I give myself up"—I picked this knife up—I saw the deceased lying in the street—the knife was covered with blood when I picked it up—I took the prisoner in custody to the station.
Cross-examined. I made this note as soon as I got to the station—it was five minutes-before I got to the station—I saw Buckley standing close by the deceased—the prisoner did not seem excited—there were only about three persons there—I made the charge before the inspector, and a few minutes after that I made my note in the charge-room—I told the inspector, and he wrote down what I said at once, when I got to the station.
FREDERICK LONDON (Inspector, Thames.) About 12.5 a.m., on August 10th, I was on duty at the Thames Police-station when the prisoner was brought in by Police Constable 238, who said, in the prisoner's presence, "I have taken this man into custody for killing a man in Upper Well Alley; I met him at the corner of Red Lion Court in Upper Well Alley. He threw a knife on the ground, and said, "I have cut a man's throat; I intended doing for him, I give myself up.' "The prisoner immediately said, "That is right, sir; "and added," They have been on to me for a long time, but I have done it, now; I have put up with it for two years, but cannot put up with it any longer: two of them were kicking me, and I just waited on this one, and I am quite willing to die." I cautioned the prisoner that he would probably be charged with wilful murder, and that
anything he said would be taken down and used in evidence against him—he replied, "All right, sir"—the deceased was brought in on a stretcher about ten minutes afterwards—the prisoner was later on charged with murder—he replied, "All right, sir"—he was sober, but a little excited.
By the JURY. I searched, but did not find any sheath to this knife.
WILLIAM CRAFER (89 H.) I was on duty near Upper Well Alley on the early morning of August 7th, when I saw an altercation between some women, one of whom I now know as Mrs. White—the prisoner was there—I quieted the women, and got them to go indoors—after they had gone in the prisoner said to me, "This disturbance that has taken place is all through a summons that is pending between my mother and a woman of the name of Mrs. White, and before it is finished with some one will have to sit up with it."
HENRY THOMAS HAMILTON . I am Divisional Surgeon to the H Division, and practise in the Commercial Road—on August 10th, between 4.30 and 5 a.m., I saw the body of Ned White at the Wapping Police-station—shortly afterwards I saw the prisoner at Shad well Police-station—I saw blood-stains on his clothing, and pointed them out to the Inspector—the prisoner said, "Oh, that is from my nose"—I called the Inspector's attention to the fact that the prisoner's nose would not bleed on to the back of his shoulder—the prisoner said, "Oh, that is his blood"—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination of White's body—I found nine external wounds, such as would have been caused by the knife produced—one was a compound wound, so there were ten in all—on the upper and posterior part of the head was an incised wound, three and a-half inches in length, penetrating to the bone, and going into the superficial portion of the bone—beneath that was another wound, of trivial character, about half an inch in length, which did not penetrate the bone—at the centre of the posterior margin of the ear there was an incised wound of about half an inch, extending to the scalp—on the left side of the throat was a superficial incised wound, half an inch in length—at the back of the upper part of the neck, drawing a horizontal line through the skin to the vertebrae, about three inches from the centre of the spine on the left side, there was a punctured wound, four inches in depth, chipping off the upper margin of the second vertebrae, entering the spinal column, and severing the spinal cord and the vertical artery—within the external orifice of this wound was another punctured wound, which took a direction towards the left angle of the jaw, and taking a line from the top of the second vertebrae, and three inches of the spine horizontally, chipping the upper margin, entering the spinal cord, cutting everything in its course—three-quarters of an inch beneath that was another punctured wound extending to, but not penetrating, the spine; on the left part of the left shoulder blade was an incised wound, two and a-half inches in length, penetrating to the bone, and horizontally towards the centre; about an inch from the lower margin of the breast-bone was a punctured wound extending upwards, about an inch on the superficial surface of the breast-bone—the breast-bone is hard, and merely covered by the skin—it simply cut the skin; on the second joint of the index finger of the left hand was an incised wound—I examined the deceased's clothing and found cuts corresponding to the wounds. (Ths witness pointed out these cuts on the shirt and waistcoat produced.) From
the position of the fatal wound on the back of the neck, the deceased must have been on the ground when it was inflicted—death from it would be instantaneous—the second part of the compound wound was also fatal; also that which goes towards the jaw—the wound beneath it was dangerous, but not necessarily fatal.
Cross-examined. That the fatal wound on the neck was inflicted when I the deceased was on the ground is my very strong opinion—it would depend upon the position of his head when lying on his back—the evidence that he did not move does not alter my opinion—if the wound had been inflicted while deceased was standing we should have found a quantity of blood down the back of the clothing, which we did not—the height of the deceased was five feet ten inches, considerably taller than the prisoner—if the two men were grappling face to face the wounds would have taken a different direction—the wound entering the spinal column could not have been inflicted without some opposing force—it would not have chipped off the upper margin of the vertebrae—the wound to the scalp was tranverse—it might have been caused by drawing the knife across the top of the scalp with great force when the men were grappling together—the wound was more probably inflicted on the ground—it is improbable the man would fall absolutely on the broad of his back—he may have fallen on his back, and his head rolled to one side—there was a small dark line on the back of his head, and there was a clean cut wound with some contusion—it could have been inflicted on the ground if the deceased's head turned to the right, about a third of the way—I think the wounds were inflicted in rapid succession—the horizontal direction would depend upon the force, and probably on the rapidity, of the blows—the ground supplied the sufficient resisting medium—the wounds would Lot have gone through when deceased was on the ground, because they were checked by the opposite side of the spinal column—one wound would have gone through if it had penetrated the angle of the jaw, but it did not—I form my opinion from the post-mortem examination; and from what I saw when I examined the body superficially, before I heard the eyewitness—that opinion has not been shaken by his evidence—the man would have had to stoop considerably to inflict three of the wounds—that would not materially reduce his striking power—I should not expect in that case to find vertical and nob horizontal wounds; if he had been standing I should, but the wounds were at right angles to the ground—on examining the wounds at the post-mortem I could plainly see, from their direction, where one would have to be to inflict them—I have not experimentally tested the position in such a case.
Re-examined. If the man had been in an upright position we should have found a quantity of blood down the back of the dead man, instead of, as it was, in the region of the neck—the back portion of his clothing was comparatively free from blood—if the wounds had been inflicted by prisoner grappling I should have expected to find a quantity of blood on him, about the sleeves, and so on, where it was very slight, and there was none about the wrist of his coat—as to the wound on the left shoulder, the deceased might have partially turned—possibly he was standing, but if standing I should have expected blood to run down inside the clothing, which it did not do; the lower portion of the clothing was free from blood; in fact it trickled towards the neck again.
JOHN ANTHONY . I am a registered medical practitioner, residing at 16, Old Gravel Lane—I assisted Dr. Hamilton in making the post-mortem examination—I have heard his evidence, and agree that there were nine external wounds, that the two in the neck, the compound wound, and that which runs to the angle of the jaw would be fatal, and that they were inflicted in the way he suggests while deceased was on the ground.
Cross-examined. I select the two fatal wounds as being inflicted on the ground; the others might have been inflicted on the ground—I say so from the resisting force required to make the deep wounds—I do not think being grappled by a stoutish man would have constituted sufficient resisting force to account for those two wounds, but I would not like to swear it, because he could hold the deceased by the arm or grapple him by the neck if he was a strong man.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 15th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BEDKIN and MR. ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted; MR. CHAMBERS and
MR. WOODIN appeared for Killingsworth and Turpin; and MR. HUTTON
The Defendants, in the tearing of the JURY, stated that they were
GUILTY of conspiracy, and the JURY returned that verdict . KILLINGSWORTH and HINE— One Tear and Ten Months' Hard Labour . TURPIN— Judgment Respited.
698. DESIRE DUBOIS (25) , Unlawfully attempting to procure Louise Lesueur, a girl aged sixteen, to become a common prostitute. Second Count—Detaining the said girl against her will, with intent that she might be carnally known.
MR. GILL and MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted; MR. LEVER Defended.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted, and, MR. HUTTON Defended.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 16th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. CALVERT Defended.
GUILTY .— Ten Years" Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 16th, 1896,
Before Mr. Common Serjeant,
MR. RANDOLPH Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
ELLINOR LEES . I am single, and am atrained nurse, of 27, Regent Square, King's Cross—I first met the prisoner three years ago in London, and later on at the Bond Street Institute, where I was a trained nurse—he said that he was the secretary, but he did the house-work and answered the door—I knew him as Edward Staton, but he said that that was not his real name; his name was the Hon. Hamilton Russell—he showed me a photograph of Lord Boyne, who he said was his father, but as he had married, his father would not acknowledge him—I left the Bond Street Institution, but he continued to write to me—in August I went to nurse a patient at Dover, and corresponded with him, and when I came up to London he met me at the station—I engaged myself to marry him at my brother's at Leicester, believing he was Hamilton Russell—he said that he was very well off, and that he was a director in Simpkin and Marshall's, and had money there—these letters are in his writing; I received them from him when I was in Leicester; they are dated November—I believed that he had an appointment as a director at Simpkin and Marshall's—we both lodged in Kepple Street—I brought £25 with me, and he said he was short of money, and asked me to lend him some, as he did not want to keep drawing out capital—I gave him £39 altogether—I stopped at Kepple Street three weeks, and then moved to 27, Regent Square, where I am now—he always paid that he was short of money, and in February he had £58.
By the COURT. I lent him the money because he said that he was the managing director of Simpkin and Marshall's, and that I should never have to work again—his saying that he had capital in Simpkin and Marshall's affected me—he had £39 in January, and £58 in February—I went to Newcastle, and then noticed something different in his manner—I subsequently asked him for my money—he said that he had never had any money from me, and I could do as Hiked, or go on the streets—I naw him in the presence of a lady, when he said that he had never given me any money—I inquired at Simpkin and Marshall's, and then went to Bow Street, and swore an information.
Cross-examined. I went once to the Temple Publishing Company, and saw Mr. Thompson, and twice when I saw the defendant—I never asked Mr. Thompson who Mr. Staton was, and what was his position or wages, nor did he say that he was his assistant, serving in the shop, or that it was rather a delicate matter, but his wages were raised from 30s. to 35s. a week, or that before coming to him he had been a bookseller's assistant in Durham, or that some persons had come to the Temple Publishing
Company and epoken about his being at Durham—I did not call there so frequently that Mr. Thompson asked me not to come again, but the prifioner asked me not to come—I waited in the office while Mr. Thompson spoke down a tube, "Miss Lees wants you to return the six books you borrowed"—he did nob reply, "I cannot; I have lost them"—I did not hear that he was only assistant to Mr. Thompson—I know that the assistant at Ward, Lock and Boler's got up an entertainment, and some of his fellow employes actually came to the house where he and I were lodging—I mean to say that I did not know that he was merely a bookseller's assistant; he said that he was managing director—the persons who came did not treat him as a fellow servant; they treated him very respectfully—I did not know that he was engaged to somebody else—I saw him at Mrs. Hickins, in Marylebone Street, after he came from Scarborough—I had not seen him for, it might be a month, from the time I saw him at Mrs. Uppins—f made him some slippers once—I do not remember saying when I saw him at Mrs. Uppins, "Why don't you wear the slippers I made for you?"—I have known Mr. Hind since February, 1895—Miss Ball only came to me once—I did not take counsel with Mr. Hind what I was to do, but he said that it I did not he should—I did not know were he was—I was at Chelsea Cancer Hospital, and he asked me to leave, because they wanted me to wear uniform—the prisoner went to Upton Park to nurse somebody at the time I believed him to be the managing director at Simpkin and Marshall's, with £4,000 in the firm.
By the COURT. I asked him why he did not attend to his duties as managing director—I really believed he was the son of Lord Boyne—his name would be in the Peerage—at the time he was managing director, the future Peeress, myself, was nursing at Wimpole Street—when I came back from njy brother's at Leicester I went to stay at the Bedford Hotel—it was at his suggestion that I went to my brother's, because it was not right for he and I to live in one house—I did not agree with my sister-in-law, but I did not write to him that I was not comfortable and wished to come back—he did not say that he was hard up—I never asked him what his salary was with Simpkin and Marshall, as he said that he was doing it honorarily, because it would degrade his father—I said before the Magistrate, "We both stayed in one house while there; the prisoner was hard up for money; the landlady there was Madame Lavaune; the prisoner always used to pay the bills for both of us; sometimes lie gave me money to buy provisions for the house"—when I handed the £5 I may have said, "I wish it was £1,000."
Re-examined. Whether I was wise to believe his representations, I believed him in fact, and that his capital was locked up.
CHARLES HIND . I am a milk-carrier in the employ of Mr. Briggs, and live at 20, Church Street, Edgware Road—eighteen months ago I lived at Mr. Briggs' house, 15, Catherine Street—the prisoner lodged there, and I made his acquaintance—he told me he was not Edward Staton, hut was the eldest son of Lord Boyne, and his real name was Augustus Hamilton Russell, and that he was at a bookseller's in Holywell Street—he asked me on Easter Sunday to lend him some money, as the banks would not be open on Monday, and I lent him altogether £33 0s. 4d.—he said that he had £4,000 capital at Marshall's, at seven and ahalf per cent, and that he was man aging director there—I parted with nay money, believing those statements were true—I have only had a sovereign back.
Cross-examined. This was at Catherine Street, Strand—he had one room on the third or fourth floor—I did not go to Mr. Thompson's shop in Holywell Lane till after the prisoner was arrested—I have not seen the "managing director" working there like a bookseller's assistant—Miss Lees once came to me to borrow 10s.—the prisoner's sweetheart and my sweetheart visited one another, and I took taa there and passed hours with the "managing director," and gave him the option of going shares with ine in buying a business—I did not say that I would supply the hands if he would supply the brains—I did not ask him to lend me £40, but I asked him to let me have it as my own money—he wrote to me, and I went and saw him, and he and I had tea together—that is the man to whom I wrote a few days afterwards, "You devil in human form."
Cross-examined. He told me had been a bookseller in Durham—I paid him 25s. a week—customers from Durham came to him and spoke to him about business—Miss Lees came there about the end of February, 1895, when the prisoner was out at lunch—she asked for Edward Staton, not for the Hon. Russell Hamilton—I believe she said that she knew him in Durham, and asked me what he was; I said that he was clerk and assistant—she asked what wages he had; I said that it was a delicate question, but the wages at most booksellers in London were 25s. a week—I told her that when I engaged him he said that he had been employed in Durham, and that customers from Durham had been in my shop, and I had no doubt he came from Durham—she came several times, and I told her that he could not attend to his business and talk to her—she came to 25, New Street Chambers, where there is a tube communicating with my shop below—I do not know Mr. Hind, the milkman; I thought I did, but. it was mistaken identity—I took him for another person—after the prisoner left me he was employed at Ward, Lock and Co., the publishers, but I found afterwards that he was lying ill at 67, Regent Square, and, in passing there one day, I saw Miss Lees going to the house.
Re-examined. That was on February 27th this year.
C. HIND (Re-examined by MR. PURCELL). I made this charge against the prisoner after Miss Lees had charged him—I advised her to go to the police, and told her that if she did not take proceedings against him, I would. (The COMMON SERJEANT considered that the prosecutrix parted with her money, believing that the prisoner was going to marry her, which was not a false pretence in law.
—GUILTY on the Third Count (the obtaining from Hine), but the JURY stated that they considered him
GUILTY on all the Counts. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted, and MR. GREEN Defended.
HENRY JAMES SMITH . I am a builder, of 95, Turner Street, Whitechapel—June, this year, I had a complaint against the East London Water Company, and consulted Mr. Duncan, of Arbour Street, who issued this writ, and in consequence of what he said I went and saw Benabo, whom I knew—he carried on business in the name of the East-end Debt and Collecting Office—I had done work for him, and he owed me money—I told him that Mr. Duncan wanted £10 for costs—he said, "Don't you have anything to do with him; I will do it for you, and take it out of the High court and put it into the County Court"—I said I would give him a sovereign—Coles was not there—I never saw Benabo write—these letters (produced) are all in Coles' writing. (One of these letters statedthat the case was taken out of the hands of the solicitor and put into the County Court, and proposed terms. Another letter, signed "H. J. Smith" offered to stay proceedings for £15.) Benabo was present when Coles wrote them; he dictated them—on the morning of July 4th I called at Benabo's office, and saw him in Coles' presence—he said that he should have to send my clerk up to the High Court to stop the action, which would cost a guinea and a-half—I gave him 10s. and Coles 2s., believing that it would stop the action—Benabo put his hand in his pocket and took out a sovereign and 1s. 6d., and Coles went away—Benabo said, "You go to the Law Courts, and take the summons out as quick as you can"—I went at eight o'clock, with my wife, to Benabo's office to pay the balance, and said to him, "Has Coles got the summons?"—he said, "He has just come back from the Law Courts"—I handed him £1 1s. 6d., believing Coles had paid £1 11s. 6d.—I asked Benabo for an official receipt; he said that they were too busy at the Law Courts to give a receipt, but it would follow on on Monday morning, and I should have it—on the same evening a letter was left at my place by the clerk, in which he offered to settle the matter for £15—I sent it by post to the Water Company—on July 6th I called at Benabo's office with Mr. Cox, a tradesman—I asked Benabo for the receipt—he said, "What do you want it for? You shall have it as soon as I get it"—I saw him afterwards, and asked him for the receipt—he said, "I have got it, but the desk is locked, and the clerk has got the key; what do you want to worry yourself about it for?"—Coles brought this letter to me, and said that there was an account stated between me and Benabo—before I read it, I said, "I don't believe he has paid the £1 1s. 6d."—he laughed, and said that he had, and he had got half-a-guinea returned from the Law Courts—in this account he credits me with the 10s. 6d. said to be returned from the High Court—I did not pay him 15s. 6d.—after he gave me this, I saw a gentleman connected with Bircham and Co., the solicitors to the Water Company—I afterwards saw Coles, and said, "I don't believe you paid the money at all"; he said, "I must stick up for my governor while I am with him; when I leave him, I will tell you all about it"—I consulted Mr. Deacon, and took criminal proceedings.
Cross-examined. I went to Benabo because he was at his door—I did not go there that morning to get any money—I started the conversation on June 30th—I did not say that I understood I should not be called upon to pay the costs of the action, or that I understood that Mr. Deacon would carry the action through without charging me anything—I said nothing about a speculation—I was cross-examined at the Thames Police
Court—I do not remember saying, "I did tell Benabo I understood the case would be taken up on speculation"—on Saturday, July 4th, I told Benabo I was going to the High Court to withdraw the action—I did not say, "I will give you a guinea to do this for me "; nor did he say, "I shall require half-a-guinea for stamps at the High Court, and a guinea for myself," nor did he afterwards tell me that the half-guinea had not been required, and give me credit for it—he said, "I don't know what will be required at the High Court," or "You had better give me half-a-guinea in case any fees should be required."
Re-examined. In this account he gives me no credit for the guinea, only for the 10s. 6d. returned.
ANNIE SMITH . I am the prosecutor's wife—on July 4th, in the afternoon, I went witli him to Benabo's house, and saw him and Coles—Coles was at his dinner—Benabo said that Coles had just come back from the Law Courts, and paid the money—my husband then gave him £1 1s. 6d., and asked for a receipt—Benabo said that they were busy on Saturday, and he should have it on Monday.
Cross-examined. "They" meant the Law Courts—I heard him tell my husband that the half-guinea he had given in the morning was not enough.
JOHN COX . I am a plasterer, of 112, Sidney Street—about July I called with Mr. Smith at Benabo's office, and saw him and Coles together—Smith asked for the receipt for £1 11s. 6d., Benabo said that he had not received it from the Law Courts, and would send it on as soon as he got it, and he need not worry his brains; it would be sure to come.
Cross-examined. I heard nothing about a guinea being paid him for doing the work—I did not hear Benabo say that the half-guinea had been returned.
CHARLES COLERIDGE CLUTTERBUCK . I am clerk to Bircham and Company, of Parliament Street, solicitors to the East London Waterworks—an action was commenced by Mr. Smith, in which Mr. Deacon was solicitor—we afterwards received letters, saying that the action had been with-drawn in the High Court—I produce the order staying proceedings—I paid 8s.; that is the only fee paid in connection with the action.
ALMA ROPER . I belong to the Associates' department of the Royal Courts—all actions entered at Nisi Prius are entered there—this (produced) is a copy of the proceedings—no fee was paid on withdrawing the action, but the consent of the solicitors on both sides was required—£1 11s. 6d. was not required for the discontinuance of the action—fees are, not paid by money, but by stamps—we only receive money when an agreement is paid.
Cross-examined. Coles may have coma to my office about withdrawing the action, but I do not remember it.
FREDERICK KING (Police Sergeant). I served this summons on Benabo; it charges him and Coles with conspiring to obtain £1 11s. 6d. from Henry John Smith—Benabo said, "It is a lie; he came here and asked me what I would charge to do his correspondence"—Coles said, "We worked hard over the case; he came to us, and we never came to him.
BENABO— Eight Months' Hard Labour. COLES — Recommended to Mercy by the JURY .— Two Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, September 16th, 1896.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. SHERWOOD Prosecuted.
ANNIE BLACKBURN . I live at 66, Burymead Gardens, Acton, and am the wife of Arthur Blackburn—the prisoner had been our lodger in the ground-floor back room for about six months—she had her own furniture—her room adjoined ours, which was in front—my kitchen is also on the ground floor—I keep my bedroom door latched, but unlocked—on July 17th the door was not locked—I was not in my bedroom all the morning after I got up till the fire took place—the front door is always latched; no one can come in without my knowing it—when the fire took place the only person in the house was the prisoner—I and my baby were in the garden—I saw the prisoner come in about 12.45, and about 1.45, as I was putting my baby to sleep in the garden, she passed me, to empty some dirty water down the drain; then she came and got some clean water, and about two I heard my front door slam—about 2.10 my baby was asleep, and I went to lay him down in my bedroom, and I found the room in flames, and I called my neighbour, Sarah Jacob, and then fetched my husband and a policeman—when I got back the fire had been put out—when the prisoner went in, just before the fire, she shut the back door after her, as she always does—she was under a week's notice to leave, and would have left on the Saturday, the day after the fire—my bed, a pair of feather pillows, bolster, sheet, counterpane and valance were burnt—the bed was all in flames—the fire did not touch the house—about 5.30 in the evening the prisoner came home.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was no one but you in the house when the tire occurred—Mrs. Jacob, who lives next door, had not the key of my door—I did not quarrel with Mrs. Brooks, who lives upstairs, nearly every night—I did not ask you for a box of matches—we gave you a week's notice—you only owed us 1s. 6d. on the Saturday that you were going to leave—you gave me something every week to buy a little beer, and you gave me your washing to do.
Re-examined. I always use white matches—I did not borrow any matches from the prisoner.
SARAH JACOB . I live at 64, Burymead Gardens, next door to Mrs. Blackburn—on July 17th, when the fire occurred, I was the first to go in—I turned off the gas at the meter, and got a pail of water and threw it on the bed, and took the burnt clothes into the back garden—the house was not injured—I knew the prisoner—on the Saturday before the fire I was in Church Road, and the prisoner was telling me they had had a row, and she said she would have her revenge, and make it hot for them, before she left—she said she had been to Hammersmith to get a protection order.
Cross-examined. I did not go upstairs while you were putting the tin of condensed milk into Mrs. Brooks' bedroom; I was not upstairs in the house—I did not take little Arthur Brooks from Mrs. Blackburn—I never went into Mrs. Blackburn's except in the evening—I did not say to you, "Mrs. Brooks has got to leave through you"—I have seen you the worse for drink—you went to work every day.
ARTHUR BEARD (257 X). On July 17th I was called to this fire at 66, Burymead Gardens—I saw the front room full of smoke, and a flame in the middle of the bed—it was put out—the house was not materially injured, but the bedding was all burnt—I saw this piece of charred paper fall off the bed, and I found it at the foot immediately after the fire had been extinguished—I searched the prisoner's room; the door was locked—I found in it this copy of the Girl's Own Paper, and I found the piece of charred paper corresponded with a page missing from that paper—Detective Wood arrested the prisoner—she said, "Oh! a fire; I was at home some time. I cannot tell the time. Let them prove it. A pity it did not burn!"—when charged she said, "I am entirely ignorant of it."
Cross-examined. You did not say you had been in Mrs. Blackburn's room.
FREDERICK WOOD (Detective X). After the first hearing before the Magistrate I searched the prisoner's room—at 66, Burymead Gardens—in the sweepings of the remains of the fire I found a small portion of a burnt red match, and in the prisoner's room I found eleven boxes of red matches—I found no other matches like it—I was present at the arrest.
Cross-examined. There was some food in your room.
The Prisoner, in her defence, argued that it was unlikely she should set fire to her own property.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PROBYN Prosecuted; MR. ROWSELL Defended Hayes, and MR. KENT Defended O'Leary.
CHARLES JOHN KEATS . I am a plasterer, of 56, St. Catherine's Road, Netting Hill—O'Leary I know by sight, Hayes I never saw before—at 8.30 p.m. on Saturday, July 25th, I was at the top of St. Catherine's Road on my way home, when four men, one of whom was O'Leary. standing at the corner, asked me for money for beer and tobacco—I said I had no money for beer and tobacco—I went into a urinal, and I was attacked inside by a man who came behind me, put his hand over me and took my watch—I snatched the watch back, and carried it in my hand from the urinal towards where I live, about one hundred yards off—the men followed me up, and the one who attacked me in the urinal said to the other three at the corner, "Go for him"—they followed me quite fifty yards, and threw me to the ground and kicked me, and I knew no more till I was taken home, and a constable came and fetched me to the station—I lost my watch—I was attended by a doctor.
Cross-examined by MR. KENT. I was first attacked at 8.30—I had been at work till one, and then I went home, had dinner, washed, and went to the Bush and towards the market, and bought my boy a pair of boote—I was not drunk—I did not want to fight—I am not a pugilist—I was walking with my son—my wife went home to get tea ready—she left me when the men were asking me for money for beer and tobacco—then she found I was rather long, and followed up and saw the affair—I don't know Buck properly—there was no fight—I did not want to fight Verey, or knock down Buck to get at Verey—my wife did not take
care of my watch—I got it back in the straggle—I do not know who knocked me down and kicked me—I am not aware my wife said O'Leary was not there—she never gave evidence—she was not prevented from giving evidence; she was at the Police-court.
Cross-examined by MR. ROWSELL. My wife left me at the top of St. Ann's Road; she met me again on the second assault.
Re-examined. She did not see the first assault, but at the second, she had come back and rejoined me, and she saw it—I am quite sure O'Leary is one of the three who attacked me. but I cannot say who kicked me when I was on the ground.
WILLIAM KEATS . I am the last witness's son—on Saturday, July 25th, I was with my father at the Red Lion about 8.30—he was sober—he talked to some men outside the Eed Lion, and one man caught hold of my father, and another man got him down and kicked him, and got his watch away, but dropped it, and I picked it up and gave it to my father—then Hayes ran off with another man's coat and waistcoat—he looked as if he struck my father, and I turned my head round—I never ran away.
Cross-examined by MR. KENT. There were a good many people about—my father can fight—the men wanted to fight him; he said nothing to them—Verey wanted to fight him—there was a scuffle—I saw O'Leary kick my father—it was rather dark—my father had only had two or three drinks—I said at the Police-court my father was not quite sober—I said only a little bit.
Cross-examined by MR. ROWSELL. The second assault took place near the Lily—the Cobden is nearly 250 yards from the Eed Lion—I know Hayes quite well—the first policeman I saw after that night was Butler; I went and told him the same evening who the men were and what they had done when they ran away—another constable, whom we call Bob, came to our house that evening—I told him it was a Ginger, but I did not know which Ginger it was; I did not know his name at the time—I did not know his name, but I heard people speak about it—I know Hayes' face quite well, but not his name—I said I did not know whether it was Ginger Hayes or Ginger Pepper—since this assault I have not seen Hayes about the streets—I do not know where he lives—I made a mistake about the coat he wore; it was not the one he has on, but very like it; it was in the dark and I could not tell which one it was—this is the coat he wore at the Police-court; I said it was the one he wore that night, but it was not.
Re-examined. I have known Hayes for some time by sight—he looked as if he was one of the men that helped to strike my father; he was in it—I knew the man, but I did not know his name.
MARY JANE PRESS . I live with the prosecutor, at 56, St. Catherine's Road—about 8.30 p.m. on July 25th, Jack Verey came up to Keats, and said, "You are a fighting man; I mean to fight you"—Verey is not here—Oinger Hayes took Verey's coat, and they ran up St. Catherine's Road after the policeman's whistle blew—they struck Keats twice, and threw him to the ground, and Verey snatched his watch from the chain—I took it out of Verey's hand, and then Verey thumped into me and tore my blouse—Hayes stood by while this took place—I did not sea him do anything—he and Verey ran off together—I was not called at the Police-court.
Cross-examined by MR. KENT. It was not dark—there were not many
lamps there—four men attacked Keats—I did not see O'Leary take any part.
Cross-examined by MR. ROWSELL. We were making our way home when Verey came and hit Keats twice in the face—I had gone home to get tea, and had left him—I had met him in St. Ann's Road, and came with him down towards St. Clement's Road, and on our way Verey came behind him, and this happened—I heard this was going on, and I came back and met him, and saw the second affair—there were a good many people in the street—I know Ginger Hayes—a constable came to our house that evening—I was bathing Keats' head—the constable asked him who did it, and Keats said he did not know the names, but he could identify them if he saw them—I said nothing—I was at the Police-court, but was not called on.
ROBERT CHARLES JACKSON . I am a registered medical practitioner, and a divisional surgeon of police—I examined the prosecutor on this evening—he was suffering from an abrasion on the left side of his face and a cut across the bridge of his nose, and nearly down to the bone—he had been drinking, and was muddled.
Cross-examined by MR. ROWSELL. He said, "You have made a mistake; it is another man they call Ginger, very much like me"—I arrested him in St. Clement's Road; he did not attempt to run away—I had seen him the same day, and I may have seen him the day before, but it was not convenient to take him then.
JOHN BUTLER (344 X). On July 25th I saw O'Leary in St. Catherine's Road, Notting Hill, shortly after 9.30—when I walked towards him he ran away—I ran after him and blew my whistle—he was stopped and taken into custody by another constable—I told him the charge; he made no reply—at the station he said to the prosecutor, "How much do you say we took off you?"
Witness for O'Leary.
GEORGE BUCK . I am a potman—on the night of July 25th, I met Keats and his son and his young woman in St. Catherine's Road, between 9 and 9.15—he asked me to have a drink, and went into the Red Lion, and then he and I went into the urinal—a man came in, and knocked against Keats, and asked him if he wanted to fight—I said No, he did not, and tried to take Keats home—we went on towards home, and all at once Keats shoved me down, and made at a man, and when I got up Keats was on the ground, smothered in blood—I picked him up—I saw nothing of O'Leary.
Cross-examined. I was going to the market, to Mr. Springthorpe's, the hatters—I left the Red Lion about 9.25—Keats shoved me down to fight the other man, about thirty yards the other side of the Cobden Arms—Miss Press and a boy were there; about five or six people followed up at the time, hearing the other man challenge Keats to fight—that other man was Verey—I expect Miss Press must have seen the assault—Keats was not quite sober, and was not drunk; he had been drinking—when I picked him up I sent him home with Miss Press.
Re-examined. I did not see anyone take his watch; I said, "Have you lost your watch, Charley?" and he said, "No."
The COURT thought that the JURY would not be justified in convicting Hayes.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
LEONARD JOSHUA BREED . I am a baker, of 19, Summerford Road, Balham—on August 26th I was in Cushion Street, Commercial Street, about eleven—O'Brien came up alone and asked me for a drink—I refused, and then a blow from behind struck the back of my head—I could not see who was behind me—I ran for protection into a Jew's shop, but the Jew turned me out—O'Brien came and pulled me out, and then two blows followed—Leary and another man were with O'Brien—I do not recognise anyone else—I had about £10 on me—they knocked me about for a couple of minutes, I daresay, and they took my money—they tried to go away, but McKay arrived, and I gave O'Brien into custody—I went to the station, and charged him—I afterwards saw Leary at the Police-court with about twelve men, and I identified him as one of the men who attacked and robbed me.
Cross-examined by O'Brien. I did not drink with you and a woman—a boy fetched the constable—I did not say at first at the Police-court that I was robbed inside the shop, or that I was five minutes gone to fetch a policeman.
ANDREW McKAY (341H). On August 26th, a little before eleven, I saw a crowd in Fashion Street—I went there—the prosecutor said, "This man has robbed me "; he was then being held by Leary and McGrath—I knew them by seeing them about the neighbourhood—I did not know O'Brien, who was also there—I caught hold of O'Brien, and said, "I shall take you into custody for stealing the £10 the man says he has lost"—someone called out something, and he struck me and hit me in the stomach, and took my whistle, and I was kicked—I held him till assistance arrived, and got him to the station—ho there said, "All right, he took me from outside the crowd"—the other two prisoners were not in the crowd when I was kicked; they cleared oif as soon as I called them by name—I said, "All right, Leary, I shall have you later on; my hands are full now "—I told the detective who the other two were, and he arrested them—met him coming along Brick Lane with McGrath, and I said he was one of the men that were holding Breed when he was robbed—I saw Leary the same night, about eleven, at the station, and picked him out from a number of others—on September 3rd, when all the prisoners were together at the Police-court, Samuels came to the Court with Mary Ann McGrath, the prisoner's sister, and he left the Court with the prisoner's friends—he never went to the Court with me.
Cross-examined by O'Brien. I arrested you about two yards from the prosecutor, in the middle of the crowd—the prosecutor said, "That is him"—Samuels did not point you out—I was in the crowd when Samupls informed me.
Cross-examined by Leary. I saw you in Fashion Street.
is hard to recognise them, as there was no lamp there—I had not seen them before.
Cross-examined by O'Brien. I saw the policeman coming, and I told him he was wanted, because a man was being robbed—you went through the prosecutor's pockets—the other men held up the prosecutor's arms—you ran into a doorway and hid yourself, and when the prosecutor said, "Here he is," you stepped out into the crowd, and then you were arrested, and the other men ran away.
Cross-examined by Leary. I cannot say if you were there—I think one of the men was a little bit taller than you and McGrath—I could not recognise the two men who ran away when the constable came up.
THOMAS SMART (Detective H). I received information about this crime, and about 1.30 p.m. on August 28th, I saw McGrath in Osborue Street—I told him he answered a description of a man wanted for assaulting and robbing a man in Fashion Street, in company with others—he said, "You have made a mistake; I don't know how long ago it is since I was in Fashion Street"—on the way to the station, he said, "I think I can find someone to say where I was on Wednesday night; the landlord of the Goddard public-house can say"—at the station, when charged, he made no reply—nothing was found on him—on the way to the station I met McKay—the same night, at 9.30, I saw Leary—I told him I should take him into custody for assaulting and robbing a man in Fashion Street on the 26th—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, where he was identified, from among several men, by McKay, and charged—he said, "If I had taken it I would have money; I am as innocent as a baby; I was at the Westmoreland Arms all night"—6d. was found on him—on September 3rd, Leary and McGrath was placed among others for identification; Leary was identified from the back of the Court—Leary and McGrath were picked out.
GEORGE BAXTER PHILLIPS (Divisional Surgeon H). On the night of August 26th I saw the prosecutor at the Commercial Street Police Station—he was in a very excited, nervous condition, and had all the appearance of having been roughly used—his legs were bruised—he complained of bruising and injuries about the back of the head, and I have no doubt it was so, but there were no marks—I thought he was not, in a condition to be capable of self-control, and sent him to the infirmary.
Cross-examined by O'Brien. He was suffering from the effects of having been roughly used, and of alcohol—I have no knowledge that at the infirmary they found out the prosecutor was suffering from a deranged mind through drink.
Re-examined. I believe the prosecutor had partaken of a good deal of liquor, and although he would have been capable of self-control if he had not been molested, I think the molestation took greater effect on him in consequence of his taking drink.
O'Brien, in his defence, stated that he ivas in a public-house when the prosecutor came in with a woman, and treated him to ale, that he was afterwards wrangling with the woman outside, when he saw the prosecutor with a mob round him, and a policeman came and arrested him.
to the Westmoreland Arms, and were there from six till they closed, and then we went to the Shepherdess, and parted—I only left the house for a few minutes for my convenience—you did not go out at all—you did not leave me from the afternoon till the last thing at night.
Cross-examined. The people at the Westmoreland Arms know me—neither the manager nor the potman is here—we sat there for six hours, drinking ale—no one else was in there whom I know, except one young woman, who went out before we did—I don't know her name—I go in there nearly every night, and have a drink, but this night we were there a long time—I and Leary had a row, and only made it up the day this happened—I live at 27, Macclesfield Street—at that time I was living at Westmoreland Terrace, up the turning by the public-house.
FREDERICK HOPE . On the night of the 26th I met you at 7.30—you said you were going hop-picking, and asked for something towards going down, and I gave you 1s.—I went away and came back about 11.5, and saw you at a public-house, and said I could not give you any more.
Cross-examined. The public-house I saw him at is about five minutes' walk from Fashion Street—I did not see him between 7.30 and 11—I was in Shoreditch.
MARY ANN MCGRATH . On August 26th you were going hopping with me and others—we were waiting for somebody who did not come—I went on a few yards, and you were standing outside the Archer's Arms at seven o'clock—I came back at nine, going backwards and forwards, and you were still there—I came back at 10.55, and you were still outside the Archer's Arms, and we went inside—you had had 1s. given you towards your fare.
Cross-examined. The Archer's Arms is five minutes' walk from Fashion Street—I was about the street all the evening, and he was still in the Archer's Anns—the manager of the Archer's Arms knows my brother, the prisoner, but he cannot get away—the prisoner was both inside and outside the Archer's Arms, waiting about.
THOMAS SMART (Re-examined). I received information from McGrath, and visited the manager of the Archer's Arms, and he said that McGrath had been there that night, but he could not say at what time—he said he could not leave his business, or he would come here—he said McGrath was always there; I have seen him there myself—the Archer's Arms is about 250 yards from Fashion Street.
Leary, in his defence, asserted his innocence.
There was another indictment against the prisoners for assault on the police.
PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in October, 1893; and McGrath, to a conviction of felony in August, 1896.
O'BRIEN— Three Years' Penal Servitude. McGRATH and LEARY— Ten Months' Hard Labour each.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 17th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
[For the case of WILLIAM DALBY, tried in this Court, see Surrey Cases.]
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and E. PERCIVAL CLARKE Prosecuted, and LORD COLERIDGE, Q.C., Defended.
HENRY JONES . I am a journeyman painter, lodging at 32, Francis Street, Battersea—I belong to a club that met at Oak Wharf, Battersea; I believe it is a rowing and social club—I know the prisoner as in the occupation of Oak Wharf—on the night of Saturday, July 25th, I was drinking with some companions, Worthey and four others, in Battersea Square till half-past twelve, when the public-houses close—on leaving the last house we brought with us a gallon stone jar; we had drank the contents on the way to the Square; there were about a dozen of us altogether—when we got to the Square we went to the Bricklayers' Arms, kept by Carpenter, to get more beer, but we did not succeed in getting any more—I was carrying the jar; when I found I could not get any more beer, I took it back to Smith's, the greengrocer's, and placed it on the pavement outside his shop—I never had it in my hands again that night—Fowler, one of Smith's men, took a barrow which was outside the shop, and went round the Square; when he came round the second time I accompanied him—in doing that we passed by Oak Wharf—the prisoner was standing at the small gate just inside, on the threshold of the gate—I said to him, "How about the medals?"—he told me to get off home—with that my friends came across the road; there seemed to be a bit of a jangle then, about the medals, I believe; there were some words, I can't recollect what—there were about five persons at the gates at this time—the jangle went on for about twenty minutes to half an hour, and then the prisoner went inside the gate and shut it; the other gates were shut at the time—I and Worthey then climbed up on the top of the two gates, one on one, and one on the other; I climbed up on the large gate, and Worthey climbed up on the small gate, with our legs hanging over—I saw the prisoner standing in the yard about ten feet from the gates—he said if we came over he would shoot us—then he fired at me, and shot me through the leg—I saw him pointing at me as I was sitting on the gate; I slightly turned my body round when I saw him pointing at me; the bullet struck me in the thick of the leg, on the right buttock—I said I thought he was only firing blank cartridge; I knew I had been hit, but I could not say by what; I felt something burning; I then saw him deliberately walk to the other side of the yard and fire at Worthey, as he was sitting on the gate, and I saw Worthey falling off the gate inside—the people outside then burst open the large gates I was sitting on—there was no other shot; there were three shots altogether—there were about thirty people there, I should imagine, at that time; a rare lot of bystanders got round; he fired two shots at Worthey, immediately after one another—I can't say whether Worthey dropped to the ground before the third shot; I saw that he lay on the ground; he made one stagger and fell forward—I next
saw the prisoner standing inside the doorway of his house, theatening to shoot Mr. Beach; he told Mr. Beach if he did not get off his premises he would shoot him—the door was shut—Worthey was lying on the ground when I left the yard—I went to try and find a policeman, and I met one coming with the prisoner's wife—it is not true that I had the stone jar in my hand after putting it on the pavement, or that I threatened to knock the prisoner's brains out with it; never at any time—I never asked anybody to hand me a brick while I was on the top of the gate—I never said that I would dash his brains out.
Cross-examined. I am a member of the club—I believe the prisoner was the treasurer—I could not say if there is a president; I believe there is a secretary, I would not be sure—this was the first time I had taken a part in any of these disturbances; I was once in the Square when there was a disturbance outside the prisoner's house, but that did not concern me—I could not say whether the same people were concerned in that disturbance; I did not notice who were there that night—I may have had a glass on that night—I could not say whether the stone jar was in requisition that night; that was some time before last Whitsuntide—that was the only one and this last one that I was concerned in—I have not heard of any more—there was a crowd at the former one, and the time was about eleven—I can't say that any of us were drunk when this shooting affair took place—I could not swear that the gates were forced open on the other occasion; I afterwards heard that they were—I don't know whether the prisoner complained to the police, I never heard—I believe he did summons them—I did not go and offer to put a stop to the disturbance; it did not concern me—on the night in question I began drinking about nine; it was Saturday night; I did not go at it steadily till past twelve; I had about three glasses, one at the Raven, and one at the Old Swan, where we had a benefit; I don't know whose benefit; I was simply asked to go; there was nothing out of place there, only one Or two songs; it went on till closing time—our stone jar did not remain full very long, there were too many of us to drink it; we asked all to have a friendly drink—I don't know that Worthey was more on than the rest—I did not notice that he was sweeping with a broom outside the greengrocer's; that is about 200 yards from the prisoner's gates—one of my friends did not come up and say, "Symondson is standing at his gate"; Fowler said that; I took no heed of it; I have no idea what made him say it—when Fowler ran round the Square with the barrow, I did not hear him cry out anything—I did not hear him calling out, "Coals a farthing "; it had nothing to do with Mr. Symondson that I know of—Fowler was in the shafts of the barrow like a horse when we first spoke to Symondson—Allen, Rolfe, and Beach were there—two of them had been summoned; Beach was one—at that time there was not a considerable crowd assembled, not twenty people—Symondson was then at his gate telling us all to go off home—I could not say why we did not go; we wanted to know something, about the medals, which some of them were nettled at; they wanted satisfaction from him, and would not go till they had; then the jangle began, and lasted for half an hour—I cannot tell what was said; I was not too drunk to hear—I did not hear anyone say, "Syraondson, you have not paid out the money due to us"—he went in and shut the gate before the jangle was over—I have
no recollection of saying before the Coroner, "I said to Symondson you have not paid the money due to us "; I almost forget—when he closed the gates I did not threaten to get over them—I made a statement to Inspector Reynolds at the station—I have no recollection of saying to him that I shouted out to Symondson that I would get over the gates if he did not pay the money; I was so excited that night I did not know what I was saying at the station; I had just come from the doctor's hands, and had my wound dressed; I have no recollection of saying it—I did not hear my friends outside shout that they would break open the gate if Symondson did not give them satisfaction—I have no recollection of saying that before the Coroner—I will not swear that I did not say it; I was a bit excited before the Coroner—I don't think we were all excited and angry; I may have said so, but I don't recollect it; they were excited, I believe; if I did say it, it was true—I did not hear Symondson say, "Go home, and come and see me in the morning, when you are all sober"—I did not reply, "No, you b—; we will paralyse you"—I will swear I did not, or anything of the kind: that I am quite positive of—I then proceeded to climb up the gate; I could not say the height of it; I was not helped up, I got up by my own unassisted efforts; I only climbed up to have a say to him—I could have said it through the gate; I simply told him that he ought to be ashamed of keeping the medals—I did not say, "Let's get over the gate, and smash the b—"—I have no recollection of saying it; I am quite sure I did not say it—I could not say for certain whether I was asked that question before the Coroner—I have no recollection of being asked that—if it was taken down I suppose I must have said it—I cannot tell you what made me get up on the gate; I was on the left-hand side of the small gate—I heard three shots fired—when I was on the gate I did not say, "Give me a b—brick, and I will smash his brains out"—I did not notice Symondson go into his house and come out again—I heard him say to the crowd, "If you come over the gate I shall fire"—I did not reply, "We don't care for your revolver"—he did not then fire on to the wall of the adjoining house—the first shot I heard hit me—I was on the gate when he tired again—it was not after I had got down from the gate that he fired the two shots in succession, after the gates had been burst open by the crowd—I did not have the jar in my hand—after the shots had been fired I ran up the yard as far as his private door; there were two or three standing at his gate before I got there, Mr. Beach for one—I went to have a look—he shut his door—there was no crowd looking at the windows—there were only three chaps there—Worthey was five or six yards from the door—he did not come through the broken glass—I knew that the prisoner's wife and children would be in the house, but I did not know for certain—I fancy the prisoner said, after the first shot, that if we came over we must put up with the consequences—I knew what the consequences would be if we got over; but we did not get over—I was knocked down; I was sitting on the top.
Re-examined. I am positive we did not get down inside the yard, or commence to get down, until the gates were broken open—they were not broken open until after the third shot, after I had seen Worthey fall to the ground—I had not seen the prisoner's wife there before the shooting
—the only time I saw her was when she went after the constable—I had not seen her about the premises—I had not seen any woman there before I got on the top of the gates—he said to Beach, if he did not get off the premises he would shoot him—he said that through the broken pane of the front door; that pane had been broken before—nobody attempted to get into his house—Mr. Beach was at his door when I left to fetch a policeman—I was not there half a second.
CHARLES PRIOR . I am assistant to Mrs. Hall, a corn chandler, of 4, Battersea Square, opposite Oak Wharf—after midnight on Saturday, July 25th, I was sitting at my door—I did not see Henry Jones till he came up to the prisoner's gate with a greengrocer's barrow—at that time the prisoner was standing at his gate, the small gate—I heard Jones say, "Blind me, there's Symondson"—Fowler and Worthey were with him—they all appeared to be talking together—I did not know Worthey—I did not hear anything that was said—I saw Worthey climb the gate; pulled him down—I saw the prisoner step back and shut the gate—Jones and Worthey then got up together on the small gate, both of them—the risoner said, "If you come over here I will shoot you"—I could not see him at that time—I then heard a shot fired; that was about five minutes after he said that; Jones and Worthey were then sitting on the gate, with their legs over the other side; neither of them moved: one of them remarked, "It is only blank cartridge;" then the second shot was fired; they were still on the gate; before the third shot, Worthey came off the gate inside the yard, and I heard a voice, "Now, boys, for the gate"—I heard a third shot as soon as Worthey went down into the yard; that was after the third shot; about a minute after Worthey got off the gate—Jones was still on the gate—I could not describe in what way Worthey went off the gate; I only saw him go off; I could not day whether he jumped off, or fell off, or slipped off—after the gates were burst open I went up to the gate, and saw Worthey brought out; I did not see him pulled up from the ground; I did not go in.
Cross-examined. When I was at my shop the width of the road was between us—the Square is a wide one, wider than an ordinary road; I was too far off to hear loud shouting; there was a considerable crowd round the gates after the third shot—I had been at my door about half an hour, looking on—Fowler came round with a barrow, shouting "Coals, 1s. 4d. a cwt. "; I think that was done to annoy the prisoner; he is a coal dealer—there was a board over the gate with "Boats to let"—Fowler shouted out, "Let's pull his b—boats down"—they had all had too much too drink—when the two men climbed on the gate, the prisoner said, "If you come over here, I will shoot you;" he had not shot then—he has been greatly annoyed ever since he has been there, about every other month—I had not seen the gates broken open before—I could not say exactly at what time of day these disturbances occurred; it was not as late as one in the morning.
Re-examined. I have seen large organs pulled up the yard, and hats laid on the top, and ordinary organs that go about the streets; I should think that has been going on for about a month; I could not say whether he was at home at the time; I did not see him there; it was in the daytime—they pulled their hats off and put them on the organs, and commenced
playing; I don't remember anything else—I am quite sure that both men were still on the gate when the second shot was fired.
THOMAS STEPHEN ALLGOOD . I live at Yelverton Road, Battersea—on July 26th, about twenty minutes to one, I was in Battersea Square, going home—I saw between six and seven chaps causing a disturbance outside Oak Wharf; I stepped over the road, and looked through the gate, and saw Mr. Symondson there, about two or three yards from the gate—he told them to go home, or else he would fire at them—I had not stood there a minute when he fired the first shot; but he did not fire at the men, he fired rather into the roadway over the gate—the men were standing at that time, nobody was on the gate—two men then jumped up on the gate; I did not know them; they were all strangers to me—I then stepped out in the roadway, and then there was a second shot fired; that was fired at them, I believe; I never saw the second shot; I only heard the report—both men then jumped off the gate into the yard—the crowd then burst the gates open, and I saw Worthey standing about three yards inside the gate, as far as I could judge—I saw Mr. Symondson standing close by his own door, and he fired the third shot, and Worthey dropped—I was then standing on the kerb—I saw the first and third shots fired, and heard the report of the second—the third shot was fired at Worthey, I should think; there was no one by him at the time—I saw a tall fellow with a stone jar; he is outside now as a witness; he picked the jar up, and smashed it on the ground outside in the street—that was after Worthey had dropped.
Cross-examined. Before anybody got on the gates the men were calling on Symondson to, come out, and he was tilling them to go home—he only said it once while I was there—of course, they had been there a long time before I came up—before the Magistrate I said that he told them to go home two or three times; that was what he said—they threatened to get over the gate, and he said he would shoot them if they did—he did not threaten to shoot them until they threatened to get up on the gates—he did not fire in the air the first time; they were not on the gates when he fired the first shot; then they got up, and then he fired the second shot—he said, "Get down, or I shall fire"—they did not get down, and then he fired—then they got down; I believe they jumped down; they both dropped into the yard, I know—before the third shot was fired the crowd had burst the gates open—when Worthey got into the yard he was going in the direction of the house; then the third shot was fired, and he fell.
Re-examined. He was by himself then; I never saw anybody else by him—the crowd had not burst into the yard when I saw the shot fired; they were on the gates.
By the COURT. Before the third shot was fired I had seen the two men on the gates, and I saw them both get down and go inside the yard, and then the gates were burst open, and the third shot was fired—I don't know what became of the man who was with Worthey; I don't know whether he got back or not.
ROBERT THOMAS DAGLEY . I live at 7, Yelverton Road, Battersea, and am a hackney carriage driver—I was walking through Battersea Square on July 26th, about 12.50—I saw a number of persons collected outside the gates of Oak Wharf, and a very great disturbance going on—I went opposite the gates to the lamp-post—I heard a man call out something
about a barber, that he had not paid the man the last time he was cut and shaved—that was the first thing I heard—soon after that I saw twomen climb up the gate; one on the big gate, the other on the little gate—I heard a revolver go off then, in about half a minute, a minute at the outside—neither of the men moved after the first shot—then another shot was tired directly afterwards; that was a very slack shot, the first was very loud—the two men were still on the gates when the second shot was fired; I am quite sure of that—after that another shot went, a third—I only saw one of the men on the gate then—the gates then went open; the crowd pushed them open—the one man was still on the gates—I then saw the man lying down—Jones came running up to me and said, "I have got one," and he struck a match and looked and saw where the shot had gone in—next morning I looked, and judged that he was about three-yards inside, and near two stone door-steps leading into the private-house.
Cross-examined. Before the third shot was fired one of the two men had got off the gate; the man that showed me the hole in the deceased's buttock was the man that remained on the gate—there were more than, twenty men shouting, it was impossible to hear all that was said—I did not see any female there—as the man on the little gate fell, the gates-were burst, Jones remained—the other man had already fallen—it was Jones that got up on the little gate, not Worthey.
Re-examined. I did not know any of the men before; I only knew that there were two men there.
RICHARD ROLFE . I am a carman, and live at 18, Church Road, Battersea—I was in Battersea Square in the early morning of July 26th, when a disturbance was taking place outside Oak Wharf—Jones was arguing the point with the prisoner about some club money—I saw the prisoner go inside and shut the gate—I saw Jones and Worthey climb up the gate—the prisoner first stopped the point about the money, and then he went inside his house, and brought out a revolver—at that time I should think there were a couple of dozen people outside the gate—Jones and Worthey had actually got on the gate—I saw nobody inside the yard but the prisoner—I heard his wife say to him, "Sydney, don't fetch that horrid thing out"—they still argued the point, and the prisoner fired a shot—Jones and Worthey were on the gate at the time the first shot was-fired—then a second and third shot was fired, and Worthey came to the ground: that was after the third shot was fired; Jones was then on the gate—after the third shot the gates were burst open, and Jones fell to the-ground, and after about five minutes I went in, and found Worthey lying about three yards from the doorway and gateway, in the middle, between the side door and the gate; he was lying on his face on the ground, reeling about as if he had fallen forwards—I picked him up, and brought him out on to the pavement—I afterwards saw a stone jar outside, in the Square, opposite the yard, near the Bricklayers' Arms; I picked it up, and brought it over, and sat on it by the side of Worthey till the doctor came and said he was dead; then I got up and walked away, and when they put him on the stretcher I caught hold of the jar and broke it—I had never had it inside the yard, or anywhere near the gate—I did not see anybody have it in their hand at all, not after we first had it that night, when the beer was out of it—I had been with Jones and Worthey
when the beer was in the jar; I had a little drink out of it, not much—as far as I saw, no one had threatened the prisoner with that jar.
Croas-examined. I was one of the men who had been summoned by the prisoner before this—I had nothing to say at this disturbance; I went there to look at it, from curiosity, to see and hear what they were asking about; I was in a position to see the best part of it—no jar was ever shown to the prisoner at all; I am quite certain about it; nothing was said to him about the jar; I never saw it till I picked it up across the road; I broke it when I saw that he had killed my mate, and I said, "Stop the battle; he has killed my mate"—that was as the prisoner was being taken away—I did not like the bottle shoved in my face—I was not examined before the Magistrate—I met the others between nine and ten; when they came out of the Raven I had not much—then they went on to the Old Swan; we remained there till just about twelve, closing time—then we took the beer out and drank it; I never tried to get more.
Re-examined. I was examined before the Coroner—I was not asked about the battle—I was not cross-examined—I was one of the men that was summoned by the prisoner; that summons was dismissed.
AUGUSTA OLIVE ARNOLD . I live at West Kensington, and am a school teacher—I am a sister of the prisoner's wife—I was staying at their house on Saturday, July 25th—I and my sister were inside the house about half-past twelve that night—I did not hear the prisoner talking outside—I heard some people talking at the gate—I went out and saw that the men were talking to him, and I saw him come in and shut the gate—the men outside were talking to him—I heard them ask him to come outside, and they would dash his b—brains out—he told them to go home—he asked us to go inside the house—I stood on the steps for some little time—I saw a man climbing up the gate—the prisoner told him to get down—he waited for a little time—he said, "Get down, or I will shoot"—he had nothing to shoot with then—he came into the house and went upstairs, and when he came down he had a revolver in his hand—his wife said to him, "Oh! don't; don't go outside"—he went out into the yard, and his wife and I went through the house, and down to the raft—my sister went on to the shore, leading to the ferry wharf and the main street—there was a crowd outside, and the gates were shut—I heard one shout when I was on the raft, waiting for my sister.
Cross-examined. When I left to go on the raft, no one was left in the house—I went on the raft because I was terrified—my sister ran off to the police—I was on the raft about twenty minutes—I saw the prisoner fetch the revolver before I went on the raft—when I came back from the raft to the house I saw two men standing in conversation with the prisoner, and one of them had a stone jar in his hand—I did not see it after that—the gates were open; we heard a smash—I had been staying in the house a week—I had known of the existence of the revolver in the house for a few days; there was no secret about it; it was kept on the bedroom mantelpiece; I saw an elastic band round it—he never told me what it was there for; my sister told me—they have six children; the eldest is ten and the youngest two—when I saw the stone jar in the man's hand I did not see him do anything with it—I went back to the raft to see if my sister had come back—I then came back to the crowd—the man with the jar was not there then—the gates were then open, and the police were
in the house—I saw nothing more of the man or the jar—when the two men were at the door and my brother inside they were talking—I did no hear what was said; I had my fingers in my ears, because their language was so horrid; I could not say whether the man had been shot at that time; seeing the two men were there, I went back to the raft—I did not see the man lying in the yard—I did not see which way my brother went when he had the revolver in his hand—I followed my sister straightway—she went for the police before the shots were fired.
By the COURT. When I first went down to the raft I left the prisoner in the yard—I then saw one man on the gate; there were no men in the yard then—I returned from the raft in about ten minutes; the first time I returned to the house through the part that used to be the club-room, and went to the door, where my brother was standing, inside the door; he then had the revolver in his hand, and two men were standing on the steps, talking loudly to him, but I did not hear what passed; one of them was then holding the jar—I had heard one shot then, only one—I was then on the raft; I came back to the house in about three minutes—the pane was out of the door, so that I could see through—I did not notice whether the gates were open then; my brother was still holding the revolver—I then went back to the rafe✗; I was away just over five minutes, or a little more—I then came back in the same way to the same place—I then saw that the gates were open, and that the police were in the house; my brother was then upstairs.
THOMAS FISH (436 V). On Sunday,' July 26th, about twenty minutes past one, I was in Surrey Lane, Granville Street, and met Mrs. Symondson; she gave me some information, in consequence of which I went with her to Oak Whatf, and saw Worthey's body lying on the footway in the street; the gates were then open, and there were several people standing round—I sent for a doctor and Inspector Reynolds—I went into the yard, and saw the prisoner at the first-floor window, the bedroom—I said, "Is that you, Mr. Symondspn?—he said, "Yes. Are you a constable?"—I said, "Yes"—he then said, "Now I have protection, I will come down"—he came into the yard, and I said to him, "This is rather a serious affair"—he said, "Yes; anyone hurt?"—I said, "There is a man lying on the footway outside, and I believe he is dead"—he then commenced to say something, but I stopped him, and told him I would I rather he would wait until the inspector arrived—he said, "All I wish to I, say is, that when I fired I did not intend to hurt anyone; I did it, thinking to frighten them; they are always here annoying me; I fired in the direction of the wall"—the inspector then arrived, and he was given into custody.
Cross-examined. I took down his statement in writing as soon as I could; I was in darkness at the time; I wrote it out in about an hour. (The witness repeated what he wrote, in the exact ivords, already given.)
WILLIAM REYNOLDS (Inspector V). About 1.30 a.m. on July 26th I was called to Battersea Square—I found the dead body of Arthur Worthey in the street, close to Oak Wharf—in consequence of information I went into the yard of Oak Wharf, and found the prisoner with the last witness—I said, "I am sorry to say the man is dead, and I must take you into custody for shooting him"—he said, "I am sorry; I did it in self-defence"—I said, "Where is the revolver? have you got it?"—he replied, "No, it is
close by; it is upstairs; come, and I will give it to you"—he took me up to the back bedroom on the first floor, and pointed to this revolver (produced), lying the top of a chest of drawers—I afterwards examined it—it is six-chambered—three barrels were loaded; two contained spent cartridges, and one chamber was empty—I subsequently found in the yard a spent cartridge which fitted the revolver—the prisoner said, "There it is, inspector; I do not wish to give you any trouble in the matter"—he then commenced to tell me how it occurred—I am looking at notes I wrote in front of the prisoner at the time—I said, "I do not want you to say anything without you like to me, but what you do say I would rather put down in writing, so that I can afterwards repeat it word for word"—he then said, "They broke open my gates, and I fired two shots in self-defence; I tired one shot at the wall to frighten them; this is all through that club job; you know I have come to the station to complain about them"—on the way to the station he said, voluntarily, "They broke open the gates, and one of them had a large jar in his hand; they had been over to Carpenter's, to try and get some beer, and they said I was spying them; one of them held the jar up, and threatened to bash my brains out with it"—at the station he made no reply when the charges were read over to him—before that Jones had come to the station, and, in the prisoner's presence, made a statement—the prisoner asked Jones if he was the man who had the jar in his hand—he asked another man, Beach, a similar question—the next day, at the Police-court, he sent for me, and said, voluntarily, that he wished to make some communication—he first gave me the names and addresses of two men, and said, "They can tell you all about the history of the club"—he then said, "It was Jones who went to Carpenter's with the jar, and it was him who threatened me with it, and put it up in a position as if to hit me; Jones, when on the top of the gate, also asked the mob to hand him up a brick, and said, "I will smash the b—b—brains out"—on August 11th, outside the public-house, he referred to a small cartridge box which I had produced—I had found it in the house, empty—he said, "Since I have been at liberty I have ascertained that my wife took some cartridges from that box, and threw them into the River Thames between the time you took me from the house and when you returned"—I found the portions of the broken stone jar on the morning of the 26th, lying in the gutter, a few yards from Oak Wharf, in the street; none were inside the wharf.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries, and the prisoner bears an irreproachable character up the time he came to Battcrsea—since then, as a police officer, I have known nothing against him—I took a statement from Jones—I have the notes of it—the prisoner said Worthey and Jones had threatened to get over the gates—this is the point of Jones' statement you want: "Mr. Symondson walked inside the yard and shut the gate, and then me and Arthur Worthey threatened to get over the gates, and we both got on to the gates. I did not get over the gate, but Worthey did get over the gate"—the prisoner had complained respecting men annoying him on one occasion, and in consequence I directed constables on the four beats around the wharf to be about, to prevent any annoyance—the prisoner gave the names and addresses of the chairman and secretary of the club.
Re-examined. The whole statement of Jones is: "About half-past twelve to a quarter to one o'clock on the morning of the 26th inst., I, with Arthur Worthey, and several other men, went to Oak Walk gates. We saw Mr. Symondson standing in the gateway, and we remonstrated with him respecting his conduct in not paying out some money we con-sidered was due to us from the club, of which he was the proprietor. Mr. Symondson walked inside the yard, and shut the gate, and then me and Arthur Worthey threatened to gat over the gates, and we both got on to the gate. I did not get over the gate, but Worthey did get over the gate. I saw Mr. Symondson in the yard, and he threatened that if we got over the gate he would shoot us. I saw him fire at me, and heard the bullet strike, me on the thick of my right thigh. He afterwards fired at Worthey, and I saw Worthey fall inside the yard. I cannot say positively whether Worthey was shot while on the gate or while inside the yard, but the body was lying inside the yard after he was shot. I went into the yard after the gate had been opened, and tried to pick Worthey up to take him inside, I afterwards learned that Worthey was dead." Worthey had lived in the neighbourhood all his life—he bore an equally good character with the prisoner—he was in regular employment as a printer.
JOSEPH JOHN OATMAN . I am a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, practising at Battersea Square—I was called at 1.15 a.m. on July 26th to the deceased man, Worthey, who was lying outside Oak Wharf on his back, in the gutter—I found a bullet wound in the breast, about an inch below the left nipple, two inches to the left—the breast was exposed; someone had undone the clothing—he had been dead about a quarter of an hour; the body was quite warm—there was no blackening or singeing of the clothing—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination, with the assistance of Dr. Kempster, the divisional surgeon—I traced the bullet downwards and backwards and to the right, going through the right ventricle of the heart, through the liver into the abdominal cavity—it was lying loose in the cavity near the kidney—the bullet was the cause of death, which was practically instantaneous—the deceased would stagger forward, which is usual with such a wound—he must have been on the ground when he was shot; he could not have been on the top of the gate.
Cross-examined. He could not have walked after the wound—he must have been leaning forward, by the direction of the bullet, with the left shoulder forward.
Re-examined. If the man had dropped from the gate, and his knees had given to prevent concussion, he could have received the wound—there must have been a great bending forward for the bullet to have taken the direction it did—he would possibly stagger forward three or four feet; I do not think more than one step.
FELIX CHARLES KEMPSTER . I am divisional surgeon of the Police at Battersea—I assisted Dr. Oatraan in the post-mortem examination—I have heard his description, and agree with it—the deceased must have had his arm raised, and have been staggering forward, to account for the bullet entering and going down in a slanting direction, and with his left side towards the person firing, not full faced—the mark of the bullet was just
level with the waistcoat pocket—the bullet was found near the top of the left kidney—I examined Jones at the station.
GUILTY.—Strong and earnest recommendation to mercy on account of the very serious provocation he had previously received. — Three Months' Hard Labour.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTOX Prosecuted, and MR. ROOTH Defended at the request of the
GUILTY.—The JURY added that they desired that attention should be directed to the prisoner's mental condition.
Four Years Penal Servitude.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. RANDOLPH Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BODKIN and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted.
FREDERICK HOCKERDAY . I am second clerk to the Justices sitting at Wimbledon Petty Sessions—I was acting as clerk on July 21st, and took notes of the evidence on a charge preferred against Charles Thompson of begging, and a common assault, and stabbing Charles Oborne with a knife—the evidence of the police constable was taken, and Thompson was remanded till the next day, in consequence of the prosecutor, the present prisoner Oborne, and his witness not appearing—the next day Thompson was brought up again, and Oborne attended—he was duly sworn as a witness—I took down the evidence he gave—I product these, my original notes, which are correct: "Charles Oborne, 36, North Road, Wimbledon, paper hanger, says, 'On July 20th, about four p.m., I was in Princes Road with Thomas Brice, going towards South Park Road. Prisoner came across, and asked for some halfpence. I said, 'I have got none.' Prisoner struck at me with the stick produced. I took stick away. He closed with me. We struggled, and went to the ground. When we gyt up, prisoner ran at me with knife produced. I do not know if he picked up knife from ground. I had never seen it before. He stabbed me in the hand with knife, and Brice took it away from him. P.C. Longhurst came up, and I gave him into custody. The knife only inflicted a scratch. I went to the Police-station, and charged prisoner with begging and assault. I had come from Bridge Station, and went towards South Park Road. I went into the Freeman Arms at 1.30, and had nothing to eat there. I had a glass of ale, and nothing more. The knife produced was not brought to me with bread and cheese at the
Freeman Arms. The barmaid served ane with a glass of ale, but no bread and cheese. I first saw prisoner in Princes Road. From Freeman Arms I went to the outside of the Free Library; then to the Alexandra. I had a drop of four-ale there. I stopped there about two and a-half hours. I had two glasses of ale. We then went towards South Park Road. I had had nothing to eat since breakfast. The struggle took place in Princes Road, on the path side of the fence, not on the waste ground. There is no fence. I did not go on to the waste ground to cut off corner. (Cross-examined.) Prisoner was not lying under tree asleep I did not take stick away from him when he was lying down. Prisoner did not come after me and demand stick. I took stick from prisoner, and he tried to get it from me, I did not take the knife out of my pocket, nor see it until my friend took it from prisoner. I did not handle the knife at all. So far as I am aware, Brice did not go on waste ground. I did not get over any fence, neither did Brice. I did not go over fence and have struggle with prisoner, and go back again. I was sober, and so was Brice. (Re-called). I do not recollect getting over any fence. When the constable came up we were all at corner of Princes Bead"—Oborne was asked by the Justices whether he was aware Thompson would be very likely committed to prison, and said, "Yes"—Oborne was then asked if he was aware that if his statement was untrue he was liable to be prosecuted for perjury, and said, "Yes"—he said he was fully aware what he was doing, and persisted in his statement—Bryce was the next witness—other witnesses were produced by the police from the Freeman Arms—at the close of the case, Thompson was discharged, and the Magistrate ordered the prisoner and Bryce into custody, on the charge of perjury—they were taken into custody, formally charged, and remanded for a week in custody—the Public Prosecutor was communicated with—this is the original charge-sheet signed by Oborne.
JOSEPH DARBY . I am well known as Charles Thompson—I live at 99, Oarrett Lane, Wands worth—[ sell watercress and ferns when in season—on July 20th I was walking from Kingston to Wimbledon on my way home—the afternoon was hot, and I went on to a piece of waste ground, and to sleep under a tree—I have heard it is the Princes Road—I had this walking-stick, but no ferns or flowers—I had 6d. silver and 2 1/2d. in my right-hand trousers pocket—I had no knifo—I was woke up by the prisoner and Bryce—they were pulling me about, shaking me like—I said, "What are you doing with me? What do you want with me?"—Bryce said, "How much money have you got, old fellow?"—I said, "What has that to do with you; if you don't leave me alone I shall hit you over the head with, this stick"—I made an attempt to strike when I was on the ground, but they took the stick from me, and walked away with it—I followed them over the fence into the road—when they saw me coming they turned back, and we had another little struggle over my stick; I was determined to have my stick, and there was a gentleman coming up who turned out to be Police Constable Longhurst, in plain clothes, who said, "What is the matter with you? what is the matter here"—I said, "They have got my stick"—Oborne said, "This old man is begging, and because we won't give him nothing, he has hit me with the stick and stabbed me in the hand with a knife"—Bryce produced this knife—the constable said, "Will you charge him?"—Oborne said,
"Yes"—I had never seen the knife before—I was taken to the station and charged—all four went to the station—it was between four and five o'clock—I was in custody that night, and went before the Magistrate the next morning—the constable gave evidence—I was remanded till the next day—the first day the prisoners were not at the Court—they appeared on the Wednesday, and gave evidence against me—I was discharged, and they were taken into custody—I gave my evidence—on my trial I heard Oborne make the statement which has been read, that I had stabbed him with a knife—there was no truth in that—I did not use a knife; I had none—I did not run at him with any knife—I have passed the Freeman Arms many times—I had not been in the Freeman Arms that day.
THOMAS LONGHURST (271 V). I was on duty in plain clothes on July 20th, near Princes Road, Wimbledon—I saw Thompson, Oborne, and Bryce together—I asked them what was the matter—Oborne said, "I wish to give this man into custody for begging and stabbing"—I said, "Stabbed you where?"—he showed me a very slight flesh wound on the palm of his hand—a man might inflict such a wound with a table knife on himself—there was some slight blood—Oborne handed me the stick, and Bryce this knife, which he said he picked up—Oborne said, "I took the stick away from the old man, as he was going to strike me across the head with it," and "He came up and asked me for three halfpence towards a night's lodging, and because I did not give it to him he was going to strike me with this stick"—Bryce said Thompson had made a deliberate stab at Oborne's neck, and that Oborne, to prevent the blow, received the stab in the palm of his hand—Thompson said he knew nothing of the knife—I asked if they would charge him—they said, "Yes," and I took Thompson to the station and charged him—I saw Oborne sign the charge-sheet—I made inquiries before the prisoners appeared to give evidence—I found out the history of the knife—on the Tuesday I produced the knife and stick in court—the prisoners did not appear—I saw Bryce after the case—I warned both to attend on the Wednesday—that was after the charge-sheet had been signed and Thompson had been remanded in custody, and in consequent of instructions from the Magistrate—Oborne said he had received a letter from Croydon respecting some work, and he thought work was of more consequence than the Police-court—on July 22nd, Thompson was brought up again before the Magistrate—the prisoners and Mr. Tuskey attended—I had shown the knife to the landlord of the Freeman Arms and Miss Spray, the barmaid.
MARY SPRAY . I am barmaid at the Freeman Arms, Merton Road, Wimbledon, a fully-licensed house—on July 20th I was in charge of the bar about 12 a.m.—I know Oborue as a customer—he came in the bar with Bryce—then stopped about half an hour—they went out and came back again between two and four p.m.—Mr. Tuskey was then in the bar—they called for 1d. worth of cheese, 1d. worth of pickles, and a pint of 4d. ale—they brought the top of a loaf and some tomatoes—I served them also with a small cheese knife—I could not swear to this-knife, but it is the sort of knife we use; it is like it—we do not mark our knives—I do not think they stayed longer tlian half an hour—I gave the knife to Bryce—after they had gone Mr. Tuskey spoke to me—I did
not miss the knife, I took no notice; I do not know how many knives were in the bar—the next morning the policeman spoke to me, and showed me the knife—I attended the Court and gave evidence—I had not seen Thompson before.
JOHN TUSKEY . I live at 2, Patmerston Buildings, Wimbledon, about 100 yards from the Freeman Arms—I use the house occasionally—I was there when the prisoners came in, on the Monday before I gave my evidence at Wimbledon—I knew Oborne—I knew Bryce by name—I saw them eating bread and cheese and tomatoes—they would not have the pickles which were brought them because they were not sufficient, and the barmaid took them back—they asked for a knife, and the barmaid gave them one—it was a white-handled knife, like this—I saw Brycrt take the knife up and put it in bis pocket as they were leaving—I said something to the barmaid.
Oborne's defence teas that he was ignorant of the affair, as lie was in drink.
THOMAS LONOHUKST (Re-examined). Oborne had been drinking, but was not drunk—I took the charge—I would not take a charge made by a drunkeu man—he was not drunk when he gave evidence—there was no sign of drink about him then.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour .
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. NOBLE Defended.
FREDERICK HOCKERDAY repeated his evidence in the last case, and produced Bryce's original statement of July 22nd, as follows:—"Thomas Bryce, 4, Myrtle Cottages, Nelson Grove Road, plasterer, says: On July 20tb, I saw prisoner in Princes Road between 4.30 and 5 p.m. I was coming from Alexandra with last witness along Princes Road. We met prisoner at corner of Princes Road on same side of road. He said, I have got a halfpenny; will you give me three halfpence. I havfe a top of a loaf, and want some beer to wash it down? Prisoner got up off grass and walked towards us. Oborne said he had no coppers to give him. Prisoner lifted his stick, and hit at Oborne with it. They struggled, and fell to ground. When they got up I saw knife produced drop from prisoner's hand. I saw prisoner stab Oborne in hand with knife, and saw blood corning from his hand. I picked up knife irom ground, and gave it to constable. I did not take it from prisoner. Oborne gave prisoner into custody for stabbing him in the hand and begging. I first met Oborne in Morton at 12.30. We went to Dog and Partridge, and had two half-pints of ale; then to the Freeman, and had half-pint of ale there. We had nothing to. eat there. I never saw knife until it dropped from prisoner's hand. I did not have it handed to me at Freeman Arms. I noticed the stamp on it when I picked it up. The knife was not brought to me with the bread and cheese, nor was it taken by me or Oborue from the Freeman. We went from Freeman to Alexandra, and stopped there until about 4.10. When I saw prisoner first he was coming from inside Held towards fence. He was on same side of road when we met him. We saw prisoner lying down irom, a distance. We weat up to fence. Prisoner was then on his feet, and asked for coppers There was a fence between us. We got over on to waste ground, and
prisoner was there. Prisoner was riot asleep. We did not go up and take away his stick. We got over fence to cut off corner. Before struggle we were not going off with prisoner's stick. We never interfered with prisoner. Neither I nor Oborne took the knife from our pocket. I never saw knife until it fell from prisoner's hand. The struggle took place inside fence. When constable came up we were standing in Clarence Road with prisoner. We had got over fence, and prisoner followed us. The barmaid at Freeman Arms did not give me knife with bread and cheese."
Cross-examined. Neither Bryce nor Oborne were present on July 21st—the prisoners were called inside and outside the Court—the Court waited twenty minutes.
Cross-examined. I believe Bryce had been drinking—I had not been drinking—when water-cress is not in season I sell ferns and flowers—I get them in the wood at East Grinstead—I generally use a knife, but it is a shut-up one—I had the top of a loaf—I had cut it with a knife at my lodgings before I started—that is a private, not a public-house—I generally live at 99, Garrett Lane, but I go into the country for wild flowers—I have got my living in this way since I had my foot smashed about twelve yearn ago—I go to East Grinstoad and back again—I never beg—I threatened to use my stick because I was very angry, but I had no chance; they took it away—I never saw any blood on Oborne's hand.
THOMAS LONGHURST (271 V) repeated his former evidence, and added;—I visited 4, Myrtle Cottages, and told Bryce that I had been told by the Magistrate to warn him and Oborne to attend the Petty Sessions at Wimbledon, "to morrow morning, Wednesday"—he said he was at the Court, waiting for Oborne, and he did not come because Oborne did not.
Cross-examined. Bryce had been drinking; Thompson had not—there were no signs of it—the cut on the hand could not have been inflicted by a stick—I know nothing against Thompson—I have made careful inquiries—when Oborne gave his evidence Bryce was out of Court.
Cross-examined. There is nothing extraordinary about the knife—Bryce did not appear to be intoxicated.
Cross-examined. The prisoner put the knife in his pocket very careully, as if he intended to steal it—he was close to me—I was behind him—he had had a drop to drink, but not too much; he knew what he was doing.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
716. JOSEPH CHRISTOPHER CHANDLER (24) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Joseph Richard Chandler, and stealing one coat, one pair of boots, and one dulcimer, having been convicted at Lambeth on April 9th, 1894. His father stated that he was of iveak intellect.— Judgment Respited. And
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted.
JAMES BRITT . I am a hawker, of 25, Hollington Street, Camberwell—the prisoner is my brother—he does not live with me—on Sunday, September 6th, about eight p.m., he called on me and asked me for 1s. for the contents of a basket—I said, "You can have the basket, but not the contents; I have something better to do with my shillings"—he caught hold of my collar, pushed me back on an arm-chair bedstead, and stabbed me in my back—I bled awful—I went downstairs, and fell when I got to the bottom, and have no more recollection—Dr. Phillips attended me.
Cross-examined by tlie Prisoner. The basket was lent, but you had one of your own—you did not say, "Give me the 1s., and I will leave the basket and its contents—we did not struggle, and the knife run into my neck—you did not assist me all you possibly could—it is an oyster knife.
EMILY BRITT . I am the wife of the last witness—the prisoner is my brother-in-law; he called at our house on Sunday, September 6th, at 8.15, and said "Jim, have you got that basket"—he said, "Yes"—the prisoner said, "Give it to me"—my husband said, "I shan't give it to you if you are going to sell it"—the prisoner said, "You have had me two or three times, and I will have you to-night," and took him by his collar with his right hand, took a knife out of his pocket, and stabbed him with his left hand as he sat in a chair bedstead—I screamed "Murder"—my husband could not hold him any longer, and staggered downstairs—the policeman found the knife by the leg of the bedstead.
Cross-examined. You said that you would do for him that night.
JOHN ACOTT (140 L). I was sent for, and found the prosecutor in the room, holloaing, "I have been stabbed!"—blood was flowing from the right side of his neck—I laid him on the pavement, and sent for a doctor—the prisoner came out and said, "I did it; I shan't run away"—I went upstairs and found this knife, covered with blood.
GEORGE PHILLIPS . I am a surgeon, of 129, Camberwell Road—I was sent for to see the prosecutor, and found him bleeding from a wound on the right side of his neck, about a quarter of an inch deep—he had lost a lot of blood—this knife would be a likely instrument to cause it—it was in a dangerous part, half an inch from the carotid artery.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I did not do it with no intention to do harm."
Prisoner's defence. It is entirely an accident; I simply picked up a knife out of the basket; we fell on a chair, and the knife went into his throat. I offered all the assistance I could, and asked the doctor if I should get brandy. We had both been drinking together.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
the beat turned his light on us, and the prisoner ran down the field—we ran and caught him, and said. "What are you doing here?"—he said, "I caine here to ease myself"—I said, "What were you doing at the horse's head?"—he said, "Nothing; I have just come from Wimbledon"—I took him back to the horse, and this halter was on him—I said, "How do you account for this?" and called his attention to the halter being perfectly dry, and it had been raining for two hours—he said that he came from Wimbledon, and was going across the fields to Acton—I said, "That is a mile and a-half out of your way"—he said that he knew the way perfectly well.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you put the halter on; it was too dark—the halter was only wet where it had dragged on the grass, because the horse ran away when the constable turned his light on, and Crawford had to run after him.
Cross-examined. I got over the fence gate—the halter was dragging on the grass—it had been raining for some hours; it was wet three or four inches.
WILLIAM MARTIN (489 V). On Septemtar 2nd, in the early morning, I was on duty in May Lane, Barnes, and saw two men—I turned my light on them, and saw two policemen—they ran along the fence, and I saw the prisoner run away from the horse, which was near the gate, with a halter on his head.
CHARLES PATRICK . I am coachman to Mr. Stanley Wood Keen; he has a field in May Lane—I left a horse, worth £50, there on the evening of September 1st; he had on the head of a halter, but no rope—this rope is not my master's property; I cannot account for how it got on the horse's head—Pritchard called me up; I went into the meadow, and found the horse, with the halter perfectly dry.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he was in the field for a temporary purpose, and that the constables had made up their evidence.
GUILTY .—He had also been convicted at Winchester in January, 1887.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MOSES Prosecuted, and MR. WILLS Defended.
SIDNEY HERBERT JONES . I am a merchant, of 6, Redcliffe Square—on July 3rd, about 4.15 p.m., I was at the Bull's Head public-house—there were a lot of people there—I heard a click, and saw my chaitt dangling from my waistcoat, and the prisoner's hand leaving my waist-coat—I held him, and sent for a constable—he tried to get away twice—it was a gold watch, worth £25.
Cross-examined. I was with two or three others—this public-house stands back from the road, and I got off a coach—there was a great crowd—the prisoner was standing on my left, a little way from the counter—he offered to be searched, and turned out one pocket.
prisoner was close by—Mr. Jones said, "This man has got my watch"—I said, "We had better keep him here"—he evidently had friends there—it is a small bar, and it was pretty well full—there might have been twenty people there.
ARTHUR LOW . I live at 19, Sherbrook Road, Fulham—I was with Jones and Mears, and saw the prisoner follow us in; we had just reached the counter when Jones called out, "I have lost my watch; this man has taken it—the prisoner then moved ten feet away; I detained him—he tried to escape, and jumped on a form to get away—I held him till a policeman came—he knocked two glasses over in trying to get away.
FREDERICK PIKE (Police Sergeant 82 V). On July 13th, about 4.15, I was called to the bar of the Bull's Head, and saw the prisoner detained—the prosecutor said, "This man has stolen my watch"—the prisoner turned out one of his pockets, and several men came and tried to take him away—17s. 6d. was found on him, and a return ticket, but no watch—the prosecutor's chain was hanging from his waistcoat.
Cross-examined. There were thousands of people on the towing-path, and forty or fifty at the bar—it was a very hot day.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this COURT on September 12th, 1892.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, E*q.
MR. LYNE Prosecuted, and MR. PUBCELL Defended.
HERBERT SMITH . I live at 74, St. John's Road, Olapham Junction, and am manager to Mrs. Munn—on July 23rd I found, on going to the shop in the morning, that the shutters had been forced, and entrance gained from the street, and a large number of gold and silver watches, gold chains and bracelets were missing—we had lost about £500 of goods—the shop was in general confusion—on the previous day I saw the shop was fastened up and all secure at 2 p.m., because it was the early closing day—I have been shown eight or ten watches, which I identify; the stock numbers have been altered. (MR. PURCELLM said that he did not question—the identity of the watches.)
Cross-examined. We lost seventy-three watches, twenty-eight chains, forty bracelets, 150 brooches, forty-one links and solitaires, fifty studs, etc., over 400 articles altogether—since then I have only seen ten of those articles, and they are all watches.
THOMAS CHOPPIN . I am assistant to Hurland, a pawnbroker, of Cherkenwell—these two silver watches were pledged with me by a woman, who gave the name of Green. (Margaret Webb was called into Court.) That—is the woman.
Cross-examined. One of them was pledged on August 5th, and the other on July 31st—I advanced 8s. on each.
Kyd went to 28, Syrett Street, the prisoner's workshop, which adjoins his residence, No. 30—I found there these ten pawn-tickets—eight of these watches have been identified.
Cross-examined. The workshop is that of a watch-maker—I found there the usual appliances of a small jobbing watch-maker—I was with Kyd when he arrested the prisoner; after that we went to his house—I cannot say if, when we arrested him, he was a few doors from a place to which a small jobbing man would take watches to have the finishing touches put to the outside—the case was off one watch—he has been at Syrett Street for seven or eight years, to my knowledge.
THOMAS KYD (Detective Sergeant G). At 3.30 on August 11th I arrested a woman in Langton Street, St. Luke's, for pledging watches that had been stolen from Lavender Hill on July £3rd—from what she said, I kept observation on 28, Syrett Street, and I saw the prisoner come from that address and go into Lever Street—I stopped him, and told him I was a Police-officer, and that I had a woman, who had given the name of Mrs. Cox, detained at the Police-station, for pledging watches stolen from Lavender Hill on July 23rd, and I said, "She said you gave them to her to pledge"—he said, "I suppose that is correct"—I took him into custody—at the Police-station Mrs. Cox said, "That is the man"—I read to the prisoner the statement she had made.
Cross-examined. I have heard that Sergeant Winzer saw the prisoner wien he was in the cells—Winzer is here—I cannot say if Inspector Harris went with Winzer.
JOHN WALTER . I am a pawnbroker, at 106, Aldersgate Street—this silver watch was pawned on August 1st for 8s. by a man giving the names of John Jones, 9, Playhouse Street—I did not know him by sight, and I could not identify him.
Cross-examined. I have been in business a great many years—it is frequently the practice for jobbing watchmakers to pledge articles for a short time; sometimes they can get more from the pawnbrokers than from a customer—I do not do business on those terms—we advance the full value on jewellery, because we expect it will be redeemed, and the interest will be larger—in the majority of cases, things are redeemed; on those not redeemed we lose.
JOHN CLEVERLY . I am assistant to Thomas Allworthy, a pawnbroker, of 127, King's Cross Road—these two silver watches were pledged, one on July 28th by Margaret Stewart, for 10s., and the other on August
21st, by John Jones, of Margate Street, for 6s.—I could not identify those persons.
Cross-examined. They are all silver—I have been shown another one.
AUGUSTIN HARRIS (Inspector V}. On July 23rd I went to Mrs. Munn's shop and found entrance had bee a effected by forcing the bolt of the revolving shutter at the bottom, and afterwards forcing the door leading into the shop, apparently with a jemmy—I found property had been taken from show-cases in the window; cases were strewn on the floor—the electric wires were separated near the fanlight over the door leading to the shop, and that cut off communication with the other part of the premises.
Cross-examined. The prisoner lost his wife on Whit Tuesday—I was with her for the seventeen weeks she was ill—he has one daughter, aged fourteen—the home depends on his earnings—after his wife's death I and his sister-in-law have taken care of his place—he gave me these things to pawn as he was. short of money, and his daughter was ill, and he said he wanted the money to send her into the country—she went into the country—I have known him about six years—I have not been going backwards and forwards there for more than about twelve months—I knew him by sight, not to speak to—I knew his wife—when the police stopped me, I told them at once he had given me the things to pawn, and I said where they could find him, and gave his name and address.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LYNE Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
LOUIS PARZER . I am superintendent of the Grosvenor Hotel, Pimlico—on August Bank Holiday I was at the Hurst Park races, in the 2s. 6d. ring, standing on the third step, watching a race—when it was nearly finished I got pushed from the top, and had to hold myself to keep up, and directly after I missed my watch and chain—two buttons were undone—I told a policeman—this is my watch—I do not identify any one.
ANDREW KYD (Detective Sergeant G). I arrested the prisoner on the other charge on August 11th—I told him to take any property he had from his pockets—he brought this watch-case from his trousers pocket—I searched his premises, and found the works of this watch; the number on the works corresponds with the number on the case—I asked him if he had any explanation to give—he said, "No."
Cross-examined. It was just after I had told him he would be charged with giving the woman watches to pawn—he was near a burnisher's shop.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. OLIVER Prosecuted.
RHODA KELLY . I am the wife of John Kelly, of 13, St. Stephen's Square, Tabard Street, Borough—on October 13th, 1890, I went to St. John's Church, Kilburn, where the prisoner was married to Selina Bad-cock—a certificate was given to her by the clergyman.
SARAH ROSE HUETSON . I live at 1, Gilbert Street, Southwark Bridge Road—in December, 1895, I went through ceremony of marriage with the prisoner at All Hallows' Church—I believed him to be single—the clergyman gave me a certificate—I had known him a year and some months—I first heard of his former marriage last March.
ALFRED BOWLER (283 D). I was present in Marylebone Police-court on March 4th, 1896, when an order was made against the prisoner for 12s. 6d. for the maintenance of his wife, Selina, who was present at the time—I served that order on the prisoner at his address.
WILLIAM GENTLE (Detective Sergeant). I arrested the prisoner on August 15th, and charged him with unlawfully marrying Sarah Rose Huetson while his wife was alive—he said, "Yes, you have made a mistake; I live with a woman, but I have never married her"—I told him I had been to the church and seen the register, and knew he was married, and he said, "Yes, it is quite right; I did marry her; I could not stand the other one"—a constable brought him to the station.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that his wife, left him in 1894; that when working in Southampton he heard she was dead; and as he could hear no news of her on his return to London, and believed she was dead, he married again.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. RANDOLPH Prosecuted.
LAZARUS JOSEPH . I am a wholesale stationer, at 55, Great Eastern Street, Shoreditch—in April last the prisoner entered my employ as traveller on the terms of 7 1/2 per cent, on sales, 1 1/4 per cent. on the collection of accounts, and a nominal salary of £1 a year paid quarterly—he obtained orders for me—it was his duty when he was in my neighbour-hood to call, and he had to call once a week—my clerk knows more about the details of the business.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not at first agree to pay three different commissions on different goods, and afterwards ask you to take 7 1/2 per cent. all round—you had to get a connection—you showed me an order-book; the prices were very good—you brought several customers—I know nothing about your complaining that we were three weeks behind
n✗the execution of your orders, and that you could not get your commission; and that you should not send in any more orders till we had executed the orders in hand—you owed me money, and ought to have called on Saturday, and you kept away—you had a statement of what was due from you; the balance was in our favour; I asked you to deduct what was due to you, and forward the balance; you did not turn up, and, after giving you ample time, we put it into the hands of the Guarantee Society—you called at my house; you should have called at the office—I did not say the prices of your goods were not good enough—I said we could not execute orders if we did not get the money for them—I have been in the paper trade all my life, but only twelve months at my present place—you did not say on June 27th that you should keep away till the three weeks' orders had been executed.
Re-examined. I gave no notice; my difficulty was he would not come.
GEORGE WINTLE . I am a cowkeeper, at 25, High Street, Stratford—I am a customer of Lazarus Joseph—on June 18th I paid the prisoner for Joseph 10s. 2d., and he gave me back 3d. and this receipt for 9s. 11d.
Cross-examined. The price was fair, and the goods the same as I ordinarily had.
ERNEST CASTELL . I live at 102, Gortland Road, Forest Gate—I am employed by my brother, a grocer, and a customer of Joseph—I paid the prisoner, as Joseph's traveller, 16s. 4d. on June 25th, and he gave me this receipt.
Cross-examined. There was an allowance of 1s. 3d. and 5d. discount—the allowance was for bags not up to the proper standard; there were about 100 short in 1,000—my brother did not say anything to me about the goods being inferior.
NELLY JONES . I am the wife of Ebenezer Jones, a dairyman, of West Ham, who trades as Jones Brothers—he is a customer of Joseph—on June 28th I paid the prisoner, as Joseph's traveller, £1 2s. 8d., and he gave me this receipt.
CHARLES JOSEPH . I am employed by Lazarus Joseph, a stationer, of 55, Great Eastern Street—I do the clerical work of the office—the prisoner accounted to me once a week for the orders he got, and the sums he collected—our custom is to send out statements to our customers about the 1st of every month—we received this statement, "F," on June 20th, purporting to show the amounts collected for the week up to June 20th—there is no note there of the receipt of 9s. 11d. from Wintle on June 18th or any other day in the week—the prisoner attended at the office on June 29th and handed me this statement, "G," purporting to show the the collections since the previous list—there is no mention on it of 16s. 4d. collected from Castell on June. 25th, or on any other day, or of the £1 2s. 8d. collected on June 28th from Jones, or on any other day, or of the collection of the 9s. 11d. from Wintle—the prisoner did not say he had received any amounts from Wintle, Jones, or Castell—I did not send out the usual monthly statement to the prisoner's customers on July 1st, because we had then received this letter from the prisoner: "I hereby enclose one order which please deliver within a week; I have collected several accounts for May, so please do not send in any May statements until I pay in on Saturday; also please get a list of June statements for
me on Saturday. If you can manage it I should like a duplicate set of June statements instead of a list"—he did not attend after June 29th—a statement was sent to him showing £1 11s. 6d. due to him, and he was asked to deduct that from what was due to us, and forward the balance—he did not do it—I did not see him at the office after June 29th; I met him in the street.
Cross-examined. I could not say when I met you in the street—I said there was £2 due to you on Saturday—I did not say that £2 was covered by £2 you had had on account, and that you had nothing to draw—I asked you what you had done with your orders all the week, and you said something to the effect that you should not send any more orders in till we had executed those in hand—I said I had heard you had been sending your orders to another firm—it was arranged that you should have 7 1/2 per cent. when you began, and the first accounts were drawn up according to that—no salary was due to you: you would have received it; if you had called at the office; it would be due some time in July.
Re-examined. No balance was due to him till he had paid in what he collected—his commission was paid up to June 29th, and he signed for it; there was a small sum due for collecting; but we were working that off the amount he received on account, so that the balance was in our favour considerably—he has never accounted in any way for the payments by Wintle, Castell, or Jones.
By the Prisoner. You brought a connection when you came to us—you did not put so many as 150 customers on our books—I should not think your customers produced £300.
The Prisoner, in his defence, asserted that it was a question of account between him and the prosecutors, and that he had said he should want compensation for the injury done to his connection through the supply of in-ferior goods, and delay.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RANDOLPH offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
Upon the indictment to which the prisoner had
PLEADED GUILTY, he was sentenced to Six Months' Hard Labour .
729. GEORGE RICHES (20) and GEORGE ROBINSON (15) , to breaking and entering the shop of Alfred Percival, and stealing various articles therein. RICHES also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in February, 1895.— Discharged on Recognizances.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
732. CHA LES WILLIAM QUINCE (19) , to stealing, whilst employed in the post-office, two letters containing postal orders for 3s. and 3s. 6d.— Eight Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted.
WILLIAM STOREY . I am a sawyer, of 12, Sandy Road, Stratford—I was in the employ of Shuter, Chippendale and Colyer, but am not now—the prisoner was the foreman—he paid me, as my wages, on August 22nd, £1 5s. 3d.; I had only earned £1 1s. 9d.—I signed this receipt (produced) for the £1 5s. 3d.—I made nothing out of it—I said I did not care about getting into trouble—he said, "If you don't do what I tell you, you will he dismissed"—he dismissed me just one week afterwardu, but I got a situation in another department of the same firm.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said that if I did not do what you told me I was to go; and afterwards you demanded the money of me—that system has been going on about four months.
By the COURT. I have received in this way from 1s. to 6s. 6d., or 2s. a a week for four months—the most he ever took was 3s.—I sometimes gave him the money outside his office—in every case I gave him a receipt for the full amount—when he asked me to sign the receipt for £1 5s. 3d., I told him I had only received £1 1s. 9d.—he told me the number of hours I had worked, and I had to take whatever he chose to pay me.
JAMES STEPTOE . I am a sawyer of 79, Langthorne Street, Stratfonj—on August 17th, I was in the prosecutor's employ under the prisoner, and on August 22nd £1 4s. was due to me for wages; £1 7s. was given me which I signed for, and the prisoner said that I was to give the 3s. back to him, which I did outside the door—I told him two or three times that it was wrong—that has been going on since February, at from 2s. to 4s. a week—I always gave it to him—he discharged me on August 29th.
Cross-examined. You did not show me kindness in doing work that I could not do—I have drunk with you—when we start we sign a paper to obey the foreman.
THOMAS RICKBTTS . I am a skive turner, of 7, East Street, Stratford, and am in the prosecutor's employ—on August 22nd I signed a receipt for £1 6s. 8d. when £1 1s. 8d. was due to me, and the week before that I lent the prisoner 5s.; when he paid me, he put his hand in his pocket and said, "There is the 5s. I borrowed of you," and I signed for £1 6s. 8d.
JOSEPH HENRY DAVIS . I am a skive turner, in the prosecutor's employ—on August 22nd the prisoner paid me £1 3s. for the week, and I signed for £1 5s.—I did not ask him what the 2s. was for; he put that in his own pocket—that has been going on since February—I spoke to him, and he said, "Mind your own business"—I spoke to him again in August, and told him it was wrong, and he said he Would discharge me; he had the power to do so.
HENRY WALKER . I am senior foreman cooper to the prosecutor—I had to pay the prisoner money, but as far as his department went he was supreme—I kept check by counting, and the book was sent in once a week—I book the time in this book Storey's £1 1s. 9d. is totted up to make £1 5s. 6d., and I accepted that in good faith from him—the prisoner was employed there from 1887 to 1891, and then he left, and came again in, December last, and stopped up to August—with regard to
these four cases, I paid him £1 5s. 3d., £1 6s. 8d., £1 7s., and £1 5s., and it was his duty to pay the money out to the boys without deduction—I trusted him.
Cross-examined. When there has been a penny too much you have brought it back, and when it was too little.
Re-examined. He did not give me 3s. from Steptoe, 2s. from Davis, 3s. 6d. from Storey, or 5s. from Ricketts—he had no right to represent that £1 1s. 9d. had been earned instead of £1 5s. 3d., and to pay the boy next week; his duty was to pay the boy the money he received—if he wanted to lend money, he would have to do it out of his own pocket.
The Prisoner produced a written defence, stating that if more work was booked in any case than the boys had done; it was through pressure of business, and that he always paid them all the money that was on their vouchers, and denied doing anything with a fraudulent intent.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Month's Hard Labour .
MR, CANCELLOR Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
ALFRED WILLIAM MATHEWS . I keep the Heneker public-house, Stratford—the entrance is in the Grove; I have no private entrance—on Sunday, August 23rd, I left the house and fastened it with a bar across the gate and a padlock on it—there was £17 in the till—about 5.10 one of my servants gave me information; I went to Manley Grove, and saw two men running—I followed the prisoner; he ran to the Manley Arms; I saw his face as he turned each corner—when I had gone about six yards he made two steps towards me, and I put my hand on him—he said, "What do you want?"—I said, "You are like me, pumped out?"—two constables came up, and took him back about four yards, and just inside a stable-gate they picked up some silver and copper lying loose—as I went back two or three persons gave me small sums, amounting to £5 7s. 10d.; Mr. Fox gave me £4 10s. of it—the premises had been entered by the padlock being forced and taken away—I also missed two packets of cigarettes from the bar—I know this box of cigarettes, because when I went to open it three of them dropped out; I tried to put them back, but could not, as the silver paper burst; I smoked one—they are not such as I sell; they were used for ornaments on the shelf.
Cross-examined. My wife was first in the street, and when I came out, the two men were about thirty yards off I did not see them inside—the prisoner was exhausted from running, but not excited.
LILY WAKEFIELD . I am nurserymaid to Mr. Heneker—on Sunday, August 23rd, between 4.40 and five p.m. I went into the dining-room—the door between there and the bar was not open then, it was locked, but I saw two men in the bar, through the window, and went and told the other servant—I saw them again running down the road.
Cross-examined. They did not see me—I cannot identify the prisoner.
nursery; a communication was made to lue by my servant—I ran down into Manley Grove, saw two men and pointed them out to my husband.
WILLIAM HOPK (K). On August 23rd, shortly after five p.m., I was in Manley Grove, and saw two men running, followed by Mr. Mathews; we overtook the prisoner, he was exhausted by running—I found in the doorway of the Manley Arms a shilling and two pennies—he said, "I know nothing about that"—at the station he said, "I know nothing about it; the charge is false."
OSCAR THOMAS (K). I was with Hope, and took part in this chase—I went by a aide street, came round, and met the prisoner—he took something from his pocket, threw it in a gateway, and walked deliberately round a corner—Mr. Mathews and I went and looked, and found 20s. in silver and 2d. in bronze.
Cross-examined. I did not see a man go into the stable—there was only me and the prisoner in the street—I did not see anyone go into the stable or yard—the prisoner was out of breath.
CHARLES FINDEN (Police Sergeant). I received the prisoner in custody on August 23rd, and found on him two boxes of cigarettes, a half-sovereign, 5s. 6d. in silver, a key, and a lead pencil—the premises had been entered either by a false key or by breaking the lock away—the till had been emptied, and a packet of farthings opened—they do not fasten the house much in the daytime, they padlock the gates together; but at night it is fastened differently.
JOHN FOX . I live at Manley Grove, Stratford—on August 23rd I heard a noise, looked out, and saw some men running, chased by two or three men, the landlord and a railway guard—I went out and saw some money lying about—I collected about £4 15s., and handed it to Mr. Mathews.
Cross-examined. I do not identify the prisoner.
FREDERICK PATTON (Railway Guard G.E.R.). I was in Manley Grove on August 23rd, and saw two men running towards me—I tried to stop them, but the first struck me with a stick, and the second with his fist, and cut my eye—I saw Mr. Mathews identify him.
Cross-examined. He was not placed with other men when I went to the Police-court—I saw him before he went into the dock—a policeman was not talking to me.
JOHN HERBERT BUFFAN . I live at Water Lane, Stratford—on August 23rd I was at my window and saw two men run down Manley Grove, the prisoner was one of them—he took some money from his pocket and threw it away—I never lost sight of him.
Cross-examined. I ran round by another street to stop him—I identified him in the dock.
ELIZABETH NEWTON . I am barmaid at the Lord Henneker Hotel—on the evening of August 23rd I was dusting a shelf and saw eleven boxes of cigarettes on it, and after the place had been broken into there were only nine.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Newington on July 14th, 1894, and two other convictions were proved against him.— Three Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted.
ANNIE ALFEBNON . I live with my husband at West Hani—on August 12th I saw the prisoner—she called me a b——Irish cow, and when she came back she repeated the same—she was drunk—I said, "I will see you to-morrow morning, when you are sober"—she struck me on my cheek with a knife, and said, "Take that," and I was taken to a doctor.
Cross-examined by the Prisorter. I did not burst your door open, nor have I done so many a time.
JOHN HOARE . I am a ship's steward—on August 12th I was in my room, heard a noise, looked out, and saw the prisoner—she called Mrs. Alfernon an Irish old cow—I saw her hand up, and Mrs. Alfernon called out, "Mr. Hoare, I am stabbed!"—I did not see Mrs. Alfernon hit the prisoner—I think Mrs. Alfernon was sober; she spoke to me just before.
Cross-examined. I cannot say that the Irish woman is a nuisance at your house—she did not break the windows and doors—I have not been able to sleep till five a.m through the noises in your house—you drink a good deal more than is good for you.
ANGUS KENNEDY . I am assistant divisional surgeon of West Ham—I was fetched to the station and examined Mrs. Alfernon—she had a wound on her right cheek three inches long, extending to her lip—she was sober—there will be a permanent scar.
EGEBTON PRATT (Policeman) I arrested the prisoner at her house on August 12th, and told her it was for stabbing Mrs. Alfernon—she said, "I have had a lot to putup with from this woman"—I have known her some time—there were no marks on her.
Cross-examined. I went into the kitchen—you did not say that you had not done it.
Prisoner's Defence. I was in bed at 8.30, and at 10.15 I heard a row at the door. I jumped out of bed, and my lodger came out without his trousers. My husband went out the other side, and the police came and said that I was to go to the station.
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN TURNER . I am in the prosecutor's employ—on August 3rd I saw the prisoner at shed 24—I noticed him at a case, and when I got to the other side of the shed I turned round and saw him with a bag, which he placed behind some blue coal, which is a kind of sugar—I took it and gave it to Mr. Bartlett, the superintendent—it contained two pneumatic tyres—the case contained tyres which had come from America—the prisoner was working there as a dock labourer.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I never saw the shedman or the watchman in the shed at all—I did not see your coat on the box as I passed.
JOHN WALTER BARTLETT . I am superintendent to Jones and Co.—on August 1st Turner made a communication to me, and I went to the shed and saw a bag containing two india-rubber tyres, which came from a case in No. 24 shed—I diarged the prisoner in the evening.
Cross-examined. I was not in the shed when you were arrested—I rubbed you down; you had your coat and trousers on
WILLIAM HENRY GRADLEY . I am a dock constable—I took the prisoner, and told him it was for stealing two bicycle tyres from a shed—he said, "What a fool I am, Gradley; give me a chance, and let me go" he took two spanners from his left pocket and threw them behind the barrels—I obtained them, and told him he would be chaiged with stealing them from a case—he said, "Have not you got sufficient against me?"—I went to the tyre case and found it had been broken, and Mr. Allen found that the spanner case had been broken—I asked him to come across to Shed 24 to receive his coat—he said, "That is my waistcoat, and that is my coat"—Clifton brought a coat, and said, "What is this? here is a tin of fish in the pocket"—the prisoner said, "Good God! there are others in it as well as me."
Cross-examined. I came to the shed through 24 and 26 openings—I came straight into the shed, and you were in the centre of it—I told you I should take you in custody for stealing two bicycle tyres—I rubbed you down on account of you throwing the spanners away—here is a sample of them—you were in the office about half an hour—I did not take you across at once, because the ferry-boat had ceased running.
ALFRED WILLIAM CLIFTON . On August 1st I was present when the prisoner was in custody—he said, "My God! What a fool I have been! give me a chance, and let me go, Gradley; there are others in it"—between 24 and 26 shed he put his hand in his pocket and threw something away—I fetched his coat, and found a tin of salmon in it—he said, "There are others in it."
Cross-examined. I saw nothing in your hand—I did not see you hold op your hand in the shed—you had nothing on you when you were searched.
HARRY ELAN ALLEN . I am the prosecutor's foreman—on Saturday, August 1st, my attention was called to a case of tyres, which was broken open—I cannot say how many were gone—my attention was also called to a broken case of spanners, and to a case of salmon, which was not properly nailed down, but only one tin was taken—the brand was similar to the one produced.
Cross-examined. I saw Mr. Phillips in the shed—there were thirty harrels of port wine there—the shed-man was not there; he was in the lock-up—anything found in the shed is always taken to the lockup.
The Prisoner, in his defence, denied stealing anything, and said that the charge was made through spite.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Chelmsford on October 15th, 1890.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
few minutes to five, the prisoners came in together—Godsell called for two halves of ale—I served him; he gave me 1s.—it was put down on the bar very carefully, so that I could not hear it—I took it up, examined it, and found it was bad—Mr. Watson was there—Godsell made out that he knew him, and lived in one of his houses—I gave Godsell 9d. change—they drank the ale and left—I put the 1s. in the till by itself, and then showed it to Mr. Watson—I followed the prisoners down Flower Street about 150 yards, met a constable, and told him—I gave them into custody—I kept the 1s. till I got to the station, and then handed it to the constable—I put no other 1s. in the till after that—no customers came in, and I was watching the till the whole time—this is the 1s.—it has a cross on it; the detective marked it.
Cross-examined by Davis. You were there with Godsell, and you looked as if you knew as much about it as he did—you were at his side when it was put down.
HERBERT BAKER (450 A). On July 9th I was on duty at Woolwich about five p.m.—Friday pointed out two men to me—I went up to them—I saw a quantity of money in Davis's hand, and Godsell was handing something to him—I said, "You will be charged with being concerned together in uttering counterfeit coin"—they made no reply—I handed Godsell to Jeffries, as Davis ran away—I pursued him about 250 yards, overtook him, and took him back—I found on Godsell 2d. and some laces, and on Davis 1s. 5d. in bronze, several shillings, and five half-ounces of tobacco—Friday handed me this 1s.
HENRY JEFFRIES (142 R). Shortly after 5 p.m. on July 9th I was at the door of the Police-station and received Godsell—on the way to the charge-room he said, "You don't want my mate, then?"—I went to the door, and saw Baker pursuing a man, but I only saw his back.
ALMA ALICE HORNSEY . I live at the Henley Arms, North Woolwich, kept by my father—on July 9th I was serving in the bar—Godsell came in about two o'clock, or a little after, and asked for a glass of mild and bitter, price 1 1/2d.—he gave me 1s.—it looked rather dark, and I showed it to my cousin in his presence; he could hear what I said; he made no remark—my cousin showed it to my father in my presence—my father told Godsell it was bad, and asked him if he had any more like it—he said it was not bad, and it was the only one he had—the beer was taken away, and the money returned to him—I saw him again a fortnight afterwards, and picked him out from several other men—this is the coin; it is an old 1s. of the present reign.
EDWARD HORNSEY . I keep the Henley Arms, North Woolwich—the last witness is my daughter—I saw Godsell there on July 9th, and while he was there a coin was shown to me—I found it bad, and said, "This is a bad one; have you got any more like this?"—he said, "No, I have got no more money"—I took the ale away, and gave him the coin—it felt very smooth.
HENRY RUTHERFORD (Detective R). I saw Godsell in custody, and saw, "You are charged with attempting to utter a bad shilling at the Henley Arms on Monday night"—he said, "I know nothing about it; I have not been in the house for six months"—Miss Hornsey had been to the station, and picked him out.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: Godsell says, "I did not know the shilling was bad." Davis says, "I do not know what coin Godsell changed; I paid no attention at all."
The prisoners produced written statements to the same effect.
—They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions—Godsell on January 3rd, 1896, of unlawfully having counterfeit coins in his possession; and Davis, on June 27th, 1892, of feloniously having counterfeit coin in his possession. Twelve Month's Hard Labour each.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, OCTOBER 19TH, 1896.