CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 19TH, 1896.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED, BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ., Q.C.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OK ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, October 19th, 1896, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR WALTER WILKIN , Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. ROBERT SAMUEL WRIGHT , one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir JAMES CLABKE LAWRENCE, Bart., Sir JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS, Bart., Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M.P., Sir JOSEPH SAVORY , Bart., M.P., Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; Lieut.-Col. HORACE DAVID DAVIES , M.P., ALFRED JAMES NKUTON, Esq, FRANK GREEN , Esq., JOHN POUND , Esq., WALTER VAUGIIAN MORGAN Esq., FREDERICK PRATT ALLISTON, Esq., and RICHARD CLARENCE HALSE , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
ROBERT HARGREAVES ROGERS, Esq.
WEBSTER GLYNES, Esq.
RICHARD CLARENCE HALSK, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
WILKIN, MAYOR. TWELFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that thay have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 19th 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
[For the case of DARIUS STREET, tried this day, see Kent Cases.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 19th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. MOSES Prosecuted, MR. WARBURTON appeared for Gregory and MR. COHEN for Wilks.
NOT GUILTY .
740. WILLIAM GRUB (27) and HENRY STEWART (25) to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Batten, and stealing four spoons and other articles, his property, having both been previously connoted of felony. Several other convictions there proved against them.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
741. HENRY ARTHUR BARFIELD (28) , to two indictments for stealing, while employed in the Post-office, two letters containing £158 and£415, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
742. CHARLES HENRY ROOK (22) , to stealing, while employed under the Post-office, a postal packet and sixcigars, the property of the Postmaster-General.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 20th, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
744. WILFRED WATERMAN (21) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments, one for obtaining by false pretences, and one for stealing a purse, gold-plated chain, of Charles Elliott, and a watch value£2 of Theresa Burton, and also for obtaining goods by false pretences.— Fifteen Month's Hard Labour.
747. ROWLAND THOMAS DUNNING (34) , to forging and uttering a transfer of a share value£100, with intent to defraud; also to receiving an order for£109 3s. 6d.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
JOHN TREADWYN . I am shipping clerk in charge of the export department of De La Rue and Co—among the cards in the warehouse there are cards called "Retres," defective cards, used simply for exportation under a permit; they are not sold for use in this country—single packs are put into half-dozen packets, and three dozen packs are put into brown paper parcels—in the last days of August I took stock, and found twenty-four and a-half dozen of those packs missing, also other cards—the prisoner had nothing to do with my department—he was engaged in the pasting department—these cards produced are "Retres" cards, coming from my department.
Cross-examined. The prisoner worked in a department where cards of all kinds are pasted—these cards would not come through his hands—about seven men are employed in the department where these cards are kept—the prisoner has been in the service about ten years.
CHARLES WILLIAM JACKSON . I am a gun maker, of 44, Ellesmere Road—I am president of the North East Radical Club—I was present at the club on June 9th—the secretary was there also—he bought some cards that were sold by the prisoner—these cards produced are part of what were bought—three dozen were bought—this is a receipt of Mr. Turner, the secretary to the club, which he gave to the prisoner—they were in paper, on which was printed "for exportation," with a penalty of£20 if used in this country—I saw that printing when they were bought—I knew the prisoner was employed at De La Rue's—one of our committee asked if they incurred any liability by the use of these cards; the prisoner said we should not—he was not asked how he had got hold of the cards—he said they were all spoiled cards—we thought they were given to him by his employers as perquisites, and were sold cheap—I saw the penalty of£20 affixed on the outside of every pack—the price was 7d. a pack—I was present when the cards were first mentioned—the prisoner got one of the committee, Mr. Hills, to broach the matter—Mr. Hills is not here—the prisoner had been a member of the club—he ceased to be a member, and was re-elected last March—I knew that he had been at De La Rue's a long time—I did not know how long.
Cross-examined. It was brought to the knowledge of the committee
that he could supply the club with cards—he did not tell me that he had bought a number of packets, and wished to sell them—the committee said they would like to see the cards and the gentleman who was going to sell them, and on the following Tuesday the prisoner brought the cards—the committee consists of ten or twelve members—eight or nine of them were present on this occasion—the prisoner was not asked how he became possessed of them—cards were wanted, and he said he knew a young fellow who could supply them cheaper than we had them before, and of good quality—the committee asked that they should be produced, and they were—we did not know at that time that the prisoner was at De La Rue's—he did not say, "I am working at De La Rue's, and these are my perquisites as spoiled cards"—we did not ask him if he had bought them—he did not say he had, and could let us have them cheap—I had no quarrel with him before he left the club—we charged him with forging and uttering a ticket; that was before this charge about the cards,; there was no falling out about it.
Re-examined. We had bought two dozen packs of these cards last October—we must have known at that time that he was in De La Rue's employ—I don't think any questions were asked when we bought the first two dozen—they were similar cards to these—I don't know if they were marked, "For exportation," because I did not have them in my possession—I knew when the first two dozen were purchased that they had these words upon them, but I had not noticed them; I thought he had the opportunity of buying them cheap.
EDWIN MOTT (Police Sergeant). I apprehended the prisoner on August 27th on another charge, that of forging and uttering a ticket of this club; I afterwards told him he would be charged with stealing the cards from his employers—he said, "I am innocent."
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his long service.
The Prisoner stating that he desired to PLEAD GUILTY to uttering, the JURY found that verdict.
Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HOBSON Prosecuted.
ARTHUR TAYLOR . I am an engraver in the employ of Messrs. De La Rue—about three months ago the prisoner came to me with this specimen card, and asked how much it Would cost to have cards engraved—I said I thought about 5s.—he said he had been elsewhere to an engraver, and they wanted 4s. 6d.—I said that was a fair price—he said he could not afford anything to have them engraved—I said I would do them—I did so, and he came and took them away—they wanted two handles; I told him where to get them; and he went and got them and brought them—the boy Duffle was present when he came.
Taylor to engrave some plates—he brought patterns with him like these—he afterwards came and fetched them away.
HERBERT ARGENT . I am printing machine manager at Messrs. De La Rue's—the prisoner came to me about eight or nine weeks ago, and asked me for a piece of composition; that is a thing that could be used for sticking purposes.
EDWIN MOTT (Police Inspector). On September 9th I arrested the prisoner at Messrs. De La Rue's—I told him the charge—he said, "Are you Inspector Mott?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I expected this; I saw Sharpe when he was out on bail; Sharpe and I did it between us, you know where the block was done; you won't find the block and stamp because I have burnt them."
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate': "I struck off altogether sixteen or eighteen tickets; then my wife persuaded me, and all the tickets and blocks were destroyed at once."
The Prisoner called
Prisoner's Defence: I am innocent of this charge—I admit having stamps made at the impulse of the moment—my wife persuaded me not to have anything to do with such a thing, and I destroyed them—I was a member of the club, but I did not use a ticket, and did not go for refreshments.
GUILTY .—He received a good character.— Three Months' Hard Labour. He then
PLEADED GUILTY to another indictment of a like character, and was sentenced to Three Months' Hard Labour, to run concurrently with the other term.
MR. A. B. SMITH Prosecuted, and MR. EDMONDSON Defended.
The Prosecutor, in cross-examination, stated that he could not say whether the prisoner fired over his head or not, whereupon MR. SMITH said that he fell he could not carry the case further.
NOT GUILTY .
The Prosecutor said, in cross-examination, that he did not say the prisoner intended to do him any harm, and that he was not in fear, because he ran after the prisoner. MR. SMITH said he should not ask the JURY to convict.
753. ARTHUR TALBOT (31) , Unlawfully obtaining from James Frederick Day and Ellen Day£3 9s. 8d., and from Ellen Parsons£20 by false pretences, with intent to defraud. Other Counts—For incurring debts and liabilities to the same persons, and thereby obtaining credit from them under false pretences; and for obtaining credit from them by fraud other than false pretences.
MR. SYMMONS Prosecuted.
ELLEN DAY . I am the wife of James Frederick Day, of 67, Priory Park Road—on July 28th the prisoner came and said he was second mate on board a ship, and wanted two rooms and board for himself and a friend for six weeks, and offered to pay 25s. for himself, and his friend would pay the same—I accepted him as a lodger—he said he was short of money, but that he had not been paid off the ship, and he would have his money, £96, from the Board of Trade in a few days, and asked me if I would lot him have a little money—he said he wanted to buy a coat, and he has on now the coat and vest he bought with my money—I lent him 10s. on the Friday night, ana£1 on the Saturday, and a few shillings on the Monday to go and meet his mate—after he had been with me about a month, by which time I had advanced him about£6 17s., he aroused my suspicions, and my husband went to the Board of Trade office and made inquiries, and, in consequence of what he heard, I said to the prisoner, "My husband has been to the Board of Trade, and you have not got any money to come from them"—he said, "Yes; I have not, but I did not wish to tell everybody my business; but I have£1,300 to come from the solicitors; I have some property not settled"—he did not tell me the names of the solicitors then—I found afterwards he meant Parker, Garrett, and Parker, of St. Michael's Alley—after that I let him have about£3—he said he was going to get his money, and took me to the city, and I waited outside St. Michael's Alley, or near there, the Friday before his arrest, while he went down some court; he told me to wait till he came back—when I advanced the first sums of money I believed his statement about the£96 coming to him; and afterwards I believed his statement about the£1,300—Ishould certainly not have advanced the last£3 if I had not believed that.
ELLEN PARSONS . I live at 314, York Road, King's Cross, and am a widow—on March 8th the prisoner came to my house and asked for a bedroom and sitting-room for himself and a friend—he said he was second mate of a ship; that he could not pay me a week in advance, but he would give it to me on the Friday, as he had£96 coming from the shipping company—I accepted him as a lodger, not willingly, because I had some doubt—he stopped till about June 6th—he did not pay me anything for board and lodging—I reckoned he owed me about£20 at the end of that time—I had lent him sums of money amounting to£20 or more—he made proposals to me, and wanted to marry me, and I accepted him—he said he had got£1,300 coming to him from his mother through the solicitors, Parker, Garrett, and Parker, of St. Michael's Alley, and that I need not resume my work (I have a trade), but that he could keep me—I believed his statements, or I should not have parted with my money.
GEORGE DAY . I am a clerk in the employment of Messrs. Parker, Garrett, and Parker, solicitors, of St. Michael's Alley—in February, 1895. when I was living at Wood Green, the prisoner, whom I knew as Arthur Wood, came to lodge with me—the prisoner knew I was in the employment of Messrs. Parker, Garrett, and Parker, through my sending him there on a message when I was ill—he has no money due to him
from that firm—he is not a client of theirs—I have the authority from Mr. Garrett, the head of the firm, to state that.
WILLIAM MCARTHUR (Sergeant X). I saw the prisoner detained at Leman Street Police-station, and read the warrant to him—it charged him with the offence against Mrs. Day, and mentioned the amount, £19 19s. 6d.—he said, "No, not so much as that"—I took him to the station and charged him—he made no reply.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in July, 1890, at Rye. George Lay stated that the prisoner swindled him of board and lodging to the amount of about£50 by means of the statement that he had money coming from a ship. Five other convictions there proved against the prisoner.— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
755. WILLIAM POTTER (29) , to stealing a purse and 7s. from the person of Sarah Edwards; also** to a conviction of felony in September, 1895, in the name of James Gibbons. Five other convictions were proved against him including one of Seven Years' Penal Servitude.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Three Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 20th 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
757. CHARLES JOHN PEARCE (45) , to stealing a coat and other Articles, the goods of Henry Aldgate ; also to stealing a watch and other articles, the goods of Walter Giles ; also to stealing a coat and other articles, the goods of George Burner, having been convicted at Clerkenwell in February, 1891.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Five Years' Penal Servitude.
759. HENRY HEMPLEMAN (31) , to feloniously marrying Laura Turner Pinchbeck, his wife being alive; also to two indictments for forging and uttering the endorsements to orders for£3 10s. 9d. and£7 16s., with intent to defraud. The prosecutrix, in the bigamy case recommended him to mercy.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Nine Month Hard Labour on the bigamy, and Twelve Months' on the forgery to run concurrently.
760. WALTER JOHN IVATTS (31) , to feloniously marrying Elizabeth Serjeant, his wife being alive. [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] He had been previously convicted of indecent assault and also of an aggravated assault on his wife.— Judgment Respited.
ALPINES— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
SUL-LIVAN— Nine Months' Hard Labour. And
762. CHARLES BER-NARD PENSOTTI , to unlawfully attempting to steal the property of Dean and Son ; also to feloniously altering a cheque for£5 13s. 6d.; also to breaking and entering the counting-house of the Western Morning News and stealing an envelope and a cheque; also to breaking and entering the warehouse of Dean and Son with intent to steal. He received a good character. His uncle was willing to become surety and send the prisoner abroad.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
He PLEADED GUILTY to the libel only . He had been convicted at this Court in May, 1890, and sentenced to Twelve Months for an indecent assault.
Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. NOBLE Prosecuted.
WALTER HETHERINOTON (232 11). On September 30th, about four a.m., I was on duty in Cable Street, and saw Cronin reaching towards the fan-light of No. 142, a working-man's club, with Curley on his back—on seeing me he ran down the court—I gave chase, and saw Carthy and Cronin go into some buildings, and Curley into another house—I found the fan-light had been removed, and told them they would be charged—I found Curley at 4, Mabel's Buildings—they said that they had done nothing; they ran away because they saw someone coming—the fanlight was all correct when I had seen it before—it was my duty to ring the people up—Curley is the little boy; he could get in at the fanlight.
Curley. What he swears is false.
Cronin's Defence; I was never near the place at all.
Carthy's Defence: I was asleep on the stairs, and they came to me, and I went down with them. I know nothing about it.
Curley's Defence: I slept that night on the first landing, and at four o'clock the policeman came, and I knocked at the club door and could not get an answer, and he took me to the station.
GUILTY .—Cronin then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on July 17th 1896, and Carthy to one on February 6th, 1896, at the Thames Police-court, and several other convictions were proved against them.
CRONIN— Six Months' Hard Labour.
CARTHY— Four Months' Hard Labour. CURLEY— Judgment Respited.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 21st, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
ERLE PLEADED GUILTY to this indictment and to several others.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted; and
MESSRS. DRAKE and EDMONDSON Defended.
THOMAS BENNETT NEALE . I am a solicitor, practising at New Street, Leicester—Mr. H. B. Wade, solicitor, of 8, Old Jewry, is my London agent—on July 17th last Thomas called at my office at Leicester, at a few minutes past twelve—he said, "Are you Mr. Neale?"—I said, "Yes; do you want to see me?"—he said, "I have come from Mitchell; he wants a hunting-box"—I said, "I don't know Mr. Mitchell, and I don't know
you; are you calling at any other office?"—he said, "No; yours is the only name given to me; your agent, Mr. Wade, of 8, Old Jewry, gave your name to Mr. Mitchell; that is the reason I have called upon you"—I wrote down Mr. Mitchell wants a hunting-box, and instituted inquiry—on walking out, Thomas said, "There is no hurry; the season is young"—about five minutes afterwards I saw him turning out of the street with some papers in his hand, which he was perusing—I did not see him again till I saw him in custody on September 7th—I know nothing of this telegram. (this was addressed to Fred Tyler at that Black Bull High Holborn). It was not written by me, or by my authority—some time afterwards I went to Leicester, and identified Thomas as the man that had called upon me; I picked him out of several others.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. Thomas was not more than ten minutes in my office—I see a number of persons in the course of a day—I identified Thomas on September 7th, nearly two months after, at Northampton—I had seen the Chief Constable—I never had the slightest doubt about the man—there were three men there besides the prisoner—I did not take a considerable time in identifying him.
HERBERT BLANZ WADE . I am a solicitor, of 8, Old Jewry—I am agent of Mr. Seale, of Leicester—on July 17th I received this telegram, purporting to come from my agent at Leicester, stating that Mr. Tyler would call on me—I got it at about a quarter to two—about a quarter of an hour afterwards Erie called; I met him in the corridor of my office—I said to him "Mr. Tyler, I believe"—he said, "Yes"—I intimated that he had better come into my office—he came in, and showed me another telegram, unsigned—it was "Call on Mr. Wade, 8, Old Jewry, and he will give you enough to go on with"—we had a little conversation; he said at first he could not understand why it had been sent to him; that he was unknown to his aunt's sister; he described her as Miss Tyler—I think the telegram asked me to give him from£25 to£30—I thought£20 would be enough, and I gave him an open cheque for£20—I can't say whether he endorsed it; he gave a receipt for it—the cheque came back from my bankers as paid that afternoon—after parting with the cheque, I wrote to Mr. Neale advising him of it, and I got a telegram from him—I afterwards saw Erie at Northampton Police-court, and picked him out.
ALFRED GREEN . I am a detective inspector of the Northampton Borough Police-court—on September 1st I arrosted Erle at the office of Mr. Markham, solicitor, at Northampton—I searched him, and found in a bag which he had, a "Law Diary"—the bag was not in his possession—he told rue he had left it in a shop; I found it there, and produce it—on September 5th I received Thomas in custody at Tottenham Court Road Police-station—I said to him, "I am a police officer at Northampton, and have a warrant for your arrest"—I read the warrant to him, and said, "It is for your sending a telegram on another charge"—he made no reply—on September 7th T charged the two prisoners together with
attempting to obtain from Mr. Markham£20 by means of a forged telegram—I knew Erie by the name of Wilkins at that time—he said, "I received my instructions from Thomas to go to Leamington and Northampton; I went to Leamington; there were no telegrams as had been arranged," and he turned to Thomas, and said, "I have been dealing with him, and no one else"—Thomas said, "You are a liar and a fraud"—in going to the cells Thomas said, "Every telegram was written by you, and they are in your handwriting; I was present when you wrote them; there is a third man in it"—he said, "That is a lie"—Thomas said, "You did it all, and picked out names of lawyers from the Diary"—Thomas said, "You have had your bag; I know all about it, but I should like to see the Diary"—I produce the Diary—he said, "That is the book he pricked out the names of the solicitors; I wish to have all the original telegrams produced; I know as much about the law as you, having been three years in a magistrate's clerk's office"—Erie said, "I am pleased you know a little about law; you know too much for me; you have got me into this nicely—Thomas said, "You got yourself into it by opening your mouth; I know as much as you, but I still say I never wrote them"—on September 14th I showed the original telegrams to them both together, and said, "These are two telegrams connected with the attempted fraud"—Thomas said, "He wrote them in my apartment at Northampton before he went to Leamington; they are in his handwriting"—Erie said, "I did not write them; you did; it is in a disguised hand, but you wrote them"—I showed them four other telegrams, and said, "These are forged telegrams"—Thomas said, "He wrote them in my apartment the day before he went to Leamington; they are all in his handwriting"—Erle said, "They are in your writing, in a disguised hand; you wrote that no in the name of Thomas"—I then showed them the two original telegrams, and said, "These are two telegrams connected with£20 obtained from Mr. Wade on July 17th, 1896, which were, handed in at Leicester"—Thomas said, "I was at Leicester, but I never wrote those telegrams; you gave them to me"—Erle said, "You wrote them, and no one else, and you had all the money, except about£2 1s."—he said, "I had£1; the 2s. was for some work we had done"—I then showed them another telegram, and said, "That is a telegram connected with£22, which you obtained on July 29th"—Thomas said, "That is his handwriting; I was present when it was written"—Erie said, "You were present when it was written; why don't you say when and where it was written, and who wrote it"—Thomas said, "No; I am not going to get anyone else into trouble"—I then showed them these two telegrams. (These were stated by Thomas to be his writing, addressed to friends.) I produce a document marked "A," addressed to the Postmaster-General; I saw Thomas wrote the first two lines of it; the words, "September 7th, 1896, to the Postmaster-General; I authorise you to go to Northampton Borough Police"—the signature to it is Edward Thomas—I could not say that I saw him write the second—on September 21st I handed over the two prisoners to the custody of Inspector Dinney with that document, and said it was a request to the Postmaster-General for the telegrams to be handed—Thomas said, "Yes; that is right"—at the same time I handed to Inspector Dinney this document, "B," dated September, 1896—I handed it to Inspector Dinney, and said, "It had
been forwarded to me"—Thomas said he did not see why his private letters should be sent back.
Cross-examined. The long statements were made on two different occasions—Sergeant Allen was present on the first occasion, and one of the constables in charge of the prisoners—I wrote it down immediately afterwards from memory—Thomas did not say that he only knew of the two telegrams that had been sent the night before—he said, "Every telegram was written by you"—no numbers was mentioned—the two telegrams of 3rd and 4th September were to a lady at Norwood, connected with private affairs—Erie was going by the name of Burton then; his name is Walter Erle—the two September telegrams he handed to me on September 7th, and he wanted them back—they were I addressed to Miss Lilly Read.
THOMAS— GUILTY .
INSPECTOR DENNY stated that Erle had been convicted on January 17th last year, and sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude, and Thomas had been several times convicted.
ERLE— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
THOMAS— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
766. EDWARD LYTTON BELLEW (48) , Unlawfully obtaining food and lodging from Martha Simpson and Harriett Witt, and 10s. 6d. from James Albert Mills by false pretences, with intent to defraud. Other Counts charging him with incurring a debt and liability, and thereby obtaining credit from Martha Simpson and Harriett Witt under false pretences.
MR. KYD Prosecuted.
MARTHA SIMPSON . I am a widow, living at Evelyn Villas, Southgate—on Thursday, August 13th, the prisoner came and took a bed-sitting room combined, by the week—on the following Thursday, when the first week's bill was payable, he paid it—the week after he said he was very satisfied with the apartments, and would be glad to continue, and he went on for another week; when the Thursday came he asked if I would let him pay on the Saturday, as he was going to Brighton then—when I took up his bill on the Saturday he had gone with his luggage—he owed me 18s. 9 1/2d.—when he first came he said his name was Edward Lytton Bellew; he did not say exactly who he was; he had no references—he said he came from Cambridge, where he had been in lodgings for two years, and that I could depend on his respectability—he said he was named after Lord Lytton, and I believe he said he was related to Lord Lytton, but I am not positive—I believed him to be a gentleman, and a suitable man to be in my house—he told me he had been teaching in colleges, but that he was going to retire from that and write books.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I found you quiet and steady—my only complaint is that you left in my debt.
HARRIETT WITT ;. I am the wife of William John Witt, of 27, Jocelyn Road, Richmond—on Saturday, August 29th, the prisoner came and took a back sitting-room and bedroom for 10s. 6d. a week, and said if I would bay all in for him he would pay me at the end of the week—he said, "I will pay you sixpence extra for my boots to be cleaned, and I shall be with you several weeks"—on the following Saturday I put the bill on the break-fast-table, and he said, "I am going to the Bank; I will get change, and come back and pay you"—he did not come back—he owed me£1 3s. 8 1/2 d.
—when he first came he said he wrote for the magazines; that his father was a clergyman—it was from what he said about himself, and his respectability, that I let him have the rooms; I thought he was a gentleman—Beale slept with him for the week.
Cross-examined. You sent me a postcard, and said you would pay me in few days; there was no address on it—you had left a rug, and said if I allowed you for the value of it you would remit me the balance of the account—I have the rug; that was all you left.
Re-examined. The rug is worth about 3s.
FREDERICK BEALE . I live at 8, Paton Terrace, Betts Hill Road, New Southgate—in August I met the prisoner, and he gave me this letter (This stated that the writer was single, connected with literature, and lived in lodgings, but travelled a good deal; that lie was anxious to take a nice boy as a companion; that he should look on such a boy as a son, and give him a good home and a fair allowance of pocket-money, and if the boy was good to him he would be well started in life.) I had never spoken to him before he gave me that letter—I showed it to my brother-in-law; I have no father—I called at the address given in the letter, and the prisoner engaged me, and I lived with him for a week at Richmond, from Saturday to Saturday—on the Friday before I left I took a parcel to the Richmond Station booking-office—I do not know what was in the parcel; I did not see the prisoner packing up anything.
JAMES ALBERT MILLS . I live at 86, Wreford Road, Wandsworth—in November last I saw an advertisement in the Daily News, "Wanted smart lad, 15 to 17, as amanuensis, live in"—I answered it and received this reply. (This was dated 23, Mount Hill Road, Tunbridge Wells, November 7th; and signed C. Warner Slee. It stated that the writer was a literary man in a small way, and a bachelor, and wanled to take a companionable lad for a year or two to train as amanuensis; that he should want a small premium of two guineas towards preliminary expenses; that in addition to board and residence he would pay£1a month for six months, and then£2.) I wrote in reply stating that I could not pay £2 2s., and asked him to take me without a premium and only pay me 15s. a month—I received this answer. (Suggesting that 10s. 6d. should be paid and if he was found a nice companionable fellow the balance would not be asked for.) On the Monday morning I met the prisoner at Southborough Station, and walked with him to his lodging at 25, St. Johns Road, Tunbridge Wells—he made this agreement with me that afternoon; I sent it home, and my father signed it and sent it back with 10s. 6d., which I gave to the prisoner, who also signed the agreement. (By the agreement C. Warner Slee agreed to take Mills for twelve months as amanuensis, and board and lodge him and pay him a weekly salary and travelling expenses; Mills to pay a premium of£2 2s., 10s. 6d. down, and the balance in six months.) I lived with the prisoner for a week—I spent the time in writing various postcards to clergymen asking for the use of their village schoolrooms for entertainments which the prisoner proposed to get up—on the last day of the week he sent me to the Tunbridge Wells Post-office, and told me that I need not hurry back—when I got back at noon I found the house shut up—I did not see the prisoner again till he was at Highgate Police-court—I did not see this letter dated November 17th (the day I left Tunbridge Wells) till I
went to the Highgate Police-court as I went to London directly after seeing the police at Tunbridge, and the landlady received the letter and handed it to the police—the letter is in the same writing as the others I had from the prisoner. (The letter stated that the writer was deeply grieved to say that circumstances he could not control compelled him to go away, that the little cash he had left had been spent in household expenses; that Mills had better go back to London, and that the writer would communicate with his friends in a few day and make the best arrangements he could.) He had not said anything about going away before I went back to London—I never heard from the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I do not know what you did with the 10s. 6d.—we bought meat, which came to from 6d. to 1s. per day; you gave the landlady a little money for tea, sugar, and soon—you sent me to the editor of some drug paper at Tunbridge Wells with a story; the editor refused it.
GEORGE GODLEY (Detective Sergeant Y). I arrested the prisoner on September 15th, at 80, Shortlands Road, Kingston-on-Thames on another charge, and at the same time I told him there were two charges of obtaining food and lodgings by false pretences, one at New Southgate and one at Richmond—when charged with Mrs. Simpson's case at New Southgate, he said, "I intended to pay the lady"—I said, "Can you refer me to anyone who knows you?"—he said, "No; I am a wanderer on the face of the earth"—I searched his lodgings, and found seven pawn-tickets and twenty letters and odd articles there—on September 21st I charged him again in the case of Mrs. Witt at Highgate Police-station; he said, "That is out of the jurisdiction of this Court"—I said, "No; it is not" on September 28th Mills was brought to identify the prisoner—I said, "There is a charge against you of obtaining 10s. 6d. from a boy named Mills"—he said, "I don't remember any thing about it "he said, "Would you like to be placed with other men?"—he said nothing—he was placed with other men, and Mills immediately identified him—when charged with the offence, he said, "I did not have the money"—Mills said, "Oh, yes, you did"—the prisoner made no reply.
Cross-examined. I ascertained you had paid your first week's bill where you' were staying at Kingston—you had only been there a week.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had made no false pretences, and that he had intended to pay the women, and that the money he had received from Mills he had spent on keeping him.
GUILTY .—The Prisoner then
PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of obtaining money by false pretences in March, 1894, at Sandtcich, in the name of Murray Smith,— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
The Prisoner, in the hearing of the JURY, stated that he was GUILTY, and the JURY thereupon found him
GUILTY .— Three Days' Imprisonmet
MR. BODKIN offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. KYD Prosecuted.
HERBERT WEBB (279 K). I took the prisoner into custody, and charged him with bigamy—he said, "I shall not go; where is your warrant?—I asked him again to come, and he said, "Yes, very well, sir"—I produce two certificates; one I obtained at Somerset House, and the other was given to me by a Detective Sergeant at the Police-station.
WILLIAM JOB CROWTHER . I live at 24, Lower Road, Plaistow—I was present at the marriage of my daughter to the prisoner about fifteen years ago—I believe they lived together for some time in Stratford—they were on and off together for a couple of years, and then, I think, the prisoner went abroad, and his wife came back and had part of my house for eleven or twelve months—she had lived with the prisoner up to the time she came to me; I won't be certain of that; my memory is bad—I believe he left her—she is living in Plaistow now with Brooks—she married Brooks about three years ago—I daresay it is ten years since she left my house.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. In 1881, when you signed articles with the Madras Railway Company, you allowed my daughter£6 a month—directly you left she came and lived with me—in October, 1886, you found her living with me, not with Brooks—she did not leave my house to go away with Brooks; you left her, and went away—I don't know of it getting on for fifteen years since she first mixed up with Brooks.
By the COURT. I cannot recollect that Brooks came to my house to see my daughter; I have no memory now since I had a paralytic stroke—I don't know if Brooks was paying his addresses to her when she lived in my house—the prisoner made no complaint to me about Brooks.
MARY ANN CATHERINE NEWSON . On December 25th, 1887, I went through the form of marriage with the prisoner—he told me he was married—he was a great friend of my brother, who knew his family for some time—his brother told me to write to him when he was in Belfast, saying that his wife was dead, and that he was perfectly free, and was not to make a fool of himself any more, and we certainly believed she was dead, or we should not have married—I had the certificate madeout and paid for it myself—I had the banns put up—I am older than the prisoner—when I described him as a bachelor I did not think it mattered at all—he has treated me exceedingly well and kindly it is not my wish to prosecute him, neither will I.
Cross-examined. In 1887 you were living with Mr. Walker, in Bridge Road, and in March, 1887, you were sent to Belfast on work—we corres-ponded—your brother told me to write and say your wife was dead, and when you arrived here on Christmas Eve, 1887, it was rumoured through Stratford that the woman was dead; even her old father told you of it, and said he was glad to hear of it—I asked you, as she was dead, if I should put up the banns, arid you said, "If you like," and when you came at Christ-inas-time we got married—you went back to Belfast, and after six months
came back here—we have been in the parish seven years—you have been a financial member of the Boiler Makers' Union for fifteen years—you are a hard-working man, and always bore a thoroughly good character.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he believed his wife was dead when lie married the second time.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. KYD Prosecuted, and MR. OVEREND Defended.
SARAH ANN GREY . I am the wife of William Lang worthy Grey, of 88, Queen's Road, Upton Park—on September 24th I was in Gracechurch Street, going in the direction of London Bridge—at the corner of Grace-church Street a horse had fallen, and there were a great number of people—to avoid the crowd I crossed the road—I felt nothing, but when I got over someone spoke to me, and I discovered that my purse was gone—I had seen it only a few minutes before—it was in a deep pocket, and my handkerchief was on the top of it; I had used my handkerchief, and put it back on the purse only a few minutes before—this is the purse—I saw it fall from Berry's hand on to the pavement—I saw Hoddinott by his side.
Cross-examined. When I was crossing the road I was asked whether I had lost anything—I said, "No"—I was asked to be sure—I put my my hand in my pocket and said, "Yes, my purse is gone"—the prisoners were together—when I saw the purse drop from Berry's hand there were not many people in the roadway; no more than ordinarily; they were principally on the pavement watching the fallen horse—I had not seen either prisoner before I was spoken to—Berry's hand was held by two gentlemen, who were trying to get something from him when he dropped the purse.
WILLIAM FITZGERALD (Detective City). On September 24th I was with Gillard in Gracechurch Street, at two o'clock—we watched the prisoners in consequence of their suspicious movements in a large crowd assembled to see an injured horse—the prisoners were together—Hoddinott placed himself in front of a lady, and Berry on her right side—Berry put his hand into his pocket, and through a hole at the bottom of it, and into the folds of the lady's dress, in the direction of her pocket—they moved from that, part of the crowd, and Hoddinott stood in front of another lady, and Berry again put his left hand through his pocket and into the folds of a lady's dress in the direction of her pocket—they crossed the road to where there was a crowd on the other side of the street—Hoddinott got in front of a lady and Berry on the right side, and put his hand again through his coat pocket and into the folds of the lady's dress; then they went a few yards further, and Hoddinott got in front of another lady, and Berry put his hand into a lady's dress pocket—they did it four times; then they stood on the kerb watching the crowd—the prosecutrix was crossing the road; Hoddinott touched Berry with his elbowand looked at the prosecutrix, and they followed her across the road, and as she was about to pass through the crowd on the footway, Hoddinott hurried on and got just in front of her; it was a very narrow place to get through the crowd, and he purposely obstructed the lady, while Berry, who was
just behind, put his hand through his pocket into the lady's dress pocket—as he drew his hand out I seized his hand, and I saw him drop this purse on the ground—Gillard arrested Hoddinott; I arrested Berry—I told them they would be charged with being concerned in stealing this purse—Gillard picked up the purse, and spoke to the prosecutrix.
Cross-examined. The hole was in Berry's left-hand coat pocket—I noticed it before and after I took him into custody—I think he is wearing the same coat now—I saw him show the coat at the Police-court; he must have had a needle secreted about him, because at the Police-court he raised his vest and showed a few stitches here and there—he might have had a needle secreted in his shirt or hair and have sown up the hole—I am certain I saw his hand through the hole—in each ease Hoddinott stood in front to cover Berry's movements, and obstructed the lady—when I got hold of Berry Hoddinott was not more than a yard off, just in front of the lady.
HENRY GILLARD (Detective City). I was with Fitzgerald on September 24th in Gracechurch Street, and watched the prisoners—I saw Berry with his hand in his coat-pocket behind a lady—Hoddinott came in front of her—they made another attempt, and then they crossed the road and made two other attempts—then they saw the prosecutrix crossing the road, and and Hoddinott nudged Berry, and got in front of her, while Berry put his band in his pocket and moved his hand up—I arrested Hoddinott, and said to the prosecutrix, "Have you lost anything?"—she said, "No—I said, "See if you have lost a purse"—she said, "My purse is gone"—I handed Hoddinott to Fitzgerald, and seized Berry, who dropped this purse from his hand, which was still in his pocket—it must have fallen through a hole in the pocket—I showed the inspector and other officers at the station the hole in the pocket—at the Police-court, twenty hours afterwards, the hole was stitched up.
Cross-examined. Berry would have been searched—I think the hole has been stitched up since his arrest. (Berry took off his coat, and it was landed to the COURT and JURY.)
BERRY then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in July, 1892, at Winchester, in the name of George Gregory, and HODDINOTT to one at Clerkenwell Sessions in August, 1894, in the name of William Rook. About thirty convictions were proved against Berry, including one sentence of Twenty Years' Penal Servitude. Five other convictions were proved ayainst Hoddinott including two sentences of Five and Seven Years' Penal Servitude respectively. MR. COX stated; that after he had given evidence some seven weeks since in a case at Southwark Police-court lie was threatened by certain men; that Hoddinott overhard the threats, and warned and followed him, and twice interposed when he was attacked by the men wit's knives, and prevented his being seriously injured. BERRY— Four Years' Penal Servitude. HODDINOTT— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 2'st 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
770. FRANCIS TILLETT (41) . Forging and uttering two promissory notes for the payment of£4,250 and£2,062 10s., with intent to defraud. MR. BODKIN Protecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended. The prisoner, by the advice of MR. GEOGHEGAN, stated that he wished to
PLEADED GUILTY to the uttering.— GUILTYof the uttering.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on September 20th, 1875, of stealing£200.
Judgment Respited ,
(For other cases tried this day. see Essex and Surrey cases.)
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 22nd 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
771. ALEXANDER MOURGUES PLEADED GUILTY to sending a letter to Florence Edgcoing Harris, demanding money with menaces, with-out any reasonable and probable cause; also to thirteen other indictments for sending, threatening, to various other persons, demanding money, and threatening to burn their premises.
The prisoner's uncle deposed to the prisoner's good character, and attributed his conduct to his habit of reading the cheap, mischievous publications of the day. His friends undertook to provide for his future at the expiration of his sentence.—Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ADDISON Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
MARY TWINE . I am the wife of Charles Twine, of 54, Netherwood Street, N.W.—I have been ill for some time—on September 1st I was ill in my room—the prisoner waited 011 me for three hours, bathing my head with water—he has always been a very good son to me—about half-past two he wetted a handkerchief to put on my head; directly afterwards I received a blow with a hammer—this (produced) is the hammer—after that I flew out of bed and fell down—I was struck twice by the prisoner—I called for assistance—he went away—I was taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was in business for about two mornings—he failed; he was very much troubled in business—he frequently came to see me—he always treated me with the greatest kindness and affection he has been some years in the army, and left with a good character—he was three years in his last place—he left the army when he was twenty-seven; he is thirty-three now—he was butler to the Bishop of Lichfield, and then to Mr. Pitt Lewis, then with Mr. Boyd—he left him on account of ill health.
ALICE SNELL . I am a servant at 54, Netherwood Street—I know the prisoner—on September 1st I saw him sitting quietly in his mother's room—about five minutes afterwads heard screams of "Murder"—I came downstairs; I found Mrs. Twine in a pool of blood—I did not see I the prisoner leave—I sent for the police and doctor.
EMMA COOK . On September 1st I heard the prisoner's mother scream, "Murder, murder; you have killed me!"—I saw the prisoner go out of the I house with his hat and coat—I went downstairs, and saw the prosecutrix lying in the passage.
ERNEST BROGDEN . I am house-surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital—on September 1st, about five, Mrs. Twine was brought in, suffering from two scalp wounds—one was five and three-quarter inches long to the bone, and one on the other side of the scalp, both lacerated—she had lost a great deal of blood—I sewed the wounds up; they required fifteen stitches—she remained in the hospital—she is now completely out of danger.
WILLIAM WAITE (Inspector S). On September 1st, about three, I was called in to 54, Netherwood Street; I saw Mrs. Twine lying at the foot or the stairs in a pool of blood in a night-dress, and something else covered over her—she was conscious; she was taken to the hospital—at 6.30 the same day I saw the prisoner; I asked him if his name was Joseph Twine, and told him I should take him into custody for attempting to murder his mother; I cautioned him—he said, "Is my mother dead?"—I said, "No"—he said, "Thank God for that!"—I took him to West Hampstead Station, where he was charged, and the charge read over to him—he said, "My mother has been in great pain, and I thought I would put her out of her misery, but I had been drinking heavily."
Cross-examined. He had endeavoured to hang himself from the bridge of the canal, but the rope broke, and he fell—he appeared satisfied and pleased when I told him iliac his mother was not dead; he expressed great satisfaction.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "It is through business worry and illness. I am perfectly sane, and in my right mind at present."
Cross-examined. I know the facts of this case—it would be possible for a man having gone on well for a time to become insane—I first saw the prisoner on the evening of September 2nd, and he appeared very depressed—he has served in India—I saw no sign of sunstroke—he did not mention it—he returned from India in 1890.
CHARLES TWINE . I am a violinist, and live at 54, Netherwood Road, Killburn—I am the prisoner's step-father, and the husband of the prosecutrix—the prisoner frequently came home to see us—I know that he had been worried during the last few months, when he opened a shop—for the the last three months I noticed that he looked very odd at times; we could not understand it—before that he was in the employ of Mr. Boyd, at 35, Cleveland Square, for three years—for the latter part of the time he became vory strange—he left his family on two occasions in the middle of December; he was in the employment of the Bishop of London and Mr. Pitt Lewis—he was in India some years—he told me he had a fever there—I have heard of his having a sunstroke—he has been a very kind and affectionate son; he could not be more so.
EDITH COULSON . I live at 187, Stanhope Buildings—I was manageress of the prisoner's shop till about a fortnight ago—he was there five or six weeks—his conduct there was very strange; he was always a kind-hearted, respectable man.
GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time.— To be detained Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
ROSINA JANE WILLIAMS . I am a dressmaker of 3, Little Drummond Street, Euston Square—the prisoner lodged with me four or five weeks before September 11th—on that day, Friday, he went out to work at six a.m.—he was a cutter-out for a cabinet-maker—in the course of that that morning I received a telegram; in consequence I went to the corner of Southampton Row at 11.45 a.m, where I met the prisoner—he said the men he imagined were following him had come to his workshop, and that he had given up his work there through that, and he had sent for me to give me the money he used to give me every week; he did not know what would happen to him before the day was out, and he wished me to go and spend the day with him, to which I consented—we went to Stamford Hill—afterwards we had dinner together at a coffee house—he began to quarrel, and I said I wanted to go home—that annoyed him—he said he was going to stay there—I went as far as the tramway—he said he did not want to go home, and ran up the hill after me—he said, "Come and have another drink; say nothing more about it"—after going into a public-house I was frightened, I ran out; but he came out at the side door and found me—a sweep came and looked at him, the prisoner asked him what he was looking at, and he said he lived up there, and he was not looking for him, and as he was standing at the corner of the road I took the opportunity to get home, and walked up the hill to where I could see the trams—I was getting in the tram when he came behind me and shot me—I heard a report in my ear; I felt the pain—two constables were there—the prisoner gave himself up—a constable took me to the hospital—my wound was dressed and I was detained—I knew he had a revolver—I had seen it, but I had no reason to be frightened of him, because he never threatened: he was always good and kind to me, and he only carried the revolver because he was frightened of the people he said were following him.
SAMUEL YATES . I am a coffee-house keeper, carrying on business at 53, High Road, South Tottenham—on the afternoon of September 11th I was in the colfee-house when I heard a noise outside like quarrelling—looking out of the window I saw the prisoner and the last witness—I went out—a small mob were round them—the woman said something to the prisoner, and he struck her in the face—she said, "What did you bring me out for?"—he said, "To shoot you"—then, it was not like a blow, but he pushed her down—I took the prisoner away—he said, "I'll shoot her now"—I said, "Nonsense, governor"—he said, I will, so help me God! I will"—I saw the revolver—I said to the woman, "Go away," and she went towards Hands Road—he followed her—I said to a friend," Fasten that door"—they came back and went up Stamford Hill—while I was talking I heard a report of firearms—I went up the hill with a friend, and found the prisoner between two policemen—then T came back—the prisoner put the pistol in his pocket—he said, "I have got a pistol; I will shoot her."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not remember your saying, "I
bought it this morning." (Readfrom deposition: "I took it out of pawm this morning.") You struck the woman in the face—it was more a pushing blow. (Read: "He hit the woman in the body and knocked her down.")
ARTHUK SHELDRICK . I am a labourer, of 74, Templeton Road, South Tottenham—I was walking up Stamford Hill, and saw a crowd outside a coffee-house, and the prisoner and a woman quarrelling—all I heard was the prisoner said he bought the revolver for her when he pulled it out of his pocket—he pushed her down with his hand—they walked away together—I followed them—the prisoner said, "Who are you following?"—I never answered; but walked across the road—the prisoner asked a man if he was following, and gave him a drink—they walked up Stamford Hill, and started quarrelling again, when the prisoner pulled the revolver out and shot her—he aimed at her head; she was six or eight feet from him, sideways.
WILLIAM MAJOR . I am an assistant to a pawnbroker, at 35, Gray's Inn Road—on September loch this revolver, or one exactly like it, was pawned with me for 2s. in the name of Bailey—I believe it was the prisoner—it was taken out by the same man the next morning.
ALFRED SAUNDERS (523 N). I was on duty on Stamford Hill on September 11th, about three p.m., when the prisoner produced this revolver from his coat, and said he had shot a woman on the opposite side of the road, pointing to the prosecutrix, and that he wished to give himself into custody—I took him across the road to the prosecutrix, who said, "He has just shot me in the ear, but I do not wish to give him into custody"—I told him he would have to go the Police-station—another constable took the prosecutrix, who was seen by the divisional surgeon—the prisoner was charged—he said, "I did not mean to do her any harm," and, pointing to Sheldrick, "That is the accuser. What he says is wrong. I only pointed at her hat. She tried to poison me three times this week with poisoned herrings"—he had been drinking, but was not drunk—I looked at the revolver—it was seven-chambered—one cartridge had recently been discharged—the other six chambers were fully loaded—one cartridge was in his pocket, where I also found this hammer—I also found the blade of a knife, a cap and a tobacco-box, and £1 Us. in silver and 4d. bronze—the money was returned to him.
ERNEST GRIGSBY (75 N). I was in charge of the station when the prisoner was brought in—I afterwards searched his lodgings—in the kitchen I found these three ball cartridges, which fit this revolver—when brought to the station he said it was not his intent to murder her—after he was charged he said, "I did not mean to do her any harm; that man (pointing to Sheldrick) is the accuser. What he says is wrong I only tried to knock her hat off. She tried to poison me three times this week with poisoned herrings."
CHARLES HOWARD JACKSON . I am divisional surgeon—I also practise at 11, Stoke Kewington Road—on September 11th I was sent to Stoke Newington Police-station, and saw the prosecutrix—she was suffering from a shot-wound in the ear—the shot had entered the lobe of the ear—it went inside the ear, and got lodged inside the face-bone—I sent her to the German Hospital—they wanted to take her in, but she would not go in, and she went to the University Hospital, where she was admitted
—she appeared to have been shot from behind—the bullet is there still—it might have been a dangerous wound—she has recovered—I do not trunk any serious consequences will ensue—the pistol must have been aimed at her head—if aimed at her hat the wound would have been upward, but it was straight practically.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate was: "The woman knows herself I did not mean to shoot her."
His defence was that he never intended to hurt the woman; that he pawned the revolver and his saw to get bread for her children; but she tried to poison him four times in one week.
GUILTY of Unlawfully Wounding.— DR. SCOTT was directed to inquire into the prisoner'S sanity, bearing in mind the evidence, his statement in defence, and past history.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, October 22nd, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. EDMUNDS Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SOPER Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
DINAH ABRAHAMS . I live at 35, Approach Road, Victoria Park—on October 12th I wrote a letter to my mother, and enclosed in it two tickets for the Paragon Theatre of Varieties—this is the envelope, and this is one of the tickets (produced).
HENRY SYKES BLAZER . I am an overseer at the Eastern District Post-office the prisoner was employed there—on October 12th he arrived about 1.45, and returned at six o'clock—this envelope has been through the post—it arrived at the Eastern District at one o'clock, and it formed part of the prisoner's delivery at two p.m.
Cross-examined. He has been not quite twelve years in the Post-office first he was telegraph boy for four years, and he has been a sorter—he has been on the round for five years—I had no ground for suspecting him no letters had been missed.
ROSE COHEN . I am the wife of Isaac Cohen, of Stoney Lane, Hounds-ditch, on October 12th, about 3.15, I saw the prisoner in the w.c. in his postman's uniform—there are two doors to it—he was there twenty minutes—he had no coat or waistcoat on when he came out, but I could see he was a postman—when he had gone I went in and found some letters.
Cross-examined. One letter had been opened and torn up—I cannot say whether he was the worse for drink.
ANNA ABRAHAMS . I am a widow, and live at 32, King's Block, Stoney Lane, Hounsditch, where this w.c. is—on October 12th I saw the porter look in the pan and pick this letter out, which is addressed to me—it had not been delivered to me.
MATHEW MOORE . I am a constable attached to the Poet-office—on October 12th I Raw the prisoner at the East District Office, searched him, and found a ticket in his breast pocket—he was given into my custody and charged with stealing the letter—he said, "I wish to speak the truth; I must have left the letters on the seat; I had been drinking during the day, and I do not know how the ticket got into my pocket."
Cross-examined. He will soon be entitled to a stripe, which means extra pay.
The prisoners statement before the Magistrate: "I had been drinking on the afternoon in question, and felt something wrong, and went into the w.c. and left my letters; I don't know how the ticket came into my pocket."
Witness for the Defence.
MINNIE KEMPSHAW . I am a waitress at, Richardson's Coffee Rooms, 186, High Street, Whiteachapel—I know the prisoner as a postman—he came there on October 12th, about two o'clock, not in a sober state—he had some tea there, and I told him he had better have a sleep—he did not appear better after that, but about the same.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SOPER Prosecuted.
EDWARD HAURY CHANDLER . I am a clerk to Thomas Osborne and Son, of Thames Street—on October 12th I enclosed this cheque for—12 9s. 10d. in a letter addressed to Messrs Dottridge, and handed it to a junior clerk to post.
WALTER MILTON WARD . I am overseer of the northern district post-office—the prisoner was employed there as auxiliary postman—on October 12th he came on duty from 8 to 9 p.m.—he had access to this letter, it would not be in his round, but he would be in the office while they were being sorted, and he would have the opportunity of abstracting one.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. This letter would not be on your delivery—your duty was to assist two other men on a walk—Islington Green was on your round, but this letter was not on that round.
JOHN BRIDGE . I am clerk to Dodderidge Bros.—my duty is receiving and opening letters between six and nine o'clock; all letters for the firm between those hours pass through my hands—I did not receive this cheque.
SAMUEL JOHN HOLLOWAY . I am a clerk in the General Post Office—a letter posted at the Billingsgate office ought to reach the Northern office at 7.29—I told the prisoner the letter had been posted, and I thought he had obtained the cheque from it; he said, "That is wrong."
WILLIAM WATERLOW . I am a clothier, of Camden Street, Islington—on October 13th, about 11.30 a.m., the prisoner touched a coat at my door; I went to him, and told him that it was rather too large, but I had one
inside, which would fit him—the price was 32s. 6d.—he said he had not sufficient money; would I cash a cheque—I said that I had not sufficient cash, but I would let him know in two hours—he said he would come back at four o'clock; he endorsed the cheque in my shop—I went to the bank in Abchurch Lane; made inquiries; went to Mr. Dottridge's and then returned to my shop with Mr. Dottridge, and found the prisoner there—I said, "What can I do for you; you are the young man for the change?"—Mr. Dottridge asked him where he found the cheque; he said, "On Islington Green."
WILLIAM DOTTRIDGE . I am one of the firm of Dottridge Brothers, of Dorset Works, City Road—on October 13th Mr. Waterlow came and showed me a cheque payable to my firm—this endorsement is not ours—in consequence of what Waterlow said I went with him to the station, and then to his shop, and saw the prisoner, and asked him how he came by the cheque—he said he found it on Islington Green—I asked him whose endorsement it was; he said his.
FRKEMAX ELLIS (Police Sergeant). On October 13th I was called to Camden Street, and saw the prisoner; I told him I should take him for forging an endorsement on a cheque, in order to obtain the money—he said, "I found this cheque in Upper Street, and put the name on the back"—on passing an urinal he said, "There is where I found the cheque"—he was taken to the station; I searched him, and found£2 in gold, and some silver and bronze and other articles.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I did not steal the post-letter; I found the cheque in the mariner detailed by the police sergeant."
Prisoner's Defence. There is no evidence connecting me with stealing the letter; it did not belong to my delivery at all, I found the cheque in the urinal; there was no letter with it; it was simply lying on the floor, and I picked it up, I had never had a cheque before, and I did not know what it was, and it was at Mr. Waterlow's suggestion that I wrote my name on the back of it; he said he would get it changed, I had no money then; I went home and got the money, and when I went back he would not give me the cheque or the change.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, October 23rd, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
ELLEX FINNEY . I am the wife of James Boyd Finney, an inspector, since retired—the prisoner married my deceased daughter; they were married on August 14th; she was then nineteen—she lived with the prisoner till August Bank Holiday this year—she then left him, and came to live with me at Little Cross Street, Islington-some time after that a summons was taken for maintenance—before that came on for hearing the prisoner came to see me; that was on the Saturday before the 17th—
I then said, "Well, Ernie, don't you think we can settle this without going into Court?"—he said, "I think, Mrs. Finney, it had better go through, although I think quite as much of Beatty; I am very fond of her, but I think I must let it go through"—on the 17th the summons was adjourned for a week—the prisoner came to me on Friday, the 18th, to see Die and my daughter; I saw him come in—he saw my daughter in a room alone—they were quarrelling—he stayed there till late in the evening—they afterwards went out that evening together—he said, "Beatty won't be long; she shall only come to the corner with me"—they did not return that night; he brought her home in the morning in a cab, and he remained till the evening; they were then on perfectly good terms—on the Monday evening he came again; they had some words that evening—he went away that evening, and she slept at my house—on the Tuesday she wrote a letter to him; it said, "Come early this evening keep sober"—he came just as she posted the letter, in the afternoon about four, and they went out and bought a pair of boots, and came back—they were on friendly terms—I think they stayed at my house together that night, but I am not positive—the summons was returnable on the 24th, and my daughter did not appear in support of the summons; she did not intend to; the prisoner breakfasted at my house with her about nine, and then went away—when he was going she said, rather coolly, "What time shall we see you again"—he said, "dome time in the afternoon or evening"—he did not come back that day; she walked up and down in front of the house till about half-past ten, and then she went for him—I went to bed, leaving her upstairs in the sitting-room—afterwards she was out again—I afterwards heard them on the steps; they were having very high words; I could not tell the words—then they came indoors, and went straight upstairs to the back bedroom, and they quarrelled very much—I heard her say, "You can keep up your 12s. 6d. till after that, I don't want anything to do with you whatever; nothing more"—I went out of the room—I came down three or four times as far as their room; it was underneath mine—I said, "Ernie, what are you going to do; had you not better go and finish your time at your club?" that was, I think, after one o'clock; the first time I went into their room she was not undressed, she was standing in the room, and he was standing there, too; she was telling him to go; she wanted nothing more to do with him—he said to me, "I have been to the club, Mrs. Finney, and I saw Beatty come in boosed"—I said, "It isn't possible, Ernie; she didn't go out from here till past eleven the first time; it must be your fancy"—he said, "She said she went in after a to"—I said, "She must have said that to annoy you; she went after you"—I stayed there about ten minutes, and left them still arguing—I heard some very high words indeed, and then I heard a pistol-shot—I then ran downstairs; I couldn't hear the words—I saw my daughter lying on the floor, between the fireplace and the bed—she said, "Oh, mother, Ernie has shot me"—I said to him, "What have you done?"—he said some thing about Aggravation, and said, "What have I done?"—I said, "Where are the blank cartridges?"—he said, "Oh, what have I done? I wouldn't hurt a hurt of her head!"—I said, "You see you have shot her?"—he screamed, and said, "Oh, Mrs. Finnsy, I wouldn't hurt a hair of that woman's head! I haven't shot her, have I?"—at this time he
had a revolver in his hand; I think in his right hand; I couldn't tell exactly—I then went and called my husband, and he came and took the revolver out of his hand—the prisoner said, "What can I do?"—I said, "Go and tell Dr. Mavor you have shot your wife"—he went off directly for the doctor—my daughter was removed to the hospital the same night, and she died on the 29th—after the prisoner was arrested I went and saw him at Holloway—I afterwards received this letter from him (it is in his handwriting), and also these other letters.
Cross-examined. I have heard of the Dramatic Club for years, but I don't know anything particular about it; it is within about three minutes' walk of my house—the prisoner was engaged to my daughter about eighteen months before he married her—she was very desirous of earning her own living, and went out as a barmaid—she remained there about a fortnight, and rather than she should remain there he allowed her 13s. a week for twelve months—he was very much attached to her—after the marriage they went and lived at Mrs. Danford's, 250, Essex Road—I visited them there very often—they had one child, born in the early part of this year—my daughter was somewhat quick-tempered—their married life was not a very happy one—after leaving Essex Road they went to Mrs. Bishop's, 1, Florence Street—they were living there at the time a separation was agreed upon—while at Mrs. Bishop's I saw the prisoner with a black eye, and his forehead cut, caused by my daughter; that was through his stopping out late; it was caused by a ring, I think; she did not strike him with the ring—I don't know that Mrs. Danford gave them notice to leave on account of violence and rows—she told me that she had slapped his face, and thrown ornaments at him; I have seen him with a black eye—at his marriage his father set him up in business in a gold beater's shop; he was then only twenty—I have a daughter who lived at St. John's Wood, separated from her husband; she has not been living with a man named Kemp; she lodged in his house; I think he was the land-lord—I have heard that Kemp was tried and convicted here recently of stealing jewellery, and that he got five years; I do not know that the money my daughter got from the prisoner was for my other daughter at St. John's Wood; I know she tried to borrow it, but she did not get it—the first money was paid; it was for the second time—I know that the prisoner very strongly objected to Beatty having anything to do with her sister at St. John's Wood, and desired her not to associate with her—when she did go there I told him she had gone to Wood ford, but I advised her to tell her husband the whole truth as to where she had been—I know that he told her not to go to this Dramatic Club; he told me he did; he did not think it a place for respectable persons to go to—he has told me that he very strongly objected to Beatty drinking anything—she used to take a drop occasionally, a little; nothing particular—on Thursday, September 17th, when he called there was a quarrel; on the Friday, the day after the summons was adjourned, there was a thorough reconciliation, and they slept together at the Cosmopolitan Hotel as man and wife, and on the 20th the friendly terms continued, and my daughter slept at homo, and he went home to his lodging—on Monday, the 21st, there was a quarrel because some person had told her that they had seen her husband at the club with a woman; on the 22nd there was a reconciliation—when I heard the pistol
fired on the 24th I think it must have been a full hour after I heard them quarrelling on the doorstep—up to a minute or two before the shot I heard loud and angry words—I only heard one shot—my first impression was that it was a blank cartridge—she told me she had been shot, but I did not see any blood—when she said, "He has shot me," he seemed quite thunder-struck and surprised; he said, "What have I done?"—the door must have been open, for I rushed in—when my daughter told him that she did not want his 12s. 6d., she said "You have deceived me; you have been with Carter. I will have nothing more to do with you. Go back to Carter again"—he used to lodge in the same house as we did, 250, Essex Road—she did not like Carter because she thought he was a bad adviser to the prisoner—I know that when my daughter was in a temper she has taken off her wedding-ring and thrown it away, and the prisoner bought her a second one—on several occasions she has come home to stop with me, and he invariably called and begged her to return—when she went to the club to look for him he said she had been to look after somebody else.
Re-examined. I don't know that I was present when she took off her wedding-ring and threw it away; I heard it from her—on the night of the 24th I saw no indication of her having been drinking—she was not in the habit of drinking—the prisoner had been a teetotaler for a long tame; once in a way I have seen him take drink—I did not know much about him in August and September.
JAMES BOYD FINNEY . I am the husband of the last witness—on the early morning of Friday, September 25th, I had gone to bed before my wife; I was not in very good health; something woke me up; it sounded to me like the slamming of a door; I heard it four or five times; then my wife called me—I slipped on my things and went downstairs—from what my wife said I pushed the door open, and saw the prisoner standing against the foot of the bed, with a revolver in his hand; he was holding it down at his side; I caught hold of him with one hand and took the revolver from him, and slipped it into my pocket—after that he ran out and fetched a doctor—I did not know that he fetched one; I fetched Dr. Mayberry—the sounds I had heard were very quick ones; in as quick succession as could be—the doctors came and the police—I gave the revolver, to a policeman.
Cross-examined. The prisoner appeared fearfully distressed and upset.
GEORGE CARTER . I am a builder, and live at 250, Essex Road—I have known the prisoner some two years—he and his wife lodged at 250 after their marriage; they remained there up to the beginning of August, and then left—after that I saw the prisoner occasionally—after his home was broken up he came to stay the night with me—he came and called for me on Thursday, September 24th, at about nine, and I was in his company up to twelve o'clock—we went home to 250, and it was his intention to stay the night with me—he complained of feeling worried, tired, and miserable—he started undressing to go to bed; he was going down below before coming to bed—I said, "You will come back, won't you?"—he said, "Yes, I shall be glad to come to bed"—that was about a quarter past twelve—he did not return, and I did not see him again till after he was in custody.
Cross-examined. In addition to complaining, he said that his head felt
very bad—he seemed very excited—I knew him; it the time of his marriage—I lodged in the same house with him and his wife at Mrs. Danford's; I have been there two years and three months; they were there for about ten months—the deceased was very violent and aggressive—I have heard her threaten and strike him on many occasions—I have seen her strike him two or three times—on one occasion when he was home late I saw her knock him down the steps and follow him down the street—I have known her smash a lot of crockery when in a temper—they continually quarrelled—he was very kind to her, and continually forgave her for the violence she has used, and has expressed himself as very much attached to her—I know that he carried a revolver to protect himself, as he was the habit of carrying valuable property—he used to carry a life-preserver, but six or seven months ago he told me he should get something better, because a man had been found in the house where we were lodging, and he thought this man had come to rob him—the man was found in the garden, and I flung him out; he pretended to be drunk—the whole time I have known the prisoner he has borne the character of a quiet, respectable young man, but a more miserable life I never saw.
Re-examined. It was in September, I think, when this violence on her part occurred—the breaking of the crockery was in July—they separated about August 3rd; the purchase of the revolver was about that time I believe—I was not at all unfriendly with his wife; we would just pass the time of day, "Good morning, "and so on.
HERMAN DEMSOAL . I am hall-porter at the Dramatic Club, 133, Upper Street, Islington—I have seen the prisoner at the club three or four times—on Friday, 25th, he left the club between one and two a.m. with a young woman who had called for him.
PAUL FRANZ . I am the proprietor of the Dramatic Club—the prisoner has been a member since September 4th—I remember his wife coming on the night of September 25th—I asked her inside to see if her friend was there—when I went with her into the club the prisoner was there—he did not see me; he was sitting with his back to the door—she left after being there about a minute.
Cross-examined. Members of the club pay half-a-crown a quarter—I have no licence to sell spirits and wines which I sell to members—there are 500 members—no women, but women come in with members—we keep open as late as three or four a.m.—very seldom till five a.m.—singing and dancing take place amongst the members—women come in if respectable—there is a committee—women are admitted without being with members—the police have not visited the dub openly—the Excise have visited it—I have been convicted four times—women of the town do not call and ask for men.
CHARLES COLLETTE (Inspector N). On September 25th I was called to 17, Little Cross Street about 2.40 a.m.—just as I got there the prisoner rushed in and upstairs to his wife, saying, "Oh! oh! I have been to the doctor"—I followed into the back bedroom on the first floor, where I saw the deceased—I asked her what had occurred—she said, "He has done it; he shot me"—I arrested the prisoner, and sent him to the station—I conveyed the deceased to the hospital—in consequence of her state, and what Dr. Clarke told me, I sent for the prisoner to the hospital
and told him, in his wife's presence, I was going to take her statement on oath—the statement was made, and read over to the deceased—she put her mark to it. (This statement was objected to, and not admitted).
Cross-examined. The prisoner was greatly upset and distressed—when the deceased made the statement he leaned over her and kissed her—this is the revolver—I searched the prisoner at the hospital—he had a his or revolver pocket—the revolver is Belgian make, is self-cocking, the chambers had four discharged cartridges and one un discharged—I searched the room about six the same morning—I did not trace the track of any bullet.
Re-examined. I found on the prisoner the letters which have been produced.
ERNEST SOLHURST (465 N). I received the prisoner from the last witness—I took him to the station—on the way he said, "She aggravated me to the last minute. She came up to the club boosed. Shall I see her again?"
WILLIAM GLADSTONE CLARKE . On September 25th I was house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—the deceased was brought into the hospital between three and four a.m.—she was in a state of collapse from bullet wounds—she remained in the hospital until she died, on September 29th—I made a post-mortem examination of the body—I found five wounds caused by bullets—three were caused by bullets entering the body, and two by bullets leaving the body—one wound was on the left arm above the elbow, one in the left thigh, just below the groin—the other three wounds passed through the body, one being in the upper part of the abdomen, nearly in the middle line, wounding the stomach; two were in the intestines, and a bullet was actually found in the muscles of the back—the wound in the abdomen was the cause of death—I saw the bullet and the revolver; they seemed to correspond—I saw her clothing, but did not examine it till it was shown me at the inquest—I saw mark of scorching; that would be caused by these shots being fired close to her—they corresponded with the position of the wounds.
Cross-examined. The wounds on the arm and thigh were insignificant.
HORACE MANSFIELD AVORY . I am a doctor, and practise at 2, Upper Street, Islington—I was known to the prisoner and his wife—the prisoner came to me in the early morning of September 25th; he said, "Come at once; I have shot her"—I said, "You must be a silly fellow to do such a foolish thing"—I asked him how his case had gone—he said, "It came on yesterday"—that referred to the separation—I went and saw the woman at the house, on the first floor—I examined her, and found bullet marks—the prisoner came into the room—I stayed till the woman was removed to the hospital.
Cross-examined. They did not agree very well together—I thought the prisoner was a well-disposed young man—it had been raining all the evening, and was raining when the prisoner came in—he looked almost out of his mind—he appeared greatly distressed, he had no hat on—he gave me the message, and ran back to his wife—he was in a state of extreme anxiety.
GUILTY of Manslaughter.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
By permission of the COURT the charge of Manslaughter was taken.
MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
The Prisoner withdrew his plea of "Not Guilty" to Manslaughter, and in the. hearing of the JURY said he was
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Friday, October 23rd, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. WILLS Defended.
WALTER SAVAGE . I am independent, and live at Weybridge—at the end of July I saw an advertisement in the Standard of the sale of a horse, in consequence of which I went to Stanhope Street, Euston Road, and saw the prisoner, who sold me the horse for £15—I said that I had not got the money at the time, but would write him a cheque for £15, and send the cash next day if he would return the cheque—he asked me to leave the cheque open as he had no banking account, but I would not do so—he was to hold the cheque till he got the money—next day I gave a man, named Smith, three £5 notes in an envelope, and he came back with the cob—he did not tell me what Sheen had said or done—the next time I heard of the cheque it was in Mr. Willis's hands, and I am now being sued upon it—the prisoner had no authority to part with it—I had not said anything to him about stopping it.
Cross-examined. I have bought several horses before, and know something of the value of them—sometimes I sell them again—I have three now, and I have sold four or five—I do not deal in horses—Sheen asked me £50 for the horse, and I offered £15—£30 was not mentioned—we were an hour and a-half bargaining—I did not stop the cheque till three days afterwards—it came back marked "N.S."—I told him that there was not sufficient to meet it when I gave it to him, and that he was not to present it—he wrote to me about the cheque—I gave the letter to my solicitor—Smith is a livery stable keeper in Baker Street Mews, within two miles—nothing was said about 5s. being given to the man who took the horse away, but they generally ask for luck money—I do not know whether he got 5s.
Re-examined. I parted with 5s. on Monday—the horse was a cob, about fourteen hands, and after trying it at riding and driving I offered £15 for it, and he took it.
EDWARD SMITH . I am a jobmaster, of 9, Baker's Mews—on August 3rd I got instructions from Mr. Savage and three £5 notes—I went to the prisoner about 2.30 p.m., and asked for the cob for Mr. Savage and the cheque—he said, "Never mind that, I will send that back; it will be all right"—I asked him for a receipt for the money—he said, "Never mind about a receipt; you have got the horse and I have got the money"—I took the horse away, and communicated with Mr. Savage.
Cross-examined. I have bought and sold horses—I did not think it anything unusual not getting the receipt—he said he would send the cheque
by post—I was there a quarter of an hour; I had no refreshment with him—a good-natured man would give the purchaser's groom a trifle—I did not receive a letter from the prisoner.
Re-examined. I had no incidental expenses—I did not receive 5s.—I paid a shilling or two out of my own pocket.
WILLIAM WILLIS . I keep the Jolly Farmers—the prisoner used my house occasionally—on August 4th he came in the morning and showed me this cheque for £15; it had an indorsement on it—he said, "Oh, governor, I want you to do me a favour"—I said, "What is it?"—he said, "I want you to cash me this cheque for £15"—I said, "I cannot do it now"—he said, "I don't want it all now; give me £5, and the remainder when it comes back"—I said, "Who is Mr. Savage?"—he said, "He is a stock-broker; I have had £30 for a cob; I have had £15, and this is for the balance"—I gave him £5, and paid the cheque into my bank that afternoon—he came again, and asked if the cheque had come in—I said, "No"—he wanted £1 or £2 more, which I did not let him have—the cheque came back marked "N.S."—I showed it to him when he came again; he expressed great surprise that Mr. Savage should allow the cheque to come back—I asked him Mr. Savage's address—he said that he had not been able to find it out, and I got it from my bankers—when I parted with my money I had no idea that the cheque was not a negotiable instrument.
Cross-examined. He showed me a letter from a man named Smith, of Portman Mews, who stated that he did not know the address.
There were other indictments against the prisoner for like offences concerning nine different prosecutors.—Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
780. THOMAS GOADBY (28) , Stealing, while employed under the Post-office, postal orders for 10s. and 3s., the property of the Postmaster-General, and' ARTHUR WILLIAM GOADBY (20) , feloniously receiving the same.
MR. SOPER Prosecuted.
CHRISTINA MARY BOOTLE . I live with my parents at Byfleet—on August 23th I saw my mother write a letter addressed to Mr. F. C. Russell—she gave it to me, and I put into it an order for 10s., and another for 3s., which I filled in "F. C. Russell," took the numbers of them, put them in the envelope, fastened it up, and posted it between five and six p.m.
SAMUEL LEDDRA . I am supervisor at the W.C. district office—Thomas Goadby was employed there as postman—a letter posted at Byfleet would arrive at the office at midnight and would be delivered at 6.30 a.m.—Thomas Goadby was on duty at one a.m., and would have access to that letter.
SIDNEY HERBERT POULSON . I am senior clerk to Mr. Russell, of Woburn House—it is my duty to open his letters, and any postal orders in them would pass through my hands—these orders never passed through my hands—Mr. Lake and Miss Cameron also open letters.
ALFRED AUGUSTUS BALL . I am sub-postmaster at Beresford Street, Camberwell; I know the younger prisoner as being employed in the Post-office; he presented these orders to me and said, "Will you change these for Mr. Bassett?"—they were in thick ink—I cashed them for him, and marked them that I might know them again.
Cross-examined by A. W. Goadby. I knew your name.
JOSEPH GEORGE STEVENS . I am in the secretary's office of the General Post-office—I was instructed to make inquiries respecting the loss of Mr. Russell's letters, and suspicion fell upon the two prisoners—I showed the younger prisoner the 10s. order, and said, "This order was enclosed in a letter to Mr. Russell, of Woburn Square, and you have been identified as the person presenting it"—he said, "I have never seen it; but now you have shown it I believe my brother stole it"—I saw the brother, and said, "Do you recollect this order now?"—he said, "Yes, I told a lie about it just now; my brother Tom gave it to me, and said, "You might take them to the Post-office for me'; I took them to the Beresford office, and received them, and gave the money to my brother"—I saw Thomas, and said, "A large number of letters have been stolen while you were on duty, and sundry orders have been cashed at an office near here; what do you know about them?"—he said, "I know nothing about them"—I said, "Your brother has been identified as cashing them; what have you to say?"—he said nothing—I said, "You have been betting; who pays when you win?"—he said, "I have always lost; I had it given me by a bookmaker, and another with it"—I said, "When did he give it you?"—he said, "About two o'clock on the day it was changed"—I said, "Who wrote on the orders?"—he said, "They were like that when he gave them to me"—I said, "Who is the man?"—he said, "I don't know; I have seen him once or twice in the street."
WALTER HURST . I am a constable attached to the General Post-office; the prisoners live very near each other, and about 100 yards from the Beresford Street Office—Mr. Stephenson gave them in custody; they made no answer.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: Thomas Goodly says, "I am innocent; a friend asked me if I would do it for him; I do not know any bookmakers myself; he asked me if I should accept two orders; I said, 'Yes,' and put them in my pocket; it was Saturday afternoon at 1.30 my brother came round, and I asked him to cash them for me; he knew nothing about them; I am sorry to say I have no friends." A. W. Goadby says, "My brother gave me the two orders; I did not know they were stolen, otherwise I should not have gone to change them where I was known."
GUILTY .— The JURY recommended ARTHUR to mercy, thinking he acted under his brother.
THOMAS GOADDY— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
A. W. GOADBY— Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, October 24th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
ALICE HILL . I am the wife of Edward Hill, of 73, Marylebone Lane—I have known the prisoner and her husband some years—on August 18th I was entertaining a few 'friends at my house—the prisoner was there—she endeavoured to get home; eventually she stayed the night with me—she left in the morning a little after seven—she returned a little after nine; she was very much upset and crying, and told me that her husband had been abusing her.
Cross-examined. I always found her a quiet well-disposed woman—she worked up the business at her shop—her husband drank very much—he has frequently threatened her life, and she has frequently forgiven him for his threats and assaults.
ARTHUR PAYNE (222 d). On the night of August 18th I saw the prisoner knocking at the private door of her house in Marylebone Lane, trying to get in—her husband refused to let her in, and I saw her break the fanlight over the door.
ELIZABETH CANDY . I was a servant in the employ of Mr. Aitkin, of Marylebone Lane, for about a year—they lived on very good terms until a few days lately—on the morning of August 19th, about half-past seven, I got to the shop; the prisoner came in about eight; the deceased came in about eight; he was quite sober; he told me to get 2d. of whiskey for him; he drank it up, and went upstairs—the prisoner remained in the bar with me—she did not go away at all that I know of—about ten she was cutting up some meat behind the bar; her husband came downstairs and walked to the shop door facing the street—he called her a filthy name; her language was not quite so bad as his—I was cleaning up the plates, making a clatter—she burst out crying; I looked round; I saw that she was using the knife, cutting some boiled beef—she said to me, "Run for a cab, sharp"—I went round the partition, and saw the deceased standing with his right hand up to his neck; he was pouring with blood—I ran for a cab; when I came back the prisoner was upstairs, crying very much.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had been drinking for a week before.
JAMES RICHARDSON (Police Sergeant 2 d). About ten on the morning of August 19th my attention was called to 71, Marylebone Lane by a large crowd—I went in by the private entrance; I saw the deceased in the shop, sitting on the fourth step from the shop door, bleeding from a wound on the right side of the neck—I laid him on his back on the floor, and tried to prevent the blood flowing—I sent for a doctor—Dr. Purcell came first; he left for some ointment, and the divisional doctor came—when I came in I saw the prisoner standing against the bar crying—I stayed with the deceased until he died—he said, "I annoyed my wife; it is not her fault. I did it myself with the knife"—he said that about twenty-five minutes before he died—this is the knife (produced); I found it in the shop, about half an inch from the front wall, on the same side as where the deceased was, the public side, between the partition and the shop door—the prisoner was standing on the other side of the partition; I should say she could not have seen over the partition—when I picked up the knife it had blood on the
point; it was close to the front door—she was very much upset, and sorry for what had happened.
FERDINAND ALBERT PURCELL , M.R.C.S. I practise at 7, Manchester Square—on August 19th a messenger called me to the house—I found the deceased attended by the divisional surgeon—I examined him sufficiently to see that I should require instruments to stop the bleeding, and I told the constable to keep his hand over the place to stop the bleeding—I was called again to him and found him dead—death was caused by the severance of an artery—that could have been caused by the knife—I do not think the wound could have been self-inflicted.
The JURY, being unable to agree, were dismissed without returning any verdict; and on a subsequent day, before another Jury, no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. C. F. GILL, BIRON and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MR. BURTON Defended.
CECIL TAPPING . I am a plumber's mate—I know the prisoner well, and knew the deceased—they were on pretty good terms—the prisoner's father rents a boot-repairing shop at Bevington Road, and the prisoner works for him—on the afternoon of August 24th, about a quarter to six, I went with Boltwood to the shop—Boltwood had some shrimps with him—the prisoner was having his tea—he asked Boltwood for some shrimps—he threw some at him—Rogers said, "Instead of throwing them about, you had better give me some"—Rogers' sister was standing by, and Boltwood rubbed her ears and made her cry—he was a little bit boosed—Rogers said, "If you can't stop larking about you had better get outside"—Boltwood said, "Suppose you go out first?"—Boltwood went round to the other side of the counter, and they wrestled to put one another outside—they had their arms around each other's neck; it was a playful wrestle—Rogers said, "If you don't go away I will stab you"—there was a knife on a little shelf under the counter—Boltwood laughed—Rogers then took up the knife and stabbed him—Rogers was sitting at the time, and Boltwood was standing—he had his arms round Rogers' neck at the time; he pushed Rogers down on the chair—he said, "He has stabbed me," and he struck him three times in the face—I and Rogers helped Boltwood outside the shop, and I ran for a doctor after undoing his waistcoat and seeing the blood.
Cross-examined. I had met Boltwood about three in the afternoon at Notting Hill Gate, and we went into the Duke of York and had a game of bagatelle—he only had one drink there—I don't know whether he had been drinking before; he seemed a little bit boosed when I met him—he had a glass of mild and bitter at the Duke of York—we then went to the Duke of Sussex in Portobello Road and had some more drink there—Boltwood struck the prisoner about six times after the stab—I did not see him catch hold of the prisoner's hair—I had seen the knife before on other days, not at this time; it was not in the prisoner's hand at the time;
I had known him about three months—I did not see the knife before the wound was inflicted; I could not, because it was under the counter; he put his hand direct in there, and put it back afterwards—I did not see him catch hold of it—the struggle was a playful one until the stab—the prisoner was standing at the time—I could not say whether he spoke in an angry tone at the time; he simply said, "If you don't go away I will stab you"—Boltwood did not take it seriously, merely as a lark.
JOHN BOYCE . I live at North Kingston—on August 24th I was passing the prisoner's shop, and I saw the deceased stumble out of the shop; as he fell on the pavement he said, "For God's sake go and fetch a doctor, quick"—the prisoner came out and dragged him into the shop—I crossed the road and said, "What is the matter?"—he said, "He came in here, messing me about, and I put the knife to him."
Cross-examined. He did not seem excited; he seemed frightened at what he had done.
ARTHUR FULLER (495 X). I was in the road, and was called to the shop; I saw the deceased there, lying on the ground; I sent for an ambulance and had him taken to the station—the prisoner knew me, and made a statement voluntarily; he said, "I was having my tea with some shrimps, and Boltwood threw some at me; we came to high words, and I lost my temper"—this shoemaker's knife was handed to me by the doctor.
Cross-examined. He was excited at what had happened—I have known him about three years as a steady, industrious, hard-working young man—at one time he supported his parents when they were very ill.
WILLIAM BELL (Inspector). I went to Bevington Road, and saw the deceased there with the doctors; he was being operated upon—I charged the prisoner "with maliciously wounding Boltwood—he made no reply—in consequence of information from the medical man, on July 25th, I took the prisoner to the deceased's house, when Mr. Rose, the Magistrate, took his deposition.
WILLIAM LEWELLYN ROBERTS . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 60, Cambridge Gardens—on August 24th I was called to 9A, Bevington Road; I saw the deceased in a room at the back of the shop; I examined him, and found a stab in the abdomen—while I was there Dr. Lall came in—the deceased was removed by me to the house of his aunt, where I further examined him, and saw that an operation was necessary, and, with Dr. Lall's assistance, we performed one—he died on the 29th, at two in the morning—I afterwards made a post-mortem—the wound was about midway between the navel and the groin, extending slightly downwards and outwards, and was about two inches in length—it was such a wound as could be caused by this knife—I don't think any great force was used.
Cross-examined. It could have been done if the prisoner was standing in front of the deceased—I think it would have required more force than a mere jerk—he lingered five days—we expected a fatal result.
CHARMAN CHANDU LALL . I am a registered medical practitioner, of Goulbourn Road; I assisted Dr. Roberts in his treatment of the deceased—I was apprehensive of a fatal result, and advised a magistrate to be sent for, and his statement was taken; I was there at the finish of it.
(Read: "My name is Walter Boltwood. This afternoon, I cannot tell the time, I was in Rogers' shop, a boot-repairing shop; I went there to speak to him; I had had a drop of drink, but was not drunk. He said, 'Leave off, or I will stab you.' I did not take any notice of that; then he stabbed me in the belly with a snob's knife. I was catching hold of him round the neck. I might have said I was going to throw him out of the shop. He did not say, "Don't go sparring about with me.' He gave me a slap in the eye. After he stabbed me I hit him.")
He received a good character.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his youth and the provocation he received.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted.
GEORGE MARTIN INGLIS . I am fifty-two years of age; thirty-two years ago I was staying with my family in Scotland—I knew there a woman named Caird—I was then about eighteen or nineteen—she alleged that I had got her in the family way—I made arrangements with regard to her leaving her situation and going elsewhere for the purpose of her confinement, and I subsequently provided moneys for her support and that of her child—I afterwards went abroad, in 1865, and was absent from England over twenty years, and afterwards I went out for another three years—I returned finally in 1888—up to that time I had never seen the prisoner—I received letters from him—he was then in the Army—he made representations to me in those letters, and in the result I provided him with money, first to leave the Army, and twice for other purposes, on different occasions—he informed me by letter that he had deserted—I gave him money on different occasions up to about twelve months ago—on one occasion it was to bury his wife—I subsequently got information from his wife—on September 14th I got this letter—it was left at my house in Piccadilly—I had learnt before that he had been in the neighbourhood of my house, and he also went to my relatives in Scotland. (The letter addressed the prosecutor as "Father" stating that he was starving, and unless he came to some terms he would end his own misery and his father's happiness, for his life would not be worth a penny.) I had frequently received letters from him, and I believe this to be in his handwriting—on receiving this I communicated with the police, and applied for a warrant for his arrest—I was afraid he would take my life—an appointment was made for him to come to a place on September 16th, where he was arrested—since his committal I received this letter from him:—"I know I have not been as good as I should have been; nothing but horse-racing has been my downfall."
The Prisoner: I had no money except what he gave me to keep away from Scotland—I never informed him that my wife was dead.
CHARLES ARROW . I am an officer—I had a warrant for the prisoner's arrest—I went to the place where the appointment was made, and met him there—the warrant was for sending a letter to Mr. Inglis, threatening to murder him—he said, "All right, sir"—he was taken to the Police-office—the letter was read to him—he made no answer—I found on him the letter making the appointment.
Witness for the Defence.
MRS. MACKENZIE. I met the prisoner on September 14th, about a quarter to eleven—he was very much the worse for liquor—he said, "I have had nothing to eat; I have not been in a bed for thirteen nights"—I said, "You are very silly to give way to drink"—he said, "No, I don't know that I did; this will end some way or other"—I said, "Come home and have a cup of tea"—he said, "Not till George comes home; I don't know where to go, or what to do."
The Prisoner handed in a written statement. "I have no recollection of writing or sending the letters to my father; I have been out of work for some time, and for fourteen days had no food; on September 13th I met three men; they asked me to have drink with them, and I had a few drinks, and it went to my head; if I wrote the letter it was not in the sense the prosecution put on it; if I did it I am very sorry; I had no cause, because he has always been very kind; I will promise never to write to him any more.
GUILTY .— He entered into his own Recognizance in £500 to appear for judgment if called upon, and to keep the peace.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, October 24th 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
785. GEORGE WILLIAMSON (27), GEORGE JOSEPH ELS-MORE (43) and HERBERT WILLIAM SMITH (30) , Stealing large quantities of table-cloths, blankets, curtains, rugs, packing-cases, and other articles, the goods of Rylands and Sons, Limited, the masters of Williamson.—
WILLIAMSON PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. BODKIN and CARNELLY Prosecuted.
FRKDERICK ROBERT PAKEMAN . I am credit clerk to Messrs. Rylands, Manchester warehousemen, of 55, Wood Street—their packing-cases are charged to the customers and allowed for on their return by Carter, Patersons—it was Williamson's duty to attend to the lift, and sign Carter, Paterson's way-bill—each has a ticket attached to it, which are collected by a clerk, and each case is entered separately in a book which goes to the counting-bouse, and I make the entries of the return of the cases by the customers—on September 2nd I went to Messrs. Apfel's premises in Spitalfields, and saw a number of empty boxes, marked "R. and S. L, 55, Wood Street," and a number which I keep in a register when the boxes go to be repaired—there is a record of that—when they are damaged they are broken up; Williamson would break up some of them in the room where they are received—I saw fifty-three cases at Apfel's—I find in the way-bill the names of Marshall and of Coombs, of Kew; that was not done with the authority of the firm—there are no carmen's perquisites.
Cross-examined by Smith. To the best of my knowledge, these two boxes had not been repaired.
JOSEPH POWIS . I am a clerk to Messrs. Rylands, and keep the return empties book—I am associated a good deal with Williamson, and after the delivery he gives me the names of the customers returning the cases, which I enter in a book, and return the book to the office.
Co., Limited, of 18, Goswell Road—Elsmore and Smith were carmen in their employ—it was their duty to take a delivery-sheet with a load in the morning and get it signed, and then to call at the Bedford Street Stores, and if they got a load it would be distributed in the usual way—it was Elsmore's duty then to drive to Banner Street and meet Smith—it is a rule that no case shall come from one car to another without a delivery-sheet, or be changed from one carman to another—a record is kept of the goods delivered to the van—it was Smith's duty to go to the Fore Street Warehouses Company and take goods; he would then go over the water to Sells and the S. W. Railway; he has a list of what houses he has to go to; if he receives any goods he takes them to Goswell Street—his duty is the same as Elsmore's—I produce Elsmore's delivery-sheet for September 22nd; the goods are entered in detail, and ticked—we make a charge for them, but the prisoners do not collect money—I had no knowledge of the dealing with the empty cases by the carmen—they had van-boys; Bryce was Elsmore's van-boy; he was suspended, and Henry Croft succeeded him—Smith had a van-boy named Jones in the last few months.
Cross-examined by Elsmore. It would not be your duty to accept parcels from Williamson—there is a commission given—in putting the list of your losses down there would be no limit.
By the COURT. He had no right to back his van against Elsmore's and transfer the contents—I have searched the books for four or five months but find no entry of parcels delivered by Apfels, or at 32, Carlen Road—he had no right to deliver any goods without an entry.
SOLOMON FRANKS . I live at 30, Drysdale Road, Hoxton—on September 30th I went to Wood Street, and kept watch on the lift—I had been watching four days—I saw Elsmore drive up with a lot of empties, and the boy with him—the cases which were actually delivered were put in front of the van—Williamson received the empties, and they were put on the lift to go down—seven were left in the van—I saw Williamson sign the sheet on the tail of the van, and he could see the seven cases still in the van—they were marked "R. S. L.," and the label, "55, Wood Street," was left on—Williamson brought up a canvas parcel on the lift, and gave it to Elsmore, who put it between the empty cases and drove away—I followed, and went to a building, and kept observation on them, and saw Smith with his van—the two vans backed, and Smith took the cases and put them in the front, and Elsmore gave Smith the parcel—I ran behind his van, and got to the front of 60 and 62, Commercial Street, and saw Smith put a case on the pavement—I told a constable that I should charge Smith with stealing cases from Rylands—he said nothing in my presence, but I went to the van to look after the boxes—I followed to the station, and saw the van—I saw the parcel found in Smith's van—I watched on the 18th, 19th, 20th, and 22nd, and on each day saw similar things being done, and on one occasion a full case came up the lift—it was heavy.
ARTHUR BRICE . I live at 11, Hyde Road, Hoxton—up to September 21st I was van-boy, acting with Elsmore each day—some cases were delivered, and some were left in the van, and handed to Williamson—Williamson was not always there, he was sometimes at the lift—I saw heavy cases come up the lift, and brown paper parcels—we drove to
Whitecross Street with the empties which had not been delivered from the van, and the parcels, and they were transferred there to Smith—the police afterwards moved us, and we went to Banner Street—those empty cases were sent every day—I have seen Smith at Messrs. Rylands, but not with his van—that was when I was delivering empties by myself—sometimes I drove, and Elsmore came afterwards by himself, and Smith by himself—I never heard what the three were talking about—I was arrested, and the Alderman discharged me, being a young lad; and I gave evidence.
Cross-examined by Smith. It is a matter of three minutes to walk; you walked down.
HENRY CROSS . I am in the employ of Carter, Paterson and Co.—on September 22nd I was van-boy to Elsmore, and we drove with some cases with tickets on, some of which were left on the van; we went to Banner Street, where I saw the cases turned into Smith's van.
JAMES BARNETT . I am in the employ of Carter, Paterson and Co.—on September 22nd I was with Smith when he met Elsmore's van—Elsmore put some empty cases into our van, and we took them to Mr. Apfel's boot and shoe shop, where he put them outside the door and went into the shop by the back entrance, and I drove away to Spitalfields Market, which is six or seven yards.
MARIA CHALWIN . I live at 10, Circular Road, Old Kent Road—Williamson has been a lodger there for a month or two—he left in August or September; he came and told me he was going to get married, and wanted a room to put his furniture in—parcels came there from time to time; Smith and a van-boy brought them; he had a key, and put them inside—that has been going on for three or four months, sometimes two boxes a week, and sometimes one—they were packing cases, and one was too heavy for me; there was no name or address on them—one contained blankets.
JEXNY LEADER . I live with my parents in Circular Street—I was engaged to be married to Williamson, and several things were left at my place with that view, a box of embroidery, some plated dessert forks, clothes, and other articles—they were in his name, not addressed to me—he told me the parcels were coming, and would I take them in—I thought they were for housekeeping—there were also some table knives and forks, spoons, sugar-tongs, scent, and a small clock—Mr. Martin came to see me; I showed him the things, and next day I found more things, and went and told him—Carter-Paterson's man brought the goods.
HENRY APFEL . I am assisting the executors of. my father at a boot and shoe manufactory, 60, Commercial Road—I am twenty years old—I have been in the habit of sending away boots and shoes in wooden cases—I have bought empty packing cases from Smith, sometimes one a week—I gave him 6d. or 8d. for them, not less than that, as we had to do them up; some of them were broken—that has been going on for two months—I sometimes left my man to buy them—I paid cash for them—I saw the van come up with Carter, Paterson's name on it—some cases were left by Mr. Pateman, but he did not count them; a good many of them had on them "R. L., 55, Wood Street"—after that was brought to my knowledge I did not take any more—I delivered them up to Messrs. Rylands; some of them have never been repaired, and
are perfectly good—I did not think it strange that they were sold at 6d. or 8d., but I am not doing it any more.
Cross-examined by Smith. I have no proof that I ever paid you 1s. for a case.
By the COURT. I have bought cases from the Midland Company—I cannot give you the name of anyone connected with any railway company whom I have bought them of—I did not keep an account of those we bought of Smith; we only put down cases, but in one or two instances we have put down the names. (The witness was directed to examine his books.)
THOMAS JONES . I am a general dealer in all kinds of cases and boxes, and wrappings—I knew that Smith was a carman of Carter, Paterson's, and have been in the habit of buying canvas of him at 7s. per cwt, and empty cases about 8d. each, not 7d.—cases which I gave 7d. for I should sell at 14d. or 15d.—about September 22nd I had a quantity of wrapping in my possession—I cannot tell whether it came from Smith; Sergeant Bose looked at it—I do not remember telling him that it came from Smith—Mr. Martin did not identify a pair of blankets in one of the cases I had bought, as Rylands' property—these were two little pieces—I do not know that they came from Rylands—when they called I knew that Mr. Martin represented Rylands—he looked about my premises, and found two pieces of blanket—I said that they were not Rylands'—they came to me wrapped in a piece of canvas which came by itself, not in a case, and he took them away.
By the COURT. I have not been in the habit of buying empty cases and finding new goods in them—I did not buy an empty case and find in it two dozen and a-half of corsets—when I buy cases I do not know what is in them, and they were outside three hours—I have not occasionally found toys and blankets in them, nor have I told the solicitors to the Crown so. (The RECORDER ordered the witness to stand down, but not to leave the Court.)
RICHARD ASH MARTIN . I am in Messrs. Rylands' counting-house—Williamson was a packer and receiver of returned empties—Carter, Patersons were always employed to re-deliver the empty cases to us—information came to me in September, and I communicated with Carter, Patersons, and went to 10, Circular Road, and up to a room—the door was, forced open, and I found all the articles on this list (produced), which I identify as Messrs. Rylands' property—I went to 30, Circular Road, and Mrs. Leader showed me a sewing-machine and other articles, which I recognised, and she brought me other articles the next day; the total value is about £40, and most of them had Messrs. Rylands' ticket on them—without a thorough stock-taking we cannot tell what we have lost—Smith went with me to Circular Road, and recognised the parcels—none of those articles had been sold to Williamson—I saw the pair of blankets which were in the van on September 22nd; they were worth 4s. or 5s.—we never sold blankets or towels to Apfel or Jones—there were towels at both places, at Mrs. Leader's and at Circular Road—I saw Smith at the station—he said he did not know about the parcels, but he looked on the cases as perquisites, and that he could find the house, although he did not know the address.
Cross-examined by Smith. We do not have two prices.
GEORGE MURRAY (369 N). On September 22nd I was on duty in Commercial Street, and in consequence of what Franks said I took Smith in custody, and told him I should take him to the station, and that he had been watched—when we got to the station there was a package tied up in the middle of the van—I asked him what it was—he said, "A bit of stuff to make a coarse apron," and he had to drop it, over the water—I found some brown paper in it in which was a pair of blankets—the van boy was discharged that morning.
THOMAS DOWSE (City Detective Sergeant). On September 22nd I saw Smith detained at the Commercial Street Station—I told him I was a police officer, and asked him to account for two blankets in a piece of canvas wrapper found in the evening—he said, "I received them from Elsmore, and Elsmore received them from a man named Williamson in the employ of Messrs. Rylands"—I told him he would be charged with receiving them, and stealing and receiving a quantity of Oases—he said, "I thought they were perquisites," and that he was going to take them over the water, and did not know anything of the parcels contents—I went to Rylands'; had a conversation with Williamson, and he was taken in custody—when they were charged, Elsmore said he knew nothing about it; Smith said, "I thought they were perquisites," and that he had received about twenty, which he had conveyed to the address over the water—Williamson pleaded Guilty at the Police-court.
T. JONES (Re-examined). I have bought about thirty cases from Smith in the last two months—I have never bought Rylands' cases of anybody else—Carter and Sons, of Kingsland Road, have returned cases to me, from fifty to fifty-nine, and so have Simpkins; they were Rylands' cases—I have also bought cases of the Midland Railway Company from the depot—I cannot give you the name of a single carman driving about with a van whom I have bought cases of.
R. A. MARTIN (Re-examined). I went to Jones' premises, and saw a pair of blankets there, and a piece of canvas with our brand on it—he gave me no explanation of how it came into his possession—I saw some stays there, and his sister was wearing a pair, but they were not our goods.
Elsmore, in his defence, stated that he was in Messrs. Rylands' employ fifteen years; that it was the practice after emptying the van, to take it away to keep it clean; that Williamson said to him," How is it you do not have some empties as well as other carmen? if you can get any I will take them"; and that Williamson also sent a few parcels away by him, telling him that they were paid for, and they were transferred to Smith that they might be delivered earlier, and that he sometimes received 1s. from Williamson, sometimes 6d., and sometimes a glass of ale.
Smith's Defence: I admit having the cases on the understanding that they were perquisites. Williamson commenced by sending goods which he said he could buy at cost price from Rylands', and if I wanted any clothing he would take me to the department and get me suited at half the cost. Of course I knew I was acting against Carter Paterson's rules in taking money which they ought to receive. I saw the same parcel at the landlord's undone. Elsmore and I shared the profits for the best price I could get for them. I was acting more like a friend to Williamson, and I believed he had got them honestly.
GUILTY .—WILLIAMSON— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ELS-MORE and SMITH— Six Months' Hard Labour each.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, October 22nd, 23rd, and 24th 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. C. E. GILL and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; LORD COLERIDGE, Q.C., MR. BLACKWELL, and MR. DAVIS Defended.
The Prosecution demurred to the plea of justification, and in support of the demurrer MR. AVORY contended that the plea was bad, because it violated the rule that where distinct and separate charges were contained in a libel, as was the case here, each of those charges must be justified, and if the Defendant failed in proving the truth of any material allegation, verdict must pass for the Crown; further, that the plea was bad, because it did not give sufficient particulars of names and dates with regard to the charges made in the libel: a great part of the plea was a copy of what was alleged to be the Official Receiver's Report in Bankruptcy of the said Edward Beall, which could not be made evidence, and which could not, therefore, be made part of a plea of justification; as to the last paragraph, he contended that it was bad by reason of generality (Queen v. Newman, I Ellis and Blackburn; Queen v. Labouchere, 14 Cox). After hearing LORD COLERIDGE, MR. BLACKWELL, and MR. DAVIS, the COMMON SERJEANT ruled that the plea was bad, and that the demurrer must be allowed, as certain statements in the libel were not justified, and as the express terms of the Statute had not been complied with.
787. WILLIAM HOUGHTON was again indicted for publishing a defamatory libel upon Edward Beall, with intent to extort money from him. Other Counts—For threatening to publish certain libels upon Edward Beall, and proposing to abstain from printing and publishing certain matters and things concerning him, with intent to extort money from him.
MESSRS. C. E. GILL and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; LORD COLERIDGE, Q.C., MR. BLACKWELL and MR. DAVIS Defended.
EDMUND CRAWLEY . I am managing clerk to Edward Beall, a solicitor, of 15, Copthall Avenue—on July 13th I opened the letters addressed to him at the office—among them I found this envelope, containing a copy of this circular, signed "Vindex," and headed "Important Notice"—it contains a series of libels on Beall, and refers to the proposed publication of a newspaper which is to be devoted to exposing him and his career—on July 16th, three days afterwards, I saw Nesbitt at Mr. Beall's office—he was introduced to me as Mr. Nesbitfc by Mr. Beall; I did not know him before that day—I saw his business-card in the office that day: "Nesbitt and Co., Iron and Timber Merchants, 35, Walbrook"—I had not seen it before that day—Nesbitt said, "I have just seen Mr. Houghton, and if you are willing to pay him £175 for the
bill, he is willing to undertake not to send out any more of these circulars, or make any more attacks upon you," referring to Mr. Beall; he was speaking to both of us; Mr. Beall had one of these circulars in his hand at the time—he said, "Have you Houghtcn's authority for saying this?"—he said, "Yes"—after that, acting on instructions, I went away with Nesbitt—in the course of the conversation Mr. Beall handed me this copy of a bill, which Nesbitt gave him; Nesbitt's card was pinned to it. (This bill was on paper with the printed heading, "William Houghton, 55 and 56, Bishopsgate Street Within," and was, "Three months after date, pay to my order £200 for value received. W. HOUGHTON. To the Leslie Syndicate, White House, Telegraph Street. Accepted, payable at the City Bank, Threadneedle Street. ALFRED BARNETT, for and on behalf of the Leslie Syndicate.") I went with Nesbitt to the office of Mr. Bartlett, a solicitor, of Walbrook, where I had been told the bill was—Bartlett was out—acting on Nesbitt's suggestion, I went with him to his office, 55 and 56, Bishopsgate Street, the address on the bill—on the door there were the names of "W. Houghton "and "The Financial Protection Association"—I do not think I had seen Houghton before—Nesbitt went in, and had a private conversation with Houghton for a short time—there were two rooms to the office; the one in which I waited was empty—Houghton and Nesbitt then came out, and went along the passage and down a few steps, and beckoned me after them into a large, empty room in the basement—Nesbitt there introduced me to Houghton, saying," This is Mr. Beall's managing clerk"—Houghton said, "What do you want?"—Nesbitt said, "I have seen Mr. Beall, and if you are willing to undertake not to send out any more of those circulars, and make no more attacks on him, he will give you £175 for the bill"—Houghton said, "I am willing to do that, but I should like to see Beall personally"—I said to Houghton, "What about the bill? Is it yours? Is it all right?" or words to that effect—he said, "Yes, it is my bill, accepted by Mr. Barnett"—he asked me to go back and see Beall, as he wanted the matter settled that night—I went back to Bartlett's office with Nesbitt, who suggested that we had better see the bill before we saw Beall—Bartlett produced this bill to us; it was not cancelled then—it has been cancelled, and this receipt put on the back since—I have seen Houghton write, and know his writing, and, to the best of my belief, this copy of the bill first produced by Nesbitt is in Houghton's writing—I then went back to Beall's office, and reported to him what had taken place—Nesbitt went with me, but stopped in the outer room; I saw Beall alone—I went back with Nesbitt to Houghton's office—on the way Nesbitt said, "We had better draw up the undertaking Houghton has to sign"—I said, "Very well," and went into the coffee-room of the Great Eastern Hotel, Liverpool Street—Nesbitt called for some of the hotel paper, tore a sheet in half, and wrote out two forms—he gave me one, and said, "You can take that to show to Mr. Beall; I will keep the other one to show to Mr. Houghton, and get him to approve of it and sign it"—he gave me this (No. 11), and kept that (No. 8). (These were: "In consideration of your discounting my draft upon Mr. Barnett for £200 due for the sum of £175, I undertake and agree to agree to abstain and desist from printing or publishing, directly or indirectly, any further attacks upon you whatsoever.") We went from the hotel to
Houghton's office—Houghton was there alone, and we all three set in his office—Houghton said, "Well, have you seen Beall? Will he settle? Is he going to see me personally?"—I said, "No, certainly not; he won't see you. that you have written about him is so bad; and there is that shameful reference to Madame Rachel. Mr. Beall says if he saw you he should at once lose his temper"—Houghton said, "It takes two to make a quarrel"—I said, "What about this undertaking?"—Nesbitt pulled out the paper No. 8 from his pocket, and handed it to Houghton, who read it—Houghton said, "The spirit of the thing is here, but not the letter; I will draw up a much longer document," and he then sketched out verbally what he would do; he did not write anything at the time; it wound up with the same form as that on the paper—he said, "I should very much like this matter settled to-night, and we had better go back to Beall"—Nesbitt, Houghton and I walked to London Wall, and I left them together while I went up to Mr. Beall's office—having seen Beall, I went back, and found them waiting for me, as arranged, in a public-house—I told Houghton that Mr. Beall would not see him, and we arranged for the three of us to meet at the Bodega, in Coleman Street, at twelve o'clock the next day—before leaving I said, "Let us thoroughly understand, Mr. Houghton; you are to bring the undertaking and the bill, and Beall is to bring the £175"—I think I said I would bring the £175, as Beall would not see him—on No. 8, in addition to Nesbit's ink writing, there is, in Houghton's writing in pencil, "And I hereby undertake to enter into such other and further agreement as you may require"—about 11 a.m. on the next day, July 17th, I saw Inspector Downes at Mr. Beall's office, and informed him of all that had taken place—a few minutes before twelve Nesbitt came to Mr. Beall's office and asked for me—I went out with him, and we went towards the Bodega, in Coleman Street—he left me, saying he would fetch Houghton, who was waiting at the corner of the street—when I got to the Bodega I saw Nesbitt and Houghton coming down the street together towards the Bodega—Downes was talking to me at the time outside the Bodega, and I pointed them out to Downes—I left Downes, and went into the Bogeda with Nesbitt and Houghton—Houghton suggested we should go down into the basement; it would be quieter there—I declined, and we went into the back of the ground-floor bar, and sat together at a small table, and began talking—I said, "Something unpleasant has occurred since I last saw you; you have been sending out a lot more of those Vindex circulars"—Houghton said, "No, I have not sent out any since I saw you; but I think I know who has been sending them out; they had a lot of them from me, but I can soon put a stop to it"—I said, "Well, I shall not go on any further in this matter without I have all the circulars that are left. What about the bill? have you got that?"—he said, "No, I shall want £25 before I get that"—I said, "What about the undertaking that you promised to bring? have you got that?"—he said, "No"—about that time he asked me whether I had brought the money—I said, "Yes," and I showed him £175 in notes—after saying he would let me have all the circulars that were left, he pulled out this piece of paper (No. 12), and wrote in my presence this authority, and directed it to Mr. A. J. Freeman, and gave it to me and said, "You take that to my clerk, Freeman, and he will let you have all
the circulars that are left." (The authority directed Freeman to go through all the drawers in the office, and give the bearer all the remaining Vindex circulars). When I saw the name, "A. J. Freeman," I said, "Those seem to me to be the initials at the end of the circular"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Before I hand over the money I want the undertaking and the bill, and all these circulars that are left"—we began talking about the undertaking again, and he pulled out several pieces of paper from his pocket; they turned out to be the proofs of the first number of the proposed newspaper (No. 4)—he said, "Would you like me to write it on the back?"—I think he only meant it in a joking way—he pulled out one of the Vindex circulars from his pocket, and said, "You can have that; you have got good evidence of publication now," and he laughed—he and Nesbitt several times asked me to let them have £25 to go and get the bill; I did not do so—we all left the Bodega, and arranged another appointment for that afternoon, at 2.30, at the Bay Tree, St. Swithin's Lane—Nesbitt left me outside the Bodega, and said he was going round to see Freeman about the circulars—I saw Downes (who had been in the Bodega all the time, a few yards off, and saw what went on), and told him to attend the appointment in the afternoon—at 2.30 I went to the Bay Tree—Houghton was sitting alone in the coffee-room downstairs—Nesbitt was not there—Downes came in—I asked Houghton where Nesbitt was—he said, "He has gone to your office to fetch you; he thought you were not coming"—I again asked for the bill—he said, "No; we want the £25 to get it," and then he sent off Nesbitt to try and get the bill without the money—when Nesbitt had gone Houghton said he could give Mr. Beall a lot of information about those behind him (Houghton)—he said, "If Beall would only see me personally, I could tell him a good deal"—he said several times he wanted the matter settled that night, as he wanted to get away; he was going away for three months—at that interview Nesbitt produced Form No. 8, and gave it to Houghton, who began discussing the form of it, and wanted to alter it, and did alter it in pencil, and said, "Would Mr. Beall like that?"—Nesbitt went away to try and get the bill without the £25—before he went pen and ink and paper were called for—while he was away Houghton wrote several things in pencil, and eventually he copied in ink the undertaking in Nesbitt's writing (No. 11) on this paper, 5—at this point I was called out; Nesbitt had not come back—I said, "I am going to the Mayor's Court; Mr. Beall has sent for me; I will see you again here at five o'clock"—I went to the Guildhall Justice Room, where I saw Downes, and an information was then sworn, upon which a warrant was granted—I informed Downes of the appointment at five o'clock, at the Bay Tree—I went through from the Guildhall Justice Room into the Mayor's Court, and immediately came out again, and, coming through the hall, I met Nesbitt and Houghton coming in—Houghton said, "We came over here to see about this. You spoke the truth about coming to the Mayor's Court"—T think the appointment was then made for 4.30; he said he wanted the matter settled that night—I went to the Bay Tree at 4.30. and saw Houghton and Nesbitt standing in the street, just outside the Bay Tree—Houghton, I believe, said, "I am afraid there is another hitch; I have had a letter "(which he showed me); "Barnett has paid
£25 to Bartlett for the bill, and has got it away," or he was to have it—I said, "Then I suppose there is an end of the matter"—he proposed we should go down into the coffee-room of the Bay Tree again, which we did—we had some conversation, and then he sent Nesbitt off to Bartlett to see what could be done—he produced some other documents, and said he could give me some commission notes in place of the bill—these are the two commission notes, with 6d. stamps; they were found on him; he said he had put an I. O. U. for £5 on the back of one—I told him I had no authority to accept those in place of the bill, and I declined to accept them—he wrote another undertaking there—all he had given me was the one circular and the order on Freeman—Nesbitt came back before we left the Bay Tree—Houghton told me Bartlett had had about £15, I think, out of the bill; I know he said he had £10 at one time, and small sums since—when I said I could not accept the commission notes, I said I was going back to Mr. Beall, and Houghton proposed to come with me to Mr. Beall, and try and persuade him to take the commission notes—I said, "It is no good"—we came out of the Bay Tree together, and were walking a little behind Nesbitt, when Downes came up and arrested Houghton—Nesbitt afterwards went with me to Houghton's office—to the best of my belief, this letter is in Houghton's writing (16). (This letter, dated July 14th, addressed to Mr. Beally stated that the Vindex circulars had been written and published by Houghton.) The envelope appears to have gone through the post—Nesbitt is not a client of ours; I had not seen him before July 16th.
Cross-examined. I am Mr. Beall's managing clerk, and I suppose his confidential clerk with regard to transactions that I have to conduct—I have been with him for fourteen or fifteen years—I have had the management of a number of actions brought for and against clients—during the last two years, since I have been managing clerk, I don't remember any personal action by or against Mr. Beall—actions have been brought by and against him—he has been successful several times in actions brought against him—there have been more than 500 actions in the office since I have been there, for clients, not personal actions—I remember the name of one personal action where he was successful; I daresay, if I had the books, I could remember others—July 16th was the first time I met Nesbitt—if my recollection is right, Nesbitt came into my room with Mr. Beall, who introduced me to Nesbitt—I think one or two remarks were made, passing the time of day and so forth, and then the first matter of interest that occurred was Nesbitt's allusion to having seen Houghton—that referred to the fact that he had seen Houghton before, I should think—I had no inkling of what had taken place before—I understood that Nesbitt had seen Houghton, and brought some message to Beall—I know now that Nesbitt had been to the office before—I cannot say what had previously taken place between Nesbitt and Beall—I had not seen Nesbitt at the office on the 15th, 14th, or 13th—I cannot swear he had not been there on those days; I was told he had been there on one day, at all events—I was told by a clerk in the office, Reed, I think, that he wanted to see Beall, and Beall would not see him, and he must make an appointment—I won't swear positively it was Reed who told me that, but, to the best of my belief, it was—Reed is here—at the first interview Beall asked Nesbitt if he had Houghton's authority, and Nesbitt said, "Yes"—
I did not tell Bartlett when I first saw him that I was a bill discounter's clerk—I did not suggest to Nesbitt that a form of guarantee should be drawn up—he suggested that, and said he would get it signed all right—I was acting throughout upon the instructions of Beall, as I understood, through the police, who were at work—as a lawyer's clerk, I should know of the offence of attempting to blackmail—I had never had legal business in connection with such a charge, except that Mr. Beall once defended a man, Walker, upon such a charge some years ago—I did not dictate to Nesbitt the terms of the guarantee (No. 8)—I rather think he asked me how to begin it, but not how to go on with and end it—I observe the legal form of it—I cannot say if Nesbitt had any knowledge of legal matters; he seemed to know a good deal about matters in general—I was desirous of obtaining the document as evidence against Houghton—my instructions were to ascertain whether Nesbitt really was authorised by Houghton, and to obtain proof of the bill—Nesbitt made one copy, and I think I asked him to make the other for me—he said he would get Houghton to approve of and sign it—Houghton had not seen it then—I did not ask Houghton to sign it; if he had done so it would have saved a lot of trouble—Nesbitt did not ask him to sign this document; he wanted him to write out one—Houghton altered it in pencil—he did not say he would not sign it—he said it was not the sort of document, and he sketched out another one, which ended with the same words—he wanted the document made longer, with the reasons leading up to it; he did not quarrel with the terms of it—he said he would like to see Mr. Beall; he would tell him a good deal more—he was not asked to sign the document—certain portions of it were struck out by Houghton in my presence, and he made pencil marks—it was left with him; it was never again in my possession—I believe the police were communicated with the first thing on the 13th as to the libel—I saw Downes myself on the morning of the 17th—he had no warrant then—I swore my information a little after four, on the 17th—before the interview at the Bodega at twelve on the 17th Beall had cashed a cheque and obtained notes for £175, which he gave to me to take up the bill with—I went with the notes to the Bodega—I showed thorn to Houghton; he would not believe I had the money till I did so—I did not say, "See, here is the money; sign the guarantee"—I wanted the bill, and he said he had not got it, and then threw doubts on whether I had the money with me, and I showed it to him—if he had brought the bill I should have given him the money—he did not take the money or sign the document, nor did he bring the bill—he did not refer to the fact that he had revealed himself to Beall as the author of the circular; the letter was not mentioned—he did not say that, inasmuch as the circulars were printed anonymously, and he was not going to use anonymous circulars I was welcome to them—to the best of my recollection, I do not think he said so; there was a lot of conversation—eventually, at the Bay Tree, they said the bill had been parted with, and showed me a letter from Bartlett—I made the remark, "There is an end of the matter"—I did not suggest that Nesbitt, Houghton, and I should go to Beall and try to arrange matters in some other way—I saw Houghton write the document (No. 5); he did not sign it, nor give it to me to take away—if Nesbitt had come back with the bill Houghton would have given me the bill and the undertaking—I did not tell Downes
that he had written that document—Dowries was in and out of the room there—he was arrested not long after, but not immediately after writing it—I was not employed by Beall from first to last to entrap Houghton into signing such a document—Beall has been accused of blackmailing in some of these circulars and newspapers, which are only written for the purpose of blackmailing Beall; "Who's who?" is one of them, and that is since this case—I do not know if Green accused Beall of blackmailing some years ago, or whether Beall paid him £700 to withdraw the charge—I had my head broken by Green; not in connection with the £700—Green was a company promoter, I think, and Beall had presented a petition to wind up one of his companies, and Green first sent a man to assault Beall in his office, and broke all his windows—I suffered in the melee, and was taken to the hospital; I think I went to the Court the next morning—I was in the hospital about half an hour—I took proceedings against my assailant at the Mansion House—I forget now who he was—I think the case was adjourned once or twice, and then, when it came on, I was ill with quinsy, and it was withdrawn—I believe all that arose out of accusations against Mr. Beall—I was a signatory to certain companies—fourteen years ago I might have been living with friends, or in lodgings; my real home was at Reading; I was clerk to Beall then—I signed years ago as signatory to a company in which Beall had some interest as solicitor to the vendor, or something of that kind; I think I only signed one, or it might have been two—I cannot remember the names of the companies; it was when I was a junior clerk, years ago—I had nothing to do with the Financial Critic or "Craven Brothers."
Re-examined. Walker, who was tried for blackmailing, was a news-paper proprietor; he was sentenced to eighteen months' hard labour for a similar thing—a publication has been issued, called "Who's Who?" by some of the people who are looking after the investing public.
FREDERICK DOWNES (Detective Inspector). On July 13th, about ten o'clock p.m., Beall consulted the chief of my department, Mr. McWilliam, who called me in and placed the matter in my hands—a copy of this circular was shown to me—the object was to find out the printer and publisher of it—the same day I saw Beall again at his office, Throgmorton House, Copthall Avenue—I made inquiries, and caused inquiries to be made as to the person whose initials were on the circular, "A. J. F., 50, Albion Street, Caledonian Road"—the next day, July 14th, I saw the prosecutor, and reported to him what information I had obtained—on July 16th he came and saw the superintendent and me at the Old Jewry detective office, and gave me certain information, in consequence of which on July 17th I kept observation on the Bodega Restaurant in Coleman Street—about twelve o'clock that day I saw Crawley join Houghton and Nesbitt (whom I saw first), and go with them into the Bodega—they stayed for about an hour—about 2.30 the same day I saw them all in the coffee-room of the Bay Tree, St. Swithin's Lane—after they left there I went to the Guildhall Police Court, and after the information had been sworn I received a warrant about 3.45 for the prisoner's apprehension for this offence—I got the warrant entered, and then went back to St. Swithin's Lane—I found the prisoner and Nesbitt at the corner; shortly after Crawley came up, and they all went into the Bay Tree
coffee-room; I followed—I heard Nesbitt say, "I will go and get it"—he went out, leaving the prisoner and Crawley together—Nesbitt returned, and they all went out together into St. Swithin's Lane, and then returned to the coflee-room of the Bay Tree, and afterwards came out together, and then I arrested the prisoner on the warrant, which I read to him at the Police-station—he said, "I was asked to write a copy of a document at the Bay Tree public-house, but I now see that I am the victim of a trick"—I searched him at the station, and found on him 1s. 0 1/2d., four copies of the Vindex circular, a written estimate apparently for the publication of a newspaper; a proof of a paper called the City Critic, edited by William Houghton, and containing the proof of an article on the prosecutor; two commission notes, the forms of undertaking, Nos. 8, 11, 5 and 6 (No. 8 has some alterations and additions in pencil); this document, No. 2, "Vindex, care of A. J. F., 50, Albion Road;" this letter (No. 13) from Alfred Barnett, addressed to Mr. Bartlett, and also one (No. 7) on the note-paper of Nesbitt, Oswald and Co., merchants and engineers.
Cross-examined. Between twelve, when I began to keep observation on them, and four, when I had the warrant, I saw both Beall and Crawley—I was in Crawley's company most of the time; I think I saw Beall twice; once at 10 a.m., and afterwards at the Guildhall—I walked part of the way with him from the Guildhall to my office; I had got the warrant then—I had heard a document was supposed to be in existence, and I heard Nesbitt say, "I will go and get it," and I gave an opportunity for it to be got; I believed Mr. Beall was in search of a document—I did not get the warrant till 3.45, and it had to be entered at the chief office, and the prisoner was at Moor Lane Station at 5.45—I did not see a document pass—I delayed arresting him to give Nesbitt an opportunity of going to get the document, as he said he would go and get it—I did not think anything about whether the document had been got when I arrested the prisoner.
STEPHEN BAKER (Detective, City). Upon instructions I received from the office in the Old Jewry, I kept observation on 50, Albion Street, Caledonian Road, on July 14th—I saw a man I know now to be Freeman receive a letter about eight that morning from the postman at the door—next morning I was again watching the house, and I followed Freeman to 8, Argyll Square, King's Cross—he went into that house, and came out half an hour afterwards with the prisoner, and they went together to King's Cross Metropolitan Station, and took train to Bishopsgate Street—on the next day I saw Freeman receive a letter at the door of 50, Albion Street from the postman at eight o'clock; Freeman after wards went, with a letter in his hand, to 8, Argyll Square—on the next day, the 17th, I saw Freeman go from Albion Street to Argyll Square in the morning, and he and the prisoner then went into the City together—during the 17th I saw the prisoner and Nesbitt together outside the Bodega in Coleinan Street, and they went inside with Crawley—I saw them afterwards go to 35, Walbrook, and subsequently I saw them all at the Bay Tree.
ROBERT WILLIAM WALKER . I am a printer, of 78, Caledonian Road—I printed six proofs and 1,000 copies of this Vindex circular—I delivered them to Freeman, who took them from the shop; I did not know his name.
SAMUEL BLEECH . I am a printer, of 30, Finsbury Pavement—I printed this proof copy of the City Critic (No. 4) for the Financial Protection Association; Houghton's name was on the door of the same office—I printed it for Houghton six or eight years ago—I had seen Houghton before printing this—I received 15s. for setting up the article on Mr. Beall—I believe that was brought in an envelope by a boy—when I got the money I did not want to ask questions.
LORD COLERIDGE submitted that there was no evidence to go to the JURY upon the first two Counts of publishing, and of threatening to publish, with intent to extort money. The COMMON SERJEANT held that there was evidence upon these and upon the Third Count for the JURY.
Witness for the Defence.
THOMAS NESBITT . I am a commission agent—I had a place of business at 35, Walbrook—about the middle of July Houghton asked me to get this bill for £200 discounted for him—I tried unsuccessfully to discount it—on July 13th I went to Mr. Beall; he was then a stranger to me—I got an introduction to him from my friend, Mr. Fulford, of 45, Lombard Street, a general agent—I went to Beall on ray own account, not by Houghton's instructions, about a brewery that a friend wanted floated as a company—Mr. Beall told me that it was no use attempting anything of that kind before the holidays—I then said, "I have another little matter in the shape of a bill which I wish discounted," and to mentioned Houghton's name as that of the drawer—I showed Beall the copy of the bill a little later on—when I mentioned Houghton's name Beall said, "What, William Houghton?"—I said, "Yes; that is the name"—he then asked me inside his private office; the first part of the conversation had taken place in his outer office—it was about 11.30; there may have been clerks there; I did not see anyone—I went into his inner office, and was alone with him—I gave him a copy of this bill, and I said, "Besides this, Houghton has some champagne he wants to dispose of—Beall said, "I think I might do some business in this matter. Does Houghton know you have come to me?"—I said, "No; he does not, but I will tell him"—he said, "No; you had better not, just at present. Get to know what he wants for the bill, and the price he wants for the champagne, and meet me to-morrow, and also bring me a sample of the champagne"—it was fixed that I should see him next day, 14th, at his office, at eleven—I called at that time, and saw him; he asked me to go into his inner office—the clerk showed me in—up to that time Houghton did not know of my having been to see Beall—Beall said, "There is a very unpleasant thing happened since you were here yesterday"—I said, "Indeed, I am sorry to hear that"—he said, "Do you know anything of a circular or paper having been sent out by Houghton about me?"—I said, "No, I don't; I know of one that he has sent out called the 'Financial Protection Association'"—he said, "No, that is not it; that is the one," handing me the Vindex circular—he said, "That is the one I mean; read it"—in the meantime he wrote letters, or something of that sort—after reading it I handed it back to him; he said, "What do you think of it?"—I said, "I can scarcely tell you"—I know nothing about him or his antecedents—he said, "What do you think of that especially?" pointing to the Madame Kachel paragraph, in which he is described as the bastard son of Madame Rachel—I said, "I do not think it fair; I think
it is striking under the belt, and I fear I can do nothing more in this matter, if this should have come from Houghton"—I meant that I would no longer act for a person who could send a circular of this description—he said, "Well, you had better see Houghton and ascertain if he sent it, and if it is him, and he will stop the circulation of these papers, I will see what I can do about the bill and the champagne"—he then made an appointment for the following day at eleven o'clock, and that was the end of the conversation—after Beall, said he would see what he could do about the bill and the champagne, I said, "£175 Houghton wants for the bill, and £2 10s. a case for the champagne"—I told him there were about 100 cases—in the afternoon I called and left the sample bottle in the outer office; I did not see Beall—I called again on him the next day, Wednesday, 15th, pursuant to appointment, at eleven o'clock, and met him in the outer office—he was very much agitated, and said he had received a letter from Houghton, acknowledging that he was the author of the Vindex circular, and he could not speak to me then, as he was too much overcome; he added, "You may come back at three"—on the day before, Tuesday afternoon, I had seen Houghton about four o'clock, when I took the sample bottle from his office before taking it to Beall; that was the purpose for which I went there—I told Houghton, "I want a sample of champagne to take to a likely purchaser"—that is all that occurred that day—he gave me a bottle from a case in his office—I did not tell him who the purchaser was; I don't remember that he asked—I did not see Beall again that day—I saw Beall on the afternoon of the Wednesday in his private office—I had not seen Houghton between times, lam sure—Beall seemed less agitated; he mentioned again receiving a letter from Houghton—he said, "If this man Houghton means peace I will do the bill, and give him £175 for it, providing that he undertakes to withdraw altogether his circulars, and allow my clerk to go and look at the bill"—I said, "I will see Houghton, and ask him, and tell him what you have said"—an appointment was then made for next day (Thursday) at three o'clock, and I left and went at once to see Houghton—I said to Houghton, "I have seen Mr. Beall, who agrees to give you £175 for the bill, and he wishes his clerk to go with me and see the bill"—I had previously deposited the bill with Mr. Bartlett, a solicitor, of Walbrook, for an advance of £25—the bill was in his hands—I added that Beall would require Houghton to withdraw these circulars, and give a guarantee that he would stop all such libellous documents—I said that to Houghton—Houghton said, "I have no objection to his clerk seeing the bill, and I have no malice against Mr. Beall, and will be pleased to meet him on mutual grounds"—I said, "Mr. Beall is very much put out about a letter that you have written to him"—he said, "Yes, I wrote that document; I published the circular; I wrote to him, saying so, but, as I say, I have no feeling against the man, and will be pleased to meet him at my office, or his office, or anywhere"—that is all that took place that day—next day, Thursday, 16th, at three o'clock, I called at Beall's office, and he asked me into Mr. Crawley's office—Beall's office is beyond his; there are three rooms, leading in to one another—he introduced me to Crawley, and said, "Mr. Nesbitt, who has come to take you to look at the bill which I have agreed to discount"—I left the office
with Crawley, and took him to Bartletts—we were unable to see the bill, as Bartlett was not in—we went and had a little refreshment, and came back to Bartletts and saw the bill—then Crawley said, "Take me round to Houghton's, and introduce me"—I did so—Crawley suggested to Houghton that Beall, I, and Houghton should meet the following day, Friday, the 17th, at twelve o'clock, at the Bodega, in Coleman Street—Houghton said, "All right; if that time will suit Mr. Beall it will suit me"—I went with Crawley to ascertain whether it would suit Beall; Crawley went inside, and came out and said that time would do—in the street, on our way back to Houghtons office, Crawley suggested to me that a guarantee should be written that Houghton would give up and withdraw all the circulars, and he took me to the Great Eastern Hotel Liverpool Street, where he ordered two sheets of paper, and asked me to write a form of guarantee—I said, "I would rather you did so, as I have broken my glasses"—I said, "No, you had better do so; it would come better from you"—he pressed me—I made two copies, one for him—he did not lend me glasses; I wrote it as best J could—Crawley dictated the words—documents Nos. 8 and 11 as to the ink are all in my writing—one copy was for Beall, and one to lay before Houghton—I then went to Houghton's office, and we laid the documents before him, or one of them at any rate—Houghton scanned them over, and laughed and said, "That is no good"—he considered it was not a proper document at all—Crawley and he then had some conversation as to what form the document should be in—Houghton suggested to Crawley that he should get Beall to draw up a document, and said, "I would prefer meeting him"—after a few other words, that I can scarcely remember, in respect to the nature of the document that had to be signed, Crawley left, fixing a meeting for the following day, Friday, 17th, at twelve, at the Bodega in Coleman Street—the next day I went to the Bodega at twelve o'clock, and saw Crawley and Houghton there—we asked for Beall; Crawley said, "Mr. Beall cannot get away; go inside. I have got the money for the bill"—we went inside; he ordered some refreshment, and asked if we had got the bill—Houghton said, "No; it can soon be got by payment of the £25"—Crawley said, "I have got the money, here it is"—he pulled out his pocket-book and showed us some notes—he said, "Before I pay, this document must be signed"—he had got the guarantee which he had taken to Beall—Houghton again refused positively to sign the document—then they entered into a long discussion as to the nature of the document to be signed—Houghton would not sign it—he said, "I will not sign the document, and I will not take your money; but I will give you an order for the circulars, which are no good to anyone, as they are not signed"—another appointment was made for 2.30 that day—Crawley was to go round to Houghtons office to get the circulars—Crawley said he would endeavour to get Mr. Beall to the Bay Tree—I met Crawley at three at the Bay Tree; Beall was not there—Crawley insisted on having this document signed—Houghton said, "Let us see what can be done"—he and Crawley discussed the form of the document—Crawley said to me," Here is £25; go round and see if the bill is ready; I will give you £25 to go and get the bill"—I went to see Mr. Bartlett; I did not take the £25 with me; I was to bring the bill back, and then the
whole thing was to be completed, and the £ 5 paid—Crawley did not give me the £25—I don't remember asking Crawley for £25 to go and get the bill; I wanted the whole thing settled at the same time—Bartlett would have sent the bill round by his clerk—Bartlett was out—on my way back to the Bay Tree I met Hough ton in a great hurry—he said Crawley had left suddenly; his master had sent for him to the Guildhall, and he was going to see if he was there—I accompanied him; at the entrance to the large hall we met Crawley—he said it would be necessary to make another appointment for five o'clock at the Bay Tree, as he had not been able to get Mr. Beall to finally settle the whole thing—I went to Bartlett's, and discovered that Mr. Barnett, the acceptor of the bill, had paid the £25, and withdrawn it—I went to the Bay Tree at about five, and met Crawley and Hough ton, and told them the bill had been redeemed by Barnett—Crawley said, "Well, I don't know what can be done now"—Houghton said, "Let us all three go round to Beall"—I let them to go to my office, saying I would be back in a few minutes—when I got back Houghton and Crawley said they had been talking about this document, which they wished signed, and said, "We had better all go to Beall's office"—we left the Bay Tree, and then Houghton was arrested by Downes.
Cross-examined. I have known Houghton about two years—he was the Financial Protection Association for about two months prior to his arrest, as far as I know—I was not connected with him in that business—I have been connected with him in business for about eighteen months—one part of that business was a wine business, which was carried on at my office, 35, Walbrook—I had that office for about nine months; I left it on September 29th, of my own motion—my solicitor, Mr. Bartlett, paid the rent—it was a matter of business between him and I—Houghton and I carried on the wine business in the name of Nesbitt, Oswald and Co.—we dealt in champagne and other wines—about £250 worth of champagne was obtained from Mr. Lefevre, of Rheims, on credit, in the name of Nesbitt, Oswald and Co.—about £140 of that has been paid—the name of Nesbitt, Oswald and Co. was up at 35, Walbrook—after I left there, in September, the name of Bartlett, Checksfield and Co. was put up—this is my printed card, "Mr. Thomas Nesbitt, 35, Walbrook. Bartlett, Checksfield and Co."—Mr. Lefevre's name also appears on that card, as if we were agents for him; that is what it was meant to represent—I am an agent of Bartlett, Checksfield and Co., and an arrangement was made between them and Lefevre for wines to be supplied by him—Bartlett, Checksfield and Company were obtaining champagne from Lefevre—I am Nesbitt, Oswald and Company; no one else is—after they left 35, Walbrook, Bartlett and Checksfield came into existence—my name was printed on their card with that address because I was associated with them—the Mr. Bartlett in that firm is a brother of the solicitor; he is a general agent in the wine trade, with an office on the ground floor of 35, Walbrook—Houghton introduced Bartlett, Checksfield and Company to Lefevre—Houghton and I, as Nesbitt, Oswald and Company, had got wine from Lefevre, some of which was not paid for, and then we started Bartlett, Checksfield and Company, and Houghton introduced them to Lefevre—I don't think they have obtained wine from Lefevre yet—I paid the £140 to Lefevre by hills of myself and Houghton—I gave a bill for the first lot of champagne
we had; that was dishonoured—I think this letter of July 15th, 1896, is in Mr. Checksfield's writing—he was a maltster, near Broadstaire, before he joined Bartlett—this letter has a printed heading, "Bartlett, Checksfield and Company"—I swore that firm's office was not at Walbrook before September 29th—I don't know where they were before that—I know very little indeed of Mr. Checksfield—I knew Hough ton, Bartlett and Checksfield were negotiating with Lefevre—I knew they were in want of money about that date, for they could not take up a dishonoured bill—July 15th would be about the time when these negotiations were going on between me and Crawley—I knew on July 15th that Bartlett, Checksfield and Company were trying to take up a dishonoured bill of ours; I do not know if they could do it; I was given to understand the bill was renewed—the matter was in their hands—it was my bill, and I was interested in trying to find money to take it up—this is one of my cards: "Nesbitt, Oswald and Co., Iron and Timber Merchants"—I have been an iron and timber merchant nearly all my life, in Crooked Lane and Bishopsgate Street, and in Newcastle—I have left Crooked Lane—that business and the champagne business are not going on together—the wine business was really out of my line altogether—Houghton was not a partner with me in the iron and timber business, only in the wine business—it has not occurred to me that Beall has found out all about my champagne business through the sample bottle I left with him; he told me he wanted to sample it—I am not aware that Lefevre has come to this country to complain to the police about the transaction—I saw him over here myself—he came about these bills—I don't know that he complained—I was with Houghton when he was arrested; I knew he was locked up—I went to the Guildhall the next day, when he was charged—he was remanded for a week in custody, and then for another week in custody, and committed for trial, and he has remained in custody up to now—I was present at the Police-court at each hearing—I did not give evidence—I have not before to-day volunteered to give evidence for him—I have had nearly three months since his committal for trial, and to-day is the first time I have spoken in public about the matter—I did not give evidence at the Police-court because I was not called—the prisoner was represented there by a solicitor and counsel—I was subpoenaed by Mr. Beall to be there, and by Mr. Davis, the prisoner's solicitor—I made a statement to Mr. Davis, in writing, of what I knew of the transaction shortly after the arrest—I knew the prisoner was charged with this offence—I heard the whole case as it was investigated before the Alderman—I heard Crawley's evidence—I am now carrying on business at the office of a friend, Mr. Monden, a shipping agent, 12, Great St. Helen's—I have several matters of business—I am busy with a large estate of about forty acres at Lough ton, in Essex—there are building operations there, and I am supplying the timber—I am living at 108, High Street, Putney—my wife has an agency of Hetherington's Servants' Registry Office there—Beall was an absolute stranger to me when I went on July 13th—I did not go to him for the purpose of getting the bill discounted; I thought of it before getting to his office; it struck me as I was going there; it was more the question of the champagne that I thought of—I had known a gentleman, Mr. Fulford, for years, who knows Beall well; I told him what I proposed laying before Beall, and he said
I could not go to a better man—the object of my visit was the flotation of a brewery company, but it struck me in going from Fulford's office about the champagne—I went about the champagne, and the brewery, and the bill—before I got into Beall's office I had it in my mind to ask him to discount this bill, which is drawn by Houghton and accepted by Barnett—I knew Barnett slightly; he is a financial gentleman of standing—he has large finances; he is a company promoter, I am told—I did not know that Barnett did not like Beall I know it now—this bill is dated June 18th, and it was drawn on that date, I think—I had not had it in my possession since June 18th—I had had the copy of it three weeks—I went about with the copy, trying to discount it; I laid the particulars before my friends—I never had anything but a copy of it; I had the original once—Houghton took the bill to Bartlett—I think I saw it on June 18th—it was taken to Bartlett, and £25 borrowed on it about a fortnight before July 13th, about the end of June—after that I went about to discount it—I took it to three people before I went to Beall—I first took it to the City Bank, where it is payable, to try and discount it—I went there without Barnett's or Houghton's knowledge—Houghton asked me if I could get it discounted—I did not hear what passed between Houghton and Bartlett when the £25 was advanced; I was not there—I heard Bartlett say at the Police-court, "I think it was Nesbitt who introduced this bill transaction to me"—I do not know that Barnett was interested in the publication of the projected City Critic, which was going to libel Beall—I don't know that the account for printing the proof of it was sent to Barnett—I did not hear Mr. Bleech say at the Police-court or here that Barnett had Had the account sent to him—it was not my champagne that I wanted to dispose of to Beall, nor was it mine and Houghton's—Houghton's champagne was altogether different from mine; he had some, and so had I—we obtained it separately from Lefevre—that obtained in the name of Nesbitt, Oswald, and Co. was mine; I was responsible to Lefevre for it—I presume Houghton got his in the name of Houghton; I swear I believe that—I have no reason to believe he got it in any other name—I do not know why Beall should have been anxious to discount the bill and buy the champagne on the 13th, if nothing was said about the libel or the newspaper; I thought it was a good piece of business, £175 for a £200 good bill—I had not been hawking it about; I had been doing my best in private sources to get it discounted—I thought it was a very good bill—I cannot suggest any other reason why Beall did it; he was quite willing—I do not know what the Leslie Syndicate is—I cannot suggest why Beall should have said to me on the 13th, "Don't let Houghton know you have been to me"—Beall said to me next morning, "Do you know anything of a circular or paper sent out by Houghton?"—he was calling my attention to it, and alleging it had been sent out by Houghton; he was not sure—I said it was not fair, and "I fear I can do nothing further in the matter'"—on the next day, the Wednesday, I found it had come from Houghton—I did have more to do with the matter after finding out that Houghton had sent the circular, because Beall said that if he would withdraw these documents, he might see his way to do business about the champagne and bill in the face of it—nothing was stipulated as to what I was to get out of it—I expected a commission from Houghton, i
I got the £175 for the bill, of 2 1/2 per cent, or 1 per cent., and there would have been the satisfaction of being able to get the £25 paid back to the solicitor, Bartlett, who was a friend of mine—I was not afraid that he was going to lose his £25 on this very good bill—I had no doubt Barnett would meet it at maturity—Bartlett was all right for his £25, but there was the possibility of getting the bill done, so that he might get his money back, and get the remaining portion of the money—I glanced over the circular when it was shown to me—I saw the general scheme was that this person was going to bring out a paper for the purpose of exposing Beall, and was soliciting contributions for the purpose, and that two City men had promised £50 weekly to carry on the paper—it did not strike me as odd that Houghton was willing to stop the publication the moment I put the proposition before him—it seemed to me he wanted capital to continue the Financial Protection Association business—it did not strike me that his way of getting capital was to threaten to libel a man, and then take £175 to stop it—I thought his object in being willing to accept £175 from Beall to stop the publication of the libel was to get capital for his business—he said he wanted money—the Financial Protection Association was to protect individuals in the country against fraudulent company promoters—that was my impression, and he said as much—I never entered into conversation with Houghton about the statements made against Beall—I did not interfere in his matters of business at all—when I put Beall's proposition before Houghton he said he had no malice against Beall, and was prepared to meet him and take the £175 against the bill; he said he was prepared to withdraw any malicious statements—he did not see Beall, to my knowledge—Crawley, on the afternoon of the Friday, said something to the effect that Beall refused to meet Houghton, as the circular was so disgraceful; he could not shake hands with him, and that Beall stated he might lose his temper—the only difficulties in the way of a settlement appeared to be the getting of the bill, and the form of the document to be signed—all Houghton wanted was some alterations in the form Crawley suggested—Houghton, from time to time, I think, drew up what he thought should be the proper form—the whole of No. 5 is in Houghton's writing—Crawley made it a stipulation, before parting with any money, that I must get the bill—what finally threw the matter off was because I could not get the bill.
Re-examined My ordinary occupation is that of a timber merchant—I have done work in that capacity, and am doing it still—I also sell goods on commission—I was for seventeen years secretary to Palmer's ship-building Yard, on the Tyne; they are one of the largest ship-builders in the world—I was not a partner with Houghton; I did business with him on commission terms—this wine transaction was one of the pieces of business we did—my note-paper was always headed "Iron and Timber Merchant"—Houghton had the first transaction with Lefevre; I had no direct negotiations with Lefevre, only through Houghton—our outstanding unpaid account has been transferred to Bartlett, Checksfield and Co., with the consent of Lefevre, Houghton and myself; I suggested it, and Lefevre accepted it—one of my bills was dishonoured because Lefevre did not comply with an arrangement made for certain samples of champagne in time—disputes arose, but the bill was paid and further samples were sent eventually—Bartlett, Checksfield and Co. now owe
Lefevre for some champagne—I have not the slightest doubt that Lefevre will get his money from them—I have not known Chacksfield for long; he is a young gentleman of standing—his father, an independent gentleman, died scarcely four months ago, and he has not yet been able to get certain moneys that are coming to him—I do not know what moneys they are; it is house property—the type-written document (No. 6) was laid by Houghton and me before Crawley; Houghton produced it, and said, "That is something like the form to be signed, in my opinion"—Crawley said he was sure it was no use laying it before his governor, as he felt certain he would not accept it—I think the pencil writing on No. 8, "And I hereby undertake to enter into such further agreement as you may require, "is in Houghton's writing—I have seen him write many times, and have done business with him.
BARTLETT. (Called by MR. AVORY at LORD COLERIDGE'S request, as his name appeared as a witness upon the back of the bill, but. he was not examined in chief.)
Cross-examined. I am a solicitor—I was called before the magistrate by the prosecution in this case—I lent £25 upon this bill to Mr. Houghton, and had the bill in my possession—Crawley called with Nesbitt on me—one or the other of them said that Crawley was clerk to a bill-discounter; Crawley did not deny it; I was in a hurry; they were waiting in my office when I came in—I took the bill out of a safe in the office, and he looked at it and gave it back to me—Barnett wrote me a letter, saying that he and Bailey were the persons who had the right to receive the money—I showed the letter to Hougtton before luncheon on July 17th, and he said, "You had better give the bill back to Mr. Barnett if he pays you back the £25"—then I gave the bill back to Barnett, and got a cheque for the £25—I have had no authority from Houghton at any time to give the bill back to anybody but Barnett, and I should not have done so—I have seen Lefevre several times—an agreement was prepared between him and Checksfield and Bartlett, my brother—in consequence of that agreement, Checksfield, Bartlett and Co. paid one of Nesbitt's bills then due, for about £80, or something of that kind—for the benefit of the contract they were to pay this bill as some consideration—they had nothing to do with the firm of Nesbitt—this bill was given in respect of goods received by the old firm—Lefevre expressed himself perfectly satisfied—he said he was very lucky to get his money.
Re-examined. My office is at 35, Walbrook—Nesbitt took an office on the top floor of that building from me—I had some money of his in hand, and paid his rent—I did not lend him the money—I know nothing of what business he carried on there—he had one room—I did not know that Houghton was interested with him in the wine business there—Checksfield, Bartlett and Co. carry on business at 35, Walbrook, but in the base-meat—I am solicitor to the landlord—Nesbitt introduced Houghton to me, and Houghton came with the bill—when I said at the Police-court that Nesbitt introduced this bill transaction to me, I meant that Nesbitt introduced Houghton to me, and came with him, and Houghton had the bill—I never lent money on a bill before; I did on this—I was quite ready to give it up as soon as the £25 was paid by the proper person—Barnett gave me a cheque for £25, drawn by the Leslie Syndicate—it was not met because the signature was deficient; the secretary had not signed it, and
Barnett, a few days after the 17th, came and took it up, and paid the money—I have no idea what the Leslie Syndicate is—I first heard of it when I saw the name on the bill—the bill was in Barnett's possession on the afternoon of the 17th.
SAMUEL BLEECH (Re-examined by MR. AVORY). The first account, £15, for printing this paper was sent to the Protection Association, and Mr. Houghton asked me to make it out to Mr. Barnett, and said he would forward it to him—Barnett did not pay it; it is still outstanding—Barnett disputed his liability.
ROBERT WILLIAM WALKER (Re-examined by the COURT). I printed six proofs and 1,000 copies of this circular on July 8th; I received instructions on the 7th from Freeman—they were taken from my shop on the 9th—I did not print any more, and had nothing further to do with the matter—Freeman paid me for them.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Upon the first indictment for printing and publishing a libel of and concerning Edward Beall (as to which a demurrer to the plea of justification had been upheld), MR. GILL asked for judgment for the Crown. LORD COLERIDGE desired that the matter should be postponed, in order that he might have an opportunity of placing a further plea upon the file. He submitted that the indictment should be dealt with as if the matter was res integra, and that the facts proved against the prisoner upon another indictment ought not to weigh against him. The COMMON SERJEANT ruled that judgment should be entered for the Crown, and sentenced the prisoner to Six Days' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. HUTTON and OLDFIELD Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SAUNT Prosecuted.
JULIUS SYMONS (Interpreted.) I live at 132, Flower and Dean Street—three weeks to-day, about 10.30, I came towards Flower and Dean Street from Commercial Street, when the prisoners came up and threw me down on the ground—O'Rourke took my watch and chain from my pocket, and handed it to Murphy, and they ran away—I got up and shouted, "Police! my watch and chain are gone"—the police at the other corner heard the shouts, and the prisoners were taken into custody, and brought back—O'Rourke lost his cap—I did not get back my watch and chain—they only threw me down; they did not strike me—I was not hurt.
Cross-examined by O'Rourke. I was not intoxicated—you took my watch.
BARNETT ROSENTHAL (Interpreted.) I live at 110, Flower and Dean Street—three weeks ago to-day I was in that street about ten p.m.—I heard "Stop thief!" and saw a lot of people running after Murphy—I chased him also—a policeman came up, and before he took Murphy,
Murphy threw something away—I do not know what it was—I did not see O'Rourke running, because the policeman had him then in custody.
HENRY COADY (64 H.) Three weeks ago, at eleven p.m., I heard cries of "Stop thief!" and saw people running—I pursued Murphy, who was stopped by Bates; on going back I found O'Rourke detained by several Jews—the prosecutor said, "My watch, my watch," and said O'Rourke had taken it, and I took him into custody—he said he had just come down the street, and knew nothing about it.
JOSEPH BATES (303 H). Three weeks ago, about eleven p.m., I heard cries of "Stop thief!" in Flower and Dean Street, and saw people running—I stopped Murphy, who was running—I asked him what he was running for—he said, "I don't know; do you?"—I took him back to Flower and Dean Street, and there I saw a crowd of persons surrounding O'Rourke—Rosenthal identified him as a man who had assisted in robbing the prosecutor—I said, "Take him to the station"—he said, "Why should I go? I have done nothing"—he resisted, and tried to throw himself down.
O'Rourke, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, stated that he ran up to see what was the matter, and that the, prosecutor said he was one of the thieves, because another man held him. Murphy said that he ran because he saw the prosecutor run, and he ran into a constable's arms.—
GUILTY of Robbery.
O'Rourke then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Worship Street in March, 1896. A constable stated that the prisoners were the associates of thives, and did no work.— Nine Months' Hard Labour each.
(For Cases tried in Old Court, Monday, October 26th, see Surrey Cases.)
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 26th, 1896.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MORRISON Prosecuted, and MR. ELLIOTT Defended.
MARI VAN GEELKERKEN . I carry on business as Geelkerken and Co., import merchants, at 7, Mark Lane—I had employed the prisoner from 1886 till about 1891, and had no reason to complain of his honesty—he came back about April, 1894, when he introduced Sharp, who generally paid in cash, and always in full, till about two years ago, when I found out that the payments were getting irregular—I sent him a monthly account the first time for £54 odd—I had before that spoken to the prisoner about Sharp not paying in full; he made all sorts of excuses; he said that Sharp could not pay, because he had to buy vans, and he had had bad debts, and then I heard that he had had to buy a second van—I received an answer from Sharp to my account, in consequence of which I went to the Police-station, and asked what I could do—I afterwards went with a detective and saw Sharp, who gave me these invoices (produced.); they are all receipted by the prisoner—I have not had all this money—this is the sheeted invoice; it is signed by the prisoner as paid on September 2nd—the prisoner received
a salary of 5s. and a commission and travelling expenses; his actual outlay came to about 7s. 6d. a week.
Cross-examined. The prisoner opened a few accounts for me during the seven years he was with me, and, with the exception of Sharp's, every account was perfectly correct—when the account was opened he said that Mrs. Sharp and her son were simple people who had been previously supplied by a Jew in the East-end—I did not say that I did not care about the account, as the business was small and conducted by a female; nor did Evans reply, "They are good people; we shall do good business with them, I will take the responsibility; you supply me, and I will supply them"—Sharp's account was treated differently from all the other accounts; statements were not sent in—he said that if I sent in monthly accounts they would close the account, because she was a woman, and did not understand business; we had an argument about it, and he said that if I sent a statement she would stop the account—I was paid occasionally by transferred cheques given to her, some of which were sent back as bad; I gave them to Sharp—cheques were sent to the prisoner's private address—I have since heard from Sharp that there were occasions when I could not supply goods, and Evans had to go to other houses and get them.
Re-examined. I never gave the prisoner authority to buy goods on my account—I never had any engagement by which goods were sold to him, and resold to Sharp.
ARTHUR B. SHARP . I am a pickler, of 22, Denman Street, Hackney Road, and act for my mother—I know the prisoner; it was throngh him that I heard of Geelkerken and Co., and I got goods supplied by them, which I paid for as the debts arose—I did not represent to the prisoner that I could not pay the account, either because I was getting a new van, or that I could not get in bad debts; I always paid in a few days.
Cross-examined. Sharp was the only person I dealt with; sometimes he kept me waiting for stuff, and then I wrote to his private address—he has bought from other places, and supplied me.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his character.— Discharged on his own Recognizances.
ROBERT DOUGLAS LITHGOW , M.D. The prisoner is a cousin of my late wife; I have known him twenty years—I received this letter from him on September 14th, and he called on me the same day, and said that he only asked for £50 to show, and he would hand it to me when he received £100, which he had won—I did not like it at first, but at last I consented—! went with him to Alexandra Park, and took a crossed cheque with me; he went in, and said he had seen the man, who said he would not take a crossed cheque—I met him again on the Monday at my bankers, where I changed the cheque—he said that he had met a man who acted as stake-holder—we went to Mark Lane, and he said, "Robert, are you going to give me that money now?"—I said, "Don't belong," and handed it to him, and waited for him an hour and a quarter—
I went and looked, and found a way out at the back—I received all these letters, and I received a telegram that day—I have never received my £50 back.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not consider that it was a loan.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. (Only partly read): "I did not mean to steal the money. I was not able to receive it at the time I thought I should; I telegraphed twice for it. I wrote to him, and he telegraphed to me at the Post-office, Windsor."
Prisoner's Defence; I had no intention of stealing the money. I looked on it as a loan.
GUILTY .—There was another similar indictment against the prisoner. and Sergeant Wise stated that there were three similar charges against him,
Fourteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 27th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
MESSRS. BODKIN and BIRON Prosecuted and MR. DRUMMOND Defended.
ANNIE WALFORD . I live at 124, Kensal Road, and am a laundry woman—I knew the deceased, Clara Thompson, for some years—I have seen the prisoner about four times, not with her—I know him by sight as being about in the neighbourhood of the Plough, in the Harrow Road—the deceased lived near Notting Hill, not very far away—on Tuesday, August 24, I saw her in the Harrow Road—I knew that she had just been liberated from prison after serving fourteen days.
Cross-examined. The deceased was given to drink—I have seen her the worse for drink—she had a quartern of rum the day she came out from her fourteen days—the 25th was the last time I saw her alive.
MARY ANN ELLIOTT . I am the wife of Charles Elliott, of 46, Southam Street—I have known the deceased for about eight months—I have seen the prisoner about twice, not with her, only on the Tuesday night as she came out of her fourteen days, I saw him drinking with her that night—on the evening of the 25th I was in the William IV. public-house, and the deceased went in to have something to drink there—when she came out of that public-house she made a statement to me—she was then perfectly sober—about half-past ten that same evening I saw her again, and saw the prisoner speak to her—that was a little higher up than the William IV.—a little later on I saw her again—she was crying—I did not hear the prisoner say anything to her then.
ANNIE BUDD . I am the wife of Frederick Budd, of 44, St. Catherine's Road—I knew Clara Thompson, and also knew the prisoner—they lived together for a short time—on August 27th, about 10.30 p.m., I was in the William IV. public-house with the deceased and the prisoner—I had something to drink with them—she was crying, and seemed upset—I asked her what was the matter—she said she had had two or three words with these two women, Roberts and another—the prisoner said these women
were dreadful, and if she went with them again he would give her a hiding—I came out of the public-house, and asked her to go home along with me—I went a little way with her—the two women were jangling and going on their hands and knees, and swearing—we crossed the road—the prisoner heard the deceased and the other two women quarrelling, and he crossed the road and made a hit at her with his open hand or fist—he struck at her, but I do not know whether he hit her or not—it was towards the face that he struck her—they kept quarrelling, and we were going along; he followed—I said, "You had better go back with Clara, or they will begin quarrelling again"—about twelve o'clock I saw the prisoner standing outside the public-house—the deceased went across the road and went up to him—they were quarrelling—after that I heard her cry, "Oh!"—I went over and saw her on the ground—there was a policeman there then, and some people around—I asked the prisoner what he had done—he said he only pushed her, and she fell down—she was unconscious then—we got some brandy and water, but she would not take any—she was taken away on an ambulance, and the prisoner was taken to the station.
Cross-examined. She had had some drink that night—the prisoner did not exactly complain about these two women following them; he only said she should not be drinking with them—they were following her about—he objected to her talking to them—he had seen her quarrelling with them, but not on that occasion—she could not take her own part—they were always quarrelling—there was a heavy jangling between them—he wanted to protect her from these two women—they were continually on her—on that night there seemed to be no particular quarrel between the prisoner and the deceased—they appeared pretty comfortable together, except for these two women—they were jangling together—she was in the centre of the road when I saw her on the ground, and I crossed over to her—when I got up to her she had got up into a kneeling position—he was getting her up—he seemed upset—he seemed not to know whether he had hurt her—he seemed very upset, and sorry—he helped to put her on the ambulance—she was lying near the kerb, close to the door-step, and he was holding her up—I did not notice any blood on the door-step.
Re-examined. There were a good many people standing round—there were two constables there when the prisoner was holding her up—she did nothing that night to provoke him, to my knowledge.
MARY ANN ELLIOTT (Re-called.) It was about half-past ten on the 25th when I saw the prisoner speak to the deceased in the William IV.—I saw her after that about 11.30—then she was crying—she made some statement to me about him, but she did not mention any names—he was a few yards in front of her—she was then sober, as far as I could see—later on, about midnight, I was in the Flora public-house with a woman named Roberts—the prisoner came to the door and asked Roberts if she had got any halfpence—she passed some halfpence to him, and he said he had to pay that cow again.
By MR. DRUMMOND. The prisoner was in the habit of consorting not only with the deceased, but with Roberts and others—I have seen him with them—that was while Clara was doing her fourteen days—he did not mention any names, but he spoke to Roberts.
the deceased Clara Thompson for about two years, seeing her about at the various public-houses—I know the prisoner by sight about these public-houses—I have not seen him many times—on August 25th I was in the Plough, when the deceased came in there—I was only with her two or three minutes—the prisoner was not there then—I did not see him at all that evening—after leaving the Plough I walked with the deceased along the street down to the Flora—I saw her again the same night about 12.15 in the Plough—she came in there to me—I was having a drink of beer—she spoke tome—I went home, and she followed me, and we were talking, and I saw the prisoner near the Flora—I saw the prisoner as we were going along, and he pushed into her—I did not hear him say any-thing—I walked away into the public-house, leaving her outside—I looked out at the door of the public-house, and I saw him strike the woman—they were on the footpath, a yard or so away from the door—I saw him strike her in the upper part of the body with his hand—I could not say whether his hand was opened or closed—she fell down and screamed—she got up again sharp, and when she was up he hit her again, and as she fell he kicked her in the same place—she was then on the ground—he kicked her in the upper part of the body, the face—she did not scream any more after he kicked her—he went away sharp—she was not screaming before he kicked her—when he walked away I went towards aim—Iran—I followed him up—I could not see any sign of him—he got home before me—I brought him back to the ground where the woman was lying—she lay in the same place where she fell—it seemed as if she had been moved a little bit—a number of women were round her—this was up at the side of the Gun Club—I do not think her head was touching the door-step of the club—I did not notice it—when she first fell she fell against the door of the public-house—the second time she fell, it was a little further from the Gun Club, not above a step from the private entrance—she did not fall against the private entrance of the Gun Club—the prisoner was taken to the station, and the woman also.
Cross-examined. She did not seem to me as if she had been drinking that night—when he struck her first I do not know whether it was with his open hand or his closed fist—I believe it was his closed fist—I was examined at the Police-court—I do not know whether I said at the Police-court that it was with his open hand—I do not know which it was—my deposition was read over to me there—I signed it—I am no scholar—I do not remember saying that it was with his open hand—it was after she fell down the first time that she screamed—I did not hear her scream when she fell the second time—I was at the far door—I did not notice whether she was lying on her face or not—her head was close against the Gun Club the second time—I did not see any blood on the door-step—I never looked—it was not so very dark a night—there was plenty of light there.
LEONARD BARRY (Police Sergeant P.) I prepared this plan of the front of the Flora Hotel and the Gun Factory in Harrow Road—I drew it to scale—it shows the steps there—they stand about eleven inches back—there is a gas light in the place—the steps are level with the pavement—the coal place and the place where the gas is are shown—there is no projection there—there are two ordinary steps at the Gun Factory.
JOHN BOARDER (Constable X 426), About 12.30 in the early morning of August 27th, I was on duty in the Harrow Road—I heard a woman shriek, and I saw the prisoner strike the woman, and she fell—while she was on the ground he kicked her—I could not say exactly where the blow was struck—it was one kick—he then walked quickly away towards me—I was about 100 yards away from him at first—I stopped him, and said, "You will have to go back along with me"—he said, "All right"—then we came back to the woman—she was lying on the pavement unconscious—I sent for assistance—the prisoner assisted me to raise her up—he said, "She has had a drop of rum; I did not kick her, I only pushed her, and she fell down"—I had said nothing to him before that—Constable Conway came up—I handed the prisoner over to him, and took the woman to the station on the ambulance—Dr. Robinson was called, and examined the woman—the prisoner was present—the doctor said she was dead—she was lying in the same place as where I had seen her fall—no one had moved her. (The witness was directed to mark upon the plan the position in which she was lying.)
Cross-examined. There is a coal-plate near the steps, I should think two and a-half feet from them—I have marked where her head was as near as I could possibly do so—when I first saw her fall I was about 100 yards off, not more—her feet were towards the public-house—there was no moon that night—her head was close to the steps, about two feet away, not more—I did not examine the steps at the time—I did subsequently—there was blood on the steps the next morning—there was blood on the top step—she was lying on her back when I came up to her—I did not see her roll at all after she fell—the body may have been moved a little after she fell.
Re-examined. The blood on the step looked more like a stain—there was blood on the pavement—it looked as if somebody with blood on the foot had stepped from the pavement on to the step—it was like a smear—there was more blood on the bottom step than there was on the top—it was about five in the morning that I examined it—I do not think anybody would be going in and out of the Gun Club as early as that—we held the woman there for about a quarter of an hour before the ambulance arrived—there were some people standing on the steps at the time—there was a light from the public-house, and there was a large lamp outside—it appeared to me that the woman fell on her back—the prisoner seemed to strike her on the face—she was standing very near between the Flora and the Gun Club when she was first struck—not exactly facing the public-house—more of a slant—she did not fall sideways—of course I was a distance off.
ALFRED HINES . Shortly before midnight on the 27th I was in the Harrow Road, near the Flora public-house—I saw the deceased talking to the prisoner outside the hotel, near the Gun Factory door—I was from fifteen to twenty yards from them—there was a light from the public-house—I saw the deceased come up with Emarton—the prisoner stopped her—they had some conversation, and he struck her, and she fell—I could not say, when he struck her, whether his hand was open or closed—she got up, and he struck her again in the upper part of the body—I could not say where exactly—she fell a second time, and then I saw him kick her in the upper part of the body—it was a hard kick—she fell on the pavement near the
steps to the Gun Factory—her head was about a foot from the steps, or from nine inches to a foot—I did not see whether her head struck the steps.
Cross-examined. I could not say whether she fell on her side or her face; I could see, but I did not notice—as far as I could tell, her head appeared to be about a foot from the steps—I went up to her directly the prisoner walked away—I did not see the policeman stop him—I sent for the ambulance directly she was knocked down; I was standing on the same side of the road—I never moved her; I did not put a hand on her—I did not notice any blood.
JOHN PAYNE . On August 28th, near midnight, I was in the Harrow Road, near the Flora Hotel, on the opposite side of the way—I saw the prisoner and the deceased outside the Gun Factory; I did not hear what they said—I watched them; I saw the prisoner strike the woman with his fist; she fell to the ground—he raised his foot and kicked her while she was on the ground—I could not discern what part of the body he kicked her in; it was aimed for the higher part of the body—the deceased was trying to get away from the prisoner, and he was interrupting her—I was about fifteen yards away—I saw her fall; I could not say where her head fell, only, from what I saw when I got back to her, then her head was on the step leading to the cellar—the prisoner walked away; I followed, and saw a policeman.
Cross-examined. I could not say for certainty where her head fell, but when I got up to her her head was on the glass plate—that would be about the centre of the footway—it was not a running kick that he gave her—he had to take two or three steps to kick her—she appeared to me to fail backwards—there were other people there—I went to inform the police—when I came back the prisoner and Boarder were holding her up—I did not see her fall more than once—she did not move after that fall.
LIONEL FORRELL . I was caretaker at the Gun Factory—on August 28th I came down in the morning at 6.30 as near as possible—I opened the door—I noticed blood on the first step of the door—there was blood on the glass plate that looks into the cellar—by the first step I mean the bottom step—the stains were thick on the coal-plate, but not so thick as on the first step—it seemed as if someone had been on the plate and taken up the blood.
Cross-examined. It was smeared—I did not see any on the edge of the step—I took particular notice of it; I am perfectly certain there was none on the edge of the step when I saw it.
GEORGE ROBERTSON . I am Divisional Surgeon of Police—about 12.45 a.m. on August 28th, I saw the deceased at Harrow Road Station—she was then dead, and appeared to have been dead about ten minutes—I simply saw that she was being held up—there were bruises on the face, but I did not pay any attention to the marks at first, because she was dead, and I intended to make a post-mortem examination—I then noted down the marks that were upon her—there was a little blood inside the right ear and on the face, and a cut on the right cheek about an inch in length—on the 30th I made a post-mortem examination—I found that rigor mortis was passing off—the body was well nourished—both eyes were blackened and the cheeks bruised, especially the right, where there was a wound over half an inch in length on the right cheek—there was a
corresponding wound on the inside of the mouth, and the mucous membranes, but it did not penetrate—there was excessive bruising of the mucous membrane of the mouth between the upper jaw-bone and the cheek of the right side, but no wound—there was dried blood inside the left ear and outside the right ear—there were large scars of old date about the left eye, under the right ear, and on the left side of the armpit—there were marks of her having been pregnant, and there was an abrasion on the right cheek partially healed—on examining the head more especially there were no external marks, but on removing the scalp there was a bruise evidently indicted before death on the right ear, but not extending to the brain—there was no external injury to the skull, but on removing the membranes of the brain they were dark and coagulated—I found a large clot of blood covering the whole side of the brain, two inches in width—on the right side of the brain there was a thickening layer of blood—the brain itself was actually uninjured, in fact, entirely normal—further examination showed an extensive fracture of the upper jaw-bones, slightly above the wound on the face; the upper cavity of the jaw-bone was filled with blood, and the ethmoid bone protruded, and was pulverised—an artery had been cut, and there was heomorrhage into the base of the brain—the heart was fatty, but the structure was normal—the tongue, the teeth, the gullet, and the throat were normal, and the stomach fairly so, but about six ounces of blood had evidently trickled down from the nose to the throat—there were patches also all over the stomach externally, pointing to the fact that she had been in the habit of drinking—the liver was pale, but normal—all the other organs were normal—I can't say that the wound on the cheek caused the fracture of the jaw; probably the same blow might have caused the fracture—I have been shown a pair of boots; one was crushed, the other was all right; the toe of the boot could have inflicted the blow on the cheek, and it could have caused the fracture if done with great violence—the cause of death was coma, from compression of the brain; and that was caused by effusion of blood from the face and base of the brain.
Cross-examined. If the toe of this boot inflicted the wound I should not have expected to find blood on the boot; it is not always the case—the boot has not got iron tips—I examined it carefully for blood, but there was none; still, it is possible that the boot might have inflicted the wound—the woman was not in a very diseased condition—one of the kidneys was beginning fibroid disease—she showed signs of being addicted to drink—there was scrofulous disease about her; there were old scars; they might have been caused in infancy—she certainly was diseased, but I don't say seriously diseased—she was stout; I should not expect her to fall down more readily than another person of the same build; physical strength is more or less independent of disease—the scrofulous signs would show that as a child she was weakly—the fracture would not be caused by falling on the edge of the steps—the edges were sharp at either side, and a fracture made in falling against the edge of a doorstep would be utterly impossible to make a punctured fracture without breaking the bones on either side and breaking the nose—she was about five feet in height.
brought in by the constable—while the witnesses' statements were being made the prisoner said, "I did not kick her; I pushed her, and she fell down."
GUILTY — Penal Servitude for Life.
THIRD COURT.—Monday, October 26th, 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SELLS Prosecuted.
CHARLES CLEMENTS . I deal in greengrocery at 4, Prince's Yard, Prince's Road, Notting Hill—on the morning of September 12th I went to Covent Garden with my horse and van—I went into the market to make a purchase, leaving my horse and cart in charge of a woman, and when I returned about seven o'clock they were gone, and the woman too—I saw her afterwards—the van was laden with potatoes, beans, scarlet runners, and other vegetables—the cart and horse were mine, and worth about £15; altogether the value of the things stolen was about £18 10s.—two hundred weight of potatoes cost me 5s.; the beans were worth 1s. 6d. per basket—I got my horse and cart back again, but I lost the contents, and the cart was all broken, and the horse's leg was cut behind—when I found the things gone, I made a statement to the police—next morning a policeman came to me and took me to Rotherhithe, where I found the horse and van in Bashan's Yard—next day I went to Bow Street, and charged the prisoners with stealing it—I had not seen them before.
HENRY HOWE . I am a greengrocer, of 336, Southwark Bridge Road—on Saturday, September 12th, I was at Spitalfields Market—when I got home at 8.20 I found two one-hundred weight bags of potatoes standing against my door—in the afternoon the prisoners called with a horse and van—George came in my shop, and my missue said, "This is the gentleman that fetched the two bags of potatoes in"—I said, "How much do you want for them bags of potatoes?"—he said, "3s. each"—I said, "You take them out; I don't want them"—he forced me to have them; eventually I gave him 1s. 9d. a bag, and when I paid him, he said, "I have another bag outside in my van; I have had a break-down"—I went and looked at the van, and it had broken down, and I took compassion on him and bought the other bag—Norah said they had had an accident; she trusted her little brother to harness the horse, and he had harnessed it wrong, which caused it to kick—the horse's hocks were all cut to pieces, and bleeding—they came to my shop at eight o'clock at night, and asked if I would stable the horse and van—I said No; I could not put it in with my pony; he would kick it—their coming back raised my suspicion that it was stolen, and I went to Mr. Bashan, and got him to stable it for the night, and I saw the name on the cart, and went to the Police-station—on the Sunday morning Clements came, and I took him to the stable where it was.
Cross-examined by George Jackson. You were the men who sold me the potatoes—you made an arrangement to come back on the Sunday, but you did not, and I did not see you till I went to Bow Street.
FREDERICK BASHAN . I am a carman and contractor, of 36, Laird Road, Bermondsey—on Saturday, 12th, Mr. Howe came to me with a horse and ran, which was stabled at my place till Sunday morning—afterwards the detectives and Howe and Clements came round, and Clements claimed them, and they were given to him—as soon as I saw them I said they were stolen.
ARTHUR WALTERS (Detective Sergeant.) On the afternoon of September 14th I went with Long to Rotherhithe Police-station, where I found the prisoners detained—I told them we were police officers, and that they would be charged with stealing a horse and van containing vegetables, on the 12th inst., in the neighbourhood of the Strand—George at once said, "I know nothing about the theft. I was along of my missus in St. George's Circus when she bought it of a man in the street"—that was said in the woman's presence, and she made a statement which Long took down—I did not hear it distinctly—they were charged at Bow Street, and made no further reply—on Sunday morning I went to Bashan's stables with Clements, who identified the horse and van in the stable there.
ALFRED LONG (Detective E). On the afternoon of September 14th I went to Rotherhithe Police-station with Walters—Norah said to me, "About 9.30 on Saturday morning I met a man in the St. George's Road, near the Obelisk; he asked me if I wanted to buy a horse and van"—I said, "How much do you want for it?"—he said £6—I said I would give him £4; he said, "All right, I want to sell it quick, as I have just got news that a relation of mine is dead"—I gave him £4 that I was going to buy my stock with—when charged at Bow Street she said she bought the things at 9.30 on the Saturday morning—I don't know how she got to Rotherhithe Station—I found her detained there.
Cross-examined by Norah. You did not say it was soon after eight you bought the horse and van.
George, in his defence, said that he knew nothing of it till he met his wife, who said she had bought a horse and van for £4. Norah, in effect, repeated the statement she had made to Long.
George Jackson then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in October, 1893, in the name of Reed, and six other convictions were proved against him.
He PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a pony and barrow and other articles.
GEORGE JACKSON— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NORAH JACKSON, Six Months' Hard Labour.
(For the case of MACKLEY and FIELD, see Essex Cases.)
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 27th 1896.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
CROFTS PLEADED GUILTY to the Second Count.
MESSRS. MUIR and TURNER Prosecuted.
MAUDE CUNBY . On July 31st I was a shorthand typewriter at the Muskely British Type writer Company, 41, Holbom Viaduct—Govettoams that day with Crofts, and said, "I want a machine sent to my office to look at," and handed me this paper. (Ordering a typewriter to be sent on approbation the next day, at eight o'clock.) One of our clerks filled that up.
Cross-examined by Govett. I did not tell you that the discount would be the same as Williams'; I said that I was not sure.
THOMAS LAWRENCE BEARDWELL . I am assistant-manager to the Maskes lyne British Typewriter Co.—on July 24th I heard of this order being brought in blank by a young lady—it was filled up by Miss Cumby, by my directions, as it now appears, and on that day I directed the machine to be sent to Milk Street, Cheapside, and this document "X," signed "John Govett," was brought back by the person who took the machine—one document was to be left, and the other brought back—on August 12th I received this postcard: "32 and 33, Milk Street. Gentlemen,—Have decided to keep the machine sent; please send invoice, with discount off, and oblige, yours truly, J GOVETT"—on August 12th I sent this invoice, dated July 24th, by poet, which would be delivered the following morning—I afterwards went twice to the prisoner's office to make inquiries, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, and found it shut, and a padlock on the door—it was a room at the top of the house—this is the machize (produced.)
Cross-examined. I allowed the trade discount five per cent.
HERBERT FRANKLIN HUBBARD . I am a messenger in the prosecutor's employ—on July 24th I took a machine to 32 and 33, Milk Street, and delivered it to Govett personally—he gave me the receipt, and I left the counterpart with him.
JOSEPH ROBINSON . I am assistant to Walter and Son, pawnbrokers, of 51, City Road. Croft pawned this machine (produced.) with me on July 31st, and gave the name of G. Govett—he gave me this bill-head—I asked him if the machine was his own—he said, "Yes," and produced a receipted invoice, and said, "You see, it is the receipt for the machine"—he signed the contract note "Z," and the duplicate of it "Z 3"—he asked for £6; I gave him £3 10s. on it—shortly after I had taken it Govett came alone, and said, "I have lost the ticket of the typewriter in the name of John Govett and I want an affidavit form "I said, "What is your name?"—he said, "John Govett"—I said, "You are not the person who pledged it; there cannot be two John Govetts; I shall not give you one"—he said nothing, and walked away, and I heard no more of him.
Cross-examined. You may have said that you would go and find the gentleman.
with me as security for the advance of 10s., which he afterwards paid me—I had mislaid the invoice, but I sent it to him afterwards in this letter (produced)—I afterwards gave the ticket to the Southend police.
ALBERT DEFRIES . I am manager to Brockleheim and Son, 62 and 63, Milk Street—I let an office to Govett under this agreement (produced) of June 1st, 1895, between Messrs. Brockleheim and John Govett, of 18 John's Road, Southend, at an annual rent of £10, payable quarterly—I saw Govett, and he signed the agreement—he was a half-year's rent in arrear in July; I had applied for payment several times, but could not get it—Croft did not occupy any room there, but he may have been there.
WALTER EDWARD CHAMPION . I am managing clerk to Eankin Ford, a solicitor—in May last I let an office at 16, Water Lane, to Crofts; he applied personally—he describes himself in the agreement as Herbert. Samuel Crofts—one of the references he gave was John Govett, 33, Milk Street, to whom I wrote, and got this reply. (From John Govett, stating that he had known Mr. Croft ten years, and that he would be a desirable tenant) I called at Crofts' office up to the time he was arrested, but always found it locked—after his arrest I retook possession by means of a duplicate key—there was nothing in the place.
Cross-examined. I wrote to your second reference, and received this reply.
WILLIAM ALSTON . I trade, with others, as Lloyd's Household Glue Company—Crofts was in our service from December, 1895, to April, 1896—during that time he gave us some orders, and, among others, an order from Mr. Govett, which was executed and not paid for—I have been Crofts write; this invoice and postcard are his writing.
Cross-examined. You never informed us that the glue was worthless—the glue I took back at the Mansion House was another order, not the order you had.
Re-examined. Whether the glue was bad or good, I found it in the posession of a pawnbroker.
WILLIAM MCKENZIE I am managing director to the Empire Typewriting Company, Limited, 77, Queen Victoria Street—Crofts entered our employment on July 14th, this year, as traveller—during that time he brought us one order; that was on July 22nd, from Goddard, for a machine, with a free trial—we have not been able to recover it, or to get the money—it is in the possession of a Mrs. Eli, who bought it, and it is now in Court.
WILLIAM OLDHAMPSTEAD (Detective Inspector.) On August 24th, about 6.30 p.m., I arrested Govett at the Great Eastern Railway Station, Southend, and read the warrant to him there, charging him with obtaining three typewriting machines—he said, "It is quite right, I had the machines; you can't make a fraud of it; I have sold them"—he was detained at Southend while I examined his place—he was then brought to London—he had this letter-book on him and these documents (produced)—I went to 32, Milk Street, opened Govett's office and found a table, two chairs, and some odd books and papers, but no ledgers or books showing the business carried on—it was a very small room.
Govett, in his defence, stated that he simply got the machines on approbation, but, being short of money, pledged one for£3 10s. 9d., but intended to return it or pay for it.— GUILTY . There were seven other indictments against the
Prisoners. CROFTS— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
GOVETT— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
ROBERT COLEMAN . I am employed by William Dennis and Son, of Covent Garden, at their warehouse, where empties are taken—I receive baskets, and give vouchers for them—on September 4th I had some baskets waiting to be called for by the carrier—they had been returned and paid for; and a man came in and bought six boxes marked T (produced)—they have had tomatoes in them—I took them and gave him this voucher, worth 6s., which he would be entitled to receive when he presented it—I afterwards discovered that six of my crates were missing with the same mark—they were the very same six which I had left outside, and I had given a voucher for my own crates; we do a large business—on September 6th I put some crates outside, tied together with a peculiar kind of string to go away to France—during the day a man brought me four of those crates; I recognised them at once—he gave the name of Perry, and I gave him this voucher, which entitled him to 4s.—on the previous Friday I looked outside and missed four crates, the same number as had been brought in; finding that out I ran to our cashier and found the prisoner there getting the money for them—I told the cashier not to pay, as they had been stolen; the prisoner remained there, but I did not hear what he said.
———I am cashier to Dennis and Son, at the office in James Street—the prisoner presented these counters for 10s., and I gave him 6s. and two 2s. tokens like these—if a man has twelve baskets of fruit we should charge him 5s. on the empties, and anybody could steal them and get the tokens—the empties are brought back and a receipt given—I cash them without asking any questions—he got two of these 2s. ones in change; he came back and presented the ticket and the tokens and said nothing, and Ooleman came in and said, "Don't pay that man the 4s. because he has stolen the empties"—the prisoner said that it was not so, and went away from the cash desk.
Cross-examined. When you came on the Tuesday I recognised you as We man who came on Monday.
By the COURT. He is the man I looked to as buying tomatoes—it was in consequence of what the emptied man said that I had a more vivid recollection of him—I should have paid him if Colfttnan had not come in, because it was an ordinary business transaction—when Coleman came in I looked more carefully at him, and recognised him.
JOHN WILLIAM DENNIS . I am one of the firm of William Dennis and Sons, commission salesmen, of Covent Garden Market—this crate belongs to a shipping firm; we are bailees of it; it is marked T, showing that it was shipped from Paris—it has contained foreign fruit—there is no trace in our books of any pears sold on September 4th—I asked the prisoner from whence he obtained the four crates—he said he bought them at our warehouse, and pointed to our manager, Mr. Kempton, and said that he bought them from him—a cash customer, when paying for goods, receives from the cashier a token corresponding to the amount he leaves—that is for his protection; any person might steal them, and come
to us and got the money—this (produced.) is one of our tokens—he said that his man took them, and afterwards that he employed a man who was hanging about—I gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. I know your face, but I cannot tell whether you have dealt with us or not.
FRANCIS EDWARD KIMPTON . I am saleman to Messrs. Dennis at the James Street warehouse—on September 7th the prisoner came for the money for the crates, and said that he bought them from me on the Friday previous—I said that he could not have, for no foreign goods are sold there, only English, and detained him till Mr. Dennis came.
FREDERICK GRIMSHAW (31 E R.) On September 7th the prisoner was given into my custody for obtaining 4s. by fraud—Mr. Dennis asked him where he obtained the baskets—he said, "I bought them last Friday of that man," pointing to Mr. Kimpton—I said, "Who took the baskets home?"—he said, "I gave them to a man to take back"—I asked where his barrow was—he said. "It was not my barrow, it was my pal'—he was taken to the station, and said, "I am innocent."
Prisoners Defence. On Friday morning I bought two baskets of mushrooms, and paid 4s. on the baskets. I sent the baskets back at two o'clock. I bought some pears, and took them home, and sold them on Saturday. On Monday morning I asked a man to take the four empty baskets to Mr. Dennis; he put them on his head and went off—when I went there the warehouseman was there, and Mr. Dennis was sent for, and called a policeman. I am innocent; I do not know how my man came to take tour crates, and not four baskets. I have been in business fifteen years, and never had a slur on me before. They were all baskets, both on the 4th and on the 7th. The man generally lurks about the market.
F. GRIMSHAW (Re-examined.) I asked the prisoner's name and address; he paid, "Alfred Perry, Dorset Road"—I could not find it—I said. "Can you tell me where the man lives who you employed?"—he said, "No, he knocks about the market; his name is Jim"—the prisoner is a costermonger, sometimes Helling fish and sometimes fruit in Covent Garden Market—I have known him these seven years.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MUIR offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 28th, 1896.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
MESSRS HUTTON and LEYCESTER Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday October 29th, 1896.
Before. Mr. Justice Wright.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted.
EDWIN SMITH . I am assistant sanitary, inspector to the Edmonton District Council—on September 19th, about eleven my little girl told me something, in consequence of which I went to 43, Sheldon Road, and noticed smoke issuing from the building—I tried to get a ladder, and, failing that, I tried other means—I found, a window each about an inch open, I pulled it down, and got into the parlour, and noticed a very strong smell of methylated spirits—the parlour door was open, and I found that the fire was in the kitchen—I opened the door and admitted the neighbours, and in about ten minutes Mr. Edging ton, of the Fire Brigade, came in.
Cross-examined by the mala Prisoner. The smell of methylated spirits was very strong; I could smell it from the outside—it was dark at the time; I had no light with me—my wife brought one from home—I afterwards saw a small candle that had been used; it was. between two and three inches long, and was on the table—I saw that the partition between the kitchen and the coal-cellar was on fire; I got the fire out—I may have seen you once or twice, but not to a speak to—I know nothing at all of you.
SMOLLET EDGINOTOX . lam superintendent of the Edmonton Fire Brigade—in consequence of a telegram I went to 43, Sheldon Road—I got into the house and went into the back kitchen—I saw a washstand against a wooden partition; it had been on fire; there was a basin in it; it had smoke, about the top, and round the hole were some rags that had been burnt and marks of candle-grease about them, and about fifteen inches from that were two holes in the partition into the coal-cellar—there was no connection between those two fires; they were distinct—on the first-floor landing there was still a fire well going ahead—I ripped up the boards and found a fire travelling there on the lath and plaster; in five minutes we should have been too late—subsequently, on the 22nd, I examined the floorcloth on the landing; it was still damp; I tasted it, and it had a distinct taste of methylated spirits—on the night of the fire I examined the front parlour; a strong smell of methylated spirits pervaded the whole placo, but there it was particularly strong; the floor was sopping wet—in the back kitchen I found this tall hock bottle, that smelt strongly of methylated spirit; the cork was out—I gave information to a constable, and the male prisoner came up—I said, "Is your name Schaar?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "There has been afire here"—he said, "I would not have a fire for anybody; I am not insured enough to cover it"—I said, "How much are you insured for?"—he said, "£200"—I said, "What time did you leave the house?"—he said?" About four, to go to Charlotte Street; my wife was to have met me there, and we were going together to the Alhambra, but she came too late"—I said, "How do you account for the smell of methylated spirits in the place?"—he said, "I have never had any methylated spirits in the house in my life"—I showed him this bottle"—he said, "It is a wine-bottle; there is no methylated spirit there"—I rubbed it on my hand, and held it up to his nose and said, "What do you make of that?"—he said, "That is methylated
spirit"—I took him into the front room—his wife came in—I showed him the carpet, and said, "Please kneel down and smell that"—he did so, and said, "That is methylated spirit"—I asked if he had any enemy—he said, "No, I have been here for some months, and on the best terms with all my neighbours, and he appealed to his wife to know if she knew of one, and she shook her head—afterwards I purchased some tallow candles at a shop where they dealt, and made an experiment with one to see how long it would burn, and a small blue flame was obtained in an hour and a-half—I applied methylated spirit, and the flame ignited directly, and burnt for four hours.
Cross-examined by the mala Prisoner. I did not look to see if I could find more bottles—I don't know who first discovered this one—I only, know that it was there—there were certainly three distinct fires—the spirits had been planted in four different places—I could not say that this was all of it that was used—I never saw a clearer illustration—the fire was distinctly caused from the inside, from the coal-cellar—there were only two holes in the partition—the fire upstairs was a very serious one—I did not discover any preparation to light the spirit there—the spirit was evidently poured through into the joists between the flooring and the ceiling below—I did not find that any board was loosened—there would be no need for that, there were a lot of cracks—I could not discover that, the fire could have been caused by anything but a wilful act, not by any accident.
By the COURT. The fire upstairs could have been caused either by a separate candle, or by a train from the fire below—there was no visible connection between the two—the candle I experimented with burnt from 5.46 to 12.5.
By the male Prisoner. When you came home I asked you several questions, which you answered—I do not believe your story about going to the Alhambra with a dog and a bicycle—I asked you if you had anybody who could do you a nasty trick, because it was evident to me that a crime had been committed, and I wanted to know if you could suggest who did it; I did not know whether the fire had taken place for insurance-money purposes or spite; we often have incendiary fires committed for spite by neighbours, and I thought you might have such a neighbour—you told me you were on the best of terms with all your neighbours—very often a little item like that bottle in front of the table is overlooked, and gives the clue to the crime—the moment your wife came in and was shown the bottle she did not look round the table and say, "Where are the candles. I left on the table"—I asked her if she had left anything burning in the house, and she said, "No, I left a candle for my husband when he came home; "you went inside the coal-cellar; very likely you used a candle there—someone brought in two candles from another house; I would not let them use them about the place—I did not send you out of the house.
HARRY EARTHY (26 N R). At 10.45 on this night I went to 43, Sheldon Road—I saw in the kitchen there had been three distinct fires in the wainscoting which separated the parlour from the kitchen—on the first floor there had been another fire—in the parlour there was a very strong smell of methylated spirit, and I found the carpet was saturated with methylated spirit—I found this bottle on the kitchen table; by its smell it had contained methylated spirits—about twelve the male prisoner
returned home on a bicycle, accompanied by a dog—I asked him whether be could account for the smell of methylated spirits in his parlour—he said, "No; I never had any methylated spirits in the house"—I showed him the bottle—he said, "That bottle does not belong to me"—about five minutes afterwards the female prisoner returned—she said, "Someone must have set it alight; I left the house all right at six o'clock; we were going to the Alhambra, but "we were too late"—I showed her the bottle; she denied any knowledge of it.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. The bottle was standing exposed on the kitchen table—a lamp was also on the table; it was not alight; it was lighted after you came in—the table was just opposite the door, and anybody entering the kitchen must have noticed the bottle—I believe you said something about your never using spirits in your house—you said you had never seen the bottle before in your house—I believe you have been in prison since that night—you appeared sober when you came home—I had not seen you before to my knowledge—there were a lot of people outside the house, as there always is at a fire; I did not hear anyone give you a bad character, or make a remark against you.
LEWIS JOHNSON (Police Constable). I went to 43, sheldon Road, on this night—I smelt methylated spirits about the place—after the brigade had left I examined the house and found this small black bottle in a coal cellar—it was empty: there were traces of benzoline in it—I gave it to Earthy—I took the female prisoner into custody—she made no answer to the charge in my presence.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. I did not take you into custody—I was not at the station when the charge was read to you.
HERBERT HAZELDDIE (Police Sergeant). About midnighton September 19th I went to 43, sheldon Road, and met the male prisoner in charge of Earthy; Johnson arrested the female prisoner—I cautioned both prisoners, and said they would be charged with arson—the male prisoner said, "About four o'clock last night I left home on my bicycle, with my dog, and rode through Wood Green to Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, with the intention of meeting my wife, as we were going to the Alhambra, but she was too late, so we did not go; on my return home I found the Fire Brigade there. I know nothing of the bottles; I never use either methylated spirit, or benzoline in the house"—the female prisoner said nothing—when charged the male prisoner said, "I never use either methylated spirits or benzoline in the house; I never saw the bottles before"—the charge was read again to the female prisoner, and explained by her husband—she said, "We know nothing of the fire; my husband earns too good money to do such a thing."
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. Several people were in the station that night; there were the two constables, who are witnesses, and two of the I Edmonton Fire Brigade, Mr. Smith and Mr. Marshall, and another man was present who is not a witness, Boyle—after a witness (Smith) had made a statement with respect to the entry into the house, and said he had his hand on the door and opened the door and found Boyle there with the key in the door, Boyle said he had the key in the door, and Smith interrupted him and said he had the key on the inside—you appeared sober—I did not know you before—I have not heard anything about you; I have made no inquiries.
43, Sheldon Road, and searched—I found a policy of insurance in a chest of drawers on the first floor, a bill relating to a bicycle bought on the hire system, and a letter calling attention to the instalments being very much in arrear; a weekly payment card relating to furniture bought on the hire system from Wood and Cole, 160, High Street, Camden Town—I found no lamp for burning methylated spirit or benzoline—it was Saturday night when I searched; I only found in the way of food about two pounds of potatoes, a loaf, two apples, and a pinch of tea in a bit of paper—there was an entire absence of women's underclothing—in the back kitchen I found some embers of paper and trimming materials, and on those embers were traces of a greasy substance, such as candle grease—I scraped some up from the floor with my finger nail, and smelt it, and it was candle grease, such as, I take it, would run from the paper on to the floor.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. I have since got this account from the bicycle-dealer, showing how the matter stands—you paid 10s. on the 21st and 10s. on August 29th, and £9 4s. 9d. is still owing—I found photographs of you and your wife in the house—I tried to trace whether you had bought methylated spirit, but I could not trace that you had bought any, or that any persons in shops in the neighbourhood had seen either of these bottles in your wife's possession—a good deal of methyllated spirit is used in the pianoforte trade, not in your branch, but in the next workshop to yours—I have been to Mr. Grover's, where you worked last—you worked up to dinner-time, between one and two, on the Saturday—I heard you were a very clever workman, and earned £4 a week—on that Saturday you took £4 19s., of which you had to pay 15s. and 5s.—£3 15s. would be your average earnings—I did not hear you were a steady man, but the contrary; one of your fellow workmen told me so—I heard that you were in the habit of borrowing money from your fellow workmen two or three days after you were paid your wages—I went to five or six addresses—you used to live at 28, Hammond Street; the people there, and also at 171, Princes Road, gave a rather bad account of you—I heard nothing against you at 5, Agincourt Eoad; you were only there a short time—there was a supposed burglary took place there; one over-coat and a pair of boots and some jewellery, belonging to the landlord, were reported as stolen—I made an experiment with four penny candles; one burnt for four hours ten minutes, and the other for four hours twenty minutes; they were in a draught in my coal-cellar—two others I burned in no draught in my bedroom; one lasted for five hours fifteen minutes, and the other for five hours sixteen minutes, leaving nothing but the wicks and a little grease—the four penny candles were taken from the precise packet that it was supposed the candles bought by the little girl were taken from—a halfpenny candle is about two-thirds the size of a penny one; it might not last so long, but when I made the experiment it was hot weather, and the oandles would be soft; when Mr. fletherington burnt his it was cold weather, and that would make all the difference—I don't say it would make two hours' difference—I found letter in German in your house; I have had several translated; they had nothing to do with this case.
Re-examined. I did not make an experiment to see the difference in time of burning of a penny and a halfpenny candle—a penny candle gives more light than a halfpenny one—the penny and halfpenny candles
were of the same make, and were bought at the same shop—I got mine at the same shop the children told me they got the candles from, Gregory's, at the corner of Sweetbriar Walk.
JESSIE GREY . I live at 37, Sheldon Road—I saw the female prisoner give Maggie Hanson; a child about seven years old, a halfpenny, and she asked her to buy something nice for Jacky, and some candles for her (Marie Schaar).
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. She only gave Maggie a half-penny; she was to buy something nice for Jacty with that; she first gave Maggie the money to go and buy the candles, and when she came back she gave her the halfpenny—I don't know how much she gave her fur the candles; I saw it handed over—I often fetch things for your wife, and she nearly always gives me something.
By the COURT. It was on a Saturday in nearly the middle of September; I don't know what time it was.
ROSINA BALDOCK . On September 19th I was on a visit to my sister, Mrs. Hanson, of 40, Sheldon Road, for about a quarter of an hour—about 5.45 the female prisoner came to the gate of No. 40 and asked my little niece, Maggie, to get her two candles—my niece then ran out; I weut as far as the corner with her, and left her at the corner of Sheldon Road—she said she was going to Gregory's to get them.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. I did not see any money handed—it did not appear that your wife made a secret of it—it was the first time I had seen her—I had not seen you—Mrs. Hanson is my sister-in-law—your wife did not say the child was to go to Gregory's.
WILLIAM HURRIN . I am employed as errand-boy at Gregory's, at Edmonton—on the afternoon, or evening, of the day of this fire, before tea, which we have about 5.30, Maggie Hanson came for two candles—I served them—I don't know what she paid, or the price of them; she gave the money to Mr. Gregory—they were loose.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. She came between five and 5.30—I don't remember what sort of candles I gave her—about a month or six weeks ago I first told anybody about the child being sent for the candles.
CHARLES LOVELESS . I am a house-agent, living in the Sheldon Road—on March 22nd I let 43, Sheldon Koad to the prisoners, who moved in on March 28th—the rent was 7s. 6d. a week—before the fire I went into the house on various occasions—I saw, in the front room, a hearth-rug, a curtain chain, a table-cover, and a clock a few days before the fire; on the night of the fire they were not there—the table-cover would be worth, perhaps, 30s.; the hearthrug, 10s. 6d.—I found a receipt for the clock for 23s. 6d.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. When you came about the house you deposited some money—it did not appear to me you were only going to stay there for a short time—at first you spent a good deal of money and time on your garden, and kept the place in good order—I considered you a good tenant, and never saw you other than respectable—I have to report to the landlord about all tenants I let houses to, and I think I told him when you first came that you were one of the most respectable people that had ever been there—you paid fairly well—I collect the rents, and have to go inside—I cannot say you had less furniture than was in the adjoining houses—I have heard that two officials.
from the insurance company have been to the owner of the house and expressed their surprise at your prosecution—I don't think it would be very difficult for anybody to enter your house without being noticed, and without using force; you generally left the window open—I think it would be difficult to get into the house any other way—no one could get in without breaking the door except myself—I have a key—I let you in one night when you came home without your key—I have a duplicate key to most of the houses—it is not the fact that the keys of most of the houses in the road fit your door—I am not aware that the next door key fits your door—I tried the key of No. 41, and it would not open your door—I did not try the key of No. 45—I don't know if Mrs. Hey ward's key fits your door—when I went into your front room a white tablecloth was on the table, and a few cups and saucers, a loaf of bread, and a little sugar in a glass basin, and, I believe, two apples in a plate—the table had the appearance of being left from tea, the cups and saucers were dirty—I think I should take off the other cloth if I had a white cloth on the table.
H. HETHIRINGTON (Heexamined). I believe in many cases insurance companies do not like prosecutions, but I know nothing of it.
CHARLES BBAND . I am manager to Wood, Cole and Co., furnishers, of Camden Town—on November 30th, 1895, we supplied the prisoner with furniture to the value of £12 6s. 6d.—on December 6th further articles to the value of £3 12s.; on March 23rd, 1896, further articles to the value of £3 6s.—all these articles were on the hire system, at 3s. 6d. a week—£5 10s. has been paid on account of the£18 odd, and £13 14s. is the balance owing—I have seen all the goods so supplied at the house, 43, Sheldon Road—the instalments have not been paid so regularly as previous to the prisoners' going to Edmonton.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. Before you took the furniture we asked for a reference, and saw that you were employed at Chappell's, the firm you gave—after the fire I found the furniture in fair condition; all the articles were there.
EDWIN JOSEPH LANE . I am an auctioneer and value, of Stamford Hill—on September 29th, at the request of Inspector Nairn, I visited 43, Sheldon Road, and made an inventory of the furniture there, except as to certain articles, pointed out to be hired—excluding those articles, the value of the contents of the house to a private person was £18 3s. 6d.; £10 would be a good price for them to fetch at an auction—I found no velvet pile table-cover; there was no clock worth 26s., only a small drum clock, worth about 1s. 9d. when new—I found a very small quantity of clothing; no female underclothing—I found two men's jackets, one man's old vest, a pair of old cycling pants, and five pieces of men's underclothing, an overcoat and four pieces of men's clothing—the outside value of the lot would be £3 10s.; I included that in the valuation of the furniture—the value of the whole property there would be about £38, £20 of hired stuff and £18 to the other—there was some bedding, which I included in the £18—there were no portable articles of any value in the house—I did not include the bicycle in my valuation.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. I carefully examined the articles—I valued a walnut over-mantel, about four feet across, in the parlour, at £1 15s.; I could buy it at that price new—there were two brackets which would not cost 1s. 6d. new; they were carved by machinery
I should say—I should be very much surprised to hear that they each cost 35s.—I reckoned 6s. for a hanging lamp; that is a fair value—I valued a sewing-machine at £2; it was of German make—I have found the makers' name on it, Frister and Rosmond, of Berlin; and its outside value by auction would be about 18s.—I should be very much surprised to hear you paid £8—in the front bedroom I found two single featherbeds, a covering and pillows, a chest of drawers, old couch, a round table, a sewing-machine, three pictures, an iron bedstead, palliasse, mantelboard, small chimney glass, and two chalk figures—I examined the beds—I took no notice of the back bedroom, as I was instructed that the things there were on hire—I value the bedding and covering in the front room at £3; they would not fetch 30s. under the hammer; I should be extremely surprised to hear they cost you £40; they never cost you more than £4; the two single beds are less than two feet wide—only a straw palliasse was underneath.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. I do not know if we applied to you or sent an agent asking you to insure—we received the proposal from our agent, Mr. J. Carpenter—I cannot say if he went to you twice—I cannot say what is the least amount of insurance we take; we are always open to receive any insurance; we receive less than £200—I do not know if our agent told you the least insurance the company would take was on £200; if he said so it would be wrong—it might be that the agent would say he would not care to be bothered with it unless he got a commission of a certain amount; he would get a commission of 7d. or 8d. on the premium in this case—Mr. Carpenter lives at 27, Sheldon Street, Bryanstone Square—I don't know if he is still in our employment—I cannot say if our agent would effect an insurance if he knew the furniture was not worth the amount insured—under this policy we are not bound to pay any money at all; we re-instate the property that is destroyed; we give the market value if we cannot buy the things in the market.
MARGARET HANSON . I am the wife of John James Hanson—we live next door to the prisoners—I saw Mrs. schaar in my house on the evening of the fire between 5.40 and 5.45; she asked me to take in some vegetables and apples for her—Maggie went with her—she said she was going to the theatre; my little boy had had a fit, and she came in to see him.
Cross-examined by the male Prisoner. The greengrocer handed the things to the little girl, and then Mrs. Schaar came and I handed the vegetables to her, three pounds of pears, three pounds of apples, and some vegetables—she occasionally sent my little girl to fetch things, and gave her a halfpenny—I do not know anyone whose key fits your door.
Witnesses for the Defence.
MRS. GRAY. I saw you (The male prisoner) leave the house at four o'clock on the evening of the fire with your bicycle and dog, and did not see you again till you came home at night—I always knew you to be respectable—your mistress left at six o'clock, and carried with her a bunch of flowers and a vegetable marrow—she said she was going to take the flowers to somebody, but I did not catch the name.
MR. OBORN. On September 19th you came to my place at seven o'clock,
and said you were waiting for your wife, and intended to go to the theatre—I live in Great Tichfield Street, about twenty minutes' walk from the Alhambra—several friends were in my house in the course of the evening—I am not sure when your mistress arrived—you have been at my house once or twice before with your dog.
Cross-examined. I did not expect him that evening; he sometimes came once a week, and sometimes once in two months—his wife came rather more than half-an-hour afterwards.
MARTHA OBORN . I am a daughter of the last witness, and live with her—I remember the prisoner being at our house—Mrs. Schaar left about 10.5—I walked with her to Portland Road Station, about five minutes' walk from our house—I stayed in the prisoners house for a fortnight last summer, and walked from one room to another as if I was at home, but never saw a bottle similar to this (The hock bottle) in the house—I do not know whether I should have seen it—when I stayed there I went out with Mrs. schaar one day, and when we came back she had no key—she said she would go and fetch one, and she did so, and opened the door with it—I told the solicitor for the defence something about that—Mrs. Schaar brought a large bundle of flowers and a vegetable marrow to the house about 8.30—she left me about 10.30, and went to Portland Road Station—this was on a Saturday.
H. Schaar in his defence, stated that the hock bottle was not his, but had been placed there by someone who had a spite against him, and that he told the police he had never seen it before, and never used methylated spirits. He contended that the evidence of the fire brigade was in his favour, as they could not find that any preparation had been made, that, at he was earning £3 a week, he was not likely to place himself in such a position, and that he was quite overcome when he came home and the police told him of the fire: that he then found the chest of drawers empty, and only two apples left of what his wife had had: that, as she was late in meeting him, they had to give up going to the Alhambra; and that he had never been convicted, and bore an excellent character.
Maria Schaar, in her defence, stated that they were too late to go to the Alhambra, because, it was impossible to get a seat there after 7.30, and so they went with Mr. Smith to Great Portland Street.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MR. MOORE Defended.
JOSEPH NAPOLEON GOOD . I keep the Manor Tavern, West Ham—on August 21st, about 9.30, the prisoner and a taller man were in the house; they were perfectly sober—the prisoner was singing and annoying people; I told him to go out; he refused—I said, "I shall send for a constable"—he said, "If you do I will have all the b——timber out of your house"—I sent for a constable; Matheison came, and said,
"Now, Shearman, come along out"—he got him outside with a very little trouble, under the persuasion of my potman, and the other man went out—I went into my room, and saw no more—twenty minutes or half-an-hour afterwards I heard a policeman's whistle, and went out and saw the constable covered with mud and blood, and in a collapsed state—I did not see him again.
Cross-examined. Mine is not a rough neighbourhood at all; I am in Plaistow.
ROBERT MATHEISON (519 K). On August 21st, about 9.50 p.m., I was called to the Manor Tavern, and saw the prisoner and a tall man—the landlord said that the prisoner had been annoying him and' the barmaid—the prisoner said, "What is it to a thing like you?"and shook this stick in my face—I said, "Come along, Shearman, you will have to go out"—he said, "It will be the first thing you ever did in your life if you put me out"—I pushed him out, and went and got the other man out at the door, and the prisoner tried to come in again—I pretended to go away, and he followed me and said, "You b——unfortunate puppy," and put his stick in front of my face; I put my hand up, and he struck me on my nose with his clenched fist, and threw me down, and the other man struck me with a stick—I tried to blow my whistle, and the prisoner struck me on my mouth, causing it to bleed—a postman came and blew the whistle, and the prisoner seized it; we fell, and he kicked me violently several times on my ribs, which caused me severe pain at the time; another man came up, and he got assaulted; a second postman came, and he was held back; another man came to my assistance, and he was struck by the prisoner; I was then overpowered—I could not blow my whistle—no assistance was obtainable, and I drew my truncheon and struck the prisoner twice on the head, and knocked him down; he and the other man seized my truncheon and dragged me some distance till the hand-strap gave way, and he got it, but I regained it—somebody in the crowd struck him with a walking-stick; I seized him by the throat, and he struck me a violent blow behind my right ear, and I became insensible till I found myself in a public-house—I was confined to my bed till September 6th, but was able to do my duty last week.
Cross-examined. I often have to turn men out of public-houses, but it is not my duty to do anything further—he did not strike me, but he kept putting the stick in front of my face—when I had got him outside he got just inside the door again, and I gave him another policeman's push—I was not losing my temper then, I was as calm as I am at present—I had no scrimmage with the other man—I gave both men a push, and got them outside—I then walked away a little, and the prisoner followed—it is not true that I walked behind him and trod on his heels, and pushed him along the street, nor did he turn round and object to my assaulting him—he did not strike me with the stick at any time, but his companion did—the prisoner merely held it up in front of me, and I gave him a policeman's push—I did not lose my temper—he was not in a very excited state when I turned him out—I left him alone, but he followed me, and it was not till I turned round that he flourished the stick—he was merely using vulgar abuse to me—I did not aggravate him; I advised him to go away—I have not lost my teeth; I can eat with them still—someone struck him on the head after he kicked me—he managed to get up first, and kicked me as I lay on the ground.
Re-examined. The blow caused me considerable pain.
JOHN BERTIN . On August 21st, about 9.55, I was in the Manor Tavern, and saw the prisoner and a taller man—the prisoner told the landlord he had knocked his half-quartern of gin over, and asked for another—the landlord refused him, and said that he would have to leave, or he should have to send for a constable—he said, "You had better send for two; "and the other said, "You had better send for four, "and shook side stick in my face—Matheison came in and said, "Come along outside"—he took the prisoner outside, and came back for the other man; but the prisoner came back—I followed them outside, and heard the constable ask them to go away several times—they said, "You go away"—he said, "It is my place to remain, "and the prisoner struck him in the face with his fist—the constable caught hold of him—they struggled some time—two "buses" came up, and he ran behind one of them; the constable struggled with them, and they fell—the other man came up, and I drew the stick out of his pocket, and afterwards threw it on the ground in the public-house—I went to Plaistow to fetch more constables—there were 500 people, I should say.
Cross-examined. I saw no violence used by the prisoner till the constable book hold of him—I did not see him use the stick—the constable was walking up and down outside the public-house—the prisoner was in front of him—he told the policeman he was a b——Irishman, and he knew he was a man from Cork—that was not chaff; it was mere abuse, till he struck him—I do not know whether the policeman, being a Scotchman, was annoyed at being called an Irishman, but he caught hold of his elbow and asked him to go away—I do not think the man with the prisoner did the most of the injuries; he struck the policeman only once with the stick, and then put it in his pocket, and I took it out.
By the COURT. I saw the prisoner kicking the policeman when he was on the ground; that was after the fight.
WILLIAM HAGGER . I am a postman—on August 21st I was near the Manor Tavern, and saw a crowd; Matheison asked them to go away—the prisoner said he would not, and struck the constable on his face with his fist; he had this stick in his hand, and said that the constable had got a piece of wood, and so had he—the constable tried to get him to move on, and then the blow with the fist was given—I saw a taller man, but did not see him strike the constable; he tried to get the prisoner free—the constable called on me to assist him—I blew his whistle, and the prisoner asked me to leave go—I said that I would not, and he struck me; he fell, and Matheison with him—I kept my feet—Matheison drew his truncheon; I was prevented by the crowd from going to him—assistance came, and I left—Mr. Good gave me this stick, and I took it to the station—I did not see the prisoner kick the constable.
Cross-examined. I saw the whole of it from when it commenced in the street—I did not see the prisoner turned out of the public-house; the constable tried to get him away by persuasive language—he said, "Now, come; go away"; but the prisoner said that he would not go—I saw and heard all that went on—the prisoner referred to an Irishman otherwise than in a complimentary way, and held his stick up and flourished it in front of the constable, but did not attempt to strike him with it—the constable caught hold of his elbows, and asked him to go away, but
did not push him—he was abusing the constable, bat doing nothing else at that time—I did not see the other man strike the constable with the stick—about five hundred persons took the prisoner's side.
By the COURT. I saw no one use violence to the constable except the prisoner.
HARRY STRAIGE . I am a ship's steward—on August 21st, about 9.30, I was outside the Manor Tavern, and saw the prisoner being taken out by Matheiso D, who said, "Now, there's a good fellow, go away"—the prisoner said, "You go away first"—he went a few yards—there was a tall man there—Matheison said a second time, "Now, go away, or I shall have to take you"—one of them said, "You will have to take both of us"—there was a slight struggle for a stick which the prisoner was waving about—he said, "You have got a piece of wood, and I have got a piece of wood as well, "showing him the stick; he then struck the constable a violent blow on the side of his face, and ran away with the tall man, and Matheison called to the postman for assistance—he had a postman's jacket on—I took hold of the prisoner, and there was a struggle to get him to the station; he butted at the constable—we got him into the road, and the tall man gave the constable a violent blow on the side of his head—he staggered, and we all strove for the possession of the stick—all that time Matheison was holding on to Shearman—the postman went away, and the tall man followed him—the prisoner and I had a struggle—I was kicked afterwards—there was a large crowd—I fell at the edge of the pavement, and became half stunned—I got up and leaned against the palings for a short time—I saw the prisoner strike the constable on his shoulder and arm; he called out, "Help, "and I went to his assistance, and found them on the ground struggling, and the tall man kicked the constable, and the prisoner kicked him four times on the lower part of the body—some of the by-standers took him into the public-house in a fainting condition—the tall man got away, and so did the prisoner.
Cross-examined. A good deal of kicking was going on—when the prisoner kicked the constable they were on the ground together; he was not standing up and deliberately kicking the constable when I saw it—I did not see what happened when I was on the ground and the crowd on top of me—the constable fell seven times at least—I do not say that the prisoner did not stand up and kick the constable, but I did not see it—I saw the tall man kick the constable; he was standing up—I saw the prisoner ejected from the public-house; he walked out quietly and decently, and when he got out he stopped three or four yards from the door—he did not make any attempt to enter the house again, but he made three or four steps towards it; he did not go in; they bolted the door—he called the constable an Irish bastard, and said, "I have got a piece of stick as well as you"—the constable took it very quietly; he only ordered him off—the prisoner did not follow the constable; he stood still and said, "I shan't go home "; the constable said, "If you don't go, I shall take you somewhere"—about twenty people were assembled outside the public-house—the constable did not push him; he simply said, "Now, go home, there's a good fellow, "but he had to use a little force—the house stands in its own ground; it lies back from the road—the prisoner was standing on the licensed premises when the policeman put his hand on him, that was twenty yards from the road, and he forced
him to the pavement, and then the struggle took place; I am no judge of distance—I do not live in the neighbourhood, and do not frequent this public-house.
G. N. GOOD (Re-examined). The doors of my house do not open on to the pavement; there is a draw-up, which is part of the licensed premises.
GEORGE CHARLES POWELL . I am a foreman at the docks—on the evening of August 21st I heard a police whistle, went to the Manor Tavern, and saw the prisoner and prosecutor on the ground, partly on the pavement and partly on the road—they got up and struggled together—I did not see Shearman get away, but I saw him caught; he struck the constable once in his face with his fist—I helped the constable to hold Shearman, but he broke away and ran round an omnibus—the constable followed him, and someone in the crowd hit Shearman on the back of his head and knocked him down—Matheison took his truncheon out and struck Shearman on the back of his head—I kept the crowd off—I never saw the stick.
Cross-examined. I did not come up till some time after it commenced—when the prisoner was on the ground Matheison hit him twice on his head; he was lying on his face—that was while the struggle was going on—the struggle commenced after they got up off the ground.
SAMUEL YOUNG (Policeman). On August 21st, at 10.10, I went to the Manor Tavern, and found Matheison sitting in one of the compartments—a doctor was there, and ordered him to be taken to the station—I was present at one a.m., when Gulley and Liddelow arrested the prisoner; he was out of bed, and behind the door.
BENJAMIN GULLEY (Detective K). I am stationed at Forest Gate—on August 2nd, at 10.10, I went with the other officers to the front room upstairs, and saw the prisoner—I said, "Shearman, I am going to arrest you for assaulting a constable"—he said, "Yes, and I meant to kill him, and I would have done it, but the cowardly swine struck me here," and showed me a red mark on his arm—I took him to the station.
ALEXANDER JAMIESON . I was at this time acting as locum tenens for the divisional surgeon—I examined Matheison; he was in a very exhausted condition, and complained of great pain over his left temple, where he had been struck; there was a bruise there, and he complained of pain in his side—I examined him, and found one of his lowerribs had been detached from the breast-bone—that was the rest of a blow, or probably a kick—there was something the matter with his right ribs, they were painful, and his teeth were slightly loosened—there was also an injury to his right wrist—he was still in bed when I left.
GUILTY . Thirty previous convictions were proved against him, sixteen of which were for assaults on the police.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WALLACE Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended MACKLEY,
and MR. DRAKE Defended FIELD.
FRANK STOKES . I live at 87, Green Hill, South Plaistow, and am a tally clerk in the P. and O. Co.'s service—on Tuesday, September 8th, I was tallying cases of American tobacco out of the barge Shannon into the Arcadia a P. and O. Co.'s boat—there were over 600 cases, measuring 16 by 16 by 31, and all bound with iron hoops, which were nailed on, so that the cases could not be opened without breaking the iron hoops—it was my duty to stand in the barge and check each case as it was weighed, and make a note at the time—this is my tally book—I had a case marked outside, "E. and B., Sydney, 11132," going to Sydney—its weight was 229lbs.; this is the entry—I saw it go up on the crane into the Arcadia—the crane would take about five at a time—I next saw the case between ten and twelve next day, September 9th, lying alongside the main hatch on the deck of the Arcadia—it was then shut up, but the hoops were broken—I weighed it, and its weight was 178 lbs.—I did not examine it to see how the contents had been removed—Mr. Graham, the Customs' officer, and Mr. Baker, the stevedore, came soon afterwards.
HAROLD BAKER . I live at 27, Plashet Road, Plaistow, and am head stevedore of the P. and O. Company—on September 7th and 8th I had charge of the loading of the Arcadia at the Albert Docks—she was a P. and O. vessel trading between London and Australia—she sailed on Friday, 11th—on the Wednesday my attention was called to a case in the hold—I caused it to be brought on deck, and got Stokes to weigh it—I do not remember its number—it looked as if it had been more or less tampered with; nails were drawn, and the edges were broken, and the iron bands had been out—I saw it opened—two boxes were missing from the case—after the boxes had been taken out someone had nailed down the case again, so that it could not be opened by anybody—I had been down the night previous and saw this tobacco was stored on the main or well deck, port side; you could only get there down the hatches and the companion way—no one but a person acquainted with the nature of the vessel could have got down there—the officer in charge has the key of the companion way.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I have been twenty-two years in the company's service—this vessel had come from Australia, via Malta; it had a large crew, chiefly of Lascars—this case had been used as a step to roll up bales on—I do not know that Mackley was away while these consignments of tobacco were being shipped—I am not aware that there is a good deal of smuggling of tobacco in these boats, particularly from Malta, by the Lascars—I did not see the hatches put on the Arcadia on the Tuesday evening; they were reported to me as put on.
——GRAHAM. I live at 58, Church Road, Leyton—I am a Customs' officer employed at the Albert Dock—on Wednesday, 9th, I went on the Arcadia about 11.30 a.m.—I saw the case marked "E. and B., Sydney," which had been tampered with—I had it opened—I found it contained six boxes of tobacco, and there was space for two more—I have opened a good many of these boxes—the nett weight of tobacco in the case was marked 160lbs.—the six boxes inside were each marked 20lbs. nett, making 120lbs., or forty less than that marked outside—the value was 6s. 6d. per pound, and 4s. 6d. duty per pound.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I do not belong to the department which is concerned with smuggled tobacco in the docks.
HERBERT GOOD . I live at 25, Stafford Road, East Ham, and am an A.B. in the employment of the P. and O. Company—I was a quarter master on the Arcadia—the duty of quartermasters is to look after the Lascar sailors—I was with the Arcadia on her last voyage home from Sydney—she was in dock about three weeks before September 8th—Mackley was a quartermaster on the Arcadia also—there is a quartermaster on duty all day and night—the men generally go on about six and come off at eight a.m.—I was the quartermaster in charge on Wednesday, the 9th—I went to the ship about 7.50, and relieved Mackley; I saw him on board when I went there—I had no conversation with him—my post was at the gangway from the shore to the ship—I saw Field there that morning, delivering some boxes and packages, about 8.45—he went by me; passing up and down the gangway—I have known Field as Carter Paterson's man for some years; he is a carman—I saw him and Mackley talking together on the ship—I did not hear what was said—they appeared to have met; Mackley may have remained on the vessel until Field came; I did not see him come along the gangway with Field from the wharf—Mackley had not left the ship when I saw him talking to Field; I should, no doubt, have seen him if he had gone over the gangway—it was about three-quarters of an hour from the time I first saw Field come on board till he finally went off—when he went off the ship he had with him a brown-paper parcel, a foot or a little longer; I did not take particular notice of it—it might have been these two boxes tied up together in brown-paper; it was something similar.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I have been in the ship about thirteen month's, but much longer in the P. and O. service—I could not say how long Mackley has been in the service—I was not there when the loading of the ship began—I was given to understand that Mackley was away on a holiday when it began—when we come into port we are allowed a holiday in turn, and we are forced to take a holiday to do our Naval Reserve drill—I believe Mackley is a Naval Reserve man—I should say there were over forty Lascars on board; they very much over number the English—I never heard of smuggling of tobacco going on in this ship—I never heard of persons smuggling large boxes like this in the ships I have been in—when the ship comes into port the Customs' officials search us, and if they find anything we get into trouble.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I first saw Field coming on board before nine a.m. on the 9th—I had often seen him about there—he has taken boxes and bags for me—I don't think I said to him that morning, "What about my things? are you going to bring them down?"—I might have said so—I had things to be brought to the ship before she sailed—I had previously asked Field to bring them—my chest was at my house—he was delivering bags on the ship that morning—I saw him come two or three times—he might have delivered eight or nine boxes within half or three-quarters of an hour going backwards and forwards along the gangway; I do not suggest that he was all the time with Mackley—I cannot remember whether I told him that Mackley wanted to see him—I saw him go to Mackley—I have asked Field to take parcels off for me, and he has done so, not without a pass—he has always had a pass—it is necessary to obtain a pass before you can take anything off a
veasel—the quartermasters are not there to check the passes—I have no knowledge of parcels being taken off the ship into Carter Pateraon's and the Parcels Delivery Company's office, and left there, and the pass sent on afterwards—whenever I have sent off a parcel I have given a pass, or directed Field to get it—the officer in command would sign the pass; there is always an officer on duty—I cannot conceive a case where an officer would not be on duty—the parcel Field took off was similar to this—he did not bring the parcel and put it on the gangway at my feet when he spoke to me; he did not speak to me then—he took the parcel off quite openly—I did not think there was anything wrong in it—I did not I ask him for a pass—we assume that Carter Peterson's men have a pass, and ask them no questions, but I might ask a stranger; it is not our duty to check each person.
Re-examined. This is the ordinary form of pass.
JOHN CONDON . I am at 6, Market Street, Canning Town, and a constable of the Docks Joint Committee Police—on Wednesday, September 9th, I received information, and made search of the Arcadia—I could find no traces of the wooden boxes which had been round this tobacco—I found Field on board the Ballarat on that morning, and asked him if he took a parcel from the Arcadia that morning—he said, "Yes"—I asked him if he knew what it contained—he said, "Yes, tobacco"—I asked him from whom he got it—he said, "One of the quarter-masters"; he did not know his name—I asked if he had a pass for it—he said, "No"—I asked if it was addressed—he said, "No"—I asked where the tobacco was—he said it was at their office—I went with him to Carter Paterson's office, a small wooden structure, about ten feet by eight, inside the dock gates, about a hundred yards from where the Arcadia was lying—I then found the tobacco on a shelf seven feet from the floor, at the end of the office, covered with papers—I could not see the tobacco when I went into the shed; the prisoner pointed it out—Field gave me a description of the quartermaster—I went on board the Arcadia, and saw Mackley—I told him I should take him into custody for stealing forty pounds of tobacco from the hold—he said, "What?"—I said, "Tobacco"—I then conveyed him to the police-office in the Albert Dock—while there he said he had occasion to put the heads on the hatches about twelve o'clock on the previous night, and he found the tobacco wrapped up on the main deck by the hatchway, and he thought it was too good to leave.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I have known Mackley for some time by sight—I do not know when he was away on leave.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. Field said he had it from someone, and gave me a description of the person—the tobacco was covered over in the office by old stationery—Field said it was on the shelf—passes are given for parcels taken into the office—I cannot say that that rule is violated—I know of no practice of persons taking in parcels without passes, and getting the passes before the parcels leave the docks—this tobacco was the only parcel on the shelf—it is my duty to stop thieving and irregularities—if I saw a man leaving the dock without a pass I should stop him.
"offered to sell me some tobacco this morning; I refused to have it, as I could not get rid of it; I knew the duty was not paid; I had no duty slip, neither had I a pass"—I have been employed at the Albert Dock for some years—Field has been employed at Carter Peterson's office there for some years as a carman at the docks—that office would be his headquarters—I have known the office for three years or longer—he would know the duty of a carman thoroughly well—he has been head carman for three years.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. Condon could not hear all Field said—I did not ask Field if he had a Custom duty slip; I might have asked him the question.
——WEBB. I am assistant superintendent of the P. and O. Co., and live at Belvedere, Kent—I have been at the Albert Docks for thirteen years—the quartermasters have no authority to give passes.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. Mackley has borne the character of an honest and respectable man—he has been on different ships, and has given satisfaction, and his certificates of discharge are of a most satisfactory manner.
JOHN CARNEGIE (Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE). It is the duty of our employe's, when they take a parcel from a ship, to have a pass—it is not the case that parcels are sent by quartermasters to be left in the office, and the passes taken afterwards—if a parcel was brought without a pass, it would be the clerk's duty to reject it—I have been in the office for ten years, going backwards and forwards—anyone carrying on a practice of taking parcels without passes would be dismissed at once.
JOHN HAWKINS . I am chief preventive officer of the Customs—on September 21st, when Field was on bail, I, Inspector Kitchen and others went to, 44, Hazlewood Road, Waithamstow, the premises of Field's wife's sister's husband—we searched, and found 20lbs. of Cavendish tobacco and 2lbs. of cigars in the front palour, concealed under a table which was covered with a cloth—on the 22nd I took Field to the Lea Bridge Police-station—I asked him where he had obtained the tobacco; he said he got it from a quarter-master on one of the P. and O. boats—I asked who the quartermaster was; he said the man who had been charged, with him, with stealing—I said, "Is that Mackley?"—he said, "Yes," and gave me Mackley's address—Mackley was on bail, too—I asked him when he got the tobacco—he said, "About two days after the vessel arrived in London from the Colonies," and that he had bought it for £2 from Mackley.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. That tobacco was different to that which is the subject of this charge—I don't know if it is usually picked up at Malta; I have seen it come from there—it could be bought there for about 1s. 3d. per lb.—I believe the market varies.
MACKLEY— GUILTY of Stealing.
FIELD— GUILTY of Receiving. Both prisoners were recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of their previous good characters. MACKLEY— Nine Month' Hard Labour. FIELD— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted.
ALFRED BUGG . I am a fireman, of 49, Debois Road, Stratford—on September 10th, at 11.30, I was going home, when, a gang of roughs came up, punched we up and down the road, pulled my clothes pretty well off, made a football of me, and rolled me in the mud—they took my scarfpin and money, about 4s. 10d.—I felt a hand in my trousers pocket—I did not see who took the pin or money; I was blinded with mud and blood—I am seventy-two—I was much hurt—I held the leg of one of the persons—he said, "Let me go," and I had to let him go at last; he kicked me about the shoulders and ribs—if I had held him another half-minute the police would have had him—I cannot swear to. the prisoner, but he resembles the man I held by the leg and one of the gang I passed at the corner.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had never seen you before. to my knowledge; I believe your voice is the same as that of the man who said, "Let me go."
JAMES PENDERGAST I live at 34, Grace Road, Stratford, and am a chimney sweep—on Thursday, September 10th, at 11.30, I was going home with my wife—I heard cries, and ran and saw five or six men holding down an old man, who was crying out, "Murder," and holding the prisoner by the leg—just as I got close to him, the prisoner kicked the old man and got away—I went to the station next morning, and picked him out of twelve or thirteen others—I picked up the prosecutors; his eye and nose were bleeding, and he was hardly sensible; he could not see out of his eyes.
Cross-examined. The other eight or nine men ran away, and I could not recognise them, but the prosecutor held you by the leg—I, had not seen you before.
LILLY PENDERGAST . I am. the wife of the last witness—I was with him on the night of September 10th—I heard cries of "Murder!" and "Police!" and went with him, and saw the prosecutor on the ground holding the prisoner, and men running away—I knew the prisoner before, and I saw his face by the lamplight; I am sure of him—the prisoner kicked the prosecutor in the side and got away.
Cross-examined. My father suspected you of stealing six or seven years ago—I was too little to take any notice of it.
WILLIAM EUSTACE (Detective Sergeant). On September 12th I saw the prisoner in the Angel public-house—I had had a description of him previously, and held a warrant for him—I told him I was a policeman, and said, "I am going to take you into custody for stealing 3s. from a man and assaulting him at Let Road last Thursday night"—he said, "Go and f——yourself"—he was charged subsequently, and made no reply.
Cross-examined. You were the worse for drink.
The Prisoner, in his defence, asserted his innocence.
GUILTY .—He then
PLEADED GUILTY**† to aconviction of felony at Chelmsford in April, 1895, in the name of Day. Six other convictions were proved against him. The police stated that he was an associate of a gang of dangerous thieves and did no work.
Three Years' Penal Servitude and Twelve Strokes with the Cat.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
803. DARIUS STREET (56) was indicted for inciting William Deekes to falsify certain entries in a time-sheet, with intent to defraud. Other Counts—For obtaining money by false pretences, with intent to defraud.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted, and MR. ELLIOTT Defended.
WILLIAM SNOWBALL WALKER . I am manager to Mr. Arthur Cameron Corbett, the freeholder of the St. Germain's estate—Mr. Corbett opened up the estate by building on it a number of houses—about 500 men are employed on the estate—Mr. Gee was paymaster to Mr. Corbett—the prisoner entered Mr. Corbett's service about five or six months ago as a bricklayers' foreman—the workmen were divided into gangs with deputyforemen over them—there is an estate on the property called the Brown-hill Road, divided into Blocks 4, 5, and 6—the prisoner was bricklayers' foreman and under him were Deekes and Wells—Wells was on the Brownhill Road as foreman; Deekes was in St. Fillan's Road—the course of business was to supply the bricklayers' foreman and deputy-foreman with a time-book—the bricklayers' foremen are paid for ten and a-half hours per day, and the labourers seven and a-half—it is the deputyforeman's duty to enter in his time-book the number of hours per day the bricklayers work—the prisoner's time book would give the names of the men who were at work, and the number of hours to talled up, with the amount of money to which each were entitled—if a man finished his job or wanted his money, pay-off tickets were given to him, and on their production the cashier would pay, checking the tickets with the entries in the time-book on the Friday—I remember having a conversation with the prisoner about his wages; that was, roughly, about two months and a-half ago; a discussion arose about raising his wages—I said, as the work was costing a great deal too much money, I could not think of it—I had said to him that his wages would depend upon how the work came on, and I could not see any perceptible improvement—Mr. Amery is a clerk in the office; he would be in the office about breakfast-time—on August 10th the prisoner came to me and made a statement, in consequence of which I gave him certain instructions—Mr. Amery kept me informed of everything that took place between him and the prisoner—it was with his sanction that Deekes was allowed to take £2 7s. more than he earned; that was re-paid to me by Deekes—this (produced) is the fore-man-labourers' time-sheet; the whole of it is in the prisoner's handwriting; this sheet, No. 2, is also in his writing—in the first sheet the names, J. Priestly and J. Keswick are in the prisoner's writing; that shows that they had worked fifty hours and were entitled to £2 3s. 9d.—the last entry in sheet No. 2 is T. Wright, working for fifty hours, and was entitled to £1 11s. 3d.—in my opinion the names, of Priestly and Keswick were not written at the same time as the others—the name of T. Wright is not so
Clear; it may or may not be in the same writing—this (produced) is a time-book kept by the prisoner, in which the names of the various gangs working under him are entered—the names of Priestly, Keswick, and Wright, are not there—various blocks are distributed over the estate, which is of considerable extent—the entry of August 21st is the prisoner's writing—the name of Potter appears at the top, after that there is a space, and then comes the names of Priestly and Keswick, and T. Wright—these two pay-off tickets are in the prisoner's writing—these tickets are supplied to the prisoner in a book—on the strength of these tickets the cashier would pay the persons producing them—certain information was given to me, and the police saw Wells, the deputy foreman—Wells made a statement, and the prisoner was arrested.
Cross-examined. I engaged the prisoner about May 1st, he produced a book with printed testimonials, I looked through them, and said I would see Mr. Corbett and make inquiries, and, if everything was satisfactory, we should probably engage him—I did not make inquiries, and in the result we engaged him—the work on which he was engaged is very extensive work—I am not in a position to say that the testimonials are not genuine—I did not make inquiries—I engaged him at three guineas a week, depending upon whether or not the costs of the bricklaying were increased—at that time the cost was about £6; I can't say that it has since risen to £9—he did not ask when he was first engaged whether we had a time-keeper—it is usual to have one at our busiest time—he would have under him about 100 bricklayers, 100 labourers and four or five masons—it would be possible for him personally to keep their time—he had very little other work to do—he had not the superintendence of the work itself—of course, he had to superintend the work, and see that the time was right, but his principal duty was to see that the men were at work—he is a retired policeman—he said no previous experience, and he gave it up; I have now an experienced time-keeper, and he does it quite easily.
By the COURT. The prisoner would have had no difficulty in ascertaining what men were at work—the estate extends altogether over 300 acres—it was perfectly easy for him to ascertain whether each man was at work; that had to be done.
By MR. ELLIOTT. I could not tell, without referring, how many men were employed on June 26th, the number varied very much; it would take about a quarter of an hour to go over the works from end to end—I remember a man named Scott being discharged by the prisoner because his work was costing too much; he had not given satisfaction to the prisoner, and fourteen of the men went away with him—Scott was not discharged because he was returning the names of men who were not employed—on a certain Saturday three men turned up for wages that were not down in Street's book, and on inquiring from Street he said, "Oh, yes, they were there, I saw them yesterday myself "; and on the strength of what he said they were paid—subsequently I said to him, "You must discharge Poole and those three men; I won't have them working on"—he said, "I want to get some information from Poole"—when Street discharged the fourteen men he had not consulted me.
By the COURT. It would not be at all difficult for him to see whether the men were working whose names were on the time-sheet; that was
one of the objects he had been engaged for as an overseer, to see whether the men who had been paid were working.
WILLIAM DEEKES . I live at 17, Beaconsfield Road, Catford—I am deputy-foreman on the St. Germain's estate, working under Mr. Walker—on August 4th the prisoner was general bricklayers' foreman; he was my superior; he had the power of discharging the deputy-foreman—I was employed on St. Fiellan's Road—I kept a time-book, in which I enter the hours which the bricklayers and labourers work in gangs, and that information was given by me to the prisoner—on August 14th he came to me and made a proposition; he intimated to me that my work was turned out cheap, and it would bear a few pounds, and, if I was willing, Mr. Amery, a clerk in the office, was with him, I could easily assist him, by writing a dummy bricklayer, or labourer in my time-book—I said I would see what could be done in the matter; he went away then—I saw him again on the 6th, and he asked me if I had seen Mr. Amery—I said I had not—on the 8th he said, "It is no use this week; it is too late"; that was on Saturday—on Monday, the 10th, he saw me again—I told him I had not yet seen Mr. Amery, but I intended to do so that evening—we knocked off work at five, and at half-past five I saw Amery; I said something to him, and he said something to me—I saw the prisoner on Tuesday, the 11th—he asked me if I had seen Amery—I said, "Yes; it is all right"—he said, "That's all right, but don't let anyone see your time-books"—on the Thursday I worked an hour and a-half short before breakfast—my average work would be about nine hours a day—so that would make my average hours fortyeight and a-half—my average pay would be a shilling an hour—he came to take my time into his book on Friday morning, the 14th, and he noticed that on the previous day I was an hour and a-half short; he said that did not matter, and booked my full time—that would entitle me to draw 1s. 5d. more than I was entitled to; I drew that, and repaid the 1s. 5d. to Amery—on Tuesday, the 18th, the prisoner said he thought he should be able to work a few more in that week, and I heard nothing further—from the 10th up to the 18th I kept Mr. Amery informed of everything that had taken place between myself and the prisoner—I know Felix Wells—on Saturday, August 22nd, I saw Wells and the prisoner—they came down the Brownhill Road towards the Black Horse public-house.
Cross-examined. I was stopped for work that week, because I did not appear on the work—I have been stopped before, if I have not been on the job, not by the prisoner—he complained of some work I had done at Brown-hill Road, and I did it all over again—there was no ill-feeling between us about that—I know a man named Pierce; he was sent to me by the prisoner to start him, and I put him on—the prisoner said he would put him on as a full man—Pierce did not pay me 10s. for the first week and 8s. for the second.
HENRY AMERY . I live at 126, Ennersdale Road, Lewisham—I am clerk of the works on the St. Germain's Estate—Mr. Walker is my superior—on August 10th the last witness came to in office and made a statement about the prisoner; I told him I would consider the matter—I went and had a conversation with Mr. Walker, and told him what Deekes had told me—Mr. Walker told me something, and I went and told Deekes what had passed between myself and Mr. Walker—from that time until the priarrest
I told Mr. Walker everything that took place—On August 12th, before breakfast time, which is eight o'clock, the prisoner asked me if there was usually anyone about before breakfast—I said, "No"—he said, "Had I any money to pay with?"—I said "Yes, about £5"—he asked me if I was all right—I said, "Yes," and then he said Mr. Walker had offered him more money at the end of the first month, and he had not given it to him, and he was determined to have some money from somewhere—on the 14th I saw the prisoner; he said he felt he could not work it that week, because the new foreman had been spotting about among the men; a new foreman, Ruffle, had been there a few days—on Monday, 17th, the prisoner said, "It will be all right now, Amery; we will have two or, perhaps, four in this week"—I took that to mean that he was going to work in two dummy workmen from Deekes' gang and two from another gang—the following day in that week would be Saturday, 22nd—on 20th I saw the prisoner in the Brownhill Road—he asked me how I was fixed for cash this week—I said I was not over flush—he said, "All right; I can get two in from another block; and we will be bound to have them this week"—I took that to mean that he was going to get in two dummy workmen.
Cross-examined. I never borrowed money from the prisoner—I made a note of the conversation at the time.
WALTER JOHNSON . I live at 8, Burton Terrace, Winterbourne Road, Thornton Heath—on August 21st I was working in the gang of which Felix Wells was deputy-foreman, in Brownhill Road—on August 21st, at 4.15 p.m., the prisoner asked me where Wells was—I told him the second house in No. 4 Block, Brownhill Road—he told me to go and fetch Wells—I gave the message to Wells, and saw him join the prisoner outside.
FELIX WELLS . I live at 12, Burton Terrace, Thornton Heath, and am a bricklayer—on August 21st I was working on the St. Germain's estate, in Brownhill Road—Johnson came to me about 4.15 p.m. and I went out in consequence, and joined the prisoner—he said, "Your Works is paying well"—I said, "I am pleased to hear it"—he said, "I want a bit of money this week, and you can do with a bit"—I said, "I don't want to do anything wrong; it won't pay me"—he said, "Have you got your book?" meaning my time-book, in which I enter the names of my gang and the hours they work—I showed him my book, in which I had entered the names of the bricklayers—the last entry then was Potter—the prisoner said, "Put these two names down in your book Keswick and Priestley"—he showed me his book, in which I saw the names of Keswick and Priestley—he told me to copy those names into my book—he also told me to enter the name of Wright in my book—I hesitated before doing so—the prisoner had power to discharge me—when I hesitated he said, "Go on, this is all right; put it down"—I then copied into my book from his the names of the men, and the hours they had worked; the hours were in his book—there is no entry in my time-book under the heading of Keswick deducting two hours—I wrote against Keswick's name fifty hours copying it from the prisoner's book—it was about 4.30 when I wrote it—the prisoner gave me this pay-off check, and I was to get some one to get the £1 11s. 3d. in Wright's name, giving him apiece of paper, with "Please pay bearer"—the prisoner told me to
get Keswick's money, and gave me this pay-off check for it—on Keswick's pay-off check two hours are deducted, in the prisoner's writing, for short time—that was on it when he gave it to me—he told me to deduct that; it would allow for his leaving off that afternoon at three o'clock, because it rained—no labourer named Wright was working under me at Block 6, Brownhill Road, and no bricklayer named Keswick or Priestley—no men were entitled to receive these three sums—the prisoner told me when I presented Keswick's pay-off ticket to say that Keswick had gone volunteering, or to put in his drills—the cashier is Mr. Gee—I wrote on a piece of paper, "T. Wright. Please pay bearer fifty hours, "and gave it to Shepherd—Shepherd took it on Friday, 21st, to Mr. Gee, and came back and gave me £1 11s. 3d.—on the same day I went with Keswick's pay-off ticket to Mr. Gee and got £2 2s. from him at 5.10—that same afternoon I met the prisoner, and gave him the £2 2s. and £1 11s. 3d.—he gave me back 7s. 6d.—about eleven a.m., on Saturday, the next day, the prisoner came and asked me what arrangement I had made about drawing Priestley's money—I said, "None"—he said, "The man's time is in, and the money must be drawn; you must give someone a piece of paper, stating 'Please pay bearer' to get the money"—I gave that piece of paper to James Bloomfield, who took it to the cashier, and Bloomfield came back and gave me £2 3s. 9d. in the yard, in Hither Green Lane, about one o'clock—the prisoner stood in the yard till all the men were paid—I gave the prisoner the £2 3s. 9d. at the Black Horse, Catford, about a mile from the payoffice—I and the prisoner left the yard together, and walked to the Black Horse—he had told me to wait for him till the men were paid—I do not remember if I passed Deekes in the Brownhill Road that day—the prisoner gave me 7s. 6d. back out of the £2 3s. 6d., so that I got 15s. altogether—those were the only three transactions I had with the prisoner—I heard on the Monday afternoon that the prisoner was locked up, and on the Monday evening Detectives Pearce and Small came to me, and I made a statement to them on the Tuesday evening.
Cross-examined. I do not keep the men's time in a book or sheet of my own—I ticked them off in the book as they came in in the morning—the prisoner used to write down the names as I called them out; sometimes he would tick them off—I never called out to him the names of Keswick or Priestley—I never heard of the name of Keswick or Priestly—I have heard the name of Wright, but it has not been on my book that I am aware of—I cannot remember having a man on the job of that name—my book is not dated—I had to pay over 15s. to the prisoner in connection with some athletic sports, and I paid it to him on Saturday, August 15th, the day of the sports, about a week before this—I had about fifty men working under me—it would take an hour or an hour and a-half to walk round the estate and see how many men were at work; it could be got through comfortably before breakfast.
Re-examined. I do not remember any question being asked at the Police-court about an entry in my book on July 17th or 24th.
WILLIAM SHEPHERD . I am a labourer employed under Felix Wells on the Brownhill Road job—on August 21st he gave me a piece of paper, and told me to go down the yard with it—I took it to the office, and gave it to Mr. Gee, the cashier, and he gave me money, which I gave to Mr. Wells—before Wells gave me the piece of paper I had seen the prisoner at 4.30
the same day in the Brownhill Road outside No. 4 block—I saw Walter Johnson there, too—a labourer came and spoke to Wells, I cannot say who he was; Wells went out after the labourer spoke to him—when I gave Wells the money just after five I saw the prisoner outside the job—that was after working hours—the other workmen had gone home—I saw Wells and the prisoner walking down the street together, and then Wells overtook me and we walked home together.
JAMES BLOOMFIELD . I live at 19, Devonshire Road—I was a labourer working in Wells's gang on this job—on August 22nd Wells gave me a piece of paper, which I took to Gee, the cashier, who gave me some money, which I handed to Wells.
THOMAS WILLIAM GEE . I am a cashier to Mr. Archibald Cameron Corbett, of St. Germain's estate—I live on the estate—the men are paid about noon on Saturday—on Friday the time-sheets are handed in by the prisoner—on Friday, August 21st, the prisoner gave me these two timesheets, between two and three p.m.—I paid Wells £2 2s. on that day, upon his presenting Keswick's pay-off ticket to me, believing that a man named Keswick had been employed at No. 6 block as a bricklayer, and that he had worked for fifty hours at a wage of 10 1/2d. per hour, and that two hours were to be deducted, and that £2 2s. was then due to him—it was in consequence of the statements made on this ticket that I handed £2 2s. to Wells—the same day I paid Shepherd £1 11s. 3d. upon Wright's ticket—I believed when I paid it that Wright had worked in Block 6 for fifty hours at 7 1/2d. per hour, and that £1 11s. 3d. was due to him—on August 22nd I paid Bloomfield £2 3s. 9d.; he handed me a written paper, "Please pay bearer"—when I paid Bloomfield and Shepherd I had before me the prisoner's time-sheets that showed that Keswick and Priestley were entitled to £2 2s. and £2 3s. 9d., and that Wright was entitled to £1 11s. 3d.—when I paid the money for Priestley I believed there was such a man, and that he had worked for fifty hours at 10 1/2d., and that £2 3s. 9d. was due to him, and that induced me to pay the money over—Mr. Amery is with me in the office, and he calls out the names and amounts as the men come up to be paid.
FELIX WELLS (Re-examined by MR. ELLIOTT). This is an entry in my book in my writing, on July 17th, of a man named Caswick—it is possible a man of that name was on the work at that time, and the prisoner would have had it—the three names the prisoner gave me were in his book, and I copied them from his book as they were written—the name Caswick is not written at the bottom of my book on July 17th.
WILLIAM RICHARDSON . I am a labourer—I was in Wells's gang for more than a month—while I was working there, during the week ending August 21st, there were no bricklayers named Priestly or Keswick working on the job.
Cross-examined. Four of us were working in my block; two labourers and two bricklayers—so many blocks go to a job—we were working on the other side of the road.
WILLIAM COLE . I live at 63, Ewart Road, Forest Hill, and am a bricklayer's labourer—for the week ending August 21st I was working in Wells's gang—no bricklayer's labourer named Wright was working in my block that week—there were two labourers and two bricklayers in my.
block—we were the only four men doing brickknocking—Wells was looking after four blocks at the time.
Cross-examined. We were inside—I cannot say how many men were working on the estate altogether; I was inside all the time.
ALFRED PEABCE (Detective P). On August 24th I arrested the prisoner on a warrant for inciting men to steal; I read it to him—he said, "Inciting! I don't know what you mean"—he was brought to Lewisham Police-station and charged; he made no reply—I found this timebook on him, in which are two entries, Priestly and Keswick—after he was charged I called his attention to those two names, and said, "I suggest those names were not written at the same time as the other part of the book was made up"—he made no reply—on August 25th I, Mr. Walker and Detective Sergeant Smale saw Wells, who made a statement to me voluntarily—no threat or promise was held out to him.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
MR. DRUMMOND Prosecuted and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
He received an excellent character.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. PENRHYN Prosecuted.
GEORGE SIMS . I am a labourer, and live at Old Ossely—on September 11th I saw the prisoner; I was looking for some work in a public-house, and I left the house with the prisoner; he promised to get me some work—we went along Bay Lane; it was in the evening, and it was just getting dusk—he hit me here (pointing), and when I was on the ground he hit me on my navel, and trod on me, but he never threatened my life—he took my purse from me, which had in it a-half sovereign and some silver, a shilling or two—he gave me back the purse and one shilling—I saw nobody else there—he said, "You go and wash the dirt and blood off you, you dirty old hound, "I believe those were the words—I was knocked on my head—I did not complain of his having robbed me, but I suffered a good deal—I do not know a man of the name of Goddard, but if there is a witness of that name he went and got a policeman—I did not see anybody till afterwards—I saw Goddard afterwards; the prisoner was not there then, he had gone on.
By the COURT. The prisoner asked me some questions before the Magistrate—I took my purse out at the public-house—when the prisoner
was charged he did not say, "Did not you invite me to search you for money?"—nor did he say, "Did not you tell me that I might keep the half-sovereign till the morning?"—when I bad given evidence before the Magistrate it was read over to me, and I put my mark to it—the prisoner said at the Greyhound, "Did not you ask me to stand some beer?"—he did not say, "Did not you invite me to search you for money?"nor did he ask me, "Did not you say, 'Keep the half-sovereign till the morning?'"
Cross-examined. I did say, "I kicked you on the elbow when you were down"—you was not in the first public-house when I entered with my comrades; I came in afterwards—I introduced myself by asking for employment as an engine man—I did not introduce myself by drinking some of your beer; I paid for a pot—I went to two public-houses the night before, and I believe I left my basket at the Anchor, I do not know whether it was the Duke of Cambridge—I do not believe I went into two public-houses with you—I did not pay for any pots of beer at a second public-house—the landlord did not treat you to a pot, nor did you share it with me—I said that if you paid for a pot, I would pay for a pot at another public-house—you did not say, going along, "We shan't want all this beer tonight"—you said that you would pay for a pot when we got to the Greyhound—I did not say that I had got no money, or say, "You are a dirty dog," nor did I say, "Search me"—you struck me on my nose, we both fell together, and you fell on top of me—after we got up you said, "Wash your face, you dirty old hound, "and I did so.
GEORGE GODDARD . I live at Ash—on August 11th I saw the prisoner kneeling on the prosecutor with a knife in his hand—I was about 200 yards off—I went up to them, and could distinctly see the prisoner on the top of the prosecutor; he had got hold of him when I passed by him—I had got nearer to him; it was in the road—I was not alone; I was with William Miller, who is now in Guildford Hospital—I do not know what is the matter with him.
Cross-examined. You were 200 yards from me when I first saw you, and he was smothered in blood—I saw him wash the blood off.
By the COURT. The prosecutor was lying by the side of a ditch—he was not at all the worse for drink—I did not hear him say anything to Miller about a policeman, nor did I hear him make any complaint to Miller.
SAMUEL HBWETT (Police Sergeant 11). I am stationed at Ash—on August 11th the prosecutor came to me in the evening, about nine o'clock—he had two lads with him; the last witness was one—the prosecutor's face was covered with blood, and it went all down his clothes—I went in the road, about 200 yards, and met the prisoner, and the prosecutor said, "That is the man who knocked me down"—he was sober enough to know what he was doing—the prisoner became very violent, and when I got him to Guildford I found a half-sovereign in his pocket, and he said, "If you found a half-sovereign in my pocket it must have been put there by the policeman," meaning me—he said nothing afterwards about anybody giving him anything—William Miller was called before the Magistrate; he is now in Guildford Hospital—I saw this certificate signed there by a doctor: "This is to certify that William Miller is an in-patient in Guildford
Hospital, and will not be able to leave on Tuesday, October 20th"—I saw Miller sign his deposition at the Police-court.
By the COURT. After saying at the Police-court that he said that if the half-sovereign was there the policeman must have put it there, I do cot think he said that the man gave it to him.
Cross-examined. I do not think I ought to have called a doctor instead of taking you eight or nine miles—you were all over blood; you had washed some of it off, but there was more—a lot of them did not make a rush at you, boys and all.
By the COURT. I have been in the force fourteen years, and have got two stripes.
The deposition of William Miller was then read as follows: WILLIAM MILLER, on his Oath, says: "I am a labourer; I was coming from Longhant to Ash on August 11th, between seven and eight in the evening. I saw the last witness on the ground; he asked me to send a policeman; he said, 'This man has been knocking me about.' The prisoner was standing by. We waited till the prisoner went away, and then took the prosecutor to the police sergeant.
Cross-examined. I never heard you laugh—I saw you punch the prosecutor after we had passed—you were on top of the man.—WILLIAM MILLER."
Prisoner's Defence: On August 11th I had been at work all day; we left off and went to a public house to have some beer, and the prosecutor came in and picked up the glass, saying "I will pay for some"; I said, "You have just saved yourself, or I should certainly have punched you." We went out, and he asked the driver if there would be any work to morrow. We then went into the Duke of Cambridge public-house, and I paid for five quarts of beer, and the landlord, we being customers, treated us to another pint. The prosecutor said, "I don't want to pay, because I left my basket here"; I said, "Recollect you will have to pay for as much beer as I paid for at the last public-house"; he said that he had no money; I said, "You have"; he said, "Search me"; and I just touched him, and he was smothered in blood. He pulled his purse out, and there was 11s. 3d. in it. I said, "Here is the purse, and here is 11s., and here is 3d., what am I to do with this?" He said, "Give me the half-sovereign, and keep the rest"; I said, "Go and wash your face, and let us be friends"; he laid down in the field, and said that he should lie there for the night. I said, "Then I will go away, and wish you goodnight." I would not spend the half-sovereign, as I thought I should see him next morning. I am perfectly innocent of robbing the man; I am a hardworking man, and an honest man. The RECORDER here cautioned the prisoner that if he made statements of this kind to the JURY, the Counsel for the Prosecution would be permitted to give the JURY evidence of his previous history.—
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Kingston-onThames, October 16th, 1894, and four other convictions were proved against him.
— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour, and Twenty Strokes with the Cat.
807. WILLIAM CLEMENTS (18) , Feloniously placing a piece of iron rail upon the London and South Western Railway, with intent to endanger the safety of persons travelling. Second Count—With intent to injure persons using the railway.
MR. E. R. SYKES Prosecuted.
GEORGE ALEXANDER JOHN WEBB . I am a draughtsman in the Engineers' Office, at Waterloo Station, of the London and South Western Railway Company—I have prepared this tracing from the ordnance map; at is correct.
GEORGE STREDWICK . I am the District Superintendent of the Engineers' Department of the London and South Western Railway—I am stationed at Guildford—I have prepared certain plans in connection with this matter; they are accurate—I have measured certain distances; the distance from Kemishford to Mayford Post-office is 1,558 yards 1 foot—the post-office is near Mayford Bridge, and in the village of Mayford; it is a good deal less distance to Mayford Bridge than from Kemishford; about 300 yards less—it is 1,250 yards from the bridge to Kemishford; from Worplesdon Station to Hook Hill Bridge is 1,200 yards—from Hook Hill Bridge to Working Station is 1 mile 68 chains; from Mayford Bridge to Hook Hill Bridge is 149 yards—from Mayford Post-office to Hook Hill Bridge is 437 1/2 yards—I have examined the permanent way from Hook Hill Bridge towards Working—I found the ballast very much knocked about, two sleepers damaged, one materially so, so much that they had to be removed from the line—the damaged sleepers were 186 feet 4 inches from Hook Hill Bridge—that is where the damage ended—the damage commenced about 13 feet from Hook Hill Bridge—the total damage is 186 feet 4 inches—the damage commenced under the Hook Hill Bridge—the 13 feet was measured from the piece where the rails were laid down by workmen when they left them at night—that is from the south-west corner of the bridge; under the bridge actually.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It is not three-quarters of a mile from Mayford Bridge to Mayford Post-office.
By the COURT. The tracing is not to scale, but is a sketch with the measurements put upon it—it is 413 feet from Mayford Bridge to Mayford Post-office—the whole distance from the prisoner's house to the Post-office is only three-quarters of a mile, or a little more—I am sure my figures are accurate—I took the distances myself.
JAMES BULL . I am an engine-driver on the London and South Western Railway—on September 21st lost I was driving the six p.m. from Portsmouth to Working—we were due at Working at 7.51—we got into Working at 8.7—the night was dark, and it was raining—when I got against the bridge between Worplesdon and Working I felt the engine strike something—this was followed by a crash underneath—the train did not leave the rail—we were going about forty-five miles an hour—when I felt the crash I shut off steam, but finding the train running all right, I decided not to stop, not wishing to alarm the passengers—I proceeded slowly into Working—when I got to Working I examined the engine—I found the break gear greatly damaged—I reported the case to my foreman—it was a passenger train—we had a great many passengers from Portsmouth, as it was Portsmouth Town Regatta day—the number of the engine was 555.
information on September 21st, about 8.30 p.m., in consequence of which' I took an engine and proceeded in the direction of Worplesdon Station—half-way I discovered this piece of iron rail embedded in the side of a sleeper in the four-foot of the up road (rail produced)—the sleeper was very badly splintered—I took possession of the piece of rail—I took it to Working Station, kept it in my office, and eventually handed it over to the police—the prisoner was coming on duty that night—I did not see him.
THOMAS HIGGS . I am chief superintendent of the running department of the London and South Western Railway—I received locomotive 555 into the shed for examination on September 22nd—on examining it I found damage which actually came to £9 19s. 3d. to repair—had it been one of our lighter class of engines, I am very much inclined to think it would have thrown her off the road, but being one of our heavier engines she resisted the weight—I am of opinion this end was struck by the wheel—I think it was lying on the top of the rail, the same as it is on the top of the back of the seat, the initial point being touched by the flange of the wheel—it was a very dangerous thing for it to be on the rail, whatever was the size of the engine.
JAMES THOMAS MILES . I live at 64, Drummond Road, Guildford—I am a bricklayer on the London and South Western Railway—I was working on September 21st at No. 4 bridge between Worplesdon, and Working: the Hook Hill Bridge—three pieces of rail were used for carrying the girders—I placed them in the six-foot, up and down with the rails—this is one piece—it weighs about 74lb.—it is about 3 feet of the 80lb. rail—that evening I left off work at 5.30—the notch was not in it when I left—there was another piece of rail the same length (about a yard), and another 8 feet 6 inches long—they were placed alongside—when I came to work the next morning the two pieces (one long and one short piece) were end to end.
ERNEST MIDDLETON . I am a carriage cleaner on the London and South Western Railway stationed at Working—I went on duty on September 21st, at Working, at 9.45 p.m.—I saw the prisoner in the porters' room—he was there when I got there—I asked him if he was the new cleaner—he said, "Yes," and that he came from Worplesdon by the ten to or the ten past seven—one of the engine-cleaners said one of the engines had been nearly thrown off the line between Working and Worplesdon, and we said it was the first we heard of it—after we had done the carriages we were allowed from two to four for supper—while having supper we were talking about it—the prisoner said, "Whoever done it ought to be caught and punished!"—the following night he said, when I saw him, that he saw a piece of metal on the bank, and that it had been placed lengthways along the line—he should have gone by the 9.45 a.m., but he went by the 10.5 in the morning from Working, and I did not know where the metal was then.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say you heard it was on the bank; you said you saw it—I am quite sure of that—you did not say you never saw it—nor that you walked to Working when you came on duty on the Sunday night—on the Tuesday morning I did not see you go, but you said you were going by train—I did not see you get in the train—I do not know how you went; only you told me you went by train.
was on the bank the next day or the day after—they are always put in the six-feet way when we have done using them—we use them in the brick-work to take the weight of the girders while we take the brickwork away—they were in the brickwork quite a month.
WILLIAM LEE SCOGINGS . I am a railway porter stationed at Worplesdon—on Tuesday, September 22nd, I came on duty at Worplesdon Station—I arrived at Working about 9.35, and left by the 10.5 to Portsmouth, which goes through Worplesdon—I travelled with the prisoner—I asked Mm what he was doing in the van—he said he was a carriage cleaner—he said, "There was very nearly a wreck last night, was not there?"—I answered, "Yes"—I said, "You have an umbrella?"—he said, "Yes; I walked up last night"—I asked him if he walked up the line, and he said, "Yes"—he also said he arrived there at five minutes to eight, or five minutes past eight, I could not say which—I asked him if the train passed him—he said, "Yes, at that bridge"—I understood him to mean the one we had passed, the Whit Street Bridge—there is an under bridge, but no over bridge between Whit Street and Working Station.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I am quite positive you said the train passed you at that bridge, not that no train had passed you—we had Just passed through the bridge.
Re-examined. The train we were talking about was the train that had nearly been wrecked.
WILLIAM WAITE . I am a carriage cleaner, employed by the London and South Western Railway, stationed at Working—I was on duty on Monday night, September 21st—I saw the prisoner when I came to work at 9.45—he was just outside the station on the pavement—he said he was the new carriage cleaner—when he was coming into the porters' room he said he had come by the ten to seven, or the ten past seven, I could not he certain which it was.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say you walked up the road.
Re-examined. He volunteered the statement—I did not ask him—I know Middleton—he came in just after the prisoner had spoken to me.
WILLIAM SPENCER . I am station-master at Worplesdon—on September 22nd, in consequence of what I heard, I went with a constable, between twelve and one, and saw the prisoner—we asked him which way he had gone on Monday night to Working—he said he had gone across the common over May ford Bridge to the Post-office, to post a letter, past Packman's nurseries, and by road to Working, arriving at Working about 8.50—the train due at 6.51 went through Worplesdon to Working at 6.58—it would pass the bridge about seven—the next would be the six o'clock from Portsmouth, which runs through at 8.4—that was the train that met with the obstruction.
GEOROE COLLINS . I am a detective sergeant, employed by the London and South Western Railway—on Wednesday, September 23rd, in consequence of information received, I went to Kemishford with Sergeant Marshall about 1.30—I saw the prisoner and his father, who accompanied us to Worplesdon Station—Marshall spoke to the prisoner about the way he walked home, and what time he left home on Monday night, September 21st, and which way he went to Working Station—the prisoner said, "I left home about eight, and game along the road towards Worples
don Station and passed under the bridge and up the footpath to. Mayford Bridge, by the aide of the line"—the road from Kemishford to Worplesdon Station is through the common—the road to Mayford Bridge is through Smart's Heath or Smart's Common—he said, "I went from Mayford Bridge down to Mayford Post-office, where I posted a letter for mother; I then went up the Guild ford Road, past the Bird-in-Hand public-house and Jackman's nursery, and came out by the Working Police-station; then down underneath the railway bridge, facing the new public hall, Working"—he said he went by the road from Mayford to Working—I had another interview with the prisoner on Friday, the 25th, at Worplesdon, after he had been seen by Superintendent Eobinson—Police Constable Fuller, of the Surrey Constabulary, was with me—I have my notes, taken at the time—I said, "Why don't you tell us the truth in the first place"—he was not in custody—he said, "What I have told the gentleman" (meaning Superintendent Robinson) "is the truth;" and in the presence of his father and Police Constable Fuller he said, "I left home on Monday night, the 21st, and went straight across the common to Mayford Bridge" (this would be Smart's Common) "down to the post-office, and posted a letter for my sister. I then returned to Mayford Bridge, where I got on the line, as I thought it was the nearest way to Working, not passing under Hook Bridge. I fell over something, what, I thought, was part of the line, hurting my knee, and nearly tore the toe-cap of my boot off; I did not touch the metal with my hands; I am sorry I went up the line"—(at the same time showing me his boot; the toe-cap was severed from the remainder)—I received this piece of metal from Mr. Sansom—it is seventy-four pounds in weight.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You told me you passed up the line; you did not say you went up the road after posting a letter to your sister.
WILLIAM MARSHALL . I am a sergeant in the Surrey Constabulary—I was with the last witness on Wednesday, September 23rd, at the interview with the prisoner—I told him I was making inquiries respecting an obstruction placed on the line on the Monday previously—I cautioned him as to anything he might say—he said, "I never put anything on the line"—I said, "You have given three versions of the way you went that night. It is a serious matter. I can take you into custody; or you can tell me the way you did go"—he said, "I went over Mayford Bridge, past the Hand-in-Hand, passed Jackman's nursery, passed under the railway bridge, up High Street"—his father was present at the time—he said, "Tell them the truth, which way you did go"—he said, "I have told the truth; I went round the road"—he then went away with his father—he said, "I arrived at the station about twenty minutes to nine"—I made further inquiries, and saw him at his cottage—I asked him to accompany me to Worplesdon Station, where he was spoken to by Superintendent Robinson—I was present, but did not take a note—I took him into custody, and charged him—he made no reply—on the road to the station he said he was sorry he went up the line, he kicked up against the iron, and that he should not go that way again.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You told me on the first occasion you never went up the line—you told me you did not put the iron on the line—you said you did kick it.
GEORQE ROBINSON . I am Police Superintendent of the London and South Western Railway—on Friday, September 25th, I saw the prisoner when he was brought to Worplesdon Station waitingroom by Marshall—Marshall left the room for one moment, when the prisoner said, "Do you think I put it on the line?"—I told him I wanted no conversation till the sergeant returned—when Marshall returned shortly afterwards I told the prisoner he had made several statements with regard to how he got to Working on the Monday, and I was going to question him, but, before doing so, I cautioned him that I was going to take his statement in writing, and that he might be given into custody—then I said, "Now you asked the question: 'Do you think I put it on the line?' Did you put it on the line, or "did not you?" He cried for two minutes, and then said, "I kicked against it," (I took his statement down in writing. The original is attached to the deposition. I have a copy of it here): "It laid close to the line, and when I kicked against it then I thought it was a piece of the line. I am sorry I kicked it against the line. I did not do it intentionally. It very nearly threw me down. I went straight up the line afterwards, and got off at Black Street Bridge. I did not see the iron at all, and did not wait for anyone. I am sorry, too. It will be a bad job for my mother"—Black Street Bridge is the next bridge beyond Hook Hill Bridge, where this iron was originally—the prisoner was then taken into custody—I called his father in, and read the statement to the prisoner in the presence of his father, and he said it was correct.
GEORQE BOWERMAN . I live at Kemishford—I am a platelayer on the London and South Western Railway—on Monday evening, September 21st, I had a conversation with the prisoner just outside their cottage—Robert Wilson came up, but did not stop long—the prisoner went away first—he started in the direction of Mayford Bridge, across the common—after he left I stood talking to his brother about five minutes, when I went indoors—my mother was sitting in a chair in the front room—the prisoner said he was going to Working Station, carriagecleaning.
ANN SARAH MORLEY . I live at Kemishford—I am the mother of the last witness—I married a second time—I remember my son coming in on September 21st—I was reading—he said, "Bill's just gone carriagecleaning"—he sat down in a chair, and I left off reading for a minute or two—he listened while I went on reading to the family—after a time I looked at the clock—it was eight o'clock—Bowerman had been in then about a quarter of an hour, as near as I can pay.
ROBERT WILSON . I live at Kennishford—I am a labourer in the new nurseries—on September 21st I saw Clements and Bowerman standing outside the cottage—I stopped and spoke to them—Clements went away first—I left immediately afterwards—I then went to my father's, about twenty minutes' walk further on—it was just after 7.80, and when I got there it was 7.45—it is ten minutes' walk.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I never put it on the rail."
Evidence for the Defence.
RICHARD CLEMENTS . I am the prisoner's father—I am a labourer—on September 21st I came home from work about 5.30—my son was indoors—he remained, till 8.15. except for a few minutes that he was out with his brother—he went to Mayford Post-office; he would have to go
over Mayford Bridge—I was drawing up the clock, and he asked me the time—I said, "It is a quarter-past eight; you won't get soon enough for the post today; you must go to-morrow"—the post goes about 7.30—he said, "Never mind; it will do another day"—he did go to post it that night; it went next morning—my son is not responsible for his words at all times—I am sorry he has made contradictory statements; I am quite sure he is as free from that as I am myself—he never had the time to get there—my clock was perfectly right—he complained of his head that night, that he was a little queer in his head—I saw the eight o'clock train go by before he went away—there was nothing the matter with his shoe when he went away; his shoe was as right as mine are now.
URIAH SANSOM (Re-examined). I went with the engine about half an hour after the train arrived at Working—so far as I know, the enginedriver and I first saw the iron after the accident—it was embedded in the four-feetway between the running rails—no one could have stumbled over it; it was four inches from the six-feet rail, and not where anyone would walk, but in a dangerous position where anyone would move it.
JAKES CLEMENTS . I am the defendant's brother—I remember his leaving home on the night of September 21st to go carriage-cleaning—I was with him when he started—we were both talking to Bowerman—my brother went away towards Smart's Heath—I stood a few minutes after he left—I went in at 8.15—I generally look at the clock when I go in.
Cross-examined. The clock was wound up when I went in—I do not know when it was wound up—it is wound up every evening—we have two clocks—I could not say what time it was by the other clock—my brother was going to post a letter to my sister—no one is here to prove when the letter was delivered—the post goes out at 7.40—my sister lives between Winholme and Cowfold, in Sussex—I have not seen her since this charge, nor has my father—a solicitor was instructed to defend, but we could not afford the money.
The Prisoner's defence:—I am not guilty. I never put it on the line. I went straight down the common and along the road towards the station. I never went on the line. I came home at a quarter past eight. The post had gone when I got to the Post-office, and I posted the letter the next morning. I went to the Post-office, and I got a stamp at Working Station, and posted it at Working Station, and not at Mayford.
GUILTY, with a recommendation to mercy, on the ground that the JURY thought the prisoner was of weak intellect.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
808. THOMAS PAINTER (14) , Feloniously showing a light upon the London and South Western Eailway, with intent to endanger the safety of passengers travelling upon it. Another Count, moving certain machinery belonging to the railway, with a like intent. Another Count, with intent to obstruct engines and carriages, the property of the railway.
MR. SYKES Prosecuted.
CHARLES BALLARD . I live at Thorpe Lane Crossing—my father is gateman at Thorpe Lane signal-box—on Wednesday, September 16th, I was about two yards from the line, and about 400 yards from the signal-box—there is an advance signal near it—between six and seven p.m. I saw Painter and George Hibbert—Painter got hold
of the lever of the signal, and worked it up and down—the signal went up and down, and the colours turned from red to green—Painter went up the ladder, and said to George Hibbert, "It is alight," and he came down and threatened me it would be my death if I told of him—Hibbert is a younger boy—I knew the prisoner—he has been to our school.
CHARLES BALLARD . I am signalman and pateman at Thorpe Lane Crossing, of the London and South Western Railway—on Wednesday, September 16th, the advance signal was worked up and down—I could see it by my repeater in the box, and by the signal itself—it showed the red and then the green light—this is not the first time it has happened—I sent my little boy to see on several occasions; these boys not only trouble me on coming from school, but it gets our people into serious trouble—I put on glasses, but could not see who it was—this happened between six and seven p.m.
ROBERT WILLIAM GOODING . I am station-master in the employ of the London and South Western Railway at Staines Junction—between six and seven p.m. the 6.40 from Waterloo is due about 6.23—in consequence of information received, I went and saw a lad up the signal—not this lad—I warned this lad and two other lads coming from the Direction of the signal—I said, "Painter, I want to speak to you about playing with the signals"—he said he was not coming with me, he was going on an errand—he did not come—the red means "Stop," and the green, "Go on"—it is dangerous, because the driver does not look to see when once the signals are moved.
Evidence for the Defence.
GUILTY .— To be Imprisoned for Four Days, and to receive Twelve Strikes with the Birch Rod.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard labour.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
ELIZABETH VOKES . I live at 57, Hayling Road, Croydon—I have known the prisoner for the last four years—she has been married to her present husband, the prisoner, about two years; she had two children, a boy and girl, by her former husband—the deceased child was born About July last—in September she was living at Vine's Row with her husband and the three children—on September 22nd, about half-past ten in the morning, the child Gracie came to my house and brought me this letter in the prisoner's handwriting: "Will you let Gracie stop with you to
day? I am going out; take care of her"—she stayed with me the whole day—I have seen some other letters which were found in her room, and recognise them as her handwriting—I had last seen her on the Monday, the day before the 22nd; she had the child with her, and the deceased—it was very ill indeed at that time.
Cross-examined. I had taken care of Gracie, before, two years before the mother was married—an uncle of her own took care of her—she had been married to her present husband two years—she has always been fond of her children and her husband; she lived happily with him, and has been a good wife and mother during the four years I have known her—she has often suffered from pains in the head, particularly since the last child was born.—she has been very much depressed since it was born; before that she had been cheerful and bright—on the Monday she brought the baby to me without any reason—she complained of not sleeping; she said she had taken it to Dr. Beard, and he had told her that it would not live, and I said to her, "Don't cry; it will be better for the baby to go"—she was very much cut up, overcome by grief—there was no reason for her husband to kill her; they lived happily together—the husband had not been angry with her—I should have said it was absurd if she had told roe she was a bad wife; no one in their senses would think so—I don't know what medicine she bad been having.
PAULINE HERITAGE . I live at 73, Vines Road, Croydon—I knew the prisoner, living at 65, with her husband—on the morning of September 22nd, about half-past ten, I went to her house—the prisoner was there with the youngest child, in the perambulator; it was very ill—I had seen it before, and knew it was ill—the prisoner stood on the landing, crying bitterly; I asked her, "What are you crying for? Is baby worse this morning?"—she said, "No; I think she is better, but I am dreadfully worried; my head is so bad"—I said, "You have cleaned up very early this morning"—she said, "Yes; I am going out"—I saw that she had been writing some letters, and I asked her why she had done it so very early—she said, "It is time I wrote; I have not written since baby was born"—she said she had been to Dr. Beard that morning; she said there was nothing very particular the matter with the baby, but it did not seem, to be getting on—I said, "What are you going to do with the baby?"—she said, "Gracie will mind it"—I left her in the kitchen.
Cross-examined. I stopped with her about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—she was sobbing, and in a nervous state—I have known her about two years, since she came to live there—I did not know her before—as far as I know she has been a good wife; I did not know her husband; she always spoke well of him; they lived happily together—there was no suggestion that she had ruined her husband—I should not think that anyone in their senses would say so—she looked very strange on the day I saw her, as if she had been crying a lot—she said her head had been very bad since baby was born; she had been very much more strange since that—before that she was bright and cheerful; she got worse gradually, and did not talk to anybody; that sort of thing began when she was going to have the baby; I noticed that she got more weak and depressed; she was more careless in her dress than she used to be—she said she could not sleep much.
in her last confinement on July 11th, and saw her afterwards, and the child; September 21st was the last time—the child was then exceedingly ill, suffering from inflammation of the stomach and bowels; I saw it on three or four occasions—on 21st it was worse, and I prescribed for it; it was clean and tidy, and well cared for.
Cross-examined. She was very anxious about it, crying bitterly and very unhappy—I had not known her before her confinement, only when she came to engage me to attend her—during the time I saw her she was never bright; she had not much to say; she was silent, not given to say much—I did not pay any attention to her mental state; there was nothing to lead me to do so—a state of melancholy after confinement is not unusual—I have seen the children—the youngest of the two was born in 1886—I could not say that a child born after so long an interval would be likely to predispose the mother to melancholia—the last time I saw the prisoner she asked me if I thought the baby would recover; I said, "Very likely"—she was crying before I told her that; I gave the child a white powder.
WILLIAM PARKS (Police Inspector). On September 22nd the prisoner came to the station about four in the afternoon—she said, "Give me a glass of water; I have killed my child, and I have taken poison myself"—I asked her where she lived; she said, "At 65, Vines Road"—I said, "When did this happen?"—she said, "This morning"—I said, "What have you taken?"—she said, "Oxalic acid"—I gave her some salt and water, and sent for a doctor—I made a note of what she said at the time, in her presence, and read it over to her, and I asked if she wished to sign it; she said, "No; it is true"—when the doctor came she said,. "I have given the child some"—the doctor asked what she had taken; she said, "Oxalic acid," and had also given some to her child.
Cross-examined. She was very much agitated and frightened and distressed, but not very depressed; she was apparently nervous—I did not make any inquiry as to her antecedents.
WILLIAM LEMMT (Inspector W). On September 22nd I went to 65, Vines Road—the prisoner had handed the key to the officer, and I got in with the key—I went into the front room upstairs, and found the dead body of a male child; it was quite cold—it was taken to the mortuary after the doctor had seen it—in the same room, on a chest of drawers, I found two glass tumblers; one was half full of liquid, with a white sediment at the bottom, and a teaspoon lying by the side of the glasses, with a quantity of white sediment adhering to it—on the kitchen table I found four letters which were handed to me, and another was on the table—in the fireplace in the kitchen I found an empty packet, marked "Oxalic acid, poison"—I returned to the station, and saw the prisoner, and I said to her, "You need not say anything, but you will be charged with the murder of your child; what you say will be taken down and given in evidence"—she made no reply.
Cross-examined. I found no medicine in the house; there were some empty bottles—Dr. Morton saw them—I have seen a sister of the prisoner—I have ascertained that the prisoner married her first husband in July, 1879—he died eight years afterwards, leaving two children—after his death she was in a place at the railway station, Charing Cross,.
I believe, receiving good wages—her husband is a labouring man, getting 27s. a week, and he gave his wife 22s. out of it.
SHADBOLT MORTON , M.D. I am Divisional Surgeon of Police, Croydon—on September 22nd I was called to the Police-station to see the prisoner; she was complaining that her mouth was sore—I was informed that she had taken oxalic acid; she showed no signs that I considered serious—I was informed that some chalk had been given her—I gave her some salt and water—the inspector said that she also said that she had given her child oxalic acid; she said yes—I asked her how was it labelled—she replied, "The child is dead"—I went with the inspector to the house, 65, Vines Road, and saw the dead body of the child lying on the bed in its nightshirt, with a shawl wrapped round it—its appearance was consistent with poisoning; the lips were unusually white—I noticed the two tumblers and the spoon—I tested them, and they answered to the test of oxalic acid—I made a post-mortem examination of the child—I found the existence of some powerful irritant—oxalic acid was present, and that had caused death.
Cross-examined. The prisoner said she had taken it about twelve o'clock—I asked the chemist the quantity she had, and he said about three drachms—I could not say how much of that was given to the baby—oxalic acid is a very powerful poison—any appreciable quantity would produce almost instant death in a baby of tender years—if the prisoner had taken a strong dose the effect would exhibit itself within three or four minutes.
JAKES SCOTT . I am Medical Officer of Holloway Prison—the prisoner was under my observation there—she had all the appearance of one suffering from melancholia; she has improved since—she suffered from sleeplessness and headache—she had frequent fits of sobbing—selfaccusation is not unfrequent in melancholia patients—she was suffering from melancholia when I first saw her and is so still, but not to the same extent—she is in an unsatisfactory state of mind, but recovering.
MRS. BRISTOW. I am an attendant at the London School Board—I have seen the prisoner while employed at the Great Eastern Railway—she used to suffer a good deal from headaches—sue bore the best of characters.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HILL Prosecuted, and MR. DE MIOHELE Defended.
CHARLES BURGESS . I reside at High Street, Godalining—on August 25th, by the evening post, I received this latter (read). "August 25th, 1896. Madam,—I have been watching you now for a long time, and I have sufficient to prove that you have acted improperly with Mr.—I ask you to do me a favour, which is, that you go to the first milestone after you leave Milford, the one before you get to your farm, you will see a hole in the ground at the back, and put five sovereigns in, and then you will hear nothing further from me; but if you don't comply with my request within three days you will know your fate. Look, madam, at the disgrace, and for the sake of your£5 you will hear nothing more of it; and in the future don't do things so
openly. I have another witness; you don't know him. I. don't wish to hurt your feelings any more. Five pounds or you are a ruined lady. If you don't do as I request the thing will be made public.—E. R." It is addressed to my wife—I opened it, and my wife and I arranged to place the matter in the hands of the police—we marked five shillings, and it was arranged that they should be placed in the position indicated in the letter—these (produced) are the five shillings that I marked, I recognise my marks on them; I identified them before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. I hate a farm in this direction—I employ a good many labourers, but not many on this particular farm—there are various ways to the farm—I know Lee Park, that is three miles from Godalming; this would be about two miles; a great number of men work at Lee Park—a great many men go from Godalming to Lee Park to work; I cannot say the number—I know the exact spot where this milestone is; I can't say that I have examined it.
SARAH BURGESS . I received this letter from my husband—I also marked the five shillings; I rolled them up in a piece of paper after marking them, and enclosed them in an envelope—on the morning after receiving the letter I went to the place indicated on my bicycle; I dismounted from my bicycle, and found the hole mentioned in the letter, and put the coins in the hole; there was nobody quite near at the time, but a woman and child, I think, in the far distance—after putting the paper in the hole I thought the hole was rather shallow, so I picked some grass that was near and covered the hole with it.
PETER GARRETT . I am a sergeant in the Surrey Constabulary—in consequence of instructions I went "to this particular milestone on the Haslemere Road at 11.30 on August 27th—I went behind the milestone, and in a small hole, about the size of a small handbill, I found an envelope—I felt it, and came to the conclusion that it contained coin—I replaced it, and watched—at half-past four in the morning, at daylight, I again examined the hole; I found it as I had left it; I covered it with grass, and then took another position a few yards away—at six o'clock a constable came up to me, and just as I was directing his attention to the milestone I saw the prisoner a few yards further off the hole on his bicycle—he spoke to two men, and then he wheeled his machine up to the milestone, and turned his back towards me till the two men had got by; he then made a turn and took a hurried survey, and then put his right hand on his machine and placed his other hand down to the righthand corner of the stone, and picked up something in his hand; he looked at it for a second, and then put it in his pocket and rode away towards Lee Park; I then went to the hole, and found it empty—I had watched, and no one went to the stone before this time—I then followed after the prisoner, about three miles and a-half away, and he dismounted and looked round towards me—he then walked with his machine to the top of the hill; the two men had then gained ground considerably—he looked round again and make a diagonal wheel across the road; there was a slight bend, and I lost sight of him for a moment—I walked on, and saw him again near a tree—he turned and saw me, and was going on towards his work—I stopped him and said, "I want to know what you have in your pocket"—he said, "What for? I have done nothing"—I searched him, but found nothing relating to the charge—I said I wanted him to go back to the stone with
me—he said, "No; I want to go to work"—I said, "If you won't go voluntarily, I shall take you, on a charge of stealing money from the milestone"—he said, "I am innocent; I did not go near the stone"—at the stone he said, "I stooped down to tie up my boot"—I was in plain clothes and Constable Nash also—as we left the stone he went away towards Godalming; he again said he was not near the stone—I said, "I will be strictly honest with you," and I pointed out the impression of a hand on the stone—he then said, "I can prove my innocence by the evidence of two men"—I said, "If you can give me any particulars, or write it down, I will make inquiries"—he wrote on this piece of paper (produced) at the station in the evening—I read the charge to him, and in reply he said, "I know nothing about it"—I then read the letter to him—he said, "I know nothing about writing that letter"—I knew that he was residing in Godalming, and that he was at work at Lee Park—Milford is between Godalming and Lee Park—there is a Post-office between the two places—before I took him away from Lee Park I spoke to some workmen, and told them if they found any money to bring it to me—the prisoner was brought before the Magistrate on the Saturday morning—on that day the witness Snelling brought these coins to the station at Godalming—he has since pointed out to me the place where he found them; it was exactly the spot where I had seen the prisoner stooping before I got up to him.
Cross-examined. I searched that place roughly—I made notes of the conversation I had with the prisoner when I got home after the hearing before the Magistrate on the 29th, when the facts were in my memory—I said before the Magistrate that I saw him stoop down, and that I saw him looking at the money—I said, "I saw him turn round and take the thing up and put his hand in his pocket"—I first charged him with stealing the money—I knew that the coin was in this piece of paper—I know the allotment ground opposite the milestone; I was in that, watching; that was seventy-two yards from the stone—Nash was with me—I did not find the paper that the coins were wrapped in—speaking roughly I should say about 150 men come from Godalming to work at Lee Park—the main Portsmouth road goes from north to south, and there are two roads that turn into it, there are four cross-roads before you get to the milestone—I was concealed in the bushes; I could see between them; I made a place on purpose so that I could see.
Re-examined. I did not see any other man besides the prisoner go up to this milestone; they were all going to work—the milestone is four feet from the road; there is no footpath on either side of the road—there is no foot track along from Milford, it is all trodden over—there is no ordinary track.
JOHN NASH . (19, Surrey Constabulary). On the morning of June 27th I was with the last witness near this milestone; my attention was directed to it—while he was giving me instructions I saw the prisoner coming along the road on a bicycle—before he got to the milestone he stooped down and picked up something white, and put it in his pocket—I followed with the sergeant, and he arrested him and brought him back towards the stone—he was riding on the machine; he had a small parcel on his back—I heard him say that he stopped to ease himself before he got to the stone—when he was brought back to the stone he denied having been there—the sergeant said, "I searched about for anything unusual,
and if you will come back I will show you the marks of the bicycle on the ground by the stone"—the prisoner then said that he had stopped there; he made a motion as if he had made water there, but he had not time to do it—there were some men walking along the road a little way in front of him.
Cross-examined. I helped to search the place where Snelling said he found the coins.
WILFRED SWELLING . I live at Witney—in August last I was working at Lee Park; the prisoner was working at the same place—on the morning in question I came up when he was in custody—Sergeant Garrett said there was some money taken, and he thought it was hidden somewhere about there, and if we found anything we should take it in—on the day after, Saturday, the 29th, I was at work, and found five shillings, wrapped up in an envelope, in a piece of paper; it was in the hedge, just alongside Lee Park—I let the envelope lie; I kicked it out of the hedge, and the money fell out of the paper; I left the paper there—the ditch has since filled up to the hedge—these are the coins; I picked them up and took them to the station, and gave them to Sergeant Garrett—I afterwards pointed out to him the place where I had found them.
Cross-examined. Sometimes there are about a hundred workmen at Lee Park—I don't know how many of them come from Godalming along the Portsmouth Road—I left the piece of paper where it was.
GEORGE WINTER . I am employed at Lee Park—on the morning of August 28th I was going to my work in company with Stenning—when we were near the milestone the prisoner came up on his bicycle—I saw him get off and go to the stone—I did not notice what he did; I kept walking on with Stenning.
Cross-examined. The prisoner followed us up immediately after.
JAMES STENNING . I am engaged as a labourer at Lee Park—I was in company with Winter, going to work that morning—the prisoner passed me on his. bicycle six or seven yards this side of the milestone—before I got to it I saw him wheel his machine up to the milestone—I and Winter went on straight by him.
Cross-examined. I did not see him stoop down at all and come up with a piece of white paper in his hand; he passed me about two minutes afterwards.
By the COURT. I don't think he would have had time to get off and make water.
GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. JUSTICE WRIGHT stated that Mrs. Burgess deserved public thanks for her courage in bringing the case forward, and thus performing a disagreeable duty to society.
812. ALBERT WALLIS (32) , Feloniously setting fire to a stable belonging to Joseph William Nelligan, with intent to injure. Second Count.—Setting fire to a coach-house belonging to Thomas Brown, with like intent.
MR. H. C. RICHARDS and MR. SOPER Prosecuted, and MR. BODDILY
JOSEPH WILLIAM NELLIGAN , M.D. I am in practice in Croydon, and have a surgery in High Street, the window of which looks out into Mr. Brown's yard—there is a narrow passage from that yard to a wicket gate leading into my yard—the prisoner has been in my employ on more than one
occasion as coachman and groom—he also did some work in the house in the morning—on October 8th he came to work about the usual time—he did not do his work, and I dismissed him for drunkenness about eleven that day—as he left the yard he said to me, "I will be even with you yet," or words to that effect.
Cross-examined. I had dismissed him twice before, not for the same cause; once was five or six months before—I told him to go about his business for a few days, and then I said, "I am willing to take you back if you will take the pledge"—he did so, and I kept him till early in October this year—I suppose there was drink at the bottom of it—about October 1st I wrote to his father, and asked him to come and see me, and I told him his son was drinking—he said, "No"—I said, "If he is not drinking he is going off his head: you had better see what he is doing"—I thought his manner was very peculiar—from time to time he made statements to me which I considered absurd—he took away some boots out of the house; he also said that I had promised him a bicycle for his health; he did not say that to me, but it came to my knowledge, and I challenged him with it—he was a very good servant from the time he took the pledge—his parents are respectable.
JAMES HERBERT GEARY . I am dispenser to Dr. Nelligan—on October 8th, about a quarter to one, I went to the stable and fed the horses—I then carefully fastened up the stable, and everything was secure when I left it—about eight in the evening I was watching from the surgery window, and saw the prisoner come out from a side gate leading into Mr. Brown's yard—there is a passage between our stable and Mr. Brown's—he walked across Mr. Brown's yard, and went out of Mr. Brown's main gate and crossed the road—I still watched, and a few minutes afterwards I saw him come back and enter our stables—in two or three minutes he went out a second time, as before—while he was out I went down to the stable, unlocked the stable door, and went in and looked round—I found the harness missing from the room, and the straw was littered about; and there were some deep scratches on the carriage, and a hat-box sticking out—I came back the same way, locked the stable door carefully, and just as I was coming out the prisoner came in—he said to me, "Young Brown has been in here, and I am watching him"—he was under the influence of drink—I said, "I thought you had got the sack"—he said, "You know as much of that as I do; don't barricade the gate; I may want to come in again"—I barricaded it with a piece of wood, and then left by Dr. Nelligan's main gate, and went in and spoke to the doctor—about an hour afterwards I saw the stables in flames—the prisoner came in while I was watching the fire—I said, "What do you think of it now?"—he said, "I suppose I am to blame," or similar words.
Cross-examined. I had been in the coach-house about an hour before—I don't recollect being there the day before; I occasionally went there—the only carriage there was a brougham—the deep scratches on that might have been done by a sharp instrument; I hardly think that a piece of the harness would make such deep scratches—the prisoner was certainly under the influence of drink when he came up; his eyes were peculiar—he had appeared strange for some days before—I don't know that it was the influence of drink; he was peculiar in his manner.
public-house at Croydon; I did not know the prisoner personally—he was pointed out to me as Dr. Nelligan's coachman—on October 8th he was at my house altogether four or five times during the day—about mid-day he asked me for a box of fusees—I did not give him any—on another occasion on the same day he asked me for a screw-driver; I did not give him that.
Cross-examined. He smoked—I did not give him what he asked for, because I had not got it—he was certainly not drunk—he was there at mid-day, and before and after; he was sober the whole of that time—if I serve a drunken man I might get into trouble; that is a reason why I never do so.
ARTHUR HOAD . I am assistant to Mr. Smith, an oilman in High Street, Croydon; I know the prisoner—on the day of the fire, October 8th, the prisoner came into our shop, and asked for a pennyworth of flame fusees—I served him with six boxes.
Cross-examined. I knew him, before—he had been accustomed to deal at our shop as a customer for Dr. Nelligan—he had never before asked for flame fusees—I did not see him light up when he got outside.
CARRIE BAILEY . I live with my uncle at 56, Wandle Road, Croydon; from, that house I could see into Dr. Nelligan's premises—on the afternoon of October 8th I was in my bedroom between four and five, and I saw the prisoner in the yard—he went into the coach-house, and immediately I saw a light—I thought he had lighted a pipe—he came out, and went into Mr. Brown's building, and I saw him throw some lights away through the window; I don't know what lights they were; they were burning—he then went down the passage between the coach-house and Mr. Brown's building, and I saw no more of him; I afterwards noticed fire coming out of the coach-house, and Mr. Brown's too.
Cross-examined. Our house faces the coach-house and stable sideways—this photograph (produced) is like it—I was the length of the road from the coach-house—I did not see the prisoner with a pipe—I don't know whether he had got one with him; I did not see it in his hand—when he threw the light down his back was turned to me, and when he went into the coach-house I did not see a match-box in his hand.
ELLEN LANE . I live at 56, Wandle Road, Croydon—on October 8th, between four and five, I was with the last witness up in her bedroom—I could see into Dr. Nelligan's yard—I saw the prisoner go into the coach-house, and I saw a light—he came out, hut the door, and went towards Mr. Brown's building, and he threw some lights in front of a grated window—I saw him throw the lights; I could not see where he threw them; they were thrown in the direction of Mr. Brown's building—he then went between the two buildings, and I saw no more of him—after he had gone I saw the coach-house alight, and the warehouse almost directly after, within one minute.
Cross-examined. I thought he had been discharged in the morning, and I wondered why he was there; I did not notice that he was drunk, or walking unsteadily—when I saw the fire break out I immediately concluded that he had done it; there was no one else about.
WALTER CATHERALL . I am warehouseman to Mr. Brown—he has a warehouse adjoining Dr. Nelligan's stable—on October 8th I saw the prisoner in Mr. Brown's yard, at the side of the malt-house; he was standing
there—that was between a quarter to one and twenty minutes patt one—I was unloading two loads of straw in the yard—he then went away—I did not take any notice of him—when I had finished the straw I went into the malt-house—I heard a noise under the bottom of the warehouse, and I went to see what it was, and I saw the prisoner—I asked what he was doing there; he said, "Looking for rats"—I said, "You have no business there"—I saw that some straw had been untied, about eighteen trusses—I asked why he had untied them—he said he did not—we came out together, and he went his way and I went mine—there are windows in Dr. Nelligan's yard.
Cross-examined. I knew the prisoner pretty well; I was always on, good terms with him, and as far as I knew he was on good terms with everybody at Mr. Brown's—I had seen the straw on the afternoon of the day before—other persons had access to the malt-house besides me, not frequently; I always went in with them, or the governor himself—the malt-house is used for straw, and I take the straw and put it in there.
WILLIAM NEVILLE (Police Inspector W). On the afternoon of October 8th I went to Wandle Road at five minutes to five, and saw these fires burning, one in Dr. Nelligan's stable, and the other in Mr. Brown's warehouse; they were distinct fires—I thought it was a case of arson, wilfully set fire to—there was no communication between the two buildings—I saw the prisoner there at 5.45—I told him I had made inquiries, and he would be taken to the station on suspicion of setting fire to the two places—he said to Dr. Nelligan, "I did not do you any harm while I was in your employ"—he said no more; I cautioned him—on the way to the station he said, "It was only an accident, done through drink; I have been a teetotaler, and just broke out again"—I took him to the station, and found on him ten boxes of matches; they make a big flame when they are struck.
Cross-examined. I noticed that he was drunk; he was unsteady in his walk; in fact, he was very drunk, but not incapable.
Prisoner's Defence: All I want to say is, I know nothing at all about the fire.
Witness for like Prisoner.
MR. WALUS. The prisoner is my son—he was originally in the Hussars; he was discharged with a good character; I have his papers—while he was in the Army he received an injury from a fall, and I took him home—the injury was from being thrown from his horse in jumping a hedge—he was confined in the hospital from that injury—he was a teetotaler for some time—the fits came on periodically between May and October—I did not notice any peculiarity in his behaviour till about a month past; he has been very excitable, and his memory has been very bad—Dr. Nelligan consulted me about him, and he told me that he ought to be watched—his symptoms grew worse up to October 9th—at night he will be very calm and quiet, and the next morning he is strange and excited, and I have put on my things and watched him—he would go to the stable, and then back to the house, and then back to the stable—his manner was very strange indeed on the morning of October 8th—when sober he is a quiet, industrious man.
Cross-examined. He had no drink when he got up—he was very quick in his temper that morning—he was very quiet when he kept from drink.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY. Dr. Scott, surgeon at
Holloway Gaol, stated that he had observed him while in prison and saw nothing to lead him to consider him insane, But his condition was due to alcohol.— Five Years' Penal Servitude—the medical officer to keep him under observation.
MESSRS. A. GILL and BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
RICHARD FOWLER . I am a carpenter, of 49, East Street, Farnham, Surrey—I know the prisoner well; I did not know his wife by sight—on July 25th, between seven and eight, I went into the Lamb public-house with May, and called for a whisky and a lemonade—the prisoner served me with the whisky, and was going to serve me with the lemonade, when a woman in the bar, whom I afterwards learned was Mrs. Hitchcox, said, "That is a fine way to serve a customer!"—we were the only four people in the bar—the prisoner said, "Come round and serve it yourself"—she was standing on the customers' side of the bar—she went round, and when she got to the flap he struck her with his fist and knocked her back into the customers' side—he followed her round, and struck her again, and knocked her to the floor—she screamed, and some of the neighbours came in and said, "Try and get her outside"—about the time they came in I saw Nowell going by the house, and I called him in to have a drink—I was taking no notice of the row; I did not think it was serious—Nowell came in—the prisoner was going to strike his wife again, and Nowell went between them and said, "Remember, the house you are in, and what you are doing"—I asked Nowell to fetch a policeman, and he left for that purpose, so far as I know—he had just got outside the house when the women came in, and tried to get the deceased (who was on the floor, screaming) outside the house—the prisoner tried to follow, and we thrust him against the partition while she got out—he struggled to get out—when the deceased had had sufficient time to get into a neighbour's house we let him go, and he went outside the house—I remained inside for a few seconds, and then I heard him call to his wife, I thought, to come back into the house—I went outside, and saw him throw her to the ground—he was standing by her side, with his left arm round her, and I saw him throw her to the ground—he was on the pavement, or close to it, on the opposite side of the road to me; I was on the Lamb side—she fell on her right side in the gutter, I think—before I got across they were lifting her up.
Cross-examined. The first blow he struck was not severe enough to cause my interference; it did not seem to be a blow in the face—I believe, with the second blow she tumbled over a form; the second blow reached her, I should say, on the shoulder or neck, I am not certain—she was knocked over the form with the blow; she fell with the form; it was on the customers' side of the bar—I thought it was sufficiently severe to cause my interference; I did not interfere, because the neighbours came rushing in when she screamed and fell—I believe she screamed on the second occasion—I cannot swear whether it was the second or third—after the second occasion I called in Nowoll, and asked him to have a drink, but he did not have one—I said, when I was examined before, "When the defendant hit his wife the third time she screamed,
and as No well went out some neighbours came in"—my evidence was better then than it is now—I believe no drink was called for Nowell, because no one was behind the bar at the time; I might have called for a drink—I cannot remember saying at the Police-court, "After I had called for a drink for my friend, the defendant struck his wife again"—if it was read over to me, and I signed it, I will take it I said it—when the wife went outside I remained inside for two or three minutes—a few minutes elapsed from the time she left the bar till I saw the prisoner with his arm round her waist—I did not hear him say anything to her then—I might have heard him if he had said anything; I daresay I should—he was the width of the road from the Lamb then, about twenty feet—I do not recollect hearing him say, "Your place is back behind the bar"—he did not appear to lead her in the direction of the Lamb—I have said that it looked more like a shove than anything to get the deceased into her house—I said at the inquest, "It looked as if he was endeavouring to get her into the house"—that was before I said at the Police-court, "She was lifted off her feet and thrown with great violence to the ground"—she fell with violence to the ground—I could not say if he took her with one hand or two—I was standing just opposite, watching—she was a big woman, what little I knew of her; I could not say if she was a heavy woman—I do not suggest he picked her up with one hand; he drew his left arm round her waist—I did not see her head strike the kerb—it is hard to say how it happened—I saw her lifted off her feet—whether she fell, or was thrown or pushed down, I cannot say, as I tried to explain at the Police-court—I did not assist in picking her up—I believe she was insensible.
MR. GILL, in re-examination, wet proceeding to put to the witnes another part of his deposition. MR. HUTTON objected to this, an a leading question. The COURT ruled that the whole deposition of the witness taken before the CORONER should be read, and this was accordingly done.
WILLIAM MAY . I am a labourer, living in the Guildford Road, Farnham—on July 25th, between six and seven, I was with Fowler at the Lamb—whisky and lemonade were ordered—the prisoner and his wife were there—the prisoner poured out the whisky, and began pouring out the lemonade into a small glass, and his wife, standing on the customers' side of the bar, said, "Why don't you put it in a proper glass? that is not the proper way to serve a customer"—the prisoner said, "Why cannot you come and serve them yourself?"—she came round and took a glass and began to pour the lemonade into it—he dealt her a blow on the left side of the head; she nearly fell—she went outside the bar, and he followed and dealt her another blow, knocking heragainst the form; Nowell then came in and spoke to the prisoner—neighbours came in and took hold of the prisoner; he struggled; Nowell caught hold of him, and threw him back against the wall, and I assisted with my shoulder—the wife went outside, and the prisoner went out afterwards, and I followed behind him—when I got outside the wife was on the ground, and a man and woman were trying to raise her up, and a man had hold of the prisoner's shoulder—I did not see her fall.
Cross-examined. When the first blow was struck she had gone round to the landlord's side of the bar and was filling a glass—I cannot say if she lifted up the flap; she would have to pass through there—the glass was on the counter; it had been put down before she
was struck—I did not see her pick up the glass after the first blow—that was not when she tumbled down—the blow very nearly knocked her to the ground, not quite—I and Fowler did not interfere then—I am sure that happened when she was on the landlord's side of the bar—I saw her fall over the form after that—the prisoner was somewhat excited; I could not say if he was somewhat the worse for drink.
HENRY NOWELL . I am a house painter, living at Castle View, Farnham—on July 25th I was called into the Lamb by Fowler—I went in by the front door, the main entrance—the prisoner and his wife were standing in their front door; T passed them and went in, and they followed me in; they seemed to be having words—he struck her and knocked her down, and she fell a second time; I could not say whether he struck her again—he said, "Why don't you go behind the bar?"—she said, "What, to. be knocked about?"—as she was getting up she turned to us, and said, "Are you going to see me knocked about?"—I went to the landlord and caught him by the shoulders, and said, "Don't hit the woman; you will kill her; think of your name, and think of the house"—he said, "You don't know the b——whore has been the ruin of me"—several women came in, and Fowler said, "Harry, go and fetch the police," and I did so.
Cross-examined. When I first saw them the prisoner and his wife were standing in their own doorway, or thereabouts—Fowler saw me pass the window, and called me in—Fowler was at the back of me; he followed me in—I could not say whether he called for drink or not—the first blow I saw was struck in the public part of the bar—I saw her fall; whether she fell over the form I could not say—I could not say whether there was a blow or not when she fell the second time—I could not say whether she was near the form then—I did not see what took place outside.
ROSE BROWN . I am a domestic servant, at 100, East Street, Farnham—on the evening of July 25th I was with my sister Maud, and saw Mrs. Hitchcoz run out of the Lamb, followed by the prisoner—she only went outside the door—I did not hear what was said, but she went back indoors—I went into my mother's house, which is opposite the Lamb, and from the downstairs front-room window I looked into the Lamb public bar, and I saw the prisoner strike his wife on the right side of the face with his fist—I and my sister ran out of mother's house and across the road, and looked through the window, and I saw the prisoner strike his wife again, and she fell to the ground, and when she was on the ground he kicked her—Fowler and two other men whom I cannot identify were in the bar—my little sister went and fetched mother, who was at a neighbour's, and mother and two or three women went in and got Mrs. Hitchcox out; 'she took my arm and my sister's, and we led her to the other side of the road—the prisoner followed, saying, "I will kill the b——"; he overtook us, and caught his wife by the waist, and threw her violently to the ground; her head hit the kerb—I did not see him do anything else to her—he stood looking at her—my mother, Mrs. Bailey and Mr. Jameson carried her into our house—blood was coming from her left ear immediately after she fell—the prisoner came into our house about five minutes after his wife was carried in; he walked towards her, and said, "Do you give me in
charge?"—a policeman was there then—Mrs. Hitchcox was not conscious—I then went for Dr. Coffee—when I came back I heard the prisoner say he would fight the policeman.
Cross-examined. I was in Abbey Street, with my sister, looking through the window of my mother's room, when I saw the blow struck—I did not see anything while passing down Abbey Street till I got to the gate leading to mother's house—that was the first blow I saw—it looked from the distance a very violent blow; I could not say whether it was—I looked over the wire blinds—the garden in front of our house and the road are between our house and the Lamb—it was a summer's evening—I could not say whether there was a light in the bar of the Lamb—I saw him kick her on the back; it was a violent kick—when she came out, with our assistance, the prisoner followed, not immediately, but within a second or two—he overtook us just as we were stepping on to the pavement—I did not see any blow there—the prisoner did not carry her any distance before he threw her down—she died on the Wednesday, and I gave evidence before the Coroner the next day, and before I gave evidence at the Police-court—I said at the inquest he carried her twelve steps before throwing her down—I afterwards corrected that at the Police-court—the prisoner appeared to be excited—he had both arms round her waist when he threw her down—he did not put one arm round her waist and ask her to come back to the bar—I did not hear him say, "Your place is behind the bar"—I should have heard if he had said so; I was close to him—I should have seen if a blow was struck outside the house.
MAUD BROWN . I am single, and live with my parents at Abbey Street, Farnham—between seven and eight on July 25th, I was walking along Abbey Street with my sister Rose—when we got near the Lamb I saw Mrs. Hitchcox come out of the doorway—the prisoner came after her, and put his hand on her shoulder, and said, "Go inside; your place is behind the bar"—she went inside, and he followed her—I went with my sister to our house, and looked out through the front-room window, and saw the prisoner knock his wife down in the Lamb—I ran out and looked in at the Lamb window, and I saw Mrs. Hitchcox on the floor, and the prisoner kicked her—Rose was with me—my mother came running down the street; we all went into the bar together with a rush—my mother went in before me—the prisoner had his wife by the throat, bending her back over the bar—mother said, "Mr. Hitchcox, don't hit her again"—he said, "Mrs. Brown, I will kill the b——"he then gave her another severe blow on the shoulder. (The witness here fainted, and was taken out of Court.)
EMILY BROWN . I am the wife of William Brown, a coachman, of Abbey Street, Farnham, and mother of the two previous witnesses—I was called by a smaller daughter to the Lamb on the evening of July 25th—two other women went in with me at the same time—the prisoner had his wife by the throat; he left hold and gave her a blow in the neck—I said, "Mr. Hitchcox; don't hit her again"—he said, "I will, Mrs. Brown; I will murder the b——"—I got between them, and got a blow on my shoulder from him—his wife said, "Do not let him hit me again"—I said, "Run into my house"—she ran out, and Mrs. Bailey, Mrs. Bridge and I tried to hold the prisoner back; my two daughters assisted
this wife, one on each side—just as she was reaching the pavement the prisoner got her away from us and gave her one blow, and took her by the waist and threw her down, and her head came violently in contact with the pavement—I raised her head; blood flowed from her ear—as we were carrying her away the prisoner said, "Take her in the house; her place is behind the bar"—he went to make an attempt on her, and the men held him back—we took her in and laid her in a chair; and she said, "Oh, dear!" and never spoke again—a few minutes after the prisoner came in and said, "Where is my wife? Is she dead?"—I said, "No, she is not dead"—he went towards her as she sat in the chair, and used filthy expressions towards her—he said, "May she be stiff before eight o'clock;" and asked the policeman if he could do with a bit of punching, and took his coat off and threw it on the table—I said, "I am landlady here; I will have none of that"—he went to his wife again, and used nasty words to her, and said, "I am willing to swing for her to-morrow"—he went out—we sent for Dr. Coffee, who ordered me to make her a bed and lay her down—before the doctor came the prisoner came back—I saw him coming alone the garden path, and I went to the door; a policeman was standing at the door and asked what he wanted—the prisoner said, "I will soon show you," and he was going to come in, but I would not allow him, and the policeman put him off the premises—the doctor attended the woman twice before she was taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. Ae I went in the bar I was close to the prisoner when he had his wife by the throat; his back was towards me—both his hands were at her throat, pinching it; she appeared to be choking—her head was leaning on the back of the counter; she was nearly suffocated—two men were in the bar; I could not say who they were, in the confusion—I believe Fowler had not left the bar from the commencement—I should think he and May could have seen the prisoner holding her by the throat—I am sure the prisoner had the woman by the throat very violently—he struck her in the bar, after leaving hold of her throat—he struck her before throwing her down in the road, but not so violently as in the house—I could not say where the blow fell—I was very much shocked at his language—I thought him a horrible man at the time and since; instead of trying to bring her round, he used filthy expressions towards her—this happened on a Saturday, and on the following Thursday I gave evidence, for the first time, before the Coroner—my daughter Maud lives with me; Rose I do not see for a week sometimes; I think she came home on the Sunday after this happened—everyone was talking about it; we did not know how it was going to end—I did not think it would end as it did; I thought bathing her head with the vinegar and water would bring her round—when I picked her up she was insensible, and blood gushed from her head, and I thought it was very bad then, but I thought we should have brought her round—I took the prisoner to be more mad than drunk at the time, but he had been drinking all day, and the night previous—I knew he had been drinking, because he had been out all the afternoon—when we had picked her up, and were carrying her away, he said, "Your place is behind the bar. Will you come back to the bar?"
Re-examined. I had not been in the Lamb more than a minute before he left hold of her throat and gave her a blow in the neck; her back was on the edge of the counter.
CAROLINE BAILEY . I am the wife of Thomas Bailey, and live with. him in Abbey Street, Farnham, three doors below the Lamb—about 7.30 p.m. on July 25th, I heard screams. from the direction of the Lamb—I went there, and stood in the entrance for about a minute—I saw the prisoner and his wife on the customers' side of the bar—he struck her three times on the left side of the neck—she put her right hand up and said, "Take him away"—no other woman was inside the bar then—Mrs. Brown came in immediately afterwards—the prisoner seized his wife by the throat with both hands; her back was leaning over the bar—I pulled him from behind, which loosened his hands from her throat—Mrs. Brown got in between him and his wife, and said, "Don't hit her again, Mr. Hitchcox"—he said, "I will, Mrs. Brown, I will choke the b——"—his wife then walked out—Fowler tried to prevent the prisoner from going out, but could not do so, and the prisoner followed immediately behind his wife—I went out, and followed his wife across the road—the prisoner got in front of me—his wife walked by herself across the road without support, and when she got on the pavement on the opposite side the prisoner struck her immediately with his right hand on the left shoulder from the front; and she fell to the ground, and her head struck the kerb—I helped to carry her into Mrs. Brown's—blood came immediately from her right ear when she dropped—I did not hear anything said by the prisoner in the road—he said something; I did not hear what it was.
Cross-examined. The prisoner struck her on the left shoulder from the front with his fist—I was the person nearest to him when he struck the blow, I am sure—it was a violent blow; she fell from it; she dropped half a yard from my feet—I am certain it was that blow that felled her to the ground—I did not hear him ask her before that to come into the bar—I did not see him take her by the arm or waist, and ask her to come back to the bar—he said, when we were carrying her, that her place was behind the bar—inside the Lamb he had both his hands firmly fixed on the fleshy part of her throat—I was frightened that she was going to be choked, because he was squeezing her throat—she was turning black in the face; I felt sure he was choking her—I was standing close by—I do not remember seeing either of the Misses Brown inside, only Mrs. Brown—the deceased walked out of the house alone, and no one supported her across the road—I should have seen the Misses Brown if they had been inside the Lamb.
HARRIETT BRIDGER . I am the wife of William Bridger, a labourer, of Abbey Road, Farnham—on July 25th I heard screaming, and went into the Lamb with Mrs. Bailey and Mrs. Brown—I saw the prisoner seize his wife by the throat, bending her back over the bar—I persuaded her to get out of his way, and she went out after a bit, and crossed the street—he crossed the street, and took hold of his wife's waist with his right hand, and swung her round, and threw her violently to the ground—she was picked up by Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Bailey, and Jameson, and carried into Mrs. Brown's house.
Cross-examined. It was his right hand he put round her waist, not bottom hands, I am sure—he did not strike her before that—I was on the other side of the way—I saw them both come out of the house, and I came out,
immediately afterwards, close behind her—she was alone when she came out.
Re-examined. The Browns were outside in the street.
By the COURT. I did not see anyone come out of the house with the deceased; there were a great many outside in the street—the Misses Brown were outside in the street—I could not say that they were with the deceased.
GEORGE JAMESON . I am a taxidermist, living in Abbey Street, Farnham—about half-past seven on July 25th I was watering my garden—I heard screams from the Lamb, and then I saw the deceased come out and cross the road, crying—about four other people were then outside the Lamb—Miss Brown was close behind her; nobody else was near her then—after she had crossed the road the prisoner came across and took hold of her waist, with the intention, I should think, of bringing her back, and threw her on the pavement, and her head caught the kerb—I helped to carry her into Mrs. Brown's house—I should think the prisoner accidentally threw her on the pavement—she was crying as she crossed the road; he told her to come indoors instead of stopping crying there—she had her handkerchief round the right side of her head, and covering her right eye—the prisoner came suddenly, and took hold of her waist, and brought her round, with the intention of taking her indoors, and her foot slipped, and she fell backwards, and her head fell on the pavement—when he caught her round the waist, and she was thrown or slipped down, she was standing still—she slipped down in consequence of his taking her round the waist, and turning her round—the turning round was not done violently.
Cross-examined. I said at the inquest, "I saw Mr. Hitchcox comeout of his house, go across the road, take hold of Mrs. Hitchcox by the waist, and she fell on the pavement"—I should think she accidentally slipped—I did not see any violence on his part which caused her to fall to the ground—I heard him say, "Come back to the house; your place is behind the bar," when he took hold of her—my house is very nearly opposite the Lamb—my garden runs down to the road.
PHILEMON GREEN (218, Surrey). I was called to the Lamb on the night of July 25th—I saw the prisoner there, and asked him if anything was the matter—he said, "You get out of my house, or I will soon put you out"—I told him I wanted to know if there was anything seriously the matter with his wife; he said, "If you want to know anything about her, you go across the road to Mrs. Brown's house"—I went across, and he followed me—in the house he looked at his wife, and said, "Do you give me in charge; I hope you may die this very moment; I am. quite prepared to swing for you"—he pulled off his coat, and put himself in a fighting attitude, and asked me if I could do a bit of punching—I told him to behave himself—he turned to his wife, and used most disgusting language, and said he hoped she would be stiff before eight o'clock; then he used more disgusting language to her, and told her she was no better than an East-end whore—he had been drinking heavily, but I could not say he was drunk.
Cross-examined. It is about twelve yards from the Lamb to Mrs. Brown's house—the road is twelve or fourteen feet wide—Mrs. Brown's garden is twelve or fourteen feet long to the door—T should think it is
further than twenty-eight or thirty feet from her door to the parlour of the Lamb—the prisoner was in an excited condition when I went into his house, and appeared to have been drinking; he was drawing beer—the doctor had not then been called to the deceased; I had not seen her myself—her grave state was not known to anyone then, nor to him.
Re-examined. She was unconscious at the time.
WILLIAM UPFOLD (Sergeant 22, Surrey). On July 25th, in consequence of information, I went to Mrs. Brown's house and saw the deceased—I then went to the Lamb, and told the prisoner I was going to take him into custody for committing a violent assault on his wife, whereby her life was in danger—he said, "All she has got she has brought upon herself"—she died on July 29th; after that I saw him in his cell, and said his wife was dead, and he would be charged with causing her death—he said, "When did she die?"—I said, "This morning."
Cross-examined. He had been in custody all the time.
CHARLES EDWARD TANNER , F.R.O.S., M.D. I practise at Farnhan—on July 25th I was called to attend the deceased just after the accident—she was lying on her right side, insensible, with a little blood coming from the right ear—there was a lump behind the right ear—she was removed to the Cottage Hospital—I attended her until her death on Wednesday morning—she was not conscious during any portion of that time—I subsequently made a post-mortem examination—externally there was a bruise on the outside of the right thigh, and in front, and some smaller bruises below the right knee; a bruise on the outside of the left thigh—with those exceptions, there were no bruises on the body, head, or neck—on removing the skin of the skull there was a collection of blood behind the right ear—on removing the skull-cap I could find no fracture, but on the left side of the brain, towards the front, there was a large collection of blood, and the brain substance under it was suffused—there was no fracture of the skull to be found, and nothing else of importance—there were four or five ounces of blood, half a tumblerful—the suffusion of blood on the other side of the brain was caused by contrecoup—anyone filling on one side of the head may produce a suffusion of blood on the other side—it may have been caused by a fall and the right side of the head striking some hard substance—the suffusion of blood was the cause of death.
Cross-examined. There was no fracture—all of the injuries I saw might have been caused by one blow and a fall; all but one bruise on the outside of the left thigh might have been caused at the same time by a fall—such a fall as that described by Mr. Jameson could have caused the injuries—she was a strong, big, heavy, well-developed woman—I saw no marks on her throat—I should expect, if pressure had been put on her throat, so as to make a woman short of breath, to find marks on her throat—I found no mark on the back as if she had been forced back against the counter—if the evidence for the prosecution is correct I should have expected to find more signs of violence—I found no mark on the body, and no mark under or round the ear, except where it is alleged she fell.
Re-examined. All the injuries and marks, except the one on the left thigh, might have been caused by her slipping down—she need not have slipped violently if she fell on her head against a kerb-stone.
mortem—I have heard the evidence of the last witness, and I agree with it entirely.
Cross-examined. I agree with his answers to your questions.
The prisoner received a good character.
The JURY added that they did not consider the amount of force used by the prisoner very serious, and that they thought the injury was occasioned through the prisoner trying to drag the woman back into the house.
Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of the attempt.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Four Years' Penal Servitude.
FREDERICK HILBERT . I am a pork butcher, at 331, Battersea Park Road—I have known the prisoner for about two years; he was a customer for a short time, about eighteen months ago—on July 22nd he owed me 19s. 6d.—on that day he came with a letter and this cheque, dated July 21st, upon the Union Bank, Chancery Lane—he said he had just received it from a firm of solicitors at 33, Chancery Lane—I read part of the letter in which the cheque was enclosed—he wanted me to take the 19s. 6d. he owed me out of the cheque, and give him the balance—I told him I could not do that, but I would pay the cheque through my bank, if he wished it, and give him the money at the end of the week—he said, "I wanted the money to go away next morning after a situation"—I said I could not do it, and he left—about a quarter of an hour afterwards he came back and said if I would let him have 5s. to go away with he would come back on Friday or Saturday—I thought the cheque was good, and gave him 5s.—I paid the cheque into the bank, and it came back marked, "No account, as drawn"—I was very busy at the time, but a little time after I tried to find him; I did not know where he lived—I went to the manager of my bank—the prisoner never came near me for the balance—I afterwards saw him outside, and asked him what he was going to do—a billiard-marker was speaking to him at that time about a cheque he had given to him in the same manner—the prisoner said if I would give him I till Saturday he would put it right—he did not come on the Saturday, but on the Sunday night he came—I said, "I am going to my solicitors to know what I shall do about it to-morrow; you give me some sort of acknowledgment to show them," and the prisoner wrote out this letter of acknowledgment: "79, New Watkin Street, August 30th, 1896, Private and Confidential,—! hereby acknowledge that I obtained 5s. in cash from you, and a promise to settle your account against me for 19s. 6d. by a worthless cheque. If you will kindly give me till Saturday, September 5th, I will repay you the amount due to you,
and also the amount due for goods supplied, 24s. 6d. I write this conditionally that you will in the meantime kindly withhold any proceedings in the matter."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I believe I gave you till Saturday—two days after I had been to the Magistrate you sent me a postal order for 5s., enclosed in this letter. (This stated that he sent the 5s., and was off to get the money for the goods supplied last year; that at present he could' not send more, but he sent it to show his good intentions.)
GEORGE BIRDSEYE HYDE . I was a clerk to Cobbold and Wooley, solicitors, of 33, Chancery Lane—there is no gentleman in that firm named A. E. Wooley—the signature to this cheque is nothing like that of Mr. Wooley, and the initials are wrong.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had no intention to defraud.
GUILTY .—Sergeant Cooper stated that the prisoner had been in a good situation up to three years ago; that he believed he had been trying to get work, and triat this and another cheque given to a billiard-marker were the only cases against him.— Discharged on Recognizances.
PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. PASMORE Prosecuted.
PEROY HASTINGS . I am caretaker at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, and live next door—on September 7th, about 10 p.m., I locked all up safe—I was alarmed during the night, went down, entered the building from the grounds, and found that a window had been forced, and several money-boxes broken open and the contents gone—any farthings which happened to be in the collection were put into a box in the vestry—it was the practice to empty the other boxes of all except farthings—about £10 worth of damage was done—those coins were found on Clark, whom I found under a seat in a recess—this is a Jersey double—the railings had been painted with red paint not long before.
Cross-examined by Hart. I did not see you in the building—I was there when the prosecutor came back—you could not get away over the rails very easily without my seeing you.
THOMAS TWIGG (Police Sergeant 31 L). On September 8th, just before three a.m., Hastings called me to the Tabernacle, and from what he said I placed a number of constables round the building, and then examined it, and found the doors had been forced, and the place was in great disorder—I went to the station, and saw Hart in custody, and called his attention to some red paint on his boots, and said, "That answers to the paint on the railings of the Tabernacle"—he said, "That is all right"—afterwards he said, "This is a great mistake. I was walking up the street with a woman when the man arrested me." I went back to the Tabernacle, and found Clark under a seat—on Hart was found fifty-eight farthings and some Jersey money, and on Clark 5s. 8 1/2d. and twenty-five farthings.
Cross-examined. You did not say that you had been out with your barrow and had taken that money—the paint was about two days old, and would not come of? on your hands, but you must have struck your boot against it and knocked some of it off; it is seven or eight feet high; I climbed up, but got none on my hands, but by a little force I got some on my boots.
FREDERICK OWEN (170 l). On September 8th, about 2.45 a.m., I was on off-duty in Newington Butts, heard a noise in the neighbourhood of the Tabernacle, and saw Hart get over a high wall; I ran round to Newington Butts just in time to see him get over, and as soon as he was on the footway he commenced to run, and ran about 200 yards—I never lost sight of him—I said, "What were you doing in that church?"—he said, "What church? I was speaking to that woman"—there was a woman asleep on some steps—I noticed paint on his boots, and the gate he got over was painted similarly.
Hart, in his defence, stated that he wet innocent, and did not know Clark.
HART— GUILTY .
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Lambeth on June 26th, 1895; and eight other convictions were proved against him.— Three Years' Penal Servitude Sentence on CLARK— Six Months' Hard Labour.
818. JAMES WILLIAM BOWLES PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully leaving England within four months of his bankruptcy, taking with him £276, which ought to have been divided among his creditors. He received a good character.— Discharged on, his own Recognizances, having been two months in custody.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. DODD Prosecuted.
CHARLES ALFRED SMITH . I am a french-polisher—on Saturday evening, September 6th, I was in the Brewers' Arms, Vauxhall Bridge Road—the prisoner was there when I went in at 5.50—I had seen him twice before; I saw him drunk two days before, when I was waiting to see my governor—he put his hand to his waistcoat pocket—I asked him what it meant; he said that some weeks previously I had touched his pocket in Vauxhall, which I had no knowledge of, and shoved him away—he went out for four or five minutes, and while I was talking to another man he came deliberately behind me, pulled my head back with his left hand, and drew a knife three times across my throat, and said, "I will cut your head off"—he struggled, and threw the knife—he said at the station that he was very sorry he did not cut my head right off—he was in liquor, and I was not exactly sober.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not meet you by the Elephant and Castle last spring and demand beer of you, and knock you down because you did not give it to me—I did not put my hands in my waistcoat pocket; you made a movement to your pocket, but you were drunk, or I should have demanded satisfaction—I do not stand at the Elephant and Castle intimidating people and demanding that they shall stand beer—I did not threaten to kick you a few days before—I have no shellac on my
hands—I pushed you down in the Two Brewers, but' the doctor could not see a black eye; you are too old a man for me to strike.
EDWARD BARDKEY . I am assistant gardener at Gray's Building, vauxhall—on September 6th I was in the Two Brewers, and saw the prisoner and the prosecutor; the prisoner put his hand on the prosecutor's forehead and drew a knife across his throat; I picked it up—I heard no high words between them.
CHARLES HENDERSON . I am a barman at the Two Brewers, Vauxhall—I saw Smith and the prisoner there on September 6th—I heard a noise and saw Smith strike the prisoner with his fist and knock him down into the next compartment, the door of which was ajar—I ordered them to clear out, and the prisoner went out, and Smith after him; I don't know what happened afterwards.
Cross-examined. I know Smith, but he does not use our house.
JOHN GIBBONS (274 l). On September 6th, about six o'clock, I was called to the Two Brewers, and saw Smith and the prisoner; they had both been drinking, but neither was drunk—the prisoner had not got a black eye—he said that he did it in a passion.
Cross-examined. You left the inspector the address of a foreman who had employed you, and he gave you a very good character.
The Prisoner. I wounded him in the heat of passion—I have no power in my left hand, because my left breast has been cut away.
EDWARD ERNEST WILLIAM ROE . I am acting divisional surgeon—on September 6th, about 6.80, I examined Smith at the station, and found an incised wound on the thyroid cartilage, and a second wound near it—it was in a dangerous locality, but not dangerous—I put two stitcher in it—I examined the prisoner; he had received a blow on one eye—he did not tell me anything about having a tumour.
The Prisoner's Statement, before the Magistrate: "This man is a deepdyed scoundrel, and a corner boy and a bully that will knock people about if they don't give way to him, and I want his character inquired into; mine will bear investigation. I have no use of one arm; I cannot fight with a boy. I have had a tumour taken out of my breast; and when a great bully like that attacked me I let my temper overcome me."
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY, believing he had had great provocation.
Two Days' Imprisonment.
MR. FOOKS Prosecuted.
BAILEY— GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
READ— NOT GUILTY .
[Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour . And
— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour each.
ADJOUENED TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 16TH, 1896.
The following Prisoners, upon whom the sentence of the Court was respited at the time of Trial, have since been sentenced as under:—
Page Vol. cxxiv. Sentence.