CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FOURTH SESSION, HELD FEBUARY 8TH, 1897.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ., Q.C.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, February 8th, 1897, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ALFRED WILLS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M.P., and Sir JOSEPH RENALS, Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , K.C.M.G., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., FRANK GREEN , Esq., Sir JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Knt., JOHN POUND , Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., WILLIAM CHARLES BELL , Esq., GEORGE WYATT TRUSCOTT , 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; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., Judge of the City of London Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
ROBERT HARGREAVES ROGERS, Esq.
WEBSTER GLYNES. Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
PHILLIPS, MAYOR. FOURTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, February 8th, 1897.
Before Mr. Recorder.
164. MINNIE PHEBY (21) PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Charlotte Bailey, and stealing a jacket and other articles; also to stealing a brooch, 7s. 6d., and other articles, of Sarah Phœbe and Emma Phœbe, and to a previous conviction of felony on February 14th, 1896.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
165. SAMUEL FREDERICK KIDD (32) and HENRY WILLIAM PHILLIPS KIDD (24) , to stealing postal orders, and Phillips to receiving and uttering the same. Mr. Holloway, an official of the Post Office, stated that Kidd had been in the Post Office for sixteen years, and that Phillips had been in the habit of receiving orders from Kidd, and cashing them at variant Post-offices to a large extent.
KIDD— Eighteen Months.
PHILLIPS— Nine Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. SOPER Prosecuted, and MR. LEYCESTER Defended.
JUSTLY WILLIAM AUDREY . I am a solicitor, living at Chippenham—I drew this cheque for £17 10s., payable to Mrs. Caroline Burnard, on December 29th, and enclosed it in a letter addressed to her at 134, Ivydale Road, Nunhead, London, S.E.—I posted the letter about two on December 29th at the Melksham Post-office—the cheque has since passed through my bank, and been paid—it purports to be endorsed by Caroline Burnard.
CAROLINE BURNARD . I am the wife of Edward Chichester Burnard, and live at 134, Ivydale Road, Nunhead—on December 30th I was expecting a letter from Mr. Audrey—I did not receive it—I was at home all that day—the endorsement on this cheque is not in my writing, nor made with my authority.
merchants, Bethnal Green—the prisoner is employed at the same place—on December 31st he came to me, between five and seven p.m., and handed me this cheque, and asked me to write on the back a name which he wrote on a piece of paper, "Caroline Burnar?"—I did so—he told me it was his wife's cheque.
Cross-examined. I think he has been at Warmington's about eight months—I knew him well as one of the men there—he brought the paper to my desk with the name already writte on it—I told the other girls about it—at the time it did not strike me as anything peculiar—when I heard there was something wrong about it I remembered signing it, and then I was able to say who it was.
Re-examined. When he first brought the cheque to me I asked him what name I was to write, and he went back to the counter and wrote the name on a slip of paper, and brought it to me—I did not see him write it—whether he wrote it or not at that time, I don't know.
THOMAS CHOPPING . I am assistant to my father, a furniture-dealer, at 64, Mare Street, Hackney—on December 31st, between 8.30 and nine, the prisoner came by himself and purchased a chest of drawers, a carpet, and a rug, which came to £4 15s.—he offered in payment this cheque, which was endorsed—he said his name was Burnard—I told hïm we would give him the difference when the cheque was paid—I paid it into my bank, and it was cleared in the ordinary way—I next saw the prisoner on Saturday, January 2nd, two days after—on that day we knew the cheque was paid, and we delivered the goods at 224, Cambridge Road—I sent the balance of money with the goods, but the prisoner was not in, and our man brought the money back—shortly after the prisoner came, and I gave him the difference.
Cross-examined. The first day he came was Thursday—I paid the cheque into my bank next morning.
Re-examined. I did not see the prisoner on Friday, January 1st.
WILLIAM AUGUSTUS PEARCE . I live at 224, Cambridge Road, Bethnal Green—on December 31st the prisoner called, and wanted to take two rooms, as he had found employment in the City as a general warehouse-man, and he wanted to bring his wife from the country to live there—I had two rooms to let—he told me his name was Burnard—I let him the rooms—on Saturday, January 2nd, some furniture was delivered there—I saw the prisoner that day, before and after the furniture was delivered—the first time he asked if the furniture had arrived—I said, "N?"—he said, "I will go and see about i?"—while he was away the furniture arrived—when he came back I told him it had arrived, and he said, "I will go out, and after a while come back and lay the carpe?"—when he came back the second time he said he did not require the rooms any longer; he had taken two more that were more convenient, and if I did not mind could he take the goods away—he paid me 6s. for the rooms—my suspicious were aroused—the goods were taken away by a man with a barrow, who was outside—I went to Mr. Chopping—I sent my son to follow the barrow.
from our house, 224, Cambridge Road—I followed the barrow to just over Queen's Road Bridge—there the furniture was taken from the barrow, and put into a wood-cart—I followed that cart to 89, Elcombe Road, Stoke Newington—it was taken in there by the prisoner—I saw the prisoner there, and the man who was with the cart.
Cross-examined. The bridge over which they went was not the nearest way; they went a round-about way—it was a foggy day.
Re-examined. I followed the barrow and cart all the way—I never lost sight of it.
THOMAS ELIAS TUTTON . I am a clerk in the Secretary's Office, General Post Office—I was investigating the loss of this letter from Melksham, containing the cheque for £17 10s.—on January 8th I saw the prisoner at Warmington's, where he was working—I said, "I am investigating the loss of a letter posted at Melksham on December 30th, addressed to Mrs. Burnard, of 134, Ivydale Road, Nunbead, containing a cheque for £17 10s."—I showed him the cheque, and said, "You negotiated it with Mr. Chopping, a furniture dealer, on December 31st; do you wish to tell me where you got it from?"—I cautioned him—he said, "I got it from a woman; I don't know where she got it from; I lived at 34, Ivydale Road, up to Boxing-da?"—I took him to the General Post Office—I there said, "Do you wish to give any further explanation?"—he then made this statement, which I took down in writing; the prisoner signed it: "I met the woman coming down in the train from New Cross to Shoreditch on December 31st, she commenced talking to me; she said she was a married woman, but she had had a row with her husband, and was not on good terms with him. She asked me where I was going; I said I was going to Shoreditch. She told me she had some trust money, and she wanted a gentleman to change it for her; she said it must be a gentleman, and asked me if I should have any time to do it for her, and she would give me something for my trouble. She asked me where she should see me, and I said, 'After I have done work.' She said she would go with me. We went together up the Hackney Road on a tram. She said, 'There is a house, 224, Cambridge Road, here, that has got two rooms to let; you might go and see what the rent is.' I went in, and made inquiries, and came out and told her. She then said, 'We will go down the road,' and took me; she asked me if I would go and buy a carpet and hearthrug and a chest of drawers. She then gave me the cheque, and said, 'If they ain't got any change they can send it on with the stuff.' I then went into the shop and bought the things, and when I came out she was waiting for me. When I told her I had got no change she said, 'Perhaps they'll send it to-morrow; I can't give you anything now, but I will see you to morrow.' I met her on Friday, at Bethnal Green Road, in the evening. We then went on the tram to the rooms, 224, Cambridge Road, to see if the things had come; but they had not. She said, 'We'll go to the furniture place again.' We went, and she told me to ask how it was they had not sent them. They said they would send them the next day. She said, 'Come and have something to drink,' and we went, and had a glass of beer. On Saturday she met me at three o'clock. We went up to the same place again. They had sent the furniture, but not the change, and she said, 'Go and ask them for it.' She then told me that she should not go and live in the rooms, as she had
some better ones. I went and got the change, and she said, 'Come on down here; we will go and have a drink.' I then gave her the change, and she gave me 30s. After that she said, 'If you like to fetch the furniniture, you can have it; I do not want it'; and I have never seen her since. I do not know where she lives; she told me her name was Burnard. She said, 'Tell them your name is Burnard. Don't give the particulars where you live, or anything?"—after that I called his attention to the endorsement—he said, "It is not my writin?"—I gave him into custody.
Cross-examined. He did not tell me who wrote it—I found that out afterwards—the statement he made was made quite freely and voluntarily, without questions from me—he volunteered the statement that he had lived in Ivydale Road, after I had told him the letter was sent to an address at that road—we have had no other loss on that delivery.
JAMES BLOXAM . I am a police constable attached to the General Post Office—I took the prisoner into custody on January 8th, and charged him; he made no reply—he was living at 79, Elcombe Road, Stoke Newington.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries about the prisoner—his employers give him a good character—he was for many years in the Royal Engineers; I have his Army papers, showing he left the Army in January, 1890, with a very good character, and other letters as to his good character—he has been employed in the provinces since January, 1890—I found these characters at his lodgings; I have no reason to suppose they are false; one or two of them are on paper bearing the headings of firms—my inquiries tend to show that the prisoner is a man of good character.
GUILTY .—Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his previous good character. MR. LEYCESTER stated that he understood Messrs. Warmington and Sons were willing to take prisoner back into their employ.— Judgment Respited
167. FREDERICK ANSON (29) and HENRY JOHNSON (50) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the warehouse of John Alfred Rufus, and stealing certain articles, a postal order for 10s., and the sum of £2 9s. 3d.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
168. JOHN MURPHY (25) and PATRICK HOOLIGAN (35), to stealing a horse, cart, and set of harness, the goods of Charles Lloyd ; Hooligan** also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in September, 1895, in the name of Thomas Norman. HOOLIGAN— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. MURPHY— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
169. FREDERICK SCHOFIELD (40) , to stealing sixty-three yards of cretonne, the goods of Sir Francis Cook and others; also** to a conviction of felony in February, 1892. The prisoner was sentenced to five years' penal servitude in February, 1892, and had still fifteen months of that sentence to serve.— One Month's Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
170. ROSE SPALDING (36) , to forging and uttering an endorsement on a cheque for £5, and to obtaining by false pretences £5 from John Robert Broughton, with intent to defraud.— Two Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]And
burglary, and an indictment against Kissing for assault, to which they Pleaded Not Guilty).— Six Months' Hard Labour each. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, February 8th, 1897.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
173. JOHN DONOVAN (44) , to stealing a barrow and three cases of Prayer-books, the goods of Alfred John George, having been convicted at Clerkenwell on March 3rd, 1890. He had been convicted thirteen times.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
JAMES WILLIAM JARVIS . I live next door to Mr. Wyatt, who has three shops combined—on January 17th I was at my back door, and saw the prisoner, whom I knew well, standing there; it was a moonlight night—when I looked again he had gone—there had been snow, and next morning I saw it beaten down at the back door of a shed—I spoke to Mr. Wyatt's manager.
EDWARD WALKER . I am manager to Mr. Wyatt, who keeps three shops, with one gateway to the three, which buttons—no one sleeps on the premises—I shut them up on January 17th at 11.15, with Miss White—the silver and gold had been sent away, and about 4s. left—several battered coins, which had been there about four weeks, were missed with the other coins—I went to the back gate, and found it had been battered in with a large post, and the door had been opened so as to allow a pen-knife to go in and push the lock down—these (produced) are similar coins—six farthings were left in the desk.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. A door-post had been removed, and used to force the door open, and was lying on some sacks outside—it was not there when I left on Saturday night.
JAMES RUSSELL (Detective X). On January 17th I went to Mr. Wyatt's stores at Kensey—there had been some snow, and there were footmarks—this shoe belongs to the prisoner; he has a club foot; I compared it with the footmarks in the field—I saw the prisoner at West Drayton, and said, "Have you got any money?"—he gave me 4s., and said that he had worked for the money, and had received it last week—there was a hole in the snow where a stick had gone; and he had a stick when I arrested him, which fits the hole—the coin is all here; it is all bronze.
HENRY BRONCOMBE (Police Inspector). I examined these premises on the afternoon of January 17th—an entrance had been effected by getting access to the back door, then to the oil shop—the wood work was forced
away, and the desk forced—I found footprints in the yard and the mark of a stick—I compared this boot with the marks, and it exactly corresponded—there was only one boot-mark, but there was a very slight impression of the right foot.
Prisoner's Defence: About 11.15 I was going over the canal bridge—I had 8d. in my pocket in the morning, and one man gave me 4d.; that made a shilling of it.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, February 9th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
177. WILLIAM HENRY NEWMAN (42) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering two endorsements on bills of exchange, with intent to defraud, and to a previous conviction in May, 1886.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
178. LLEWELLYN HARCOURT RIBTON TURNER (25) , to three indictments for feloniously forging and uttering bankers' cheques and orders for various sums of money, amounting to £95, with intent to defraud.— Judgment Respited.[Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
179. JOHN CHANTLER (29) , to feloniously forging and uttering acceptances to bills of exchange for £317 3s. 10d. and other sums, with intent to defraud; also to conspiring with others to obtain money, by means of forged acceptances, to the amount of about £10,000— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]And
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
ALFRED WILLIAM MARSHALL . I live at the Towers, at Pinner—my wife and I have a business in Mortimer Street—a woman named Bridget Gilhooly was in our service as cook for some time—the prisoner was also in our service, as a porter and odd man in the business in 1885—recently he has been, I believe, manager of a public-house in Farringdon Street—I have not seen him there—in our house at Pinner we had a quantity of linen and other articles—on January 11th Bridget Gilhooly went for a holiday—she did not come back that night—next day, in consequence of inquiries, I sent for the police, and they were at the house when Gilhooly returned—after some time her boxes were searched, and in them were found some fifty articles, which I recognised, which should not have been in her possession, linen, and other things—I gave her into custody, and she was taken away by the police—in her box was found a letter—on January 13th I went to the Sportsman public-house in Great Saffron Hill, where the prisoner was employed—I had sworn an information for a search warrant—a police inspector and two officers went with me and my wife, and the house was searched, and three table-covers, six linen tablecloths, two pillow slips, and two pairs of cuffs, these were found in various parts of the premises—I identified them as my property—they were of the value of £5—some of the articles had my mark on them—these two pillows were on the bed, which I presume was the bed slept in by the prisoner—the mark on them has been cut out—this pillow slip has also had the name
cut out—I recognise these two table-covers—one of them is quite new—it is a special size, and had been specially ordered—the mark on the tape has been removed—after waiting some time the prisoner came home—after the search I remained with the officer—when the prisoner came in he asked Mrs. Marshall, "Have you lost any thing?"—she said, "Yes, a great many, Patrick?"—the officer asked him to open a cupboard which was in the corner of the room—he produced the key; the cupboard was undone; the officers began searching it—the prisoner walked up and down the room, passing jeering remarks, such as "This is lovely"—I think he was sober—he said, "Let Mr. Marshall look in there himself; don't push the things about; he won't find anything there"—then Mr. Weller put these things on the table in a brown paper parcel, and said, "What about these things?" and when the prisoner saw them he said, "I am don?"—the initials on it are our family initials—the officer told him he would be charged with stealing them—he said, "I am a ruined ma?"—he asked the boy in the bar for brandy, which he had, and he offered the officers something to drink, which they did not have; he was taken away—he was afterwards before the Justices with Gilhooly, and he was committed for trial.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was in our service something under two years—he left with a good character in December, 1885—he then went to the Aquarium, and then into the London police—this is the first time that any accusation has been made against him—Mrs. Marshall and I went to the Sportsman about half-past seven; we waited outside about half an hour with Inspector Weller, and two other officers—we went inside about eight, and remained there till one, when the prisoner came in—besides the prisoner, I saw Mary Gilhooly in the house—she is the sister of Bridget Gilhooly—Mary is the licensee of the house—the boy was employed there as potman or barman—there was no barmaid—they were in the house when we got there—Miss Gilhooly was serving behind the bar—before the prisoner came in, I and the officers had gone into every room in the house and searched, and the linen in question was produced—there was a room upstairs which we had not seen, because the prisoner had the key—I have no recollection who opened that door—these cuffs were among the linen produced; I don't think they have been washed—they have ragged edges; it is not a clean cut—I had a solicitor at the Court before the Magistrate—I did not mention to the Magistrate that the prisoner said, "I am done"; I was not asked the question; I told it to my solicitor—I know now that the prisoner lived at Kensal Rise, and that he holds an occasional spirit licence there—I thought he was fully licensed for athletic sports—I know that my wife has been in the habit of giving away old articles of clothing.
Re-examined. These cuffs are new—the pillow slips were marked in a particular place, where the tears are now.
AGNES BERTHA MARSHALL . I am the wife of the last witness, living at Pinner—I recognise the articles produced; they are our property—I never give away household linen—I keep a school of cookery in Mortimer Street, and for that purpose use old linen.
and went, with Mr. and Mrs. Marshall and two officers, to the Sportsman public-house, on Saffron Hill—I made a search of the house, and found the articles produced in the front parlour downstairs; the three table-cloths were in the wash house; the three table-covers were in a bedroom upstairs, where the prisoner sleeps—the pillow slips were on the bed, and the collars were in the same room—Mr. Marshall said they were his property—with the exception of these articles there was no other linen in the house—we waited in the house till the prisoner came home, about one in the morning—I told him we were police officers, and said, "Have you received any property from Mrs. Gilhooly at the Towers, Pinner?"—he said, "No?"—I said, "We have a search warrant, and have searched your hous?"—at the same time I picked up these articles, and put them on the table, and said, "These things have been found, and identified by Mr. Marshall, and you will be charged with receiving them, knowing them to be stolen?"—as I showed him some of the articles he said, "I am a ruined man; this takes the cak?"—I made a note of what he said the same day—I think that was all he said.
Cross-examined. I got an address, "Victor Road, Kensal Ris?"—it was occupied by the prisoner—after he was in custody, I went there and searched the house—I found no stolen articles there—I saw his two children there; his wife was out; there was another woman in the house—I believe his wife and children live there; that is some miles from Saffron Hill—I have not made inquiries about the prisoner—he is known—nothing is known against him—he was once in the police, and afterwards held situations in public-houses—he was in the habit of applying to the Magistrate for an occasional licence—of course, a man who holds a licence must be of good character.
Re-examined. When we first went into the Sportsman a young woman and a boy were there; they did not leave the house while I was there—no message was sent to the prisoner while I was there—he came in with a latch-key; we heard him open the door; I did not see anyone with him—he came there to stay till the morning.
MRS. MARSHALL (Re-called). When the prisoner came in he looked and seemed very astonished to see us there—when Inspector Weller said he was a detective, and held a search warrant, he walked up and down the room, and, looking at the things, said, "This is lovely; this takes the cake;" and so on—when the linen was placed on the table, he said, "Oh, I am done?"—I believe that was the phrase—he afterwards said he was a ruined man.
Cross-examined. I did not go with my husband to Mr. Box, the solicitor, to have my proof taken—I did not make a note of the conversation.
Re-examined. I told Mr. Marshall that I remembered what the prisoner said.
INSPECTOR WELLER (Re-examined). I have my note, and have read it through—what the prisoner said was, "I am a ruined ma?"—I do not remember his saying anything else—there were two more bedrooms upstairs; there was not much clothing in them—there was a little bed in one of them; one of the rooms was occupied by the barman, and the other by Miss Gilhooly—the other was a bedroom apparently occupied by someone.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, February 9th, 1897.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
182. CHARLES PLOWDEN (22) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Mary Sophia Cheesman, his wife being alive; also to feloniously obtaining £20 by means of a forged order.— Three Years' Penal Servitude on the Bigamy Indictment.
184. HENRY JOHN LILLEY (37) , to feloniously marrying Clara Margaret Pudney, his wife being alive.— He received a good character.— Three Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NOT GUILTY .
The JURY, being unable to agree, were discharged, and the cate post-poned to next Session.
187. JOHN WILLIAMS PLEADED GUILTY to stealing five bottles of scent, the goods of John William Weeks, and to a conviction at Newington, on January 19th, 1875, and six other convictions were proved against him.
Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, February 10th, 1897.
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS, BIRON and SOPER Prosecuted; and MESSRS. RAWLINSON and GUY STEPHENSON Defended.
HANNAH HOLLAND . I am getting on for eleven years old—I live with my parents at 5, Clifton Place—I knew Ellen Collins—I saw her on Boxing night, between seven and eight, in Primrose Street; she was by herself; she came up and spoke to me, and while doing so the prisoner came up; I went away, and left them together.
ELIZABETH FOLEY . I am single, and live at 8, Corbet Court, Hanbury Street—on Boxing night I was at the Phoenix beer-shop in Brick Lane, from about half-past two till uine—I saw Ellen Collms there about five first, and again between seven and eight; I then saw the prisoner with her; I next saw her lying on the ground outside, with the prisoner and a lot of people round—I heard no quarrel.
Cross-examined. I saw her go round from one compartment to the other; there was a great crowd round her when I saw her on the ground—Mr. Collinson, the landlord, was there; he was quite sober.
SAMUEL SAUL . I live at 77, Brick Lane, next door to the Phrenix—about eight o'clock on Boxing night I was standing on my doorstep, and I saw two men, outside the Phoenix, trying to pick up a woman—a crowd collected, and she was taken away on an ambulance—I know George
Collinson, the landlord of the Phoenix—I did not tell him that, as the woman was walking along, she fell—I first saw her as the men were picking her up—I have not seen the two men since, except at Worship Street—the prisoner was one of them—I saw him sitting in the dock, and recognised him—I did not recognise shim at first.
ROBERT PLATTEN (245 H). On December 26th, about 8.20, I was on duty in Brick Lane, and saw a woman lying on the footway—she appeared to me to be drunk—I cleared away the crowd, and sent to the station for a police ambulance—I conveyed her to the station—I saw the prisoner amongst the crowd—he was apparently drunk—at the station the woman gave her name and address.
JOHN MACARTHY (Police Sergeant, 30 H). On December 26th I was on duty in Brick Lane about 8.25—I found the woman lying unconscious outside the house, and there was a crowd of fifty to sixty people there—I noticed spots of blood on the woman's outer garments; I examined her face closely, and found no marks; so I thought she had had a row with someone; the ambulance was sent for—the prisoner came forward out of the crowd and said, "She is my wife?"—I said, "If she is, why don't you look after her? see the state she is in?"—he said, "She has not been with me all day; she has been with other fellows?"—he was very drunk, and incapable of looking after her—he was taken away by somebody in the crowd, and the woman was taken on the ambulance to the station.
Cross-examined. The last witness was quite close to me at the time, and I should think could hear what was said.
GEORGE NOTT (Inspectw H). About 8.30 on Boxing-day, the deceased was brought to the station; she had a slight cut on her left wrist—I sent for Dr. Philips; he came and examined her—she was placed in a cell, and about 9.20 my attention was called to the cell, and I found her unconscious, and I sent for Dr. Philips again.
Cross-examined. She gave her name and address when I first saw her at the station; I said to her, "How did you get that cut on the wrist?"—she said, "I done it myself?"—the doctor and the matron saw her after that.
ELLEN ANDREWS . I am matron at Commercial Street Police Station—on December 26th, about twenty-five minutes to nine, Ellen Collins was brought to the station, and placed in my care; she was very drunk—I searched her, but did not find anything upon her.
Cross-examined. I had a conversation with her; she said she had not had a fall or a fight—I saw her before the doctor did—she had a wound on the wrist, and another on the chest; I was looking for that wound on seeing the blood; I took off her clothes to see where the blood came from—there was a quantity of blood on her chemise; I could see a wound underneath—I asked her how the wound was caused, and she said, "I did it myself."
Re-examined. The wound on the wrist was probably caused by putting up her hand to avoid the blow; it was when I was finding the other wound she said, "I did it mysel?"—the wound on the wrist was a mere scratch, only skin-deep—it was when I found the wound in the chest I said, "Where did you get this?" and she said, "I did it myself."
called to the Police-station, and saw the deceased there; she was in a semi conscious state, on a stretcher, and the matron was attending to her—I examined her carefully; I was with her about a quarter of an hour—I found that she was wounded at the back of the wrist, about an inch long; it merely divided the skin, nothing more—I then saw the wound in the chest, between the second and third rib—she was certainly under the influence of drink—I failed at that time to see whether it went in the direction of the heart, and I left her, and went into the officer's room—I saw her again about three minutes after—I thought her better—she seemed to have rallied a little, and I consented to her being put into a cell, and I left—I was called to see her again in about half an hour—she was then dead—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination, and then discovered the nature of that wound—it took a downward direction, and then a lateral direction, and ended in a wound in the left ventricle of the heart—the heart was full of blood, and the wound was fatal—that wound must have been caused by some sharp, narrow instrument, such as the keen, narrow blade of a pocket-knife—the penetration of the heart was less than one-third of an inch—the external wound was about half an inch; that would be about the width of a pocket-knife—if she was in an erect position at the time, it would be between two and three inches from the outside to the ventricle—at the post-mortem I noticed that the stomach contained alcohol, and there was a small quantity of solid food partly digested.
Cross-examined. The wound on the wrist merely divided the skin—the matron was with the deceased when I first saw her; at the end of my visit she was more conscious than at first—when I saw the second wound, I said, "How do you account for this??"—she said, "I did it myself; I was very drunk?"—it is perfectly possible that both wounds might have been self-inflicted; it would all depend on how she held the knife, if she did hold it—I said before the Coroner that there were no signs of a recent struggle—I don't think I saw the prisoner—I have a recollection of having seen a woman about five years ago, who was brought to my house one Sunday afternoon, who had attempted her life—I can't say it was the deceased; my impression is, that it was some other woman; but I cannot tell, and I cannot say how I disposed of that case.
Re-examined. The wound that caused death in this case was from left to right, and downward for about an inch, and then glanced off to the right—when I first saw it I had a very strong suspicion that it was self-inflicted; it was very similar to what I had seen in similar cases—after one p.m. I was of opinion that it was more likely to have been in-flicted by somebody else; that was the balance of my mind, and that the wound on the wrist was in attempting to avoid it, as an instinctive act.
MARY MAYER . I live at 5, Clifton Place, Finsbury, and am a widow—the deceased, Ellen Collins, was my daughter, and was married to the prisoner—they had not lived together for the last eighteen months; she had been with me—I last saw her on Boxing-day, about 3.30 p.m., when she left my house with Mrs. Wheatley—about 11.15 that night I went to the Gun public-house, and saw the prisoner there, standing at the side of the bar—I said, "There you are, Johnnie!?"—he said, "Yes; will you have something to drink?"—I said, "No, thank yo?"—the prisoner
followed me into another compartment, where my daughter, Mrs. Wheatley, was—she said, "Mother, Ellen's locked up?"—I said, "How came she to be locked up?"—the prisoner said, "I have done i?"—I said, "What for?"—he said, "For being drunk and disorderl?"—my son-in-law, who was there, stepped up and said, "You must be something of a man to have your wife locked up?"—I said, "We will go and get bai?"—the prisoner said, "Do you know, I have flattened her out with this?"—I did not see what he had in his hand, but the others saw it—he said, "All the money in the world could not get bail for her," and he went out, and I didn't see him again till the next morning—at half-past three I saw the deceased at the mortuary.
Cross-examined. I never knew one of my children attempt to commit suicide—I was told of it some time ago—I put my mark to what I said before the Magistrate—my daughter was not with ine at that time; she was with her husband—I heard it said, the other day, in the Court, but I could not say such a thing, because I did not think she was guilty of it—I was very confused there—I was asked before the Coroner if she had been in the hospital, and I said, "Many a time?"—on the day in question I worked up to half-past three I left home about six, and went to the clearing-house to look for my daughter, and there I remained; I did not know of her death then; I knew by his talk that he knew that his wife had been taken to the station—he did not mention any injury—he said, "All the money in the world could not bail her ou?"—I said before the Coroner that I did not believe he would do this.
MARY ANN WHEATLET . I live at 6, Clifton Place, Finsbury; my husband is an engineer's labourer—on Boxing night, about eleven o'clock, I went into the Gun public-house; I saw the prisoner there—Mrs. Meyer came in afterwards, and Mr. and Mrs. Medling—Mrs. Newman said to Mrs. Medling, "Your sister is locked u?"—Mrs. Medling asked the prisoner if it was true; he said it was true—she asked, "What is she locked up for?"—he said, "For being drunk and disorderl?"—the deceased's mother came in, and they told her what had been said—Mr. Med-ling said, "I will soon get someone to bail her ou?"—the prisoner said, "All the moneyin the world could not bail her ou?"—Medling said, "Why not?"—the prisoner said, "I have done for her?"—I said, "You had not much to do it with," thinking he meant money—the prisoner said, "I have done it with this," showing us a knife; I could not swear to the knife; I saw the blade, but not the handle; I think it was a pocketknife.
Cross-examined. This occurred on Saturday night—on Sunday morning an inspector came with another gentleman; I told him that I was so drunk that I could not remember anything that occurred last night—that was true; I gave my evidence after I had a conversation with Mrs. Medling—I don't know what time I got home on Saturday night—I made a statement to Inspector White—I told him what I had seen—the Medlings live next door to me, and I was in there all day.
MARGARET MEDLING . I am the wife of Thomas Medling, a carman, of 13, Morgan Street, Commercial Road—on December 26th, about eleven p.m., I was in the Gun public-house; I saw the prisoner there, and Mrs. Newman said, "Have you heard that your sister Mary is locked up?"—I said, "No; what for?"—the prisoner said, "I locked her up for being drunk and disorderly?"—Mrs. Wheatley said, "You are only larking?"—he
said, "No; I am not larking; I have done it; I have flattened her ou?"—he said no more; her husband then took him, and had an argument with him—I saw a knife in the prisoner's hand; it was a pocket-knife; I could not see the handle, but I saw the flash of the blade.
Cross-examined. I could not give any description of the knife—I had been with my sister that evening, and felt a little confused—we stopped with my mother all Christmas time—Mrs. Wheatley lives next door, and we were in and out theie.
THOMAS MEDLING . I am the husband of the last witness; I was in the Gun public house on Boxing night—I said to the prisoner, "What did you lock your wife up for?"—he said, "For being drunk and disorderly?"—I said, "We can get bai?"—he said, "No; all the money in the world woull not bail her out; I have flattened her up," showing the knife in his hand; "that is what I have done it with?"—it was a kind of pocket-knife—I then went with Collins, the potman, to the station, and saw the inspector.
Cross-examined. At Christmas time we were staying with Mrs. Meyer, the deceased's mother, next door to Mrs. Wheatley—we were all there—I asked the prisoner what he had locked Nell up for, and he said, "For being drunk and disorderly?"—I have not learnt the story by heart—I said the same words before the Coroner—I have not talked the matter over with others—I was not drunk—I had, perhaps, two glasses of ale—the others had more than I had.
Re-examined. I had just come from work; I had not been with the party.
WILLIAM COLLINS . I am potman at Clifton Place—on the night of December 26th I was called to the Gun public-house about half-past eleven—I saw the prisoner at the bar—I said to him, "Jack, what is Nell locked up for?"—he said, "I locked her up?"—I said, "Can't I get bail for her?"—he said, "No; you can't get no bail; all the money in the world can't get her out; I have flattened her up?"—I saw this knife in his hand.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that I did not believe, he would do such a thing—I married Mrs. Wheatley's a sister; I have worked, at my place fifteen years.
HANNAH NEAL . I am the wife of Tom Neal, of 16, Artillery Lane, Bishopsgate—I was in the Gun public-house on Boxing-day—I saw Mrs. Medling crying—I asked her what she was crying for—she said Collins had locked her sister up—the prisoner was present, and could hear—she said he had stabbed her—I said, "Did you do that, Johnnie?"—the prisoner said, "Yes," but he was very drunk, or something to that effect—he had something in his hand—I was sober—I had not been out of my houpe ten minutes; I went to look for them, and found them quarrelling—there was a disturbance going on.
Cross-examined. I have been ill for three weeks—I have been at work for a couple of weeks; the rest of the time I have been at home from pains in my head—I can remember just as well now as before my illness—Mrs. Mayer, Mrs. Medling, Mrs. Wheatley and Collins were present—Mrs. Medling came in afterwards—the prisoner's brother, William Collins, went home—I said before the Magistrate, "I only know what they said?"—I saw the seven witnesses making statements on the Sunday evening at
Mrs. Mayer's house to Inspector White—I had heard of the death on the Sunday morning—when I came into the house the little girl, Holland, was telling White something—I was there from a little after seven till 9.30—I live quite close to the Gun—I went out for errands, to get a pot of salmon, and met Mrs. Wheatley, who had just shortened her baby, and who followed me into the Gun.
LEWIS MYERS . I am a hawker, of 34, Gun Street, Spitalfields, a lodg-ing-house—I know the prisoner by sight—I saw him on Boxing night, between ten and eleven, in the kitchen of the lodging-house, very drunk—he said he had "done" or "done it"; I do not remember which—he had a pocket-knife in his hand.
Cross-examined. I said before the Coroner that when I saw the knife it was twenty minutes after the prisoner said, "Done it"—I could not see what he was doing with the knife—he might have been cutting tobacco, or something—I kept out of his way—he is a quiet man—I made my statement to Inspector White when he came to me early in the morning; I do not know the date.
STEPHEN WHITE (Inspector H). On December 28th I saw the prisoner at Commercial Street Police Station, about seven p.m.—he was the worse for drink—between eleven and twelve p.m. I told him be would be charged with murdering his wife, Ellen Collins, by stabbing her in the breast with some sharp instrument at Brick Lane—he said, "N?"—I was present at the inquest—at the adjourned inquest, on January 7th, the prisoner was present in custody—he was invited to give evidence—he said he was advised by his solicitor not to give evidence,
Cross-examined. Mr. Kebbell appeared for the prisoner at the inquest, and intervened, saying that, on his advice, the prisoner did not give evidence—the prisoner was brought to the station by two private persons—the police did not arrest him—it was known that we wanted him—we did not charge him at first, because he was not in a fit state—I have had charge of the case, and took the witnesses' statements—I was commissioned by the Governor of the gaol to warn the witnesses to attend here—I cannot account for the prisoner's witnesses not all being here this morning, while those for the prosecution were here—they were warned to be here the first day of the Session—the prisoner had a solicitor—the witnesses for the prosecution were bound over—they were before the Grand Jury on Monday—if Mr. Kebbell had asked me to have subpanaed his vntne-ses, I could have done so—I believe he was here yesterday and on Monday—I have been in the force twentytwo years—the prisoner's solicitor being here had nothing to do with my not warning his five witnesses to attend.
Re-examined I saw Mr. Kebbell yesterday; I will not be certain about Monday—I did not see the prisoner's witnesses.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, February 10th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RICHARDS Prosecuted, and MR. LYNCH Defended.
EDITH LONG . I am single, and live at 68, Messina Avenue, West Hampstead—on November 25th I went to the post-office in Kilburn High Road, for an order, for 20s. and one for 10s.—it is a grocer's shop—I took the numbers, G/99 899160, the 20s.; and L/78 387669 the 10s.—these are they—I enclosed them in a letter which I had ready, and sent them to Mr. Lunn, 117, Bellinger Road, and posted them in a box in the shop window.
Cross-examined. I had been there several times before—I don't think the prisoner sold them to me—I was there between three and five; I cannot fix it any closer.
Cross-examined. Mr. Burcham sometimes assists in the post-office; Mr. Williams does not, he knows nothing about it; and Mr. Riston—the prisoner was the clerk in charge, and was assisted by myself and two others occasionally—our busiest time is between eleven and two—I released the prisoner for his meals from twelve to one, and at 5.30 for tea, which he got outside—if anyone brought an order during his absence I should cash it, and put it on the slip—the key of the outside box hangs up inside the office and whoever wanted then to go to the box would get the key, and unlock it—the letter-box is outside, and it is the postman's duty to empty it as he does the pillar boxes, and take them away—there was a special order this week to keep an account of the number of letters posted—the box is opened outside or inside—I have seen it opened from the inside—as far as I know, none of the assistants assisted in counting the letters that week—I do not remember whether I assisted in the counting that week—it was the duty of whoever counted them to initial the number—there was a collection at 4.30—I cannot tell who made it—he always emptied the box before he went to his tea; it was his duty to do it, and that is why I say he did it—as far as I know, on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nobody cleared the box but the prisoner; I never clear it, and I can't remember ever assisting in the counting—when the box was closed it was somebody's duty to attend to the collection—I received orders from my master to count, up to one o'clock, but not afterwards—I initialled these orders—I never issued a stamped order to the next person who came—Mr. Pearce is a very busy man; he is not there often—I remember the prisoner finding a 4s. order which someone had found by mistake after he had written it—a post-office order has never been found in the box, stamped and signed by me—the postman has never brought me one.
Re-examined. The figures in these collections are the prisoner's writing—if other persons counted them they would be signed by the prisoner—whoever counted them wrote the figures on the sheet—if an order came back to me because the person had not enough to pay for it, and handed it back, I should cancel it and stamp it, whereas an ordinary order would be stamped at once.
ALICE HOLLIS . I am the wife of Albert Hollis, of 102, Priory Park Kilburn—on November 25, between six and seven, I went to the post-dffice in the High Road, and asked the prisoner for a 15s. postal order—he said that he had not got one, he would give me a 10s. and a 5s. one—I said, "Very well," and took the numbers before I took them away; the 5s. one was 318274.
Cross-examined. I was never in that post-office before; I was there about five minutes; the post office is at the end of the shop—I am certain it was the prisoner.
A. PEARCE (Re-examined). I know the prisoner's writing—this order is signed by him.
JOHN COX (Police Inspector). On November 25th, about five p.m., I went to the Kilburn Post-office, and asked for a postal order for 5s., which was given me—I did not take the number; I do not know who served me I noticed that it was not signed or stamped in my presence—I posted it there and a book addressed to the London and Westminster Discount Company, 63, St. Martin's Lane—I have an account there—Pearce is not the young man who served me; I had seen him previously.
Cross-examined. He has served me—I do not know Risbrook so well as I do the prisoner and the master.
GEORGE ERNEST COX . I am ledger clerk at the London and Westminster Discount Company, St. Martin's Lane—this order for 20s. came from our customer, James Cox, a police inspector—these figures, 16554, are mine—that is the number of Mr. Cox's book; I put them on the order myself.
Cross-examined. Our accounts are numbered by thousands; it is a discount office—the prisoner has no account there—we are charging Cox 60 percent.—we receive hundreds of postal orders a day.
ARTHUR JOHN BELSHAM . I am sub-postmaster, of 202, Kilburn Road, and am a grocer in a large way of business—the prisoner was in my employ from October 1st to December 1st as post-office clerk—not sent to me by the chief—Pearce and I also interfered in the post-office business—during the week ending November 28th I had instructions to have the letters counted previous to each collection—it was the prisoner's duty to collect the letters out of the box that week—he had the key; I believe he wrote for it, and it was delivered by post—I know he had it—a note was made of all letters posted and collected during the week—this (produced) is the sheet for the week; it is a duplicate entry in the prisoner's writing—the key of the box was in his charge during that week; he carried it in his pocket, as far as I know—on November 24th, I had by my stock-book thirty 15s. orders at the close of business, and thirty also at the close of business on the 25th; so that none were sold that day.
Cross-examined. On the evening of the 25th, the column of 15s. orders was perfectly blank, because none were issued—I only took the number of the last one; how I got the number is because we had got to the end of
that series—Pearce acted as telegraphist; I instructed the prisoner to write for the outside key, and he got it, and the other key was in his charge—I do not leave the business; I have a manager in all the shops—if I am not there in the evening, Pearce would release Whittaker, but he had not the instructions to do so—Risbrook is not in the service now; he was, and so was Nougans; I discharged them three weeks ago last Saturday, after a week's notice—it was not the prisoner's duty to keep the slips during the counting week—I cannot produce the slips for the six days; I have none of them in Court—I have received no notice to produce them. (They were sent for.) I have never assisted in counting the letters, nor do I think I have ever cleared the box; I did not do so that week, so far as T know; I may have done so while the prisoner was absent at his dinner, but he would sign the slip—as he goes to his dinner there is a collection, and when he goes he could call on Pearce to assist him at any time and in any way—I do not know that Pearce assisted him during the week—I said at Bow Street, "If I was asked for a post-office order, and there was one ready stamped, I should issue i?"—I assume, because he had signed the letterslip, that he had done it—these orders were kept in a bovril-box, with no division in it—I frequently looked into that drawer, but the postal orders were divided, and you can turn over the bunch; each price is kept separate by a band—I have not seen orders put in a drawer and cancelled—if you come in for £1 order it should be cancelled by the customer immediately—on the day he left, a 10s. savings bank-book was found, I believe, among some letters—the prisoner did not find it; he found a post-office order in the shop on the 26th, and communicated with the head office, and asked for instruc-tions—when he left I had my house accounts gone through by an officer of the Post Office, and they were found correct—when he left he called on me, and gave me his London and his country addresses.
By the COURT. I said before the Magistrate that there would be no objection to re-issuing a postal order—I don't think I ever cancelled one in my life—the prisoner had been engaged in post-office work, but only a fortnight with me—I had good references with him.
Cross-examined. I remember the counting week—I have never seen anybody assisting the prisoner—I have seen Mr. Belsham clear the box, and issue postal orders—if the prisoner went away, attending to the customers, he was always back to empty the box, or it was emptied before he went out—there was a collection at four, and another at five—I have seen the prisoner clear the box—I never issued a post-office order that week, but I have in other weeks—there is no other gentleman in the office; Mr. Williams is the butter-man; he assisted when we were busy—Pearce is a regular assistant; he attends to the telegraph—I was only called in in times of great pressure
A. PEARCE (Re-examined). In the week we are inquiring into the prisoner had the key, and it was hung up in the office.
January 13th I saw the prisoner at Bishop's Castle, in Shropshire, and wrote down what passed—I said, "I am Mr. Drummond, of the General Post Office, and I must caution you that what you say in answer to my questions may subsequently be used against you. On November 25th last, when you were employed at the Post-office at 222, Kilburn High Road, a Mrs. Long, of 63, Messina Avenue, West Hampstead, purchased a postal order for 20s., No. O/99 899160, and one for 10s., No. L/78 387669; she enclosed them in a letter addressed to Mr. Lunn, 117, Dulwich Road, S.E., and posted it in the letter-box at the office at the time she purchased the order, between three and five p.m., but the letter was never delivered: Mrs. Long kept a record of the numbers of the orders, and the 20s. order has been traced to Mr. Cox, 41, Douglas Road, Kilburn, who states that he purchased it between seven and eight p.m. on November 25th, at the 222, Kilburn High Road office; the 15s. order has been traced to Mrs. Hollis, of 102, Pring Park Road, N.W., who states that she purchased it between five and six p.m. on November 25th at the same office; Mrs. Hollis asked for a 15s. order, but was told by the clerk who served her that he was out of them, and he gave her a 10s. and a 5s. order; Mrs. Hollis kept the numbers of both orders, and the 15s. order is that issued to Mrs. Long earlier in the day, and the 5s. order is signed by you as the issuing officer, proving that you issued both orders to Mrs. Hollis, where did you obtain the 10s. order?" the prisoner replied, "I know nothing about it; I got it, I suppose, from the box containing the postal orders?"—I then showed him the postal order produced for 5s., No. J/87 318274, and said, "Did you issue this order?"—he said, "Yes, I issued it; it bears my signature?"—I said, "Then, you must have issued the 10s. order, which was enclosed in a letter and posted by Mrs. Long some time previousl?"—he replied, "I did not obtain it from a lette?"—I said, "During the week ending November 18th, all letters posted at the office, 222, Kilburn High Road, were counted; it was your duty to specially collect all letters posted there, count and classify them, and hand them over to the collecting postman when he arrived; you did so on November 25th, and, therefore, the letter posted by Mrs. Long containing the two postal orders passed through your hands, and you only in the office would have access to it, one of the postal orders was subsequently re-issued by you; did you obtain it from the letter?"—he replied, "I know nothing about it; I did not invariably collect the letters that week; Mr. Belsham may have done so on the occasion that Mrs. Long posted her letter?"—Mr. Belsham is the post-master—I said, "Why did you not supply Mrs. Hollis with a 15s. postal order when she asked for it, instead of a 10s. and a 5s. order?" he said, "I cannot remember; I suppose I was out of 15s. orders?"—I took him to London, and gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. I did not obtain information myself from Mrs. Hollis—she first said between seven and eight, and then between six and seven—orders have not been given at any post-office to stop the issuing of orders which have been stamped—Mr. Belsham told me that the prisoner gave his country address on applying for his wages—he returned a 4s. order which had been found in the shop.
Re-examined. That has never been applied for; it was dated the same day.
GUILTY .—Recommended to Mercy by the JURY.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
191. WILLIAM BERGER (39) PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling the sums of £26 16s. 6d., and within six months £11, and within six months £19, of Julius Bernstein, his employer; also to forging and uttering an endorsement on a cheque for £33, of his said master.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
193. WILLIAM COLLINS (55) , to conspiring with the said William Berger to cheat and defraud their said employer. He received a good character.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
The prisoner stated that he was guilty of unlawfully wounding, upon which the JURY found that verdict .— Three Years Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, February 10th,
11th and 12th, 1897.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
196. JAMES HERBERT FARMER, JULIUS JACOBS , and MORRIS BERLYN JACOBS, Unlawfully publishing a defamatory libel upon Marcus Bebro, with intent to extort money from him. Other Counts—For threatening to publish certain libels upon Marcus Bebro, and proposing to abstain from printing and publishing certain matters and things concerning him, with intent to extort money.
MR. C. F. GILL and MR. ABINGER Prosecuted; MR. COCK, Q.C., and MR. BODKIN appeared for Farmer, MR. CHARLES MATHEWS for Julius Jacobs, and MR. HORACE AVORY for Morris Berlyn Jacobs.
The registers of two newspapers, the "Weekly Who's Who," in May. 1895, by Morris Berlyn Jacobs, and the "Financial Who's Who," on July 11th, 1896, by Jehiel Jacobs, were put in.
CHARLES ROWLAND BROWN . I am a printer, at 40, Sun Street—I printed the Weekly Who's Who and the Financial Who's Who—the account in my books is headed "Jacobs," with no initials—I was paid by cheque, Albert Jacobs' cheque, I believe—I printed 5,000 copies a week, and sent them to the Protection Agency Office, 76, Finsbury Pavement—I knew Morris Berlyn Jncobs previously as interested in company matters—I very rarely saw him—I knew he was in the office of the Investors' Protection Agency, with his father—I cannot tell you what his connection with the Agency was, or who the manager was—I printed the papers from 1895—I have printed the letter-heads of the Investors' Protection Agency; the manager is described on them as Morris Berlyn Jacobs.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWS. I first printed the Who's Who on
May 29th, 1895, and the successor of the first one began in May, 1896, I think, and was published down to November—I always understood that Julius Jacobs, the father, was the person interested in, and responsible for, the publication. (MR. MATHEWS here stated that Julius Jacobs desired to take upon himself the full responsibility for the paper.)
Cross-eramined by MR. AVORY. I began printing the Weekly Who's Who in May, 1893—I have no name to it in my books; I have merely put "5,000 eight page pape?"—that paper only lasted a few weeks—between June, 1895, and May, 1896, when I began printing the Financial Who's Who, neither paper was in existence; there was an interval of about eleven months—I never looked to M. B. Jacobs as the person responsible for the Financial Who's Who; all I knew of him was that he was the son of his father in the office.
Re-examined. The account was first in the name of M. B. Jacobs; then it was altered to simply Jacobs—the printing was paid for by cheques on account of the Investors' Protection and Information Agency; the envelopes and paper were stamped with that name—the cost of an issue of 5,000 would be £13.
DELAFOSSE. I am secretary of the Cheque Bank—the Investors' Protection and Information Agency has a banking account there—it was opened in October, 1895—Julius Jacobs, Morris Berlyn Jacobs, and Alfred Jacobs had power to sign cheques on behalf of the Agency, and they all did so, but mostly Morris Berlyn Jacobs and Albert Jacobs—I think Julius Jacobs first opened the account—I produce this copy of part of the banking account.
EDWARD DAWS MCCONKEY . I am a civil engineer—I know Farmer, and also Marcus Bebro and his sons—I was the vendor of some property that was to be sold to the Bechuanaland Company, and in connection with it Farmer acted as my solicitor—Marcus Bebro was one of the promoters of the company—I know Morris Berlyn Jacobs, and know Julius Jacobs slightly—I often met Julius Jacobs in the waiting-room at Farmer's office, and Morris Berlyn Jacobs I have met there and also repeatedly in the street, London Wall, and Copthall Avenue, and those localities—Morris Berlyn Jacobs has repeatedly spoken to me about the Bechuana-land Company; first in February, 1896, and afterwards six or twelve times in the street—he said a fellow Hebrew had a grudge against Mr. Bebro, and he proposed, before this company should come out, that Mr. Bebro should pay him a large sum for his silence, or take the consequences in his paper, or words to that effect—after February he made statements about what he intended to do, nearly a dozen times—I keep no diary, and made no notes—I considered it unimportant at the time—his first question almost invariably was, whether Marcus Bebro had plenty of money or cash, and he would invariably wind up with some remark, "I intend to make Marcus Bebro stand up before this company comes out, or take the con-sequences"—he always spoke of the Who's Who and the Golden Age as his papers—the last time I saw him, previous to his being at the Police-court, was at the latter part of September or the beginning of October, at the foot of Copthall Avenue, where a man was standing selling the Who's Who— Jacobs had a large orchil in his coat, and wanted me to tell him the botanical name of it—I could not, and he finally told me the name,
which I could not pronounce; then the old story began, "Has Marcus Bebro any money?"—I paid, "No," because I wished to avoid any blackmailing attacks—he said, "You see that paper?"—I said, "Ye?"—he said, "That is my paper; that is the paper that is proposing to make Marcus Bebro sit up and pay me a very heavy sum for my silence?"—I saw Farmer frequently with regard to his acting for me as solicitor—my attention was called to this article, of November 4th, by a gentleman in an office in Mansion House Buildings—I went over to Copthall Avenue and Angel Court, and bought a copy and read it—there was no mention of the name of the company in the article—I knew it referred to ours—I almost immediately went over to Bebro's office, in Eastcheap, and had a conversation with him.
Cross-examined by MR. COCK. I had known Farmer about seven years, I think, as a solicitor, and had employed him as my solicitor—I had every confidence in him, and in his honour and position—I had many opportunities of seeing him in connection with business transactions—among other matters in which I had been connected with him was the formation of the Bechuanaland Company, in the promotion of which Marcus Bebro was largely interested—Farmer was also largely interested in its success—I think his interest in the successful coming out of the company was about £10,500 in shares and £4,000 in cash—he was very desirous that attacks should not be made on the company (he always expressed himself so), or upon anybody connected with it, which would affect the coining out of the company—I had seen some of the Jacobses at Farmer's office from time to time, and my inference was that he was their solicitor—I first saw this article in Who's Who on the morning of Thursday, November 3rd—when I went to Bebro's office immediately after reading the article, I saw two or three of Bebro's sons, two, I think—one was Lionel Bebro—they suggested quite a number of very ridiculous ways of treating the matter, they wanted me to point out the Jacobses, and give them a sound thrashing—and exhibited the muscles of their arms and legs—I said that would only lead them into trouble, and it was the height of youthful indiscretion—they asked me what I would do if it was my position, and I said my first thing would be to see Farmer, as he had acted for them, and, being in-terested in the Bechuanaland matter, would be anxious to have the thing stopped—I referred to an article that had appeared in the Financial News the previous Saturday, October 31st—I was told there had been a consultation with Farmer, Mr. Aldridge and others, and that they had requested Farmer to take legal proceedings with regard to that article, and that he had declined—Lionel and Godfrey Bebro said, on November 5th, that Mr. Aldridge had already seen the article, and said it was no use taking any notice of it—I thought it would be in the company's interest that some notice should be taken of it; my theory was that this article following on that in the Financial News was the beginning of an attack by all the blackmailing papers, and I thought it would be wise to check it on the moment—I thought the wisest course was to see Fanner, as he might have some influence with the Jacobses to prevent these attacks—after some little discussion the question was asked by Lionel Bebro, or one of them, whether Farmer was at his office—I went to the telephone, and called him up, and the answer came from the type-writer's
office, saying Farmer was very busy, and could not be disturbed—three or four times afterwards, either Lionel Bebro or I rang him up, and got the same response; each time I asked Miss Lytton if we could not be switched on to Mr. Farmer—after twenty or thirty minutes we got switched on to the telephone to his private office—I asked him if he had seen the article in Who's Who—he said it was on his table, and if I would wait a moment he would open it, and look at it; it had come in by the mail that morning—after a few moments I said, "Farmer, it is a most villainous article, and it is directed against Mr. Bebro, but it does not name either me or the company; it is leading to that point; and all the damage that could be done by this article has been done already; it is suggested that some arrangement be made to stop future attacks?"—he said, "Quite right, old fellow," or "old chap," or something of that sort, and I asked him if he could not see one of the Mr. Bebros, either senior or junior—he said his diary was quite full; he could not make an appointment then, but he would ring up later in the day—some remarks were then made between me and the Bebros, and I left the office, and went home—Lionel Bebro was in the room from and to which these messages were passing on the telephone, and either he or his brother had the other ear tube—my impression is that it was Lionel, and that he heard all the conversation between myself and Farmer—their curiosity was great to know what was going on—I think, before I left, an appointment was made for 10.15 the next morning—I made a statement as my proof for Mr. Farmer—I received a note from his managing clerk, saying he had been arrested, and was at Moor Lane, and would I call there—I did so, and he said, would I go to his office and give a dictation to his typewriter of the telephone incident—I did so; it was before I heard the information read at the Justice-room—an appointment was made for young Bebro to go the following morning, the 6th, to Farmer at 10.15—I did not go the following morning to Farmer's; I was very ill that afternoon, and went home quite early, about two o'clock, and I was in bed the next day—Farmer always expressed himself as desirous, on account of his interests and those of the company, to stop these attacks being made on Bebro—he concurred with me that it was a villainous article, and ought to be stopped—I always believed that whatever he did was done in the interests of all concerned.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I was personally very anxious to stop any attack on Bebro or his Bechuanaland Company, which I was bring-ing out—my profit depended on the successful flotation if it went to the public, but not if it was taken up privately—I was not consulted by the promoters—I had purchased in Bechuanaland a very large concession of about 40,000,000 acres from a native tribe; it was ratified by the British authorities at Cape Colony, and recognised here, and by the German Government; it is nearly equal to the Chartered Company's—I had sold my interest in it to Mr. Spiers for.£250.000—I don't know what his contract was for selling his interest to the Bechuanaland Company—I have heard that he was selling to the company for £750,000—that was a little profit for Spiers of half a million, on paper—the Bechuanaland Company was going to be brought out with a capital of one and a-half million, half of which was working capital, I think—the company has not come out because the market has been against it—I cannot say if the
exposure in this paper has been against it; it was not an exposure of the company, but of Bebro—I thought it was the beginning of a series of attacks on Marcus Bebro as a promoter, and it might interfere with the company—I don't know that it has done that—the company has not come out, and I have not got my profit, and Spiers and Bebro have not got theirs—I have no animosity towards the Jacobses; I have only come to tell the truth—as soon as this charge was made against Farmer and the Jacobses, Farmer asked me to reduce into writing the evidence I could give as to the telephone incident—I presume I understood I was to be called as a witness by Mr. Farmer and his co-defendants—I gave a statement of the evidence I could give, so far as Farmer was concerned—I did not say a word after the arrest to Fanner, or anyone in his office, about my interviews with M. B. Jacobs—after this prosecution began I gave a proof of the evidence I have given to-day to Bebro's solicitors, at their request; that was after I had given a statement to Farmer, for the purpose of being called as a witness for the defence—I at-tended every day, but was not called by the prosecution—I do not know why they did not call me; I do not know of any reason why they should doubt my testimony—I did not tell them that if I was called I might possibly help Farmer; they were not influenced by that consideration—my first conversation with M. B. Jacobs was in February, 1896—I think the full title of the company is the Bechuanaland Gold and Diamond Fields—in February, 1896, a proof prospectus had been printed for private circulation—I had a copy; I have not got one now—it had got no further by November, 1896; as the markets were all against an issue of any kind in any African matter, and I was not pressing Bebro, it would have made no difference who was carrying it through; I do not think a wealthy banker would have been able to do it—I am not aware that any copy of the prospectus had been sent to the Jarobses—I never told the Jacobses that Bebro was going to bring out this company—I should say I saw M. B. Jacobs from six to ten times between February and November—after discussing his flower or orchid, he always seemed to drift into the question, "Has Bebro got any money?"—he seemed always anxious to know if he had any money, and I always told him I thought not, because I knew nothing about Bebro's finances, and I did not want to be brought into it—my story was always the same—I never led him to believe that he had any—the last time I saw him before November was the latter part of September, or early in October—I assured him then that Bebro had no money—I had been attacked in one of the earlier issues of this paper; I think the first or second issue—it said that I was going to be dissected by Jacobs—I met him in the street, and told him he would have to take the consequences of the attacks, and afterwards he was always very chippy and friendly, and he said nothing else except once after that—I intended that the consequences would be a thrashing, or a public cowhiding, or something of that sort—I took a different line in my own case to the advice I gave Bebro, because it would not be a juvenile indiscretion in my case; I think a Magistrate would have justified it—that made us apparently very friendly afterwards; I never sought him—I passed it as an ordinary incident; it did not create ill-feeling on my part—it was an extraordinary incident for me to be
be threatened with an exposure—I make a practice of forgetting those things—I did not know the distinction between the Weekly and Financial Who's Who till I was at the Police-court—I was shown the number at the Police-court in which my name appeared; I believe I was in the "Black Lis?"—I believe the paper would show it had been registered by M. B. Jacobs; I don't know of my own knowledge—this is the number, May 21st, 1895; it is No. 2 of the paper—my name is mentioned in connection with a Sea Water Company I had never heard of before—the paper was sent me, but not a copy of this i-sue, but one in which I was put in a long black list—my attention was not called to this one till long afterwards, and I had not recalled it till you called my attention to it at the Police-court—I was called at the Police-court by Farmer as a witness for the defence, and I was cross-examined by the counsel for the prosecution; and then I first gave evidence of these alleged interviews with M. B. Jacobs—no one was present at our interview in the street, and I don't recall that anyone was in Farmer's office at the time—interviews repeatedly took place in Farmer's office; M. B. Jacobs would take me on one side in the waiting-room, and ask me, "How is the matter going on? have they got any money?I was waiting for you?"—no one was ever present—it was generally said in a low voice; he evidently did not want anyone to hear.
Re-examined. After Farmer's arrest he asked me to dictate what happened with regard to the particular incident of the telephone, and I did so—two, or possibly three, of Bebro's sons were at the office; two of them, Lionel and Godfrey, were particularly interested, and spoke of my pointing out M. B. Jacobs—T dissuaded them from using violent measures—this company has never been offered to the public in any way, directly or indirectly—I was vendor of a large number of claims that had been centred in me; it was a large concession, to which there were a large number of owners and claimants—after dictating the telephone incident, I gave a proof to the solicitors for the prosecution as to M. B. Jacobs, during the prosecution—Mr. Cock represented Farmer at the Police-court, and he called and examined me—I was there, to be called on one side or the other at any time.
LIONEL SAMUELSON BEBRO . I live at 81, Warrington Crescent, Maida Vale, and am twenty years old—I at as secretary to my father, at St. George's House, Eastcheap—I knew Mr. Farmer as a solicitor, and as in communication with my father in reference to a company that was being promoted—I have been to his office in reference to that business—on November 4th I saw the number of the Financial Who's Who which contained an article upon my father—I think our clerk bought it in the street—I read the article—my father, my brothers, and I spoke about it—on November 5th Colonel McConkey came to the office; I was informed he was connected with this company, and was the vendor of the properties—he saw my younger brother, Godfrey, and myself—we have a telephone in our office—on November 6th I was rung up from Farmer's office late in the evening—until then I had not seen Farmer in reference to these articles in the paper—when he rung me up he said, "Have you seen this paper, Who's Who??"—I said, "Yes?"—he said he knew the editors and proprietors of it well, Morris Beryln, and Julius and Albert Jacobs—he said, "It is a great shame, and, no doubt, they
could be squared, but they would want paying well for it?"—I said, "Do you know anything about them?"—he said he knew them, and he had seen Jacobs some time that day, and he had made an appointment for me, if I would call at their office about the matter, the next day, at 11.30—I said, if he liked I would see him at his office at 11.20—I had never seen Julius, Morris Berlyn, or Albert Jacobs—when he said he had seen Jacobs that day I had no idea he said Morris—next day I went and saw Farmer at his office at 11.15—I said I did not care to go round to Jaoobses' office, but if they wanted to see me they could see me at Farmer's office—he said, "Very well, wait here for twenty minutes, and I will run round there?"—I waited an hour and a-half before he returned; he then took me into his private room, and said, "I have seen the Jacobses, and they said they were very glady you did not go round there, as they did not want to see you before the matter was settled, as they were too old birds to be caught at the game; the matter had arisen by an inquiry being received by the Jacobses from Paris about a company in which your father is interested, and the Paris people enclosed the proverbial 2s. 6d. for inquiry?"—he further said the Jacobses had replied, asking for further particulars, that the Paris people had sent further particulars, documents, etc., and said they were being supplied with private information from a man who posed as being our friend, and that a stockbroker in the house had supplied them with a lot of old original documents, written or belonging to my father, for several years back; that the Jacobsos had purchased all these, and, with a view to ruining my father they were going to publish all these documents from week to week, and that they would damn every company with which my father was connected; that they would translate these articles into the leading French papers, which the Jacobses influenced; that, they were being backed up by a syndicate, with an M.P. and his brother, who were bitter against my father, aud they had plenty of money; that the Jacobses had orders for as many copies of their paper, while the libels continued on my father, for eighteen week", as they could possibly print, and as they could probably get 100,000 copies printed, it would mean £50 to £100 a week, and the job to them was worth £9,000 to £15,000, and unless my father squared them, they would certainly publish all those articles, and damn every company with which he was connected—Farmer said, "It is purely a matter of business and, to speak plainly, you have practically to lick their shoes, or take the consequences; it is a damnable piece of business, and awfully hard on your father, but they mean business?"—he said it was a very delicate matter to arrange, but the way it would have to be done was this: the three Jacobses would enter into an agreement with me by which they agreed to stop all their attacks for the consideration to be agreed on, but that they would not take the cash with their own hands; it was to come through him (Farmer), and he said that the agreement must be kept in the custody of Farmer, in his safe, in a sealed envelope—he said they would want £15,000 or £20,000, something over what they were offered from the other side; that they would not sign it in my presence, as they were too long at the game for that, and that the agreement would have to be placed in a sealed envelope, and be in Farmer's custody, and in his safe—I said to him, "If we entered into that arrangement, and
accept the agreement, we would be exactly the same as before, in your hands and the Jacobses'—he said, "No; I give you my word of honour, you would be perfectly safe with me?"—I said, "Suppose there was a breach of faith on the part of the Jacobses?"—he said, "The agreement would, be your property?"—I said, "Suppose you were to die, what then?"—he said, "Then the agreement would be your propert?"—I said, "Would you give a form of receipt acknowledging an agreement dated so-and so, and when the agreement was placed in a sealed envelope, allow me to sign my name, so that it should not be destroyed?"—he said, "Yes;" and he himself would verify each of the signatures of the Jacobses, as they would not sign it before me, and he showed me a letter written by them—I think he mentioned the three Jacobses by name—this was on the Saturday—I was with him for about half an hour—he asked me to call again on Monday—on the Monday I went to his office at 10.45, and saw Farmer in his private office—he asked me whether I was prepared to accept his previous offer from the Jacobses, and I asked him then what they wanted—he said, "Well, it is worth from £10,000 to £15,000 to them from this syndicate; and, as to the papers, they would print weekly for eighteen weeks £900 to £1,800," and that I should have to go something over that—I said, "Will they take shares?"—he raid, "No, they distinctly said they must have some cash down?"—I said, "What cash?"—he said, "Something over this £900 to £1,800 for the paper?"—I said I could not go over £1,000—he said, "Suppose you put it at £1,000 cash and £15,000 shares in companies in which your father is interested, and I will submit that to the Jacobses?"—I asked him whether I should not bring my solicitor, Mr. Aldridge, with me next time, as I thought I should have a solicitor with me, and he knew Mr. Aldridge—he said, "All right," and he said he would see the Jacobses some time that day, And consult them on that—he said, as to the signing of the agreement, "They won't sign it in your presence, but if you like, you and your lawyer can go to the Jacobses' office, but remain at the bottom of the stairs; then I will go upstairs with the agreement, and get the three of them to sign it, come down and verify their signatures, and hind you a form of receipt on your handing me a cheque, and the agreement to be placed in a sealed envelope, on which you can sign your name, and the Jacobses do likewise, and the envelope to be retained by me?"—he said, after he had seen the Jacobses he would prepare a draft form of receipt and this agreement, and Asked me if I would call again, and that he would telephone and let me know when he had seen the Jacobses—I went then, and saw my solicitors, Messrs. Chinnery and Aldridge, but I found that, Mr. Aldridge was en-gaged all day in the Courts—on that Monday evening Farmer telephoned to know whether I was coming over with Mr. Aldridge—I said I would come over at once—I went to Aldridge's office, and found he was not in; and I went alone to Farmer's office about 6.30, and explained why Aldridge was not with me—he said he had seen the Jacobses, and they thought this amount, £1,000 cash and £15,000 shares in such a company, was not quite enough, and that they ought to have more—I said it was ample—he showed me a draft form of receipt and agreement which had been prepared—I said I could not do anything without Mr. Aldridge—he asked me the best time to see Mr. Aldridge—I said, "I should think about noon"—he
said, "Very well; I will cull next day, about noon, at Mr. Aldridge's?"—I read the draft agreement and receipt—they were similar to those I subsequently saw at Mr. Aldridge's—Farmer said that, pending these negotiations, nothing would appear in the next issue, which would be on Wednesday, 11th—I left him—I called and saw Mr. Aldridge next morning, 10th—a little later on the 10th, Farmer came to Mr. Aldridge's, and I and Mr. Aid ridge saw him—Farmer and Mr. Aid ridge had some conversation previous to my coming in—Farmer handed to Aldridge this draft agreement and receipt—they were then simply typewritten, without the ink alterations, which were subsequently made. (The agreement, addressed to Lionel S. Bebro, teas to the effect that in consideration of £, 1,000 being paid through Farmer to Jacobs, and of Bebro's undertaking to allot £15,000 in fully paid-up shares in the Bechuanaland Company to the Jacobses, they undertook to discontinue in the "Who's Who," and their papers present and future, the libel and attacks on Bebro, sen., and his companies; the Jacobses undertaking to deposit with Farmer, as custodian for all parties, all documents relating to the Bebros and their companies. The receipt was an acknowledgment nf the receipt from the Jacobses of the agreement.) Those documents were shown to Mr. Aldridge, who asked to be allowed to have copies of those, to which Mr. Farmer consented—a clerk was sent for, and copies were made, and the originals returned to Farmer—when I came into the room Farmer said, "I have just been explaining to Mr. Aldridge how the matter is, in the same way as I have to you," or something like that—when the drafts had been copied Farmer said, "This matter should be settled to-night, as the Financial Who's Who goes to press tonigh?"—Aldridge said, "Oh, you can stop any reference being made to Bebro in to-morrow's paper, surely?"—Farmer said, "Oh, yes, I will do that," or words like it—Aldridge said he must think over such a matter, and he would like a day or so to think it over, and Farmer said, "All righ?"—I said, "What is going to become of the old original documents that the Jacobses have of my father? you will let us have them, of course?"—he said, "No, they must be placed with the agreement in the safe," and then he wrote on the type-written document the provision with regard to the custody of the documents, and Mr. Aldridge added those words to his copy of the agreement, in pencil, I think—Farmer said the Jacobses would not agree to let the documents become my property in the case of his death, but that in that event the agreement should be placed in the joint names of the respective solicitors'—the receipt was then altered to that effect—Farmer asked me whether I could see him at 1.30 next day, with Mr. Aldridge, to hear what Mr. Aldridge had to say about it—on that day Mr. Aldridge and I communicated with the City Police at the Old Jewry—the next day, 11th, I purchased a copy of the Financial Who's Who, and looked through it—there was no reference to my father in it—about 1.30 that day I went to Farmer's office, and saw him in his private office—I said Mr. Aldridge had no suggestions to make as to this draft agreement—he said he would see the Jacobses in the interim as soon as he could, and asked whether I would see him again next day—I said I would at 12.30—on the next day, Thursday, 12th, I got a message from him that 12.30 was not convenient, and the time was fixed for 5.30—in the course of the day I went to the Guildhall Police Court—I and Mr. Aldridge had
consulted counsel before that—an information was laid that day, and summonses were granted against the three Jacobses and Farmer—about six o'clock I went and saw Farmer in his private office—he said he had just seen M. B. Jacobs, who had returned from Bath, and had been thinking over the agreement, and was a bit afraid to sign it directly with me, and, therefore, he now proposed to do it through Mr. Farmer—I asked what that meant—he said that he (Farmer) would give me a letter, in which he undertook to get a letter from the three Jacobses, in which they undertook to stop all attacks on my father, and to aid him instead of injuring him, for this considera-tion of £16,000, and that the Jacobses would sign that undertaking to Farmer, and that both letters were to be kept by Farmer in his safe—said it was new, and I could not do anything myself; if he liked to see my solicitor, he could—he said, "What time?"—I said twelve—he said he could at eleven, and he told me, as I was about to go, that the Jacobses had had a fresh batch of letters from Paris, and another cheque offered them to continue their attacks on my father—I left—next day, Friday, 13th, Farmer telephoned, would I send over the road to see if Aid ridge could see him—I did so, and heard Aldridge would be there at eleven, and about eleven Farmer went to Aldridge, and saw him in the presence of Howard, Aldridge's clerk, and myself—Farmer went through again what he had told me the day before—Aldridge said, "This is something new, departing from what you said before; suppose you draft what you mean?"—Farmer proceeded to draft something, and promised Aldridge copies—I saw the letters he drafted; they were similar to these (produced)—Mr. Aldridge was called out to see a client, and he whispered audibly to Howard, "Mind you get a copy of those two letters?"—after Mr. Aldridge had left the room, Farmer said he would see the Jacobses, and asked me whether he could see me about 1.30—I said I should be over the road at St. George's House, and he said he would call—he went away, taking the drafts with him, without leaving copies—about 1.30 that day I rang up Farmer through the telephone, and gave Howard, who was there, the other ear-trumpet, so that he could hear—I asked Farmer whether he intended to keep us waiting any longer, or whether he was coming—he said, "Putting one and two together, and between you and me und the gate-post. I do not think I am coming to your office, after a little incident that occurred at Messrs. Chinnery, Aldridge, and Co.'s—I asked him what it was, and he said, "Well, I won't tell you through the telephone; if you come to my office now I will tell you, with no third party presen?"—I went away, and saw Mr. Aldridge for a moment, and he said, "Go over with Mf. Howar?"—I did so—Howard waited in the outer office, and I went into the inner office alone—Farmer said, "I thought it rather funny, when I was there, that Mr. Aldridge whispered in an audible whisper to his clerk, 'Mind you get copies of those two draft letters?"—I said I did not think it was very funny, as he had promised it himself, and I asked him to call in Howard, whom I had brought—Howard was called in—Farmer said the same thing to Howard, and said it was the tall clerk, Mr. Jewhurst, who was in the room at the time, and Howard said, "It was me myself?"—Farmer said, "Look here, T am going to protect myself, and I don't care a damn for the others; they must look after themselves; this
is a very delicate piece of business, and I air afraid?"—I said, "Very well, Mr. Fanner; then I had better say good day; I shall be very glad personally if these dirty attacks on my father could cease?"—he said, "Don't go like that; won't you come back here at 3.45, and see Mr. M. B Jacobe alone personally, or in my or Mr. Aid ridge's (presence?"—after asking it two or three times, I did consent—Howard said perhaps I might—before I left Farmer a lady messenger had been sent from the Jacobses, stating that a fresh lot of private documents had been received by the Jacobses, and some more money offered to continue the attacks on my father—I saw no letters there myself—I went back at 3.45 that afternoon, with Howard, and saw Farmer in his private office; he said he was very sorry that Jacobs could not come over; would I go over with him and Howard to the Jacobses' office, 76, Finsbury Pavemsnt—we three went—I saw on the door then vines of the Investors' Protection Society, and Who's a Who and The Golden Age—on going in I saw one of the Jacobses, I don't know which—I think he said, "Oh, here they are?"—Julius Jacobs came out, and Farmer said, "This is young Mr. Bebro, and tins is Mr. Howard, the clerk to Aldridg?"—that was the first time I had ever seen Julius Jacobs—he said, "Oh, yes, I know," and led the way through a passage to another room, where he said, "This is my private room," or something like that—we were all four in the room—Farmer said, "I have brought these two gentlemen here to see if we cannot bury the hatchet between you and Mr. Jacob?"—I said, "Excuse me, Mr. Farmer, but I cannot see where the phrase,' Bury the hatchet, "comes in, because my father never certainly provoked the unwarranted libel that appeared about him?"—Julius Jacobs said, "Don't call it libel; call it license of languag?"—I said, "I have come here, Mr. Jacobs, at the special request of Mr. Farmer, and I would like to know if it is true that you or your sons authorised Mr. Farmer to make me the proposal which he did, namely, that for £16,000 cash and shares you and your sons would abstain from publishing anything more about my father in your papers?"—Jacobs said, "That is perfectly true; and is not it proved by the fact that we have specially stopped publishing anything about your father in this last issue, just out, though we threatened we would do so?"—I said, "What would you do if I did not pay anything at all?"—he said, "Oh, well, of course, I would not mind much, but if you did not pay anything at all, we would simply have to continue, because it is worth £10,000 to £15,000 from some friends of mine, who have formed a kind of syndicate amongst them, with a member of Parliament, who is bitter against your father, and we have always orders, for eighteen weeks, for as many copies as we can get out of our paper while the libel extends.; and, therefore, you can see it is a matter of business, and we will have to continue?"—he said he had had an emissary round from Mr. Harry Marks, saying he would be glad to see Mr. M. B. Jacobs in reference to the attacks on my father—I said, "Have either of you seen Mr. Marks?"—he said, "No, not yet?"—he said he had a lot of original documents from Paris, and from a stockbroker, and from a private friend of his; and that if we did not settle with him, he would publish them all, and have them translated in the papers and distributed round the City—he said he would be very pleased if we settled; he would
destroy all old documents, and put in good words about any companies my father wanted—he came towards me, and said, "As from Jew to Jew, when once you settle, you will never see anything more about your father; it will be all ove?"—I said, "Is it true, Mr. Jacobs, that you and your two sons authorised Mr. Farmer to act on behalf of you in this matter?"—he said, "It is quite true; and anything that Mr. Farmer does for me or my sons we accept the responsibility o?"—he asked me whether I was ready to pay £500 down—I said I was if he and his sons signed this document—he said, "We will not sign till Mr. Farmer signs first, and you have paid him this money?"—I said, "Why don't you take the money yourself?"—he said, "No; we are not going to be caught like tha?"—I said, "Well, may I have those twodocuments for which lam to pay £16,000?"—he said, "Of course not'; we would not be such d——d fools; you are silly to ask such a thin?"—Farmer said perhaps we did not want Mr. Jacobs any more, and we might go over to his office—Jacobs said, "Very wel?"—before I went he held out his hand to shake hands—I said, "I hope we shall be better friends next time/' and did not take his hand—I went back with Farmer to his office, and waited outside, as he had a client, till Howard, who had to go elsewhere, came back after about fifteen minutes—then we went into Farmer's private office, and Farmer signed this document and this receipt, and stamped them. (The first of these documents, addressed to Lionel Bebro, dated November 13th, 1896, and signed "J. H. Farmer, solicitor for the Messrs. Jacobs," acknowledged the receipt of £500, and an undertaking to pay £500 within a month, and to have allotted to Farmer's nominees £15,000 fully paid vendors' shares in the Bechuanaland Company, and agreed to secure the co-operation and assistance of Julius, M. B., and Albert Jacobs on behalf of Lionel Bebro, and his father and family, in all their undertakings, and to obtain the Jacobses' undertakings not to publish any articles in their papers derogatory to the Bebros or their companies. Upon failing to do this, Farmer undertook to return such money and shares. In the second document Farmer acknowledged the receipt of £500 on account of£1,000, as solicitor for the Jacobses, in accordance with the letter of that date, and he undertook to hold that letter on behalf of all parties, with the letter of the Jacobses to be given to him to-morrow). I then handed Fanner a cheque, crossed "Not negotiable," drawn to the order of "J. H. Farmer or order?"—he said he would send the documents to the Jacobses, and get the other documents signed by them, and would see me in the morning at St. George's House, at twelve or 12.30, I think he mentioned—on the next morning, 14th, Farmer did not come, and I telephoned to him, and went with Howard to him between twelve and one—Farmer said he had sent the documents he had signed and the cheque on to the Jacobses, and asked me to go there with him—eventually I consented to go, and I went with him and Howard—Albert and Morris came out of the private room, and said, "Perhaps they had better come in here," meaning their room—Julius Jacobs came out with a pipe in his mouth, and said we had better go into room No. 10, and we went in there—Farmer went out for a few minutes and spoke to Jacobs alone, and then they came back, and Julius Jacobs, Farmer, Howard, and I were together—Jacobs said they would not sign the document till they had seen the cheque, which I had given to Farmer the previous night, was met, and he said to Farmer, "You were a d——d fool to take a cheque; I always
take gold or bank-notes in such transaction?"—Fanner did not say anything—I made an excuse to go; they both said, "Don't go ye?"—Farmer left the room—Jacobs chatted with me for a minute or two, and then went out of the room, and came back almost immediately—his face seemed quite livid with rage—I wanted to go—he planted himself in front of me, and looked at the door, and commenced to bhout—he said, "Oh! understand, you don't go yet; that cheque has not been met, and you knew it; I am going to have you both arrested on some charge or othe?"—we did not say anything—he said, "I will have you both arrested for conspiring to bribe me with £500 to help you to promote a swind-ling compan?"—I said, "You know you and your two sons have endeavoured to blackmail me and my father in a most outrageous manner, and, now you cannot succeed, you think you will have us arrested on a trumpedup charge?"—he shouted, "Oh! Harry Marks put me up to this, and now he is going to be revenged on your father for your father putting his brother in the dock?"—I said, "I thought you had not seen Mark?"—he said, "It does not matter now?"—he continued 60 pace the floor—soon Farmer came in, and Jacobs said he was going to have us both arrested—a policeman was called in, and I and Howard were given in charge, and taken to Kingsland Road Police Station in a cab, with two policemen—before that Jacobs said, as Farmer did not know anything about it, "I am going to have these two young men arrested?"—Farmer did not say anything—he and Jacobs went across the room for a minute or two, and chatted—Morris and Albert came in the room, aud wanted to come to the station with us; but Julius said, "Oh, never mind; you need not come; I can do this alone"; and he and Farmer went in a cab alone—Howard was not allowed to speak to Farmer; Farmer tried to speak to him—at the station, Jacobs said to the inspector that he was going to charge me with conspiracy to bribe him with £500, I think; and I explained that I was being blackmailed, and I said to Farmer, "Is it true I came to the Jacobses' office, because Jacobs would not come to your office, at your suggestion?"—he said, "It was at my suggestion"; and I asked the inspector to note it—Farmer and Jacobs were spoken to by the inspector in a private room, and the inspector refused to take the charge—after that I communicated with our solicitor and counsel, and warrants were granted against Julius and Morris Jacobs and Farmer—Albert was left out—the matter came on for hearing at the Guildhall Police Court—this is the number of the paper of November 18th; I saw it.
Cross-examined by MR. COCK. At the beginning of this matter I communicated with my father, and he said, "You had better see my lawyers, Messrs. Chinnery and Aldridge, and act under their advice?"—I was living with my father—I told him from time to time what I was doing with reference to the matter—my father had been in correspondence with Farmer about this company for a considerable time; I don't know the dates—I had known Farmer about a year—I knew he was a solicitor practising in the City—T did not know till I heard it at the Guildhall that Farmer was personally interested in this company—I know it now—my father was interested in the company—I do not know that Leliva was a capitalist in Paris with whom my father was in communication about this company. (MR. COCK read the following letters; April 20th 1896, from Marcus Bebro to Farmer, to the effect that Leliva would subscribe
25,000 shares in the company, but desired Farmer to recommend them, and that Spier was there; April 20th, from the same to the same, to the effect that Count Leliva had guaranteed 25,000 shares, and could be of great service with regard to the French issue; that Massey would only give the Kay's bill at Farmer's request, but if Farmer would cable such request, Bebro would see him. On April 21st, from same to same: "Cable Massey, give bill McConkey. Renewing bills you hold." On April 24th, Farmer to Marcus Bebro, stating that Count Leliva wrote that he could secure £75,000 subscriptions to the company in Paris, in addition to the £25,000 already promised, and that Farmer, through another broker Paris, could secure £100,000 subscriptions at 221/2 percent, commission, payable 15 percent, in shares, and a bill at three months for the balance. On May 4th, Farmer to Marcus Bebro, stating, "I must really ask you to secure the bills that I distinctly under-stood from Mr. Massey would be handed over to me. I cannot promise that any particular number of the bills already out will be given out for renewal, but I will do my best if you will secure his other bills for me." On May 12th Farmer to Marcus Bebro: "I have not yet had the pleasure of hearing from you as to the £4,000 bills." On October 14th, Bebro to Farmer, stating that the market was in such a critical condition that the bringing out the company then would be reckless, as it was impossible to do anything till there was a change for the better; but as soon as the market improved he had every confidence of bringing the company to a successful issue. On October 14th, Farmer to Bebro, acknowledging the letter, and wishing success.) Mr. Speir was also interested in promoting this company—I knew bills were being given in connection with the company—up to October 14th I was on perfectly friendly relations with Farmer—it was important for my father, so far as this company was concerned, that there should not be attacks on it in the papers—before the article in Who's Who, an article had appeared in the Financial News, criticising the company—my father saw Mr. Aldridge with reference to stopping that, and they suggested they should send for Farmer, as representing McConkey and others having a common interest in the property—Mr. Aldridge was the solicitor to the proposed company—he and my father thought Farmer should be consulted—I began my account on the evening of Friday, November 6th—I had been to Farmer's office that morning at 11.15—I did not call with McConkey at Farmer's office on the morning of the Saturday, 7th; we were both there—Farmer and McConkey left the office together; I don't know for what purpose—a hour and a-half after-wards, after telling me to wait, I saw Farmer, and he told me the result of his interview with the Jacobses—he said they said they were glad I did not go with him to see them, as they did not want to see me till it was settled, as they were too old birds at the game to be caught that way—Farmer told me how the matter arose, and made me an offer from the Jacobses—I understood at that time that what he said came from the Jacobses, as being their terms for the purpose of ceasing to insert the articles—I had no doubt at that time that Farmer's position was that he was communicating to them what he understood me to suggest, and com-municating to me what he understood them to suggest—he said they wanted something over £10,000 to £15,000, and £000 or £1,800 in cash—he put it at about £16,000—he said they wanted £900 to £1,800, and
a consideration in the company—I asked him if they could do without cash—he did not draft anything in my presence on the Saturday; he said he would see them, and see whether they would accept the terms I suggested—on the following Monday Farmer submitted his draft to me; it was not signed by anybody then—at that time, so far as I understood, it was intended that the Jacobses were to sign this agreement, and address it to me, and upon those terms the Jacobses were to discontinue the attacks—I saw Farmer, and it was suggested that I had better see my solicitor before I completed the arrangement, so that I might be right in the course I took—Farmer made no difficulty about that—the arrangement was then made that Farmer should come round to Aid ridge's on the Tuesday morning, so that Aldridge might see if I was taking the right course—the alterations were on that occasion drafted by Aldridge, and made by Farmer—Farmer was at that time on friendly terms, and, so far as I knew, as desirous as I that the attacks should cease—I had no reason then for supposing that Farmer was trying to make anything out of the transaction—he was acting, I always understood, for the Jacobsen—I don't know that he did anything in my interest; I know he made this proposal for the interest of the Jacobses—he ineraly offered me the proposal from the Jacobses—I don't know what else he could do but carry our messages to one another—he said I could bring my solicitor the next time, because he knew him, and that he would not mention it—he made it a sine quâ non that he should keep the documents, and he did not wish me to have copies of them—he did not say it would be better for him to have them; he said he must have them—it was Farmer's sine quâ non that he held them; the Jacobses would not hand them over to me—I presume the additions in the first agreement of the words, "Severally undertake that we will discontinue in Who's Who, and in our papers present and future," were in our interest—I could not say who suggested it—a copy was left with Mr. Aldridge, who said he should like to have time to consider it in my interest—next morning I called and said Aldridge had no alterations to suggest in the agreement—up to then Farmer had not given me any reason to suppose he was acting otherwise than on my behalf, as well as of others—the day before Aldridge and I notified to the police—I saw Farmer late on the Thursday—he did not say he had taken it to the Jacobses, who would not approve of it; he said Morris Jacobs was afraid to sign it directly with me, and he accordingly influenced the other two, and they wanted to do it in another form—he told me the form; that the Jacobses should write a letter to Farmer, who should write a letter to me—the letters were not drafted at that interview on the 12th—at that time all that had happened was that he had told me the Jacobses refused the arrangement in that form; but he had made these offers, as I considered, to blackmail his friends, and I think, if he had been acting in our interest, he would not have allowed it—he had not been asked to see what the Jacobses would do—McConkey did not suggest that to me—I did not know that McConkey had asked Farmer to see what he could do with the Jacobses—Farmer had made offers from certain parties whom he professed to be the friend of, and they wanted to blackmail my father, and if he considered himself our friend, I do not think he would have allowed it—he was not asked by us to do it—McConkey
suggested it without our knowledge—I presume my father is in Court—I did not say then Farmer was making anything out of it—I did not think a gentleman who professed to be our friend would allow us to be blackmailed—Farmer made an offer to me first through the telephone on the 6th—he could have said he would not allow us to be blackmailed, and told us to pay nothing—I am taking criminal proceedings against him on my lawyer's advice, and he took counsel's advice—Farmer, on 13th, said Aldridge could have a copy of the documents—an appointment was made on the Friday for us to see Farmer on the Saturday—he saw my father at Aldridge's office on the Friday—my father was there on some other business, and was in a different room, with one of Aldridge's head clerks—my father came out of the room five or ten minutes after Farmer left, but Farmer had been talking on the stairs for five or ten minutes, and my father passed him—Farmer telephoned to me, saying he had put two and two together, and would like to see me about the matter, and did not like to come to my office, and I went to him—I explained there was nothing in his sus-picious; Howard came in afterwards—I took him to Farmer's office—some time after that, on the same day, the agreement was produced, signed by Farmer, and I handed him the cheque—before that was done he asked me to meet Morris Jacobs at his office; Morris did not come, and he asked me to go to the Jacobses' office, for the purpose of seeing whether what he had been communicating to me was in accordance with their instructions—I was satisfied, and he signed the agreement, and I gave the cheque—the following day the Jacobses were to give a letter to Farmer, undertaking to stop all attacks against my father; and those two letters, the letters from Jacobses to Farmer and Farmer to me, Farmer was to keep—he only gave me a receipt acknowledging there was such a letter in his hand—Farmer said he must keep it—we were not to have any handling of it—Farmer expressed as much surprise as anyone when Jacobs said I was going to be given into custody, and be went to the Police-court.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWS. On November 5th Mr. McConkey came to St. George's House, and saw me and my brother; I did not know he saw my father—he did not' see me with my father; I don't know whether he saw him or not—he was not asked in my presence by Mr. Bebro to stop the article in Who's Who—I did not have one of the ear-pieces of the telephone when McConkey had the other, speaking to Farmer—Mr. McConkey may be mistaken; I and my two brothers were there, and it may have been one of them—Godfrey was there; I did not see him with the ear-piece to his ear—I would not deny he had it—I should be bound to remember it if I had been at the telephone; it has never occurred to me that if I were at the telephone it was from me, acting on behalf of my father, that Farmer was approached for the purpose of getting him to go to the Jacobses—I was never at the telephone with McConkey—my brother Godfrey might have been there—I heard nothing to the effect that Farmer was asked whether he had seen the article in Who's Who; that Farmer opened it; that McConkey said it was a violent article directed against the Bebros, and as the damage it could do had already been done, he suggested to Farmer to see the Jacobses about it, and that Farmer said, "Quite righ?"—Marcus
Bebro is within the precincts of the Court—if it were necessary he would come as a witness; he is quite well—I have heard he had a similar case to this about seven years ago against other persons; I was at school then—it was described as a case of blackmailing—I do not know if my father was a witness then; I do not know anything about it—I will not swear he was not a witness—I know nothing about the tactics there; I don't know whether there was produced a note alleged to be a note taken at the time of all that occurred in his presence—I took a note in this case, beginning it on the evening of the 6th, when I received the telephonic message—my first interview with Farmer was on the morning of the 7th—no appointment was made, to my knowledge, on the afternoon of the 5th for the meeting on the 6th—I went on that morning on business for my father; I state positively it was not for this business—it was not a visit on that morning, but a call—I did not make an appointment in McConkey's presence for that morning—I did not call to keep that appointment next morning—I went on other business of my father's—I have no recollection of the old case brought by my father; I was thirteen years old—I did not read the papers—I never discussed it in the Bebro circle—I may have heard of the case where Claud Marks was charged with blackmailing—I heard there was a disagreement of the Jury—I don't know who were called as witnesses; I understood my father and mother were—that is all I know about it—I have heard the name Rogers, not as that of my father's solicitor; I don't know what he was—I know nothing about the tactics of that case—my note began on the evening of the 6th—I have no note of any communication between Farmer and myself prior to that time—from that evening I went on making notes—I wrote down, after the interview was over, in shorthand, my recollection of the interview, and I have refreshed my memory from my notes between, giving evidence at the Police-court and to-day—I did not call on Farmer, according to appointment, at 10.15 on Friday morning, November 6th—I did not ask him whether, as a friend, he could do anything to stop the articles; he did not say he would see what could be done; I did not call for that purpose at all—I did not say, "Do what you can for us, there is a good fellow, and I will make it well worth your while?"—he did not reply that he would act simply as a friendly mediator between us and the Jacobses, and not in any professional capacity; that is abso-lutely unfounded—I only went with McConkey to Farmer's office on November 7th by accident—McConkey was at our office to see my father—McConkey walked with me to Farmer's office—we did not go to see Fanner together—Farmer did not leave me and McConkey in the office together that morning; Farmer went out, and McConkey went out, and I was left alone, waiting for Farmer—on his return he said he had seen the Jacobses; he did not say Morris Jacobs was away—he did not say any offer of terms must come from me, and that no terms had been mentioned by Julius Jacobs, nor that Julius Jacobs had left the whole matter for him (Farmer) to arrange, as a friend, between the Bebros and Jacobses—he said to me, "What is your opinion? what do you think the Jacobs want?"—I did not say it to him—he did not reply, "I have not the remotest idea; the proposal must come from yo?"—I did not say, "Give me some idea what will satisfy them; we are quite willing to pay well for them to shut up?"—I did not ask him if he thought Jacobs
would be satisfied with £1,000 in cash and £15,000 in shares, and he did not reply, "I should say most certainly, as it is an extremely liberal offer?"—I did not say, "You can offer them, that but the Jacobses must enter into a formal agreement "; I asked him what they were going to do—he did not ask, "What do you want an agreement for?"—I did not say, "For our own protection; but I do not want to hold it myself, or even to have a copy of it; I have sufficient confidence in you to be the custodian of it between us?"—on November 12th I swore the information, and obtained summonses against the prisoners—I left it to my lawyer, and acted on his advice—I thought we were being blackmailed—we had determined that it was a criminal case—I had never seen Julius Jacobs up to that time—I went to see him, accompanied by a lawyer's clerk, on the 13th, the day after the summonses were granted—I went on the 13th to the Jacobses, to complete the evidence as far as we could—I asked Mr. Howard if I should go, and he said he did not see any harm, and when I went back Messrs. Chinnery and Aldridge advised me—on the 13th, the letter em-bodying the receipt of £500 on account of £1,000, was drawn up, I think—it was not drawn up in the morning—if it was it was after the visit to Jacobs—this draft was only drawn out on the Friday evening after our visit to the Jacobses—on the morning there was a draft of the two letters, but not of this document—the words, "As solicitor for and on behalf of," were not added at my request—the summonses granted on the 12th had not been served up to the 14th, when I made my second visit to the Jacobses' office again at Farmer's request, the criminal prosecution being still in my mind as one I would pursue—Julius Jacobs said, on the 14th, that he would not take the money with his own hands—this cheque is drawn to Mr. Farmer's order, and is marked "Not Negotiable," and is on my own bankers—the charge made against me by Julius Jacobs resulted in my being taken to the station; he saw the cheque was not met—I was taken to the station on the 14th on a false charge, and immediately liberated—up to that time there was no intimation to Julius Jacobs that I intended to take any criminal proceedings against him—I do not think the summonses granted on the 12th were ever served; they were exchanged for warrants on the Tuesday—the Alderman was out of town on the Monday—the prisoners were arrested on the warrants, and I gave evidence against them.
Cross-examined by MR. AVORY. I have been with my father about a year—I heard of the Bechuanaland Company about ten months ago; I first heard of the formation of the company about a year ago from now—I first heard, about a year ago, that a syndicate was arranging to take it over, to buy the property—I don't think my father was one of the syndicate; he was assisting—his business is that of a company promoter—I thought McConkey was selling it to this syndicate; I did not know much about it—I should say I first heard of Speir last summer; I don't think he is my father's nominee; I don't know what he was doing—he has never done business with my father before in promoting companies—I do not know his connection with my father in this matter; I think he assisted in buying it—I think I saw the article in the Financial Who's Who of November 4th on the evening of the 4th or morning of 5th—I had read it before I went to see Farmer on the 5th—I know my father had spoken to Mr. Aldridge, who had said, "Don't take any notice of
it", I don't know the date—I know he spoke to Aldridge; I cannot say if it was the 4th or 5th—he told me he had consulted Mr. Aldridge; I don't know if he told meon the 4th or 5th; it was one of those days—I saw McConkey outside the office on the 5th—when I went to see Farmer on the 5th it had no connection with this matter—I heard what McConkey swore at the Guildhall—I went on the 6th, because Farmer wrote to my father on November 4th; my father received the letter on the 5th; he was unwell, and went home early, and could not attend to the matter, which was about £50,000 bills, and my father wanted to see Farmer about some taxes also, and next morning he asked me to call on Farmer about those Bechuanaland taxes, and I saw him about the taxes, and asked him to see the various parties about the taxes and the bills—Farmer was acting for the vendors—they were bills in connection with the company, given by Speir—I have not concealed that—at the Guildhall I gave, as the explanation of my visit to Farmer, Bechuanaland land and the taxes; I said nothing about the bills, because I was not asked the question; I was cross-examined as to the taxes, and I answered—when I went to Farmer on the 6th, I did not go with any idea of laying a trap to catch the Jacobses; I did not know the Jacobses—we first formed the intention of lay-ing a trap to catch them when we knew they were going to blackmail us; I could not say the exact date, after I had seen Farmer—I did not form the intention of laying a trip; when they attempted to blackmail us we thought we ought to lay the matter before the justices—I would not say that at no time we were laying a trap, to catch them—when I went to Farmer, on the 7th, and heard they attempted to blackmail us, we deter-mined to listen to their proposal, and then hand them over—I cannot say we formed the intention on the 7th—when I saw they were attempting to blackmail, as they were, through Mr. Farmer, I consulted Mr. Aldridge, and he advised me what to do, as I have told you right along—when I drew this cheque for £500 I was doing it for the purpose of making evidence against them on this charge—I had seen Julius Jacobs on the 13th; he asked me whether I was going to pay down the £500, and I said, "Ye?"—he said he would not take any money himself; I must pay it to Farmer—I think he said, "Are you ready to pay the cash?"—he did not make any stipulation that the money was to be paid in cash or bank-notes—I marked the cheque "Not Negotiable," so that they should pay it through their bank, and so that it could be traced—it was stopped at once, almost as soon as it was drawn—I swore an information on the 12th, and obtained summonses against Morris Jacobs, Julius Jacobs, Albert Jacobs, and Farmer—I swore in the information that Morris Berlyn Jacobs was the registered printer and publisher of this paper; there was a mistake between the Financial and Weekly Who's Who—I swore in the information that on November 6th Farmer told me that he had seen Morris Jacobs on that day, the 6th: that, was what I understood from him—I swore in my information that on November 7th Farmer said the three Jacobses had positively declined to take the cash in their own hands, but it must came entirely through him; that on November 9th Farmer said as to the signing of the agreement, "The three Jacobses will not sign it in your presence, as they are too long at the game to be caught napping"; that on the 9th he said Morris would immediately abstain from libelling ray father in Who's Who, and that he
would see the three Jacobses as soon as he could during the day; that on the same day Farmer said he bad seen the three Jacobses that day, who stated they did not think £15,000 was sufficient; and that on that day Morris Jacobs had especially instructed him not to let me have any copies of those documents—I have never ascertained that Morris Jacobs was away between November 5th and 12th—I do not disbelieve he was; I heard it proved at the other Court, and I daresay he was; I have no knowledge about it—I cannot say if I omitted, in giving my evidence at the Police-court, the reference as to what Farmer said about Morris-Farmer said, on the 6th, that he had seen Morris on that day—my lawyer obtained a summons against Albert Jacobs also, but it was not served; I do not know if it was withdrawn—the authorities would not grant a warrant against him—the case against him was not proceeded with—I believe our solicitors made an application to hold over the summonses—after the events of Saturday afternoon I knew, from the inspector at Kingsland Road Station, that Farmer and Julius Jacobs had been to the Police-court to ask the Magistrate to grant process against me—Howard asked me on the Saturday night, while it was fresh in his memory, to take down his deposition in shorthand, and I did so; and I wrote out mine as well—I believe we sat up till one or two in the morning doing it; it took a long time to write out—I don't know if Howard stayed up to that time—it took place at my father's house—my father was in bed ill; he had not been out that day—I only saw him in the afternoon, or towards the evening—I told him what had happened—I and Howard were engaged in the dining-room; we were not engaged very long; we began late.
Re-examined. I am twenty years old—I could not say whether the case against Claud Marks was in 1889; I was at boarding school at Faling at the time—communications had been passing between us and Farmer with regard to bills—there was a letter as late as November 4th from Farmer about the renewal of some of the bills—I had never seen any of the Jacobses till this matter arose—I saw Mr. Aldridge in this matter on the evening after the telephone message, I think, at his office; that was the evening of the 6th—from that time till I saw the City Police on 10th I kept him informed of every step I was taking—I went to the Guildhall Police-court on Thursday, 12th—at that time the information upon which I have been cross-examined had been prepared, setting out what had taken place—application was made to Alderman Davies, who considered the matter, and granted summonses—after that I continued in communication with our solicitors—subsequently a further information was prepared, setting out the matters that had taken place subsequent to the application for the summonses; that information was in the possession of the defendants' representatives—that second information was taken to the Police-court on the Monday, but Alderman Davies was away; it was thought advisable, as the matter had been before him in the first instance, it should be before him again, and so we went before him on the Tuesday—a good many things happened on the Saturday, and Howard and I made the notes at night, because we wanted to get ready for Monday morning, when we were going to Guildhall—we consulted counsel on the saturday evening; we had done so before, on the 10th—from the time the information was laid to the present the conduct of the matter has been in the hands of our legal representatives.
By MR. AVORY. I heard Howard say at the Police-court that we were engaged till three on the Sunday morning writing out our account—he saw ray father for a few minutes, I believe, in the afternoon, a long time before doing it—he went up with me to explain what had happened.
WILLIAM ALDRIDGE . I am confidential manager to Chinnery, Aldridge and Co., solicitors, of Brabant Court—I have acted for some time for Marcus Bebro—prior to November 10th I saw Lionel Bebro, who made a communication to me—on November 10th Farmer called at my office; I saw him alone for a few minutes before Lionel Bebro joined us—I asked Farmer to explain to me the whole facts in connection with the matter—he said, "My clients, the Jacobses, have been going for Bebro in their paper, Who's Who, and they threaten to continue publishing the libels unless Marcus Bebro will pay them £1,000 in cash and £15,000 in shares in the company that is being formed, the Bechuanaland Gold and Diamond Fields, Limited: they are backed up by a very powerful syndicate in Paris, and they have in their possession an immense amount of information; they have obtained various copies of agreements and original documents that Mr. Bebro has entered into, and also original letters written by Mr. Bebr?"—Lionel Bebro was then announced, and was called in, and Farmer, continuing, said, "I have a draft agreement and a draft receipt, which, it is proposed, shall be signed by the Jacobses; that you and Lionel Bebro shall go with me to their office and wait outside, and I will get the document signed by them. I will verify their signatures; I am to retain the document, which can be placed in an envelope, and sealed and signed by Lionel Bebro if you choose?"—Farmer produced these agreements to me; they were not then in the condition they now are; an addition was made to each in Farmer's handwriting, and at Farmer's suggestion that his clients wanted that addition made; the addition is, "In consideration of such payment, we agree to deposit with Mr. J. H. Farmer, as custodian for all parties, and to remain in such custody during the continuance of this agreement, all documents relating to yourself, your father and family, and his and their re-spective companies, that are our exclusive property?"—I said I could raise no objection to that—I said to Farmer, "You cannot expect me to approve these documents right off; I should think you had better leave them for a day or so?"—he said, "I cannot leave them, and the paper goes to press to-night, and, therefore, the matter ought to be completed, otherwise the threatened libel will be continued in to-morrow's issu?"—I said, "Surely you can stop that, Mr. Farme?"—he said. "Oh, yes, I will do that; I can do anything with the Jacobses; they will do what I tell the?"—he consented to let me have copies made of these documents, and I took the copies; it was after taking the copies that the additions were made—he said he must take the originals with him—he said, when the documents were completed, they were to remain in his custody on behalf of the various parties—after that interview I consulted counsel, and, as the results, laid the whole matter tafore the police on that same evening—on the 12th I instructed counsel to apply for process against the three prisoners and Albert Jacobs, and summonses were granted against them all—on the 13th Farmer called at my office; Lionel Bebro was present all the time, and Howard part of the time—Farmer said, "I want some change
to be made; I cannot get these documents signed as they are; Julius and Albert Jacobs are willing to sign, but Morris now declined to sign; he has upset the arrangements; it is all his doin?"—he spoke of his being us artful as a waggon-load of monkeys, and said he had returned the previous night from Bath—I asked him if he had brought other documents, as he proposed they should be—he said, "No, I have not got them with me—I handed him a piece of paper, said, "Perhaps you would not mind scribbling down something, to give me an idea of what you wan?"—he said the Jacobxes would be; willing to write a letter saying they would assist Mr. Bebro in the formation of his companies if Bebro would give them the £1,000 in cash and £15,000 in shares—I said I did not think Bebro, under any circumstances, would accept their terms, neither did I think he would give them £1,000, or even 4d.—I asked him to write down the proposed new documents, and he began to do so; they were to undertake not to further libel Bebro—I said, "When you have drafted this you will let me have a copy?"—he said, "Oh, yes?"—I was called from the room to see a client, and before leaving I said, in an audible whisper, to Howard, "Mind you take a copy of these documents Mr. Farmer is drafting?"—I did not want the whisper to reach Farmer—on the 14th, I think, I went to the Guildhall Police Court; I went there once or twice, and saw the Chitf Clerk in respect of the summonses.
Cross-examined by MR. COCK. I have had a good many matters to attend to—I had applied for a summons on the day I saw Farmer in relation to this matter—at that time I intended to apply to the police, but not before I had seen counsel—I had made no note—I did not think it necessary—I had been in communication with Farmer in relation to the affairs of this company—Mr. Farmer was acting for the vendor—I was acting for the purchaser, Bebro—the correspondence with Farmer extended over a year—it was important the company should come out, and that attacks should be stopped—there had been articles in the Financial News as far back as October 31st—we did not consult Farmer, because he was not acting for the promoters—he advised that a writ should be issued against the Financial News—I suggested that at present nothing should be done—then the fourth libel appeared—I heard of it on the 5th—I did not see McConkey that day, even if he called—I was not aware of Farmer being asked to see the Jacobses, nor of McConkey requesting Mr. Farmer to interfere—I heard of it when Mr. McConkey gave his evidence at the Police-court on the 10th—when Mr. Farmer called I supposed he was acting for the Jacobses—he made a statement, which I took to be correct—I believed him—I do now—even after the 10th he was in communication with me on the affairs of the company—he wrote to me to ask my clients not to describe "South Africa," and "I spoke to Bebro to-day; he said he would see to it; would you mind reminding him of it?"—he showed me an agreement on the 10th and 13th—on the 12th I sent a message to say I had no alterations to make in the agreement—I did not nee him on the 12th—when he wanted to substitute a new arrangement I asked him if he would write down what he intended—I left the room as Mr. Farmer commenced to write; I did nor see the actual marks on the paper, but before I came back he had ended—he said, 'It is a draft; would you like to have a
copy?"—I think Mr. Marcus Bebro had been there before Mr. Farmer came—the next communication from Mr. Farmer was his letter of Monday, November 16th, 1896. (Stating; "I shall be glad to hear from you that you hod no knowledge whatsoever of the trap that was being set to catch the Messrs. Jacobs, any more than I had any knowledge that I was being played with by both parties.") That was after a suspicious circumstance, as stated to Lionel, had happened in our office, when Mr. Farmer was writing and a liveried officer from the Police-court came and asked Mr. Farmer to see him—he was not being played with; he examined the facts.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWHS. We were consulted by Mr. Bebro to advise what course should be taken. (Reading from deposition: "When I was shown the attack of the 4th in the Financial Who'a Who, I was con-sulted by Mr. Bebro as to the best way of stopping the attacks.") That is substantially true—it is actually true, only we look upon it from a different point of view—I should think the attack would injure the flotation of the company—following our advice to Mr. Bebro, we determined on criminal proceedings on the 10th, after seeing counsel—I have had very little ex-perience in criminal matters—summonses were applied for, and granted, the information being sworn on Thursday, 12th—I asked for time to con-sider the advisability of withdrawing the summons against Albert Jacobs, against whom it was felt our evidence was not sufficiently strong, and to allow the matter to be completed. (Read: "I asked that the summonses should be held over in order to give time for the matter to be carried out.") That was not when I made the application for the summonses—I think it was on the next day, the 13th—I think you make a mistake; I did not apply to the Alderman for the summonses to stand over, but to the Chief Clerk—it was to give time—I think it was prior to the supposed substituted agreement that I saw the Chief Clerk—I asked him to stop the summonses, or whether they could be held over, and be said they would not be ready to be served till the Saturday—he said they would take some time to make out—I do not think he suggested what the difficulty was—I have said that I saw Mr. Farmer on the 30th, and he told me one of the Jacobses would not sign that—I asked him to sit down and make another proposal; he ultimately did so, the effect of which was that letters were to be substituted for the agreement—the application for the summonses to stand over was, I think, before I saw Mr. Farmer, but I am not clear about that—I have no memorandum as to that—the reason for the postponement was, partially, that the documents should be signed by the Jacobses, to give them an opportunity of carrying out the matter, not to get better evidence—I did not advise the defendants should be approached with the view of making evidence against them—they had already committed the offence, and I wanted to give them an opportunity of completing it, as well as to consider the evidence against Albert, and whether to proceed agninst him.
Re-examined. I had no personal feeling against the defendants—I never knew them till I saw them in the dock—this is the letter Mr. Farmer wrote me, of November 23rd. (Stating there was no personal illfeeling between them.) It was the Chief Clerk who stated, in the first instance, the summonses would not be ready till Saturday, and afterwards
till the Monday, as they would take some time to make out—I did not cross examine him.
EDWARD BOWDEN HOWARD . I am a clerk, employed by Chinnery, Al-dridge and Co., solicitors—on November 13th I went to Mr. Aldridge's room, where I saw Mr. Farmer, Mr. William Aldridge, and Mr. Lionel Bebro—I heard Mr. Farmer say he had seen Mr. Morris Berlyn Jacobs, who declined to sign the agreement as submitted; that he was as artful as a waggon-load of monkeys, and had influenced his father and brother to carry out the matter in the following way:—" I am to sign a letter to you that in consideration of a sum of £1,000 cash and £15,000 in fully paid-up shares of the Bechuana-land Company, he would abstain from publishing any articles in the paper concerning your family or the company in which you were interested; further, that he would co-operate and assist in any scheme which your father would put before him; that letter to be sent by me and addressed to you," and that we were to meet Mr. Farmer and obtain a letter from the Jacobses embodying these terms—those two documents were to remain in his own possession—I think he said he further offered not to continue the attack—Mr. Aldridge suggested that. Mr. Farmer should sketch out the terms in writing, and handed him a sheet of paper for that purpose, when Mr. Farmer sketched it out—I then went out of the room in con-nection with other business—as I was going out of the door Mr. Aldridge said to me in an audible whisper, "Mind you get copie?"—when Mr. Farmer had finished drawing out the letters, turning to Mr. Lionel Bebro, he said he would see the Jacoboes, and come round any time that would be convenient—Lionel said, "I will see you at my office at half-pass on?"—after some further con-versation Mr. Farmer went away—he did not hand me the copies—at half-past one I went to Mr. Bebro's office and waited; Mr. Farmer not coming, he was telephoned to, and I held one of the ear trumpets while the conversation was taking place—Lionel carried on the conversation through the telephone—he paid, "I expected to see you before now, Mr. Farmer?"—Mr. Farmer said, "After what has happened this morning, between you and me and the gate post, I am not coming to your office again; I can put two and two together, and I will have nothing more to do with the matte?"—that was telephoned a few minutes after two on the 13th—we had been waiting about half an hour—Mr. Farmer said, "You must come round, and see me by yourself without any third party being presen?"—I went with Lionel Bebro to Mr. Farmer's office immediately afterwards—Mr. Bebro went in first—I waited outside—when I went in Mr. Farmer said he was afraid to have anything more to do with the matter; he had heard the audible whisper, "Mind you get copies"; it seemed very funny—I told him Mr. Aldridge had given me directions—he said he did not care a damn for the others; they must look after them-selves; he was going to look after himself, and "I will tell you what I will do; I will get Mr. Jacobs across here any time, and you and he within these four walls can fix up the whole matter between you; I can attend on behalf of Mr. Jacobs, and you or Mr. Aldridge can attend on behalf of Mr. Bebr?"—he said they had auother offer we might safely take, and "I had a letter from them since I saw you this morning," and he pointed to a letter on the table—it was turned
down, I could not read it—I knew the letter heading; it was from the Protection Agency; I do not know about the printing besides that—I arranged to go back at 3.45—as I was going he said, "You will be here, won't you? Jacobs is a nasty man to offend"—we went again at 3.45—I was shown into Mr. Farmer's room—I saw him in his private room—he said he would go over to Mr. Jacobs' place—that is at Finsbury Pavement—there are the names of two papers and the Agency on the door—when we went in Mr. Julius Jacobs came from behind the screen—Mr. Farmer told him who'we were—he took us outside that office, through a corridor, to another room, which I think adjoins the one we were in, although there appeared no connection—"No. 10" was on the door—there were four present—Mr. Farmer opened the conversation—he said, "I have brought these gentlemen to see if we cannot bury the hatchet between you?"—Mr. Bebro objected to the phrase about the hatchet, and said his father had not commenced the libels—Mr. Julius Jacobs said, "Don't call it libels; I can publish anything of public interest in any newspaper of min?"—Mr. Lionel Bebro said, "I presume you are Mr. Julius Jacobs?"—Mr. Jacobs said, "Yes"—Mr. Bebro said, "Is it true that your two sons authorised you to make the proposal to me that in consideration of £1,000 cash and £15,000 in fully paidup shares, you would abstain from publishing articles concerning my father, his family, and the company that they were interested in, and would co-operate in any scheme which he would put before them?"—Mr. Julius Jacobs said, in answer to Mr. Bebro, that was quite true, and was proved by the fact that they had specially abstained from publishing matters in their last issue, although they had threatened to do so—that referred to the issue of the 11th—Mr. Bebro said, "Supposing we do not pay you this money?"—Mr. Jacobs said, "Well, as a matter of business, we shall have to continue the attacks, as they are worth from £10,000 to £15,000 to us, and we are being backed up by a rich member of Parliament and his brother, who are very bitter against you and your fathe?"—Mr. Lionel Bebro said, "If I pay this money, can I have an agreement by which I am to give the £15,000 shares?"—at first he said, "No, it is foolish to ask such a thing," then, looking at Mr. Farmer, Mr. Farmer said, "Yes," and Mr. Julius Jacobs said, "Very well, I will leave you to carry out the matter," and he instructed Mr. Farmer to draw out the agreement in that room—when Mr. Farmer had finished writing two letters, one was signed, and a letter was to be sent by Mr. Jacobs to Mr. Farmer—Mr. Jacobs would not sign the other, but said he would carry out the matter at Mr. Farmer's office—then we left the place—we went to Mr. Farmer's office about six p.m.—we were shown into Mr. Farmer's room—he immediately sat down and signed the letter—he also wrote out the receipt for the £500—he said he was going to send on the cheque and the certificates for the shares to Mr. Jacobs that night—at Mr. Jacobs's office, Mr. Jacobs left the room whilst Mr. Farmer was preparing the copies for signature—Mr. Farmer turned round from his work, and said to Mr. Lionel Jacobs, "I have known this man twenty years; you can trust your soul in his hand?"—the next day, Saturday, I went with young Bebro to Mr. Farmer's office—there was some question about the time; I think Mr. Farmer was to be at Mr. Bebro's office about twelve o'clock—I saw Mr. Farmer at his own office about one o'clock—Mr. Bebro
asked for the production of the letter he had sent in before, which had been signed by Jacobs—Mr. Farmer said he had sent the agreement, with the cheque, to Mr. Jacobs last night (the 13th)—he suggested we should come round and see Mr. Jacobs sign the letter, and that would be more satisfactory—I then went with him to 76, Finsbury Pavement—Mr. Julius Jacobs came from behind the partition in the general office—I saw both the sons in the private room—one of them said, "Oh, here they are"—immediately the four of us arrived in No. 10 room Mr. Farmer beckoned to Mr. Jacobs, and both went out, but came back immediately afterwards together; they did not come to the point at first; then Mr. Jacobs said he would not sign the agreement until the cheque was paid, and "Mr. Farmer feels an objection to taking a cheque in a matter of this kind?"—a few minutes later he sent a messenger to the bank to see if the cheque was all right; he came back in a few minutes—Mr. Jacobs was asked to sign the agreement; he went out of the room—Mr. Farmer was out of the room also—Mr. Jacobs came back a second time, and again sent a messenger to the bank—we began to make excuses to go, because we knew the cheque would be stopped; and when the messenger came back we saw he was aware the cheque had been stopped—he was mad with rage; he danced about the room—he said, "That cheque has not been paid, and you know it"—then, when we tried to get out of the room, he locked the door—he said he had been put up to that by Harry Marks, and was laying a trap to catch us; he would have us one way or the other; it was a charge of conspiracy, to get some £500 to help him to provide a swindling company—young Bebro told him he knew he had tried to blackmail him in an outrageous manner, and because he found he had not succeeded in arresting him, he had trumped up the charge—Mr. Farmer tapped at the door, and appeared very surprised to find it locked—Mr. Jacobs had called for a clerk, and sent for a policeman—Albert Jacobs also went for a policeman—when the police came, Jacobs asked Farmer whether he had applied for a warrant or summonses against us—we said, "Let us go, then?"—he appeared to have made up his mind to have us there and then arrested—Mr. Farmer came again into the room, and wanted to speak to me, but the policeman would not let him do so—the other policeman was not there then—we went to Kingsland Road Police Station—the inspector heard what was said, and would not take the charge—I said that Morris Berlyn Jacobs was the registered proprietor of the Financial Who's Who; it should have been the Weekly Who's Who.
Cross-examined by MR. COCK. I have no note of the interviews—I never heard of what had taken place as to McConkey until that gentleman gave his evidence at the Police-court—I did not ask Mr. Farmer for a copy of the drafts, because he said to Mr. Lionel Bebro he had an appointment for 1.30, and went out before I could ask him.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWS. The letter was upside down when Mr. Farmer made reference to it—he said a lady clerk had been sent with it that morning—I had no difficulty in identifying it by the printed heading—when Mr. Farmer made reference to it I recognised it at once—young Bebro and I sat up very late to get the evidence complete—I dictated my evidence to him, and he wrote it out from his shorthand—he would have my evidence before him when he wrote his own—it is not
correct to say Mr. Bebro never saw my deposition—when I said, "So far as I am aware, Mr. Bebro never saw my deposition," that was in answer to Mr. Avory, and refers to Mr. Marcus Bebro—if you refer, you will see I said that I dictated to Mr. Lionel Bebro; he was the shorthand writer—I have said, "I was engaged till three a.m. at Mr. Bebro's house on the night of November 14th, dictating my evidence to a shorthand write?"—we had been engaged till two or three a.m. from about eight p.m.—the note on the 14th was made on Monday, the 16th—I made no note prior to the dictation of what I said—I do not say that Mr. Farmer ever said in my presence to Mr. Julius Jacobs that the cheque had not been met—Mr. Farmer left the room immediately Mr. Jacobs came in—I do not know if Mr. Lionel Bebro was angry with me.
JAMES MCHENRY OLIVER . I am managing director of the Bank of London, Limited, at 5, Lothbury—I know Farmer and Berlyn Jacobs—I produce copy of Farmer's account at the bank—in September it was overdrawn £200—I received Mr. Farmer's letter of November 14th—I tore it up—the pieces were found—I remember the contents—it was written from Frognall—I do not think I can make anything of this (the pieces produced); it is impossible to piece them together; I can see it is "Friday"—the substance was, "Please clear the enclosed cheque; I cannot let you have any part of the proceeds, as the money does not belong to me, and I have to hand it over to the owners"—I got to the bank on the Saturday about eleven a.m.—before I got there my manager had sent to see if we could use the cheque—the returned cheque was shown to me on my arrival—a letter to me personally accompanied the cheque—the next letter was on the following day, asking me to return the first letter—I tore that up—these are the fragments—I can read, "Dear Oliver,—About the £500," "sorry about it," "on cheque," "Friday" something, "in all good faith," "Bebro has plant on," "mind, send round"—practically, it was asking me to return the previous letter, as there was a plant on—I cannot find the heading, but it was written the day after.
Cross-examined by MR. COCK. I have known Farmer a number of years personally, and have had a great number of business transactions with him—I always found him a perfectly straightforward and honourable man—until this charge I never heard a suggestion against him—I knew he had an account at another bank, because I frequently got cheques from him.
WALTER BRIDGEMAN (Inspector G). I am stationed at Kingsland Road Police Station—Howard, Lionel Bebro, Julius Jacobs, and Farmer came in about 2.45 p.m. on November 13th, 1896, with Police Constable 128, City—Jacobs said, "I charge Lionel Bebro with trying to bribe me with a cheque for £500 to suppress information in my possession which would shew Bebro's Company was a fraud—Bebro then made a statement, which I took down, that they offered "if I would pay them £1,000 cash down, with £15,000 fully paid up shares, they would cease to libel my father; they accepted the proposition through Farmer, and said I could pay £500 down, and the other £500 in a month; I came to the office at Farmer's request; I did not offer them the money, but Mr. Farmer, as their solicitor, asked me for that; I hold his receipt, and that is the reason I paid the mone?"—I explained to Mr. Jacobs that I would not take the
charge, as he had not disclosed any criminal intention, and I referred them to Worship Street Police Court.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWS. Jacobs gave his address, 17, Fins-bury Pavement, and intimated he should make an application at Worship Street—nothing was said by Lionel Bebro as to charging Jacobs with blackmailing him.
WILLIAM GIBSON (City, 128 G). On November 14th last I was called to 76, Finsbury Pavement, where I saw Julius Jacobs, Howard, Farmer, and Bebro—Jacobs, pointing to Howard and Bebro, said, "I give these two men into custody for bribing me with £500 for the delivering up of certain documents relating to a bogus company they were about to float in a few days?"—Bebro said, "It is a monstrous lie; I will charge these men with blackmailing; I will send for another constable, and give them into custody?"—I said, "There is no need to do that; we can all go to the station, and it can be decided?"—we went to the station, and saw the inspector—before that Farmer called Howard in the corner of the room to speak to him, and I said I did not think it fair to allow any private conversation.
ERNEST CUTHBEBT . I am the reporter at Worship Street Police Court—I was present when Mr. Farmer came, with Mr. Julius Jacobs, late in the afternoon—the Magistrate was fetched from his room, as it was after the ordinary business was finished—I took a shorthand note of Mr. Farmer's application, and made this transcript for the solicitor—it is correct. (The witness then read his notes of Mr. Farmer's application to Mr. Cluer, the Magistrate at Worship Street, on November 14th, 1896, for a summons against Mr. Bebro for attempting to bribe Messers. Jacobs, which the Magistrate refused to grant.)
Cross-examined by MR. COCK. I report for all the papers; the reports are substantially correct—I would rather only answer for myself—speaking from recollection, I would not say Mr. Farmer, instead of "The company is a fraud," did not say, "Jacobs says it is a fraud," but my notes were asked for two months afterwards—I give a correct transcription of the notes—I should say it was impossible that Mr. Farmer could have used those words; these are my notes, made at the time the words were uttered—Mr. Jacobs could not interrupt Mr. Farmer while he was addressing the Magistrate.
Re-examined. There is no difficulty in taking a shorthand note of a statement of that kind—sub-editors cut the reports about a great deal.
FREDERICK DOWN (City Inspector). On November 17th I received a warrant from the Guildhall for the arrest of the prisoners—the same afternoon I went to 76, Finsbury Pavement; I told Julius Jacobs I was a police officer; I held a warrant for his arrest—I read the warrant to him—he said, "Why, we are applying for warrants against Bebro and Howard for attempting to bribe us; are there any other names mentioned in the warrant?"—I did not answer—he requested to go and see Mr. Farmer—I told him he could not do that—he sent a message—I went with Inspector Cox to 28, Austin Friars—Cox went in first, and I went in afterwards—I said, "Mr. Farmer, I am a police officer; I have a warrant for your arres?"—he said, "Oh, this is Bebro's work; this comes of my being a friend, and acting for both parties?"—he went in a room, and took from his pocket thin envelope, containing a cheque, and
handed it to me—he was conveyed to Moor Lane Police Station—the same evening I saw Berlyn Jacobs, who had been to visit his father at the station; he was detained and charged—he said he had nothing to say in answer to the charge.
Cross-examined by MR. COCK. Farmer's offices are of a considerable size, of about £300 a year, and there is a staff of clerks.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWS Morris Berlyn Jacobs was the third arrest—he said he had an appointment with the others in the course of that day.
The prisoners' statements before the magistrate, were then read. Witnesses for the Defence of Farmer.
MAUD LYTTON . I am a lady shorthand clerk and typist at Farmer's office, 28, Austin Friars—I live at 15, Oxford Gardens, Netting Hill—before November 4th or 5th I had known Colonel McConkey, and I knew his voice—on November 5th I was rung up on the telephone—I replied, and heard McConkey's voice through the telephone—there is one instrument in the outer clerks' office, and also a private wire from the outer instrument into Farmer's private room—in consequence of what McConkey said, I endeavoured to switch the instrument in the outer room through to that in the inner room, but Farmer was engaged, and I could not do so, but after two or three attempts I was able to—I saw a diary of Farmer that afternoon—it was part of my duty to make an entry in the diary if an appointment was made, and Farmer, or any of the clerks, was away—I saw in the diary on that day, in Farmer's writing, under the date of Friday, November 6th, "10.15, Bebro"—from November 5th to the present time I have made no entries in Farmer's costs book with regard to attending upon the Jacobses at the Bebros'—I make the entries of costs.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. That entry in the diary is the only ink entry on that page—I think a clerk makes the entries, at the side, of the different hours before the day begins—I think the telephone incident took place about two, or a little after; after lunch, which I go to at one o'clock—I saw the entry in the diary subsequently, some time later in the afternoon.
Re-examined. I saw and recognised it—I had a reason for noticing the name of Bebro, because McConkey said in his message that Mr. Bebro was at the telephone.
WILLIAM BRUCE GLASCOTT . I am a clerk in Farmer's employ, at 28, Austin Friars—the call-book kept at the office is divided into various divisions with a perforated edge, so that a slip may be torn off, leaving a counterfoil, and the slip and counterfoil bear corresponding numbers—a person calling to see Farmer would have his name entered on slip and counterfoil, and the slip would be taken in to Farmer—I was in charge of this book on the morning of Friday, November 6th—I find entered here in my writing on counterfoil 239, "Bebro seen by H. F. "; that stands for Farmer—it is the first entry on that day; that would imply he was the first caller that morning.
Several witnesses deposed to the excellent character borne by Farmer.
MR. MATHEWS submitted that as neither he nor MR. AVORY had called witnesses, MR. GILL had no right of reply in regard to their clients, but should reply as to MR. COCK'S clients, and sum up his case against their
clients, before they addressed the JURY (Q. v. Trevelli and others, 15 Cox; Q. v. Burns, 16 Cox). MR. GILL contended that in a case of conspiracy, where the facts so related to all the prisoners as to make it impossible to deal with them separately, he should be allowed a right of reply against all the prisoners. The COURT, after consulting MR. JUSTICE WILLS, ruled that MR. COCK'S proceeding in calling witnesses could not extend the rights which MR. GILL had before; and that MR. GILL should reply to MR. COCK, and sum up as to the cases of the other two prisoners, and that MR. MATHEWS and MR. AVORY should follow MR. GILL.
FARMER— NOT GUILTY . JULIUS JACOBS and MORRIS BERLYN JACOBS— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, February 11th, 1897.
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY, BIRON, and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MESSRS. KEITH FRITH and HARRISON Defended.
GEORGE JAMESON (205 J). About a quarter-past twelve on the morning of January 5th I was on duty in the Whitechapel Road, opposite the London Hospital—I saw the prisoner, Wilkins, Hannah Wilkins, and another female now known as Jessie Phillips, all four in company, larking together, on the footpath—I saw their hands go up and close together, and immediately saw a flash, and heard the report of firearms—they were about ten yards from me—Wilkins wheeled round, and said, "I am sho?"—the prisoner was facing the road, and Wilkins was at his back—as soon as I heard the report I ran up and seized the prisoner from behind by both arms—Wilkins at that time was wheeling about the road, and he came up and struck the prisoner twice with his fist while I held him, saying at the time, "I have a great mind to lock you up'—I saw blood running from Wilkins' left hand at the time; another constable came up, and took him to the hospital—at the time I was holding the prisoner he said, "I don't know these people; I am a respectable man, coming along the road with my wife; it is that fellow running across the road; what do you want to hold me for?"—I said, "There is no one running across the road?"—at the time I heard the pistol go off there was no person, man or woman, there besides the four persons; I was the nearest person to them, and I kept my eye on them all the time—I took the prisoner to the station; he was detained until Hannah Wilkins came from the hospital; she made a statement in the prisoner's presence, which was taken down by Inspector Wells, and signed by her—the prisoner was then discharged—he was charged with shooting Alfred Wilkins, with intent to murder—he made no reply to the charge—I examined him; I found that his neck was very much discoloured by the powder, and his necktie and collar were singed on the left side (producing them)—I found this ball cartridge in his right waistcoat pocket—I saw Hannah Wilkins at the station—I saw the other woman at the time I ran up; she was close to the prisoner—I have not
seen her since until yesterday morning, outside the Court—I have seen her here today.
Cross-examined. I am informed that her name is Elizabeth Phillips—I had not threatened her that if she dared to come to give evidence I would make it hot for her—I was present at the Police-court when Wilkins and his wife gave evidence—they then denied that the prisoner was the man that shot him—there was a remand, and they attended on the remand—there was then another witness, who kept a stall in Brick Lane, a sort of shooting range; his name is Nihals.
ALFRED WILKINS . I live at Gale's Gardens, Stepney Green Road—I do not know the prisoner—he might have been there on the night of January 5th, but I would not swear to that; I was intoxicated at the time—I was going home that night with my wife in Whitechapel Road—we came to a place called Bakers' Row, and there was a man there that I had had a quarrel with on the previous Friday; indeed, there were two men, there might have been three, and a woman, to the best of my recollection—I asked him what he meant by kicking my wife on the previous Friday—he was not the prisoner—I had a stand-up fight with him and his friend—I had the best of it—he said, "I have been looking for you," and I said, "I have been looking for you?"—he said, "Come up here?"—he had a couple of friends with him—I walked along the road, to the best of my recollection, towards Mile End Gate, and two or three of them kept dodging and crossing, and some women as well, and there was jangling as we went along, and I got shot, and was taken to the hospital—I have no further recollection—I cannot describe the position we were in; I was shot in a finger of my left hand; I did not know that I was shot at the time; I heard the shot and I felt a kind of numbing pain in my left hand; I have no idea of what was going on at the time—I know he wanted me to fight; I don't know how far he was from me; I was the worse for liquor—after I was shot they tell me that I hit him, and I suppose I did; I don't recollect what I hit him with—I remember being taken to the hospital, and seeing a doctor; nobody came that same night to take a statement from me; that might have been two or three days afterwards; two inspectors came and took a statement from me, which I signed; and I will say now, as I did then, that the man that shot me I could pick out of a hundred men; I am not going to say that this man is the man—I know a man called Don; I have known him two years; I don't know the name of Donovan, I only know him by the name of Don; he is the man that shot me—I don't believe myself that this is the man; I was confused at the time—I really don't know what I was doing.
Cross-examined. Don was the man with whom I had the fight, and he kicked me and my wife; he threatened to shoot me as soon as he got the chance—I told the police officers that it was Don, and not the prisoner, who had shot me, as soon as I got out of the hospital, when I saw him at Worship Street; before I went to give evidence I was under the impression that Don was in custody, and not the prisoner—at the time I was in the hospital I was suffering pain—I thought then that the man that shot me was the man that had quarrelled with me on the previous Saturday; I thought it was Don—as soon as I saw the prisoner in the dock I said, "I am certain that is not the man—I had never seen
the prisoner before, to my knowledge—I told the officers, when they took my statement at the hospital, that I suspected it was the man called Don; that was all I knew his name by—I said I knew the man, and I believed it to be Don—this is my signature, that I made at the hospital—I was in great pain when I made my statement—I have repeatedly told the police that they had made a mistake, and had got the wrong man—I was present when my wife gave evidence at the Police-court—we both denied that the prisoner was the man, and then the police brought up the man from the stall—I should say the prisoner was about 500 yards away from where I was shot—to the best of my recollection, I had never seen him before; he had no motive for shooting me; Don was the man; he is about twice as big as this man—I swear he is not the man that shot me.
Re-examined. I could not swear that I struck the man in the face that shot me; I tell you I don't recollect being shot; I felt a little numb, and they took me to the hospital—I heard the pistol go off—the police told me that I had struck somebody. (The witness's deposition before the Magistrate stated: "I struck the man that shot me, but I am certain that is not the man.") That is true—they told me that I caught the man by the throat, and tried to knock the revolver down—the statement I made was true—I was confused and intoxicated at the time.
By MR. K. FRITH. From the time I gave evidence before the Magistrate I have told the police that they had got the wrong man.
HANNAH WILKINS . I am the wife of the last witness—on the night of January 5th I was going home with him along the Whitechapel Road—as we came along he got into an altercation with somebody—I did not know what it was about; I am rather hard of hearing—he was under the influence of drink, and I also—as we came along there were two or three gentlemen and a female together—some words passed—they were a rowing before my husband was shot—I saw the other man pass his hand from one pocket to another, and I said to my husband, "Don't row, I think he has got a knife?"—some words passed, and it was only two or three seconds before my husband was shot—he caught hold of the man by the collar—I could not say 'with which hand—that was before he was shot—as soon as the shot was tired I went to my husband, and found he was wounded in the hand, and I helped him to the hospital—a policeman came up, and caught hold of the man—after going with my husband to the hospital I went to Bethnal Green Station—I could not tell what time I got there; it was very late; it must have been about two in the morning—I was a long time at the hospital—I was very agitated—I don't know whether I was sober—I saw a man at the station; I cannot recognise the prisoner; I cannot say whether it was the prisoner or not—I believe I made a statement there—I had notice to attend at the Police-court the same day—I did not attend because I went to the hospital to my husband, and when I came away I was too late.
Cross-examined. I have not told the police officers that they had got the wrong man; I do not remember saying so; I have not said anything at all, right or wrong—I do not recognise the prisoner; I don't know him—I don't know a man named Don—I believe there has been a row between Don and my husband, but I don't know Don—I don't know that Don threatened to shoot my husband—I should not be able to pick out the man that shot my husband—I do not recognise the prisoner.
By the COURT. This (produced) is a statement I made at the station—this is my signature. (In this the witness alleged: "I saw the prisoner fumble in his pocket—the prisoner called me a foul name—the prisoner fired a shot.") I was rather under the influence of liquor at the time I made that statement—I might have said it was the prisoner, but I could not recognise the gentleman up there—I really don't remember what I did say—I could not say who it was that shot my husband—I saw the reflection of the shot—I could not say the prisoner shot him.
Re-examined. I did not tell the police the reason I did not attend at the Police-court on January 5th—I did not tell them any name by which I knew the prisoner.
DAVID NIHALS . I am a general dealer, and live at Hackney Wick—on the night of January 5th I was in Whitechapel Road, outside the London Hospital, with a stall that I keep there—I noticed some persons who passed by my stall; they were the prisoner, Wilkins, his wife, and another young woman who is outside the Court now, I don't know her name—they were a rowing and jangling, and when they got by the stall about twenty yards, I heard a shot—the prisoner threatened to use a revolver, I talieve, but I did not see any revolver—he said he would blow his brains out—I ran up, and the police had hold of the prisoner—I said to the prosecutor, "Go to the hospital, old chap; I will go with yo?"—the prisoner said to the policeman, "Don't take my money away"; the policeman was feeling his pockets—I did not say anything to the prisoner when the policeman had hold of him, not that I recollect—there were two women there when I got up, dodging about, backwards and forwards—at the time the shot was fired I was not looking in that direction; I looked directly I heard the shot—I don't think there was any other person there besides the four I have spoken of; I did not see any man running across the road.
Cross-examined. The prisoner is the same man I saw at Worship Street; the same man that was taken on that night—I have not said that I did not recognise the man at all—this is the third time I have seen him—I have never said that I did not recognise him—the shot was fired about twenty yards from where I was—I did not say I saw him shoot; I said, I heard the report—I did not see the prisoner fire the shot—a crowd did not collect; it was very quiet; two or three women came outside the Rodney public-house—no one asked me to come up and give evidence; I had a paper sent to me by the police, and I came up—they did not tell me that the prosecutor and his wife could not identify the prisoner, and they wanted me—I have never given evidence for the police before, nor have I ever been in a place like this before—the four persons passed close to me on the pavement.
By the COURT. The prisoner is one of the persons that passed me, I am sure of that; he was on the outside; no other man passed—I went to the Police-station that same night, of ray own accord; I did not notice the prisoner there; I believe I made a statement to the police that night.
EDMUND WARE (52 J R). On January 5th, about twelve o'clock, I was in Whitechapel Road, coming towards the railway station; I heard a shot, and saw a flash; I went to the spot, and commenced to search; it was about ten yards off, or a little over—I saw four persons standing with the policeman Jameson, who was holding the prisoner—they were
very much confused—the prosecutor came up to me and said, "Constable, I am shot; that man did it," pointing to the prisoner—the prosecutor was bleeding from the hand; I took him to the hospital; the prisoner said nothing—I did not notice what the two women were doing; I did not find the pistol—Wilkins was sober, and Mrs. Wilkins seemed sober.
PHILIP WILLIAMS . I was house surgeon at the London Hospital on February 5th, when the prosecutor came there about a quarter to one—he was perfectly sober—he was suffering from a wound in the little finger of his left hand, and a fracture of the second bone; I should say, caused by a bullet—he was in the hospital from the 5th to the 11th, and was then discharged.
Cross-examined. I think he was capable of giving a coherent account of the manner in which he received the injury—it only took me two or three minutes to see to him—I took a statement down at the time—he did not mention a man named Don—he did not give any description of the man who had assaulted him—he said he had been shot, and he knew the man who had done it.
ROBERT WEBB (Inspector). I was on duty at Bethnal Green Station, at midnight, on February 5th, when the prisoner was brought in by Jameson; he remained in the charge-room—about ten minutes to one, Mrs. Wilkins came in—she was perfectly sober—she said that her husband and the prisoner were passing along Whitechapel Road, that she saw the prisoner take something from his pocket, which she thought was a knife—that she told her husband, and he immediately seized the prisoner with his left hand by the collar, and immediately the shot was fired, which injured her husband's left hand—I then took the charge, and when I read it over to him he made no remark—Mrs. Wilkins signed the charge-sheet—I saw the prisoner searched, and the cartridges taken from his breast pocket—at 10.30, the same evening, I took a statement from Mrs. Wilkins, and Wilkins also made a statement to me, in the presence of Inspector Thurm—she was perfectly sober then, and rational, as composed as I am at the present—it was written in pencil by Mr. Thurm, in my presence; this is it—he signed it—Mrs. Wilkins was quite sober and rational when she made her statement—I read it over to her, and she signed it.
Cross-examined. I saw the young woman, Elizabeth Phillips, and told her to come—I did not tell her that it would be better for her not to come here; if the prisoner had not subpœnaed her, I should have done so; I did not threaten her.
Witness for Defence.
ELIZABETH PHILLIPS . I live at 13, Northampton Street, Bethnal Green—I am a tailoress; on the night of this occurrence, I think it was on February 5th, I made an appointment, with two lady friends, to go to the Foresters' Music Hall, and while waiting for them I saw the prisoner, and made acquaintance with him, and walked a little way with" him down the road—I saw two men having a scuffle; we walked down, and in about five minutes two policemen came up, took him by the arm, and took him into custody—I remembered no more, but about a week after I looked in the paper and found this gentleman had been charged with this crime—he had given me his name, Frederick Leymore; I did not know his friends, but I had a subpœna paper to come up as a witness—he did not fire any revolver on that night; I was with him all the time—I
had him by the arm, and never moved away from him—on my oath, he did not lire a revolver on that night.
Cross-examined. I saw the account of this in the newspaper; I did hear a shot on this night, but not from the prisoner—it seemed to come from the other side of the road; I saw a man running away; a crowd came up—I did not know any of them; I did not go to the Police-court; I was not asked—I did not see the revolver; I never led one, and don't know what it is—I had never seen the prisoner before.
GUILTY on the Second Count . He was further charged with having been convicted at Epsom on May 31st, 1895, in the name of Frederick Clark, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY; six other convictions were proved against him, five in the name of John Donovan, and on one he had been sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
ELLEN DUNFORD . I live at 31, William Street, Netting Dale, with the prisoner, as his wife—on February 5th, about 11.30, I went to my friend, Ellen McDonnell's house, at 38, St. (Catherine's Road, in consequence of a dispute I had had with the prisoner in the morning—he came in, took a knife from the table, and said he would murder the two of us, as Coombs had done—he ran round the room after me; my friend ran out, and he stabbed me here (the top of her head)—he had struck me in the morning with a shovel—my friend came back with a constable, and I gave the prisoner in charge—after stabbing me he sat down and had tea, which was on the table—he was not in liquor—McDonnell was about ten minutes out of the room—I ran to the top of the stairs, and met the policeman on the stairs.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You wiped the blood off the knife—there was plenty on the floor—while running round the table I was calling you a lunatic—I did not trip up.
Re-examined. I have lived with the prisoner sixteen months—I am sure the knife was used.
ANNIE MCDONNELL . I live at 38, William Street, Netting Dale—my friend, Ellen Dunford, visited me about 11.30 a.m.—the prisoner came in, and started knocking Dunford about—he took my knife off the table—I asked him to leave oft', and tried to get the knife from him—he did it, and lay on my bed—I asked him to give me the knife—he said he had lost it—I asked him if I might feel in his coat pocket; it was not there—he got up again, and I saw the knife in his—I went downstairs as an excuse to fetch a kettle of water, and called for a policeman—when I returned with the policeman, Dunford was on the landing, with the room door shut—she was streaming with blood—the knife was bent up on the table—the prisoner was then sitting at the table, eating a bloater, and drinking some tea—he was sober—he was given in charge by Dunford for stabbing her, and was taken away by the policeman.
Cross-examined. First I asked you to have a cup of tea—I do not remember Dunford asking you to go and get your dirty clothes, nor, her calling you a lunatic—the row was caused by you taking her hat, throwing
it out of the window, and breaking her umbrella up—you told me to take her away from your place, or you would murder her, and you told the woman in the next room the same.
ROBERT ALEXANDER JACKSON . I am a medical practitioner, of 11, Portland Road West—on February 5th I examined the prosecutrix at Netting Dale Police Station about one p.m.—she had an incised wound half an inch on the back of the left side of the top of her head, penetrating to the bone, and a bruise on her forehead over her right eye—the wound on the head could have been caused by a knife like this—the blow need not have been violent—the knife is not very sharp—the woman was not in danger from the wound itself—there was a good deal of blood in her hair.
SYLVESTER PRICE (44 X). I was called by McDonnell to 36, St. Katherine's Road on February 5th—I found Dunford on the first floor landing, bleeding from a wound in her head—I went into the room—she said, "There he is; he stabbed me in the head; there is the knife on the tabl?"—I said to the prisoner, 'You hear what she says; you will have to come to the station with me?"—he said, "I did not do it with a knife?"—I took him to the station—he was charged with cutting and wounding—he made no reply—this knife was on the table—Coombs is the man who murdered a woman in the Harrow Road recently.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate; "I did not mention Dick Coombs' name, and I did not use the knife." In his defence he said how she got the stab he did not know; he had received much provocation by being called a lunatic, and being told he had been in Hanwell, which was no fault of his, and he did not see why it should be thrown in his face, but he lost his temper, and this was the consequence.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. The JURY recommended him to mercy on account of the provecation he had received.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, February 11th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
199. ISAAC COHEN (23) , Unlawfully taking away Leah Bauer, an unmarried girl under sixteen, out of her father's possession, and against his will, with intent that she should be carnally known by a man.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Friday and Saturday, February 12th and 13th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BODKIN and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted; MR. RAYMOND Defended Farmer, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended Worsfold.
JOHN ALABASTER . I am joint managing director of Batey and Co., Limited, mineral water manufacturers, an Munster Road, Fulham, and other places—fifty-six van travellers are employed at the Fulham factory during the season, not so many in the winter—each traveller has a separate round assigned to him, with a list of customers for that round, and it is his duty to call only on the customers on his round; he takes out each morning what quantity of various kinds of mineral waters he thinks necessary—he orders them overnight, and in the morning his van is loaded, and an account is taken of what is put on his van in the out-book, which is kept in duplicate with carbon paper; one duplicate is left in the book, and one ed to the traveller—the mineral waters, and also the bottles and taxes, are debited to him, except patent boxes and beer boxes—on each dozen pint boxes 3d. is charged, and on each two dozen pint boxes 6d.—nothing is charged on the two dozen half-pint boxes—the bottles are charged 6d. a dozen pints, 3d. a dozen half-pints—when the traveller sells goods to a customer he charges him that amount of deposit on boxes and bottles, and the amount for the goods—we conduct our business on the cash principle; there are very few exceptions—the travellers duty is also to collect the empties from the customers to whom they had been delivered, and give them credit for them; and so the customers over as many empties as possible to save their pockets—there is a very considerable loss of bottles and boxes; they get broken, lost, and used for improper purposes—in the evening the travellers come back to the yard, bringing unsold fulls and collected empties—the various kinds of empties are delivered at different doors for convenience in washing and storing—Farmer was a checker employed at a door at which pint and half-pint bottles and the boxes were received—that was his main business—he came to us as a commissionaire, at 35s. a week—the vans draw up a little way from Farmer's door, so that the tail-board or the side of the van was convenient to the shoot, which runs from the van to the door—the shoot is automatic, and consists of two parallel iron girders with iron wheels along their length", and one box is placed on at a time and runs into the warehouse—it is not possible to put more than one box on at a time, except that you can put one on top of another; you cannot put them side by side—it was Farmer's business to examine each box for the number of bottles, and to examine each bottle for the name on the bottle, and each stopper for the name on the stopper, so that we got only those lettered in our own name; then he would enter the details in the home book and hand the counterpart to the traveller, and keep the duplicate—he should enter the numbers of gross, dozen and single bottles, and the number of chargeable deposit boxes—a traveller would receive a similar ticket at the other doors for different kinds of empties and bottles; they are really credit notes—the fulls he brings back are checked and credited to the traveller, but remain on the van, and are again charged to him in the morning, when he starts a fresh account—with the tickets from each unloading door, and his ticket for fulls brought back, the traveller goes to the office, and Sibley, the cashier, adds up the—total of the credits, which is deducted from the value of the goods debited to
him in the morning—he gets credit for what he brings back as against the debit for what he has taken out—he pays overnight—if credit is given to an authorised credit customer, the customer's receipt counts as money; there are very few—Worsfold was a van traveller in our employ—his number was 43—he was in receipt of 10s. a week, and commission calculated on the sales, and on the empty bottles brought home by him—there were different rates for different bottles—he Mould earn, according to the weather, from 35s. to 45s. or 50s. a week—lust October we found an undue proportion of emptier coming back, and referred to our figures, and found that we were apparently receiving an unduly large number of empty buttles, very much in excess of those that went out—Murray, the yard foreman, made a communication to me a few days before November 28th—I had given instructions to Murray a day or two before the 28th—on the morning of November 30th Murray made a report to me, and I communicated with our solicitors.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I am here as representing the firm—I believe the travellers are paid so much on sales; I cannot quite say, as I am not quite sure—we have changed our system of payment lately—the present system has been in existence for six months—we satisfied ourselves that Worsfold was capable and suitable before taking him into our employment; I cannot say that I inquired strictly into his honesty—we take the ordinary precaution of inquiring into a man's character before employing him; we do not trust them very much—if a man brings back £5 worth of fulls, the night watchman looks after the van at night—we have one night watchman now, and we had one at that time—I have heard complaints that vans have been robbed at night, and in those cases we have complained to the police and to Scotland Yard—we lost about 6,000 or 7,000 Cross of bottles a year, including breakages, on our own premises—we have nothing to do with the bottle exchange—we prosecute people if they put their lemonade in our bottles—we have monthly credit customers—it is in my discretion whether crsdit shall be given to a customer—there is a rule that no credit other than what is authorised shall be given—our season begins in April or May; the weather decides when it falls off—each traveller has a book of his rounds, and in it is put down his proper round for each day of the week—it is not the fact that more empt es are returned in the autumn than in the summer—in August we begin to send out a less quantity of mineral waters than in the summer—it is not left absolutely to the traveller's discretion when he shall call for the empties—when a traveller calls he sells what he can to the customer, and he is bound to take away all the empties which the customer wishes to part with, and the customer is credited with those—each traveller is bound to call on all his customers twice a week—it is left to the customer whether he shall send back his empties or not—a traveller would not wait till the autumn before collecting most of his empties—there was no one to check Farmer—the shoot is like a ladder, the runs being represented by little wheels, and the box runs down by its own momentum—there is nothing to prevent one box being put on the top of another—Farmer stands at the door—there may be one, two, three, or four labourers at each door inside the works, who stack the boxes and bottles—the traveller is at the van end of the shoot, and at the other end Farmer hands them to a labourer—he might stand
immediately inside or outside the door—Farmer does not make an entry of each case that comes down; he enters up the total that has come off each van—he stands and looks at each box as it comes down, and he calls out the bottles in dozens, two, four, six, eight, ten, and so on, for the benent of himself and the traveller—when he has finished the van, he puts the total down in his book, and, leaving one duplicate in the book, he hands the other to the traveller before he starts another van—Murray is yard foreman—on November 28th we had about fifty-one van travellers—since this inquiry began we have discharged about five or six van foremen, not including the prisoner—I cannot say if we have discharged four van travellers—we have not broken Murray for drunkenness, nor reduced him; he is still yard foreman—I have only had complaint, since this case, of very trivial matters about Murray—he mislaid the keys on one occasion—we have put some new lights in the yard, on the other side, since this case, but not in consequence of it—Murray's office in the yard is a movable box, but it cannot be moved—it is about 15ft. away from the shoot where Farmer stood—it is like a builder's box with a window—van travellers are not paid by time; it is to their interest to discharge their goods, and get off; there is no fixed time for them to come—Worsfold had one of the heaviest and best rounds in the business—our estimate of 6,000 or 7,000 Cross of breakages a year does not appear in our profit and loss account—Murray is now yard foreman, in the same position as before—he is not unloading foreman, although he sometimes takes a door; he ranks next under Pitt, who is, and was, the head man in the yard—Murray was never yard manager; he occupies the same position now as he did on November 28th, and gets the same wages—Pitt is manager, and Murray is his assistant.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. Farmer came into our employ in the first week in July—we accepted Farmer's discharges, and the recommendation of his colonel, as coming from the Corps of Commissionaires, as placing him above suspicion—his discharges showed he had been in the Army twenty-one years, and everything was satisfactory his colonel gave him a high character; there was no blemish on it, from a hat I could understand—he had been a lance-sergeant—he came to us in July, while he was on furlough; his discharge dates from August—he had a sergeant's pension—we made him check foreman at 35s. a week—he was supposed to stand at the door, strictly, inside—it is rather a cumbersome job to get the boxes off the van on to the shoot; the men are not very quick over it—it would take about four or five minutes to unload one-fifth of forty boxes, I should say; it depends how the boxes are placed—the travellers are anxious to get their vans unloaded, so that they can get away; but they cannot go fast, because of the counting and checking of every bottle before it leaves the shoot—every bottle is looked at, but not taken out; there is a mark ou the shoulder of each bottle, and on the stopper—we get a certain percentage of bottles other than our own; the quantity varies very much, it is very small—we send them to their owners from our Kingsland place—it is Murray's duty to send them away—they would not be proper things for him to sell—I cannot say if Farmer checked the stock when he first came there; I think he did—there was no check on him—I believe Murray went to my office, in my absence, on November 28th, about 7.30, I believe—I was there up to about six.
Re-examined. The checking and deduction of bottles from fulls takes place in the evening, and after it is done the vans are kept in the yard, and the travellers have nothing more to do with them till the next day—there were complaints of vans being robbed at night after the checking had taken place—the vans are not checked again in the morning—they stand as they did the night before—in the morning one or two vans are jumped by hazard when the loading is complete, to see whether they have been correctly loaded or not—complaints of robbery have only come from travellers who are short in their money, as a rule—the yard is enclosed by a wall, and has gates—the watchman has been with us eighteen months or two years; he left us for a few weeks—we inquired into his character—I believed him to be a thoroughly honest man—as a rule, the complaints of robberies we get are of a few pints of cordials, full goods—we have had complaints of stealing a dozen or two dozen, but not to any great extent—customers do not keep bottles or boxes an hour longer than they can help; it is wo much money out of their pockets, besides being a nuisance; we mostly serve confectioners' and sweetstuff shops, rather a poor class of shops, where money is scarce—the commission earned by travellers is mostly on the rmpties returned, so that there is an inducement to return them—the width of the shoot is that of one large box; you could not get two boxes on it side by side—if two boxes were sent down one on top of the other Farmer could not examine them without taking one off; I should not think it would be done—I have never seen it done—the boxes, when tilled with empties, are pretty heavy—the top end of the shoot is two and a-half to three feet from the ground—it was Farmer's duty to examine the stoppers and bottles in each box; that causes a delay in the boxes coming down—there is a desk inside the door, which Farmer uses, und where he keeps the home ticket-book—there is a gas-lamp inside the door—the shouting out of the numbers is for the benefit of both parties, and to prevent dispute at the finish.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. A watch was Kept on November 30th—nothing was found wrong then; it was not kept with a view to find out anything, but to instruct a new watchman.
By MR. BODKIN. Pitt or Murray was the watchman on November 30th—I had his figures, and they agreed to a bottle—I believe there was no other watching after the 30th.
JOHN MURRAY . I have been in Messrs. Batey and Co.'s employment for about seven years—on November 28th I was yard foreman—before that, up to about July, I had been loading and unloading foreman—it is the duty of the yard foreman to see that the vans drive up and unload in a proper manner—Farmer was employed at the door where the middle shoot was, and received bottles and boxes—a van traveller drives up to a shoot, puts boxes on to it one by one, and so they pass along—there is an interval between ihe boxes, because the foreman has to examine the box to see it contains no strange bottles; he calls out the number as he passes them, loud enough for the driver to hear—when dealing with a dozen pints he would call out one dozen at a time—when all the empties for that door are transferred to him, he makes out a ticket in the home ticket-book for the amount he has received—the shoot is constructed to take the widest and the narrowest boxes—I never saw more than one put on at a time by the driver; the unloading foreman
might, if the shoot got blocked, put—one on top of another—about a week before November 28th I was in the yard, and I noticed Farmer receiving and checking some pints off a driver's van, and he made a slip in the counting—he received ten dozen and four, and he counted it as eleven dozen and six—when he had done the load, the driver told Farmer, "The last box you put down was eleven dozen and six," and Farmer immediately agreed with the driver, instead of disputing it—I had heard him count ten dozon and four, and the driver claimed eleven dozen and six, and Farmer allowed it—I said to Farmer, "No; your original count was all ligh?"—he immediately agreed with me, and allowed ten dozen and four—I mentioned what I had seen to Mr. Alabaster, and received instructions from him—on November 28th I was on duty in the yard—the vans begin to come in at about 3.30, and go on till seven or eight—I was on duty during that time till eight—Farmer was on duty at his door that night—I use the box in the yard as a kind of office—it has a small window looking towards the shoot at Farmer's door—there is a gas lamp and small gas stove in the office—when vans were coming in on the 28th I watched the unloading at Farmer's door—I know Worsfold—he was a van traveller on round No. 43—when he drove up on that night, at about 5.45, I was outside the office at the corner; it was dark—I could see what was going down the shoot; I was five yards from it; it was the shoot next the box—I saw Farmer receiving bottles and boxes from Worsfold in the usual way—I could count the boxes as they were put on the shoot—no box was put on top of another; only one box was put on the shoot at the time, and there was the usual interval between one box and another for the examination of the bottles—I made a memorandum at the time of the bottles that Worsfold put on the shoot—Farmer received twentysix pint boxes, holding one dozen bottles each, and one patent box, holding two dozen, assuming each box was full—that represented two Cross and four dozen bottles—threepence a box is allowed on deposit boxes, and nothing on the patent boxes, so that the allowance for boxes would be 6s. 6d.—the allowance on the bottles would be sixpence a dozen, which came to 14s., so that the total credit to Worsfold on that night for what he passed in was £1 0s. 6d.—two or three minutes before Worsfold's van came in that night I had checked the counting of Cosford's van—he is a van traveller, in a similar capacity to Worsfold, on round 23—he unloaded eighteen pint deposit boxes—I was outside the box, in the same place as I checked Worsfold's from—Cosford's boxes represented one Cross and six dozen, and his credit would be 9s. on the bottles and 4s. 6d. on the boxes, amounting to 13s. 6d.—I checked four other van travellers (six altogether) outside the box, and then went into my box—the gas in the box was out, and the gas in the stove was turned down, giving sufficient light to show figures—from inside the box I could see the shoot through the window just as well as I could outside, and I was the same distance, five yards, from it—I could not see Farmer's door without turning ray neck and head, but the window was right opposite the middle of the shoot—I saw Churchley unload two gross and two dozen of half-pints in thirteen boxes (no charge is made on those) and four pint; deposit boxes—he would be entitled on the half-pint bottles to 6s. 6d., and 2s. on the pint bottles, and 1s. for the boxes, making his total credit 9s. 6d.—I checked other vans that night—on the morning of
the 30th I reported to Alabaster what I had seen—I might be in or out of my box at that time of night; I was always walking about the yard—it would not be usual for me to be in the box with the gas out at that time—before reporting to Alabaster, I compared my entry of that delivery with the entry in the book.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I am yard foreman now, as I was in November—Mr. Pitt, the manager, is my immediate superior; he is in the firm's service now—he was in the yard on November 28th—I have no doubt he was in the yard keeping observation when I made this count—I see him every night in the yard—he was in the yard, to my knowledge, on the night of November 28th—I saw him after I took this note—I spoke to him after I saw the unloading, not after I took the note; he is here—the van traveller is the driver—in some cases there is a van-boy; every driver does not have one—I think Worsfold always had one, I could not swear—I cannot recollect if he had one on November 28th—they pick up a van-boy outside sometimes—Farmer called out, in the hearing of the travellers and van-boys, what numbers went down the shoot—there is a light in the yard outside the building between the two shoots—there is a wooden box immediately under the lamp, and a reflector at the back of it—there is a second light immediately inside—there is a light inside each door—I swear it was not a wet night on the 28th—I made all the entries on this paper the same night—these figures, 236, in metallic pencil, have nothing to do with it; I could not say when they were made—very likely it would be on the paper before I began to make my memoranda—the first part of my memoranda I made outside, and the latter part inside my office—those I counted outside I noted outside, and those I counted inside I noted inside—the bottles were empty; full bottles are never unloaded there—I could not tell from my observation whether the boxes were full or not—there is nothing to prevent boxes being put on the top of one another and sent down the shoot, only that the foreman cannot check them—it was not done, and never is—only one box can be put on the shoot at a time—I did not keep watch on the 29th or 30th—I do not know that on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday observation was kept on the prisoners, and not a single bottle found to be wrong—on the Thursday the prisoners were discharged—outside and in the rear of these premises, in Minister Road, Fulham, there is a plot of ground which has been an orchard, and upon which they are building—I believe it is easy for people to climb up from the orchard over our walls and into the yard—inside the office is a desk—I looked through the window, turned round, made an entry by the light of the gas-stove, and then turned and looked through the window again at 5.45 on a dark November night, with the lights I have described—I was not mistaken—it was a rule that if anything was wrong in a man's account on Monday, he would not be allowed to go out on Tuesday till it was cleared up; but I have nothing to do with that.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. Farmer did not see me standing outside the little box; the van-man might have—Farmer was at his unloading door; he was not in a position to see me; I could not see him; he may have been outside or at his door—the corner of my box would shut out Farmer from me—the driver could have seen me if he had looked at me—he could have told Farmer without my knowing, but it was an unusual
thing for me to be going about the yard there—I did not see the No. 30 round van there that night—I checked several vans that night, taking Fanner's place for that purpose; that was about 7.30—I have no doubt my check was accurate—I did not check van 30—I never heard that my counting was not quite correct—I could not say the numbers of the vans, or the names of the men I checked—the distance from the lamp to my box is twenty-four feet—the reflector at the back of the lamp throws a light out—the lamp is cleaned every Saturday, and it had been cleaned that day—Farmer's checking had been always accurate except on this night, so far as I knew—we do not have many foreign bottles coming back to our place; there is a fine on the driver for each one he sends down; one may be slipped in now and again—they are sent to Kingsland—the window in the box is about nine by nine; I can lean on the desk and look through, because the desk is not quite so high as the window—you can put your nose against the glass—the desk is about two feet broad.
Re-cxamincd. The boxes are made of plain, varnished wood—I took a note of each van as it was unloaded and before the next one came up—the foreign bottles we keep in the store and send them to Kingsland every week—it the foreman saw a foreign bottle going down he would take it out, and the traveller who sent it down would be fined four of our bottles, and it would cost him penny or twopence—no large number of foreign bottles find their way down the shoot into the factory behind—I put down in my note the number of the round by which the driver is known.
WILLIAM BROWN CLARK . I had been employed by Messrs. Batey for about two years up to December 3rd, as an indoor and outdoor foreman and van traveller—during September and October last year I was a van traveller—Farmer was on this door—on one occasion, in the first week of September, I delivered empties at Farmer's door, and I noticed upon my ticket a Cross more empties than I had delivered—it was the second or third night after I started—I said nothing about it to Farmer—I took it into the paying office, and they paid me, I thought if I took it back to Farmer it might get him into trouble—after about two days I noticed I had a gross too many—put down again—I did the same thing with the ticket—a third time I noticed an extra Cross put down, and I got the allowance on it—I did not say anything to Farmer about it on any occasion—two or three days after the third occasion, while I was unloading, Farmer gave me a look or a wink, and I gave him 5s.—he did not say anything to me—that was after I had been a van traveller for a fortnight—I said nothing to him, and he said nothing to me—after that I noticed, perhaps two or three nights a week, that I used to get a Cross of empties over and above what I had discharged; on each occasion I got my allowance from the office, and I used to give Farmer about 5s. every week, which was about half of what I got improperly—that went on all the time I was on the van—I ceased to be on the van on November 30th, when I met with an accident—two days after I heard something, and went to see Mr. Webb, the secretary of the company, and I was suspended, and after that I was called as a witness at the Police-court.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The van travellers go on duty about six a.m., and it is an advantage to finish off the round as soon as
possible, and discharge the empties, because they get away sooner—my round was in the West-end, and was very light—I had a van for six weeks or a month before I met with the accident—the van-boy would take the empties off and them to the foreman, who would send them down the shoot—I do not know that the van-boy is in the employ now—no one would check Farmer—in the summer months our outgoings in the shape of deliveries are much more than the incoming empties.
By the, COURT. The van-boy is not shown the sheet, and would not know whether more or less had been entered.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. A short time after September 1st I found my ticket was wrong—I went to the office, and took the money, and did not say a word to Farmer about it—I did not tell the cashier the money was wrong, or Farmer that the amounts were wrong—I think it was on the third or fourth time that I had the wink from Farmer—he was at this door, and at the shoot, discharging the empties—I had a boy it was daylight at 6.30—he gave me a nod or a wink, as much as to say the ticket was all right, and I gave him 5s.—I never spoke to Farmer about this matter—I always gave him the money at the door, watching a favourable opportunity—I never mentioned it to anyone—I met with an accident, and then I came to my senses, and thought better of it—I fell off my van, and dislocated my ankle—I did not think it would be better to give Queen's evidence to save my situation—I don't remember saying at the Police-court that I would do anything to save my own neck—I did not do this until I knew that something was suspected.
Re-examined. I had been for two years in the firm's employ, and had known the prisoners as fellow workmen—people have a tendency to get rid of empties because they have not room for them; that applies to all times of the year—I never knew of a practice of carrying boxes full of empties from the van to the door; the shoot was used.
JOHN WILLIAM SIBLEY . I am cashier in the Munster Road department of Batey and Co.—in the course of the day I get the duplicate out-ticket, showing what goods the traveller takes out in the morning, and that ticket is in my possession when the van comes in in the evening—the traveller then brings me the three tickets from the three receiving departments, showing fulls returned, empty bottles, and deposit boxes—when the sheets come to me I put the numbers of the various goods on, and do the pricing out; I add up the three tickets, and deduct the total from the total out in the morning—the difference between those sums is what the traveller has to pay us in cash or in a credit customer's receipts—I enter on the factory daily return-sheet in the evening the particulars of the fulls taken out, the empties brought back, the fulls brought back, and the boxes brought back, so that the factory daily return-sheets contain the total amount in money of the ticket-sheets, not the details; it shows the total credit and debit, not the difference—I have the duplicate home-ticket from the traveller—Worsfold was on round No. 43—on November 28th home-ticket No. 3488 was the ticket of No. 43—it is signed "E. Farmer." (Murray was recalled, and stated that this signature was in the prisoner Farmers writing.) It shows three gross nine
dozen and eight empty pint bottles, and forty-six deposit boxes, the total value of which is £1 14s. 4d.—this is the factory daily-sheet for November 28th, made up by me from the tickets the travellers bring us—it contains the numbers of the different rounds—I see each of the travellers at my office every evening—he brings home-tickets, and I enter them on to this sheet, and the tickets back to him—Worsfold brought me these tickets, from which I have entered these figures that appear against No. 43—Worsfold took out in the morning goods worth £11 12s. 10d., and brought back goods worth £8 5s. 9d., including empties value £1 14s. 4d., according to Farmer's home-ticket—deducting one from the other, he handed me £3 7s. 1d., the balance—in the traveller's book, No. 43, I find my receipt of £3 7s. 1d. from Worsfold that night—Cosford is No. 23; as to his ticket 3472, purporting to be signed by Farmer, there is the entry of three Cross five dozen and three empty pint bottles returned, and forty one empty pint deposit boxes, which came to £1 10s. 10d.—on the daily return-sheet I find that No. 23 took out £1 12s. 5d., and brought back £8 7s. 1d., which included £1 10s. 10d. for empties—I received a balance of £2 15s. 4d. from Cosford, and initialled it in his book. (Murray stated that the signature to No. 3472 was Farmer's) Churchley's ticket, No. 3473, shows two gross, ten dozen and four half-pints, and one gross, three dozen and eight pints, and nineteen empty deposit boxes, amounting to £1 1s. 2d. by the factory daily return-sheet; he took out £10 1s. 2d., and brought back; £7 17s. 1d., including the £1 1s. 2d., the amount of Farmer's sheet—he handed me the balance of £2 4s. 1d., for which this is the receipt initialled by me. (Murray stated that the signature to No. 3473 was Farmers.) Since July I have pursued the same course each evening with regard to the factory daily return-sheets.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I am the only cashier at the Munster Road branch—there are seven or eight clerks in the office—I only enter on the factory daily sheets the total, not the details—I cannot remember whether on November 28th I made up the totals and saw the tickets, or whether another clerk did, and handed them to me—if another clerk had said the total for Worsfold and Churchley is so much, I would have entered it on my sheet without seeing the ticket—the other clerk would only add it up, and give me the ticket—I do not recollect anything being alleged against Worsfold except what happened on November 28th; nothing else has come to my ears.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. It is the only thing I have heard against Farmer, too; I have no means of checking any other day; I have figures given me, and I enter them; whether they are correct I cannot tell.
By the COURT. Now that I have this duplicate I can see that these figures are mine, and the writing is mine.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Inside the door is a gas bracket, and outside the door there is a gas lamp, with a reflector—I should say the box used as an office has not been moved for at least a year, because a gas pipe is fixed to the wall, and to the box, and it is rusted—from the window in the box to the shoot is between 15 and 16ft.
By the JURY. The depth of the lamp in the yard from back to front is 11 in., and the depth of this casing 12 in.—the burner in the lamp is 7 in. from the bottom, so that the frame is 7 in. above the casing.
EDWARD PITT . I am manager to Messrs. Batey and Co. at this branch—I watched the unloading of the vans, on November 30th, from Murray's box, looking through the little window over to the shoot, at half-past five—it was a clear night—I could see and count the boxes put on the shoot quite plainly—I did count them.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Our employes are not more anxious to get away early on Saturday than on other nights, and my eyesight is quite good.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. I cannot tell if the men were watching me—the checking was practically all right—I had no light in the box—I took my note standing up, using a separate page for each man.
STUAY. I am a chartered accountant—I was called for the prosecution at the Police-court—I said I should expect, in the ordinary course, the returns in July to be in excess of the goings out—that was my experience of the mineral water trade before the deposit system was introduced; but since that system came into use bottles and boxes came back much more quickly, and there are not now more returned in the autumn.
Farmer received a good character.
FARMER— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
WORSFOLD— Judgment Respited.
203. EDWARD FREDERICK GREEN (36) to stealing £32 10s., £23 8s. 9d., and £5, belonging to a co-partnership existing between himself and Clement Cheese; also to stealing a cheque for £50, belonging to such co-partnership The Prosecutor recommended him to mercy.— Discharged on Recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Friday, February 12th, 1897
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
MR. CAMPBELL Prosecuted.
ANNIE OWEN . I am a widow—I have been living with the prisoner for six years—on Sunday, December 20th, we were living at 15, Tower Street, Hackney—I have a boy named Albert, aged about fourteen, and three others, the eldest being three years and nine months—about ten that night I and my three children were in bed—the prisoner was out; about ten minutes past ten I heard him coining up the stairs—he tried to open the front bedroom door; I was in the back bedroom—I asked him if I should open the door for him—he said, "Yes, if you lik?"—I had not slept with him the night before—he helped to open the door—he was
drunk—he wanted the baby to sleep with him, and he took the baby from the bed and took it into the front room; it screamed, and I fetched the child from him; he got it from me again, and he fell with it, and I took it from him a second time—somebody downstairs called out—the prisoner went down, and, coming up again, I heard him say he would do something desperate that night; that he had a knife, and he would use it—I had locked my door; he forced it, and tried to get in; I and Albert tried to keep him out with a stick, and lifted up the window and cried, "Murder?"—Albert hit him with the stick about his arms and elbows—he rushed into the room and ran at me, and I received a blow in the stomach, on the right side; I thought he had kicked me—I did not see anything in his then—he said he would do for all of them, and he rushed towards the children; we struggled and fell—I told the children to get away, or they would be killed; and they went away, except Albert; he stayed with me—the struggle between me and the prisoner continued for about half an hour, and we fell on the floor; I saw a knife in his hand, and was trying to get it away from him, and I told Albert to hit him, which he did several times with this stick (produced), not with anything else—at last I got away from him, and went downstairs, and Albert went to the station—the police afterwards took me and the prisoner to the station—I there found that I was covered with blood, and the doctor examined me and dressed my wound, and I was taken to the German Hospital, and then to a convalescent home, where I still am.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. We have lived together for nearly seven years—during that time you have not worked for me properly; it has been work one month and play one month—the children always treated you well; before my eldest boy came home you illused me; I was always afraid of you—I did not tell you that you were not the father of my youngest child—on this night, when you came home drunk, Albert did not say he would down you—you have never behaved like a man to me—you have never complained of my drinking with your shopmatea—I thought it was a kick you gave me, till I saw a great pool of blood, and then it was found to be a knife that did it—I have not seen the knife properly since—this is the knife (produced) the little boy found—I did not know that I was stabbed till I got to the Police-station—this is my son Alexander's knife; he is between ten and eleven, and is now in the workhouse infirmary—it is not Albert's knife, he never carries one.
ALBERT OWEN . I am the son of the last witness; I was fourteen last birthday—on Sunday night, December 20th, about ten, I was in bed; mother was with us—father came into the room, and wanted the baby; she gave it to him, and he went with it into the front room; it began screaming, and mother brought it back from him—he got it again, and was going out with it, and fell down with it; he was drunk—some people downstairs called out, "Stop your nonsense," and he ran downstairs—he came up again, and tried to force our door open; we locked it while he was downstairs—we put a box against it, and I and my little brother and mother tried to keep it against him—the prisoner said, "I have got a knife here, and I will use it?"—he burst in the door, and I gave him the stick on his fingers—then he rushed at mother, and they began struggling, and got on the bed, and I hit him on the head with the stick, and also with a bit of iron, as he got the stick away from me—I remained in the room
the whole time the struggle went on—mother told us all to get out of the room—I did not see anything in his hand till we got him on the floor—then I saw the knife, and we tried to get it away from him, but did not succeed—I did not know that mother had been stabbed till the morning.
Cross-examined. You had told mother to take your bed into the other room—I have seen this knife before; my little brother had it—we got you down; I heard Alexander say, "Kill him, kill him," and he had cause to.
SOLOMON COHEN . I live at 75, Wick Street, Spitalfields; I was landlord of this house in Tower Street—on Sunday night, December 20th, I opened the door to the prisoner, and he went upstairs; in five minutes I heard a row upstairs, and heard him using nasty language to his wife—I went up to the first landing, and told him not to make such a noise, and said, "If you don't keep quiet, I will fetch a policeman?"—he turned round to me and said, "I will kill the b——lo?"—I closed the door in his face, and went out for a policeman, and when I came back in half-past an-hour there was a lot of people, and a constable on the landing with the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I did not see you hit your wife or kick her; I did not see that you were covered with blood.
DAVID SUTER (108 J). On Sunday night, December 20th, I went to 15, Tower Street—as I went upstairs I saw Annie Owen and the prisoner on the stairs—she said, "I have been stabbed in the stomach by him, he had a knife in his, and said he would do for us all?"—the prisoner said, "Look what they have done to me," pointing to blood on his head; "she did i?"—she produced this stick, and said, "Yes. I did it with thi?"—he said, "And the poker, too?"—I took him to the station—on the way he said, "Everything is false that the boy has said, but I will say nothin?"—I afterwards returned to the house with another officer, and in the top front room found this knife under a corner of the carpet; it was shut, but covered with blood—we also found there two pieces of stick, and this piece of iron, and bamboo cane.
Cross-examined. The boy admitted at the station having struck you with the stick.
FREDERICK HUMPHREYS (Police Sergeant, 49 J). I was in charge of Hackney-station late on the night of December 20th, when the prisoner and prosecutrix were brought there by the last witness; the boy Albert came in afterwards—they made charges against each other—the prosecutrix charged the prisoner with kicking her in the abdomen, and be charged her with striking him across the head with a stick—both charges were afterwards withdrawn—seeing that the prisoner's head was covered with blood, I sent for the doctor, who certified that he was suffering from severe scalp wounds—before the doctor arrived the woman complained that she was in great pain, and said, "He did not kick me, but I believe he has stabbed me; he had a knife in his, and said he would cut us all u?"—in answer to iny questions, she said, "It was not done in the struggle; he came at me deliberately with it," pointing under her petticoat—on the doctor's arrival it was found that she was stabbed, and he attended to her as well as to the prisoner—I sent the officer back to see if he could find the knife, and on his return with it the prisoner was charged with
wounding Annie Owen, with intent to murder her, and she signed the charge-sheet—in reply, the prisoner said, "Everything is false the boy has said, but I will say nothing?"—the boy made a statement, which I took down, and have it here—before that I also took a statement from the prosecutrix—the prisoner was certainly drunk.
PAUL KRIEG . I am house physician at the German Hospital—on December 20th Annie Owen was brought there on an ambulance; she was collapsed—I found her suffering from a small wound on the right side of the abdomen; she was covered with blood—I attended to her; her pains were slight, but became worse, I had to make an operation; the gut was cut, and there were signs of peritonitis—I sewed the cut together, and finished the operation—next day she was in danger; the pains were worse; she then got better, and now she is without danger—for some days her life was in danger—she was in the hospital a month—the wound was so small that this small knife might have caused it; it was a deep wound, though small—she will still suffer little pains, nothing more.
The Prisoner, in his defence, complained of the prosecutrix's drunken habits, and alleged that since the boy Albert hasi been in the house there had always been trouble and bad conduct, as, at the instigation of the prosecutrix, the boy was constantly in the habit of striking him with sticks about the head and body: he denied having the knife in his hand, and said if the injury was caused, it must have been in the struggle.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PUBCELL prosecuted, and MR. E. PEBCIVAL CLARKE Defended, at the
request of the COURT.
JAMES RYAN . I am an inmate of the Strand Union Workhouse at Edmonton—on Sunday, January 24th, about a quarter-past four, I was in the young man's hall at the union; the prisoner was there, and others—he was talking about imprisonment and penal servitude, and said he was going out; he had given his discharge for Monday morning; he had done eight, and seven for using a knife on board ship; that the last fire was not much of a one, but there might be a bigger one yet, before he went out—there had been a fire in the store-shed, and he spoke about having revenge on the two joints, meaning the two labour-masters—later in the afternoon, about twenty-five minutes to six, I saw him going in the direction of the store-shed; I was behind him, and afterwards I saw him going up the stairs, and I saw the labour-master coming down with a hose—an alarm of fire had been given—I slept in the same dormitory with the Prisoner—about half-past ten that night I heard one of the masters say to the witness Kelly, "Get up?"—the prisoner turned round on his side and said, "Are you going to copper?"
Cross-examined. A lot of us were in the hall, talking; the prisoner said a lot of things—he said he would just as soqn get a lagging as not; he was smoking—the store-shed is in the yard, and there are shops there as well—I did not see him go into the store-shed; all kinds of things are kept there; some are very inflammable.
JOSEPH KELLY . I am an inmate of the workhouse—on Sunday afternoon, January 24th, about 5.40, I was standing by the lavatory with William Carroll, filling my pipe; the prisoner came up and asked me for a bit of tohacco—I gave him a bit; he then asked for a light—I gave him two matches, and he went away with them—I saw him again in about five minutes upstairs on the landing, which looks out into the south yard, and soon after I heard an alarm of fire.
Cross-examined. I was not more friendly with the prisoner than with any of the other inmates.
WILLIAM CARROLL . I am an inmate of the union—on the Sunday evening I was with Kelly, and saw him give some matches to the prisoner; I did not hear what was said—he went out towards the shed, where the oakum is stored—I heard the alarm of fire about a quarter of an hour after.
Cross-examined. I did not see him go to the shed; he was not smoking.
JAMES WARD . I am an inmate of the workhouse—on the evening in question, about 5.40, I was in the passage leading to the yard; the prisoner came in, opened the door, and looked round, and then turned back and looked through a door in the direction of the store, and then went upstairs—he had to pass three windows, which he could look through and see the store; shortly after I heard a cry of "Fire!"
WILLIAM AINSWORTH . On this evening I was in the tin shop, trimming lamps—about a quarter to six I noticed a fire in the store-room—I had frequently seen the prisoner in the store room; he had no business there.
Cross-examined. I am an inmate of the house, the same as the prisoner—I did not see him in the store-shed that night.
Cross-examined. The fire was then almost extinguished—it created some excitement—there were a good many people about, looking out of the windows.
WILLIAM HILL . I am one of the labour-masters at the workhouse—on this evening, about ten minutes to six, I was in my room—I heard a cry of "Fire!" and went to the store-shed—I found there was a fire there—I made inqairies, and communicated with the police—the shed is partly open, and partly enclosed—a quantity if things are enclosed in it—after the fire was extinguished I saw the prisoner—he said, "It had not caught much of a hold, but before long there would be a b——good fire."
Cross-examined. There was not a great quantity of inflammable material in the store-shed—the prisoner has given me a lot of trouble.
CHARLES HENRY LOVEJOY . I am the fire man of the workhouse—on the Sunday evening, about six, I was called, and found the whole of the shed in a full blaze—after the fire was extinguished examined the place, and found there had been two or three deliberate, distinct fires.
Cross-examined. It was put out about a quarter to nine—it had been smouldering pretty well all night—there was a good deal of inflammable material kept there—one of the fires was started near the door, just behind it—it opens inwards—I examined all the doors in the morning.
Brigade—I was not called to this fire—some days after it was extinguished I made an examination—I found traces of three distinct fires—I found traces of tar at the far end and in the centre of the shed—I found two blocks of wood, and there were marks of nails on them, as if someone had walked on them, and an iron bar had been used to hook out the tar from a barrel.
Cross-examined. I do not know what the tar was kept there for.
ALFRED JENNINGS (Detective Officer). I am stationed at Edmonton—about ten p.m. on January 24th I went to the workhouse to make inquiry—I found the prisoner in bed about 10.30 or 10.45 p.m.—I told him I was a police officer, and should take him into custody for setting fire to the store-shed in the yard—he said, "I was up here in bed at a quarter to six, and have been in a long tim?"—taking him to the station, he said, "This is only a bit of spite; what did they put me on oakum for? They will have to prove i?"—the charge was read to him—he said, "I never saw him at all," and looked at Hill, "and never asked him for any bacco, and he never give me none?"—the next morning, on the way to the Court, he said, "No one saw me come out of the shed, and they cannot lag me for it."
Cross-examined. I made the entries of what he said, aa soon as I could, in the station, in the presence of the prisoner; the last one on my way to the Court, before I gave my evidence—I may have said at the Court that he said, "No one saw me in the shed?"—I had not my book in Court—he had nothing in his pockets to suggest arson when he was searched.
GUILTY .**— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HAWKE Prosecuted, and MR. CAMPBELL Defended.
GEORGE TUSKER (Police Inspector S). At 11.55 p.m. on January 22nd, in consequence of information received, I went to 45, Sydenham Terrace, St. John's Wood—I found a quantity of paraffin oil and broken crockery on the staircase, and oil on the stair rail—from what I was told, I searched, for the prisoner—all the stairs were scorched, and about five feet of the staircase wall, leading from the first to the second floor—failing to find the prisoner in the house, I found a trap-door leading to the roof, and, accompanied by a constable, got on the roof; there were two or three inches of snow on the roof, and it was very slippery—we searched the roofs of the fourteen houses in the block; then we searched the interior of several houses—I was compelled to call up several persons to do so—while searching No. 29, I heard some person scream in No. 31—I rushed up, and found Constable Waring with the prisoner, between the ceiling of the top floor at the roof—I took him into custody; several persons rushed into the house, and the prisoner said, "I will go quietly?"—in the street he said, "Is the house burnt?"—I took him to the station—he was charged with wilfully and maliciously setting fire to a dwelling-house, several persons being therein at the time—he made no reply to the charge—I afterwards inspected the house, and found the damage I stated—it is not very great.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was very excited and nervous—he was threatened with violence, and I had some difficulty in getting him to the station—he is a Bohemian—he speaks English fairly well—he was crossexamined at the Police-court, and made a statement—he was a very hardworking man, in respectable employment, at about two guineas a week—the wife told me he had been a good husband in every respect, except his violent temper—she had not been living with him for two or three days—she had left him.
JOHN HARDING . I live at 26, Sydenham Terrace—I am a timekeeper—I went to No. 45, and saw Mr. Philpot about 11.20 p.m., to help him with a trunk trom the first floor, when three separate things came smack in my face—the second time I sent for the police—when I got upstairs with the police a paraffin lamp came down on the top of us, then something else in my face, and something on my leg—I saw the prisoner on the landing, with a lamp in his hand—it went out—he defied the police, and said, "If you do come up here I will set fire to the place?"—I saw him with a tin can in his hand, pouring the oil out on to us and on the staircase—he struck matches and set fire to it on the top floor—he had poured some on the top floor—I came away.
Cross-examined. I did not know the prisoner—the trunk was Mrs. Cernik's—I knew she was away that night—I went to assist to take it to the first floor.
WALTER EDWIN PHILPOT . I lived in the kitchen at 45, Sydenham Terrace when this tire took place—I am a gilder—the house was let out separately in apartments—a man, his wife, and children occupied the parlours and first floor back, an old gentleman and lady the first floor, and the prisoner, his wife and child the second floor—on January 22nd, Harding came to help me move a box belonging to Mrs. Cernik from the first floor—she is my wife's sister—I believe the box had boen moved from the second to the first floor by the mother a day or two before—when I got on the landing I heard the prisoner say, "What you do with my things?"—as we were about to bring the box down my friend was struck on the nose or in the face—I thought it advisable to come down, when things were coming down one after the other.
Cross-examined. The prisoner lived, off and on, happily with his wife—for one whole week they had a bad time, in consequence of which she went to live with her mother—a woman in the parlour, the mother, and the wife brought the things from their room, as far as I have heard—I saw nothing of the fire; I was getting my wife and child out of the house—the prisoner speaks shortly, and not in complete sentences.
HENRY BROWN (250 S). When I arrived at 45, Sydenham Terrace, at 11.30, Harding complained of being assaulted—inconsequence of what he said I went into the house with him and upstairs—I saw the prisoner standing on the top landing—he threw a piece of coal, which struck me on the shoulder—then he said, "You don't come up here?"—I said, "I am a police constable: I want to speak to yo?"—I made a second attempt to go up to him—he threw this paraffin lamp, lighted, which struck me on the shoulder—it was extinguished as it came down; then he emptied paraffin from a two-gallon can on the staircase, took a match, lit a piece of paper, and set fire to it—he said, "I will set fire to the plac?"—the paraffin caught fire and set light to the staircase—I then saw the
danger, assisted the inmates of the house to escape, and sent for the fire brigade—with the assistance of several men, I extinguished the fire—four or five stairs were burnt—I assisted in the search for the prisoner, who was found at No. 31.
Cross-examined. When the prisoner was holding the lamp there was a candle on the top landing—all the light was on the top floor—the prisoner spoke to me from the top window when I was in the garden—he said, "You don't come into my house?"—I did not see all he did;. missiles were being thrown downstairs all the time—I did not see him stamp on the lighted paper—he was very excited throughout, and seemed nervous when we got him to the station.
Re-examined. The prisoner added to what he said before I got in the house, "or I will fire?"—I thought he meant he had a revolver.
JOHN LYON . I am a cab proprietor, of 31, Queen's Terrace, St. John's Road—I am one of the executors under the will of the late James Guthrie—No. 45 is part of his estate—there are four storeys; eight rooms—it has been let out in tenements—I knew Cernik lived there.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "Last night I was in bed at eight o'clock. At a quarter to twelve by my clock I heard someone open the door downstairs, I got up, and saw a light downstairs, and saw lodgers on the landing. On the first floor I saw a box on a man's shoulder, going downstairs. I saw several things on the floor. I said, 'Fred, what are you doing with my things? If you don't leave it alone I will burn you.' My wife said, 'All right.' I went and put my things on. I could not find any matches, and did not get a light. I looked down again, and saw no one there. I said, 'Leave the things alone, and keep quiet in the house. They went for a policeman. I went to my front window, and waited till the policeman came. I said to the policeman, 'Do not let the people in; they want to take my things.' I told him to keep order; if they wanted anything they should come to-morrow morning. I said, 'If you do not do that, I am ready with my knife; I will burn the house and myself.' They all came into the house, so I took the paraffin, about a pint, and put it on the stairs. I said, 'If you don't keep quiet, I will fire it.' I took a piece of paper and a candle, and lighted the paper; I put my feet on the paper, and put it out. I saw the witness Harding on the stairs, and I threw a jug of water over him. He said, 'You b——b——, I'll show you.' I took a poker, and struck him with it. I heard a voice say, 'I want to speak to you.' I said, 'What do you want?'He said, 'I am a policeman.' I lighted the paper again,"
NOT GUILTY .
207. FRANK CERNIK was again indicted for assaulting John Harding, and occasioning him actual bodily harm Second Count—Assaulting Henry Brown, a constable, in the execution of his duty. Third Count—Assaulting Reuben Waring, a constable, in the execution of his duty.
MR. HAWKE, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Saturday, February 13th, 1897.
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
GUILTY .—He had been convicted of sodomy in 1877, and sentenced to Penal Servitude for life, but teas released on ticket-of-leave on March 24th, 1896— Two Years' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT—Saturday, February 13th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. C. MATHEWS Defended.
THOMAS TEASDALE . I am manager to Dawe's Discount Company, Limited, 11 and 12, Clement's Lane—on September 26th I received this letter—I sent an answer, and got this letter of September 29th. (This stated: "I now enclose two acceptances; if you can do these for me satisfactorily, write, and I will call and endorse them.") This bill was enclosed in that letter—I returned the prisoner's two bills, which is a rule when we don't keep them—I then received this letter. (Dated September 29th, and asking for an answer about the two acceptances.) I had made inquiries about Blackwood and Co., and, being satisfied, I said that I would do it for £64, as it was an ordinary trade bill, and I drew this cheque for £62 18s. 2d.—he took it, and made no complaint—I then got this letter of October 9th. (Thanking him for the discount, and stating that 15 percent, would be a prohibitory price in future.) I kept the bill, up to the full date—on October 23rd I got this letter. (Stating that he called last Monday re Barton's acceptance, £71 3s. 6d., which he understood was satisfactory, and asking for a cheque next morning.) On December 5th the bill became due, and it was returned dishonoured, and noted—this is the prisoner's answer: "December 5th, 1896. Dear Sir,—We are in receipt of yours. Messrs. Black wood's acceptance has been dishonoured. If you will wait till Monday I will call and take it up?"—he called on me on December 5th; and said, "I am Blackwood and Co?"—I declined to discuss the matter further, and wrote to the solicitor next day to withdraw the writ—I sued both the prisoner and Blackwood and Co.—the prisoner was both drawer and endorser of the bill—on December 17th I learned for the first time who was the drawer and endorser; after that the matter was left in the solicitor's hands—when I parted with the cheque for £16 19s. 2d. I believed the signature of Blackwood to be genuine—I would not have, discounted it if I had known Blackwood and Co. was E. S. Day.
Cross-examined. I have an average memory—Day said that it was an ordinary trade bill, to the best of my recollection—I think I used the word "ordinary" before the Lord Mayor; I will pledge myself that he used the words "trade bill?"—Mr. Burchett is the book-keeper; it is possible that Day may have said, "I have called about the two bills you have
under consideration?"—I did not say, "Oh, I have passed those on to Mr. Birt?"—I may have said, "You must see him; he will report about Blackwood?"—whatever subsequently occurred was not between Day and Birt—I remember the word "ordinary?"—we have no call book—I think it was December 17th when he told me that he was Black wood; it was the day of writing the letter, I think—we wrote to him, "If the money is not paid by twelve o'clock to-morrow, we shall place the matter in the hands of Mr. Newton, of Great Marlborough Stree?"—I am bound by his letter; I am not content—I admit that it was written on behalf of the Limited Company—the prisoner is a Frenchman, and did not understand; he would understand the meaning of the English language: he was sufficiently paramount then to write a letter for the company without instructions from anybody—first of all civil proceedings were adopted, and discontinued when I found he was deceiving me.
Re-examined. I have had a solicitor in small matters who is not Mr. Newton; this is the letter discontinuing the civil proceedings; it is dated September 18th—this is a copy of the writ—this letter (produced) was written by my authority; I had a domestic bereavement which kept me from the office for three weeks; my daughter died on December 21st—two acceptances were enclosed in the letter of September 29th—I made inquiries about the other, but never saw it again.
JAMES BLACKWOOD . I am a publisher, of Beechfold, Barnsbury—the prisoner came to my place of business, and gave his name Ernest S. Day, and said, "Somebody has written to you about m?"—that was Scasey—there was a negotiation about the sale of my business—the price was £3,000, £400 down and bills of £100 each on the 16th of each month—the £400 was paid on July 6th, between four and five o'clock—the first bill became due on August 16th, and was met a day or two afterwards—the next was due on September 16th, and was not met, but he gave me a cheque for £41 on September 29th, and the balance in bills—the cheque was paid, but one of the bills was bad—the next came due on October 16th, and he paid me a cheque for £4 14s. 5d. and other bills to make up the amount—one of them is not due yet—the bill of November 16th was not met, nor were any of the others—besides the £400, I received the bill of £100, and the £41, and the balance of the third bill, £4 14s. 5d.—he said that the business was to be carried on in the name of James Blackwood and Co., as before; he wanted to be known as Ernest J. Day—I learned that his name is Southgate.
By the COURT. He told me he was going to conduct the business in the name of Ernest Southgate, but I objected; he told me if it was known by other publishers, he might not be able, as Day, to do business with other houses on the Continent with whom he was dealing—I gave no authority to anybody to accept that bill—I know the writing of the acceptance; it is drawn by Day, and accepted by him as Blackwood and Co.; I know them, because I have seen him write both.
Cross-examined. In the agreement the defendant was to have the right to use the name of J. Blackwood and Co. in the business; he was to have the plant, copper plate, etc.—I made inquiries about July last; they were very favourable, and I then carried the negotiations further; Mr. Casey first opened these negotiations with me—I introduced Day to the City Bank; I wished him to open an account.
Re-examined. The account was opened; when the £400 was paid he went into possession next morning—he continued there; when the bills were not paid I held the vendor's bill over—on December 29th I filed a petition in bankruptcy against Day, and he was declared bankrupt on my petition.
FREDERICK TENNYSON . I am clerk to Mr. Arthur Newton; he was first instructed by a letter dated the 18th—I was instructed next day, and made inquiries; the information was laid on January 21st—we were then engaged in Court, and had other work to do in the Scott Russell case, and there was no hurry for this—he would not be likely to run away.
Cross-examined. That was during the holidays; in criminal matters we put the most important first.
GUILTY on the false pretences Count.— Judgment Respited.
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
MR. LAY Prosecuted.
MARY ANN BROMLKY I live at Cricketers' Court—I have known the prisoner, and lived with him close on eleven years—we lived on very good terms—we separated threw weeks before Christmas, because he sold up my home in a passion of drink—I saw him every day up to Christimas time—I saw him on Boxing-day the first tiling in the morning, and about three in the afternoon he came in, and had dinner with us; I mean with Mrs. Poynter and her children; I had been stopping with them since I separated from the prisoner—about five minutes past seven I went to the Printers' Arms, and had a drink with him—after 'hat I ran away from him, and said I will put you away if you come annoying me—I went over to Kennington Lane, and saw a policeman outside, and spoke to him, and no sooner had I left the policeman, and got into the middle of the road, than he ran right across the road at me, and caught me by the throat, as I was standing; two women came to my rescue, and caught hold of my arms, and swung me round on iny hands and knees, and they took me to the station—from there I went on an ambulance to St. Thomas Hospital; I was there three weeks, and then at a convalescent hospital for a fort-night—I am still suffering from the injuries—I had my natural voice before this.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You saw me every day after we parted, and we agreed to come together again—you came to see me at half-past ten on Boxing morning, and we had breakfast together—you, promised to meet me in the evening, and I went and had a drink with you—you have been a good man to me, and a good father to your children—we came from New Zealand together as man and wife; I first met you there eleven years ago—when I was in trouble you took ncypart; I don't want to hurt you.
Re-examined. He is a basket-maker by trade.
EDWARD TUCKER (78 L). On Boxing-night, about 7.10, I was in front of Kennington Police Station; the prosecutrix came up to me and spoke to me—she then walked away about thirty yards—I then saw the prisoner struggling with her; she screamed—I ran towards them; I found that he had forced her on her back in the road, and was leaning over her—I caught hold of him to pull him oil', and I saw a knife in his right hand; I took it from him, and produce it; it was covered with blood—he said, "Let me get at the bleeder, and I will finish her?"—with assistance, we got him to the station; he was charged with attempting to murder her—he made no reply; he was suffering from the effects of drink.
ARTHUR ROTHERHAM . I was house surgeon at St. Thomas's—about eight on Boxing-night the prosecutrix was brought there, suffering from a wound in the neck between four and five inches long; it partly divided the windpipe—it was deeper on the right side than the left—she also had a wound on the ball of the little finger, about an inch and a half long and a quarter of an inch deep—she was collapsed, and very weak indeed; her life was in great danger—she will never have so good a voice as she had; her voice is gradually getting better, but will never get right; I attribute it to the wound—this knife would indict such injuries.
ROBERT FAIRCLOUGH (Inspector L). The prisoner was brought to the station, and was charged with feloniously wounding the woman, with intent to murder her—he made no answer to the charge, but just before the charge was entered he said, "I wish I had killed her?"—he was the worse for drink,
Prisoner's Defence: I came from New Zealand with this woman, and we have lived together happily until a few weeks before Christmas; she had got in with some women, and I disapproved of it, and spoke to her about it, and about her drinking with other men, and she refused to come home, and I was provoked.
GUILTY on Second Count — Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
Inspector Fairclough stated that latterly the prisoner had given way to drink, and the prosecutrix had arranged to go back to friends in New Zealand.
There was another indictment for the manslaughter of the taid person, upon which no evidence was offered.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Dr. Scott, surgeon of the prison, considered her mind unhinged, and would watch her conduct while under sentence.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. COLLINS Prosecuted.
DAVID BOZZINI . I keep a restaurant at 211, High Street, Streatham—on January 11th, about 7 a.m., I went down and found the kitchen window and the iron bars forced by some instrument—I had inspected the locking-up of the house the night before—I missed some forks and spoons, worth £11, and about 800 cigars, worth £12—they were on the premises the night before—the prisoner was in my service from March to August, 1894, in the same house—these cigars and other articles (produced) are mine.
THOMAS POTTS . I live at Colville Place, Tottenham Court Road—the prisoner lodged with me—on February 12th I went into his room, and saw some cigars, and spoons and forks—I locked the room, when he came in, and asked him about them—he said, "They are my friend'?"—I tried to get the key; he made a bolt, but a gentleman stopped him, and he was taken to the Police court.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not come in a week before, and find a man lying on your bed.
JAMES KENWARD (Policeman 63 E). On the afternoon of February 12th I saw Potts detaining the prisoner; I took him to the station, searched him, and found this centre-bit—he said that the tools at his room belonged to a friend of his, whom he met in Old Compton Street three or four days before, who asked him to take them home.
ALFRED SHOLES (Detective Officer G). On February 12th I searched the prisoner's lodging, and in a drawer in his room I found this brace, this centre-bit, these keys, three boxes of cigars, a table-cloth and napkins, and under the bed nine boxes of cigars—I took them to the prisoner—he said, "A friend gave them to me to-day, about two o'clock; he asked me to mind them; I did so?"—I found another centre-bit, which fits this brace.
Cross-examined. You told me that a friend of yours went up aud laid down on your bed, and had called on you several days before, not on the 12th.
HARRY COLEMAN . I am assistant to Mr. Attenborough, a pawnbroker, of 11 and 13, Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square—I produce seven boxes of cigars, pawned on February 11th—I cannot say whether I saw the prisoner—I recognise among these tickets those I gave.
HERBERT GORD . I am assistant to Mr. Aldous, a pawnbroker, of Berwick Street, Oxford Street—I produce some spoons pledged on January 11th—these (produced) are tickets which I issued with them—I cannot recognise the prisoner.
the prisoner's lodging, which exaeily corresponded-two holes of the circumference of this bit, were drilled in the door—I told the prisoner the charge—he said, "Not me"—I searched him, and found £1 10s. in gold, 18s. in silver, and some bronze.
Prisoner's Defence: I met a friend, who said that his landlady had sent him away because he could not pay his rent. He gave me some articles in a parcel, and asked me to take care of them said, "Yes. When I got home I broke the string, and found a table-cloth and some cigars I was looking for him all Tuesday but could not find him. When I got I said, "It is mine; it belongs to a friend of mine; I will take it away," and then I ran out.
GUILTY — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
JOSEPH HALLIDAY . I am a French polisher, of Absac Street—on January 28th I met the two prisoners in Newington Butte—Dwyer said, 'How are you?"—I said, "I am all right"—he said, "Are you going to stand anything to drink?"—we went to a public-house and had some drink, and then three more glasses—I said, "I am going to the unna?"—I said "Come and treat us; we have got 7 1/2 d. between us"—he called for drink and tobacco, and I paid for it—it he said "Are you going to stand another Joe?"—I said. "Yes"—we left the Hampton Arms about 4.30, and went to New Corss Road to have a game at skittles for 1s.—he asked for my purse; I gave it to another man—we played a game—I said "I will have a mall lemon"—Pash said, "No, give him a soda—I said "No, it is too col?"—I left; and when I had got about 200 yards they called out, and ransacked my pockets, and left me lying there and got away—I siw Dwyer again next day, coming home from work'and gave him in charge—I saw Pash on the Friday morning, but be gave me the slip, and ran toward the Elephant—I saw him again last Friday evening, and picked him out from eight or nine others.
Cross-examined by Dwyer. I was knocked down on the, other said, by St. Andrew's Road, but they have altered the name to Rotten Street I did not say that it was Rockingham Street when I signed the police-sheet; that is a mile off.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE for Pash. I was in the public-house about an hour and came out about six—I have not seen the third man since—it was dark when I was knocked down; I do not say that I was Pash who suggested that I should have soda—I do not say that I was quite sober; I have had a glass or two—I had never seen Pash before, but I knew Dwyer.
Re-examined. I was sober enough to distinguish the three men who came out of the public-house with me, and these are two of them.
WILLIAM JONES (Policeman L). I arrested Dwyer on January 29th by the Pine public-house-after he was charged, he said Does not he fly high stones? "I after saw Pash—he said "My name is Wilkin?"—I said that I should take him for stealing the prosecutor's money, and took him to the station—he said, "Yes, quite right I will go with yo?"—he was placed with eight or ten other people and the prosecutor
picked him out—he said, "I asked the potman to give him a soda; so that he should have no more to drink."
Cross-examined by MR. BURNEY. I said that it was for assaulting a man in Rockingham Street, and then he said, "I asked the potman to gave him a soda."
Cross-examined by Dwyer. He altered his statement the next day; he said that it was Rockingham Street.
Dwyer's Defence: We had got our friends together, and this was merely a drunken spree; we are related by marriage; I positively swear I was never in his company after six o'clock.
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN FLEMING (Police Inspector L). On January 26th, about 3.45 a.m., I went to the casual ward, and, at my suggestion, the prisoner was told to dress himself—in passing out of the room he picked up this small bag, and put it in his pocket—I said, "I want you to account for the possession of this bag?"—he said, "It is mine?"—I said, "If you cannot give a better account of it, I shall take you to the station?"—I gave him in charge to the inspector—he said, "I picked it up," and that he found it—next morning, going to the Court, he said that he snatched it from a woman, and she shouted and halloaed, and he got away from her.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The lady told the Magistrate that she could not recognise you.
ROSE WHITE . I am the wife of Robert White, of 7, Lambeth Road—on January 26th I was by St. Martin's Church, Charing Cross; a man gave me a blow on my stomach, snatched my bag, and dashed my umbrella down, and took my bag away—he did not leave it on the ground—this is it; here is a piece of paper in it, with the address of Mrs. Birch on it, who had been shopping with me the day before, and gave me her address, and some bills.
The Prisoner. I used no violence, except to snatch the bag.
GEORGE SIMPSON . I am Assistant-Superintendent of Lambeth Casual Ward—the prisoner was admitted early on February 6th—I searched him, and found this bag, pocket-handkerchief, and two receipted bills—seeing the state of the bag, I communicated with the inspector, and, at his suggestion, I aroused the prisoner, and the inspector asked him what he had to do with the bag—he said that it was his own; a friend of his gave it him—after the charge was taken, he said that he found it in Blackfriar Road.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
He had been twice before convicted, and was Still on ticket-of-leave— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PROBYN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM THOMAS BENNETT . I live at 46, Doddington Grove, Kennington Park, and am a builder's manager—in the early morning of Thursday, January 28th, I was walking home up Kennington Park Road, smoking a pipe, and with my hands in my pockets—I was about sixty yards from my turning when I was seized by the throat from behind with a hand, and then from the front I was struck on the mouth, and my pipe was knocked out of my mouth, and my teeth broken, and I had another blow under the ear, and my trousers pockets were rifled, and turned inside out—they then struck me on the jaw, and knocked me down—in the struggle my hat and the hat of one of the men were knocked off—one of the men ran about three yards, and picked up a hat—I got up, and picked up a hat, and ran after them—both the men ran in the same direction, towards the Elephant and Castle—they turned up a passage by a public-house, and I dared not go up there—eight or nine fellows were there—I found the hat I had picked up was not mine; it was two or three sizes too small—I identify both prisoners—Johnson was the man who turned my pockets out, and Parsons was the man behind me—I saw their faces—I next saw my hat on the Saturday morning at the Police-court—I there picked the prisoners out from among other men, at once—I have no doubt in my own mind about their being the men who attacked me.
Cross-examined by Johnson. The man who got me round the neck from behind pulled my head back, and instantly the second man came in front; I saw him distinctly—my eyes were turned up, but not so high that I could not see him—I lost my money, from my right-hand pocket; my other pockets were not disturbed; only one pocket was turned out—I had a gold watch and chain on, and I had £2 in my waistcoat pocket—my overcoat was buttoned up—when I went to identify you, you were with eight men, all in a row—I did not pause for ten seconds; I was not in the place a minute altogether—the inspector said, "Go and pick them out."
Re-examined. This is the hat that was taken from me that night; it has the name of the maker in it, "T. Upton, London Road"; I buy my hats there—this other is the hat that they left behind; it is too small for me; there is no name or lining in it.
HUGH CORR . I am a foreman tailor, of 16, Bale's Buildings, St. George's Road, Southwark—about 12.45 on the early morning of Thursday, January 28th, I was coming up St. George's Road, when one man put his arm round my throat, and another man opened my overcoat, and took money out of my trousers pocket, and my watch out of my waistcoat pocket—I shouted, and then I received a punch on the nose, which knocked me to the ground—they tried to kick me on the jaw, but only just touched it—this hat was put on my head by myself or someone else; it is not mine, it was too big for me—two policemen took me to the station—I saw my hat there, in a constable's hand, and claimed it as mine; this is it—I cannot identify my assailants.
CHARLES KEATS (227 L). On January 28th, at one a.m., I was on duty in London Road, South wark, with another constable, when I heard a shout of "Murde?"—we ran into St. George's Road, and I saw Corr lying on the footway, and two men running away from him—I gave chase—one of the men turned down a bye turning, and I was unable to catch
him, but as he ran he dropped a hat—I picked it up on my return, and took it to the station, where I saw Corr, who claimed the hat as his—it would take about four or five minutes to walk from St. George's Road to Kennington Road, not more.
WILLIAM HUNT (Inspector L). I was present when the prisoners were charged with robbing Bennett—Parsons said, "I was in bed before that time on Wednesday night, and selling papers on Thursday; I never saw him" (pointing to Johnson) "till that night, when I asked him for a match."
Cross-examined by Johnson. I fetched the prosecutor in; I heard no conversation between him and the inspectors.
By the COURT. He identified the prisoners at once, without any hesitation; there were six other men of something like the heights of the prisoners.
ROBERT FAIRBRASS (Inspector). I was present at the identification of the prisoners—men were brought in from the street as much like the prisoners as it was possible to get them; they were placed in a row—the prosecutor was brought in—I said to him, "Look along these men; if there is anyone there you can identify, step up and touch him with your hand?"—he stepped into the room where the men were standing, just looked along the line, and touched first one and then the other, and said, "I can identify both these tw?"—I believe Bennett had given a description of the men at the station, but I had no dealing with the previous part of the case—there was no pointing out to the witness who he was to point out.
Cross-examined by Parsons. You were charged on another case, and remanded for a week, before this case was brought home to you, and an officer attended at the cell to get a description of you for the purpose of circulating it.
REGINALD HYMAN . I am a postman, of 15, Ray burn Street, Brixton—on Friday, January 29th, at 12.45 a.m., in Kennington Park Road, I heard a man call "Oh!" and I saw the prisoners walking from the direction of the man—they crossed the road, and I lost sight of them for a minute—I believe the prisoners are the same men—I followed them for three minutes—I did not see their faces very well; it was very dark, but the prisoners are about the stature and description of the men; they were wearing caps.
JOHN PARSONS . I live in a turning out of Mason Street, Old Kent Road; I don't know the name of the turning—I am a water-side labourer—you are my son—you are nearly nineteen—you live with us—we occupy two rooms in the Peabody Buildings—on Wednesday night, January 27th, you came home between eleven and twelve—we live nearly two miles from Kennington Park Road—I was in bed when you came home—you had supper, and went to bed—you sleep in the same room as I do—I get home about five, and have tea and a smoke—I don't go out, as a rule, once in a fortnight—my daughter comes home between ten and eleven.
Cross-examined. I have lived in this turning nearly six months—I can hardly tell you the name of the Buildings, Gladstone or Palmerston, I think—we live at No. 3, on the ground floor—my wife sleeps in one room with my daughter, and I sleep with my sons in the other—I went to bed at just before eleven on that night—a gas-lamp outside, which shines through the window into my room, is turned out at eleven o'clock—when my son came in I told him his supper was in the oven, which is in the back room where we sleep—I was in bed when he had supper—I don't know that I talked to him—I could tell it was past eleven when he came in by the gas being put out fifteen or twenty minutes before—I could not be positive what time he came in the night before, or any other within a fortnight of the time—I did not give evidence at the Police-court; I was at work—I am not asleep when he comes in, because he has no key, and I very often let him in myself—if we are all in bed he has to knock us up—he always comes home—I remember that night particularly, because the next night he did not come home, and the next morning the constable came.
ELLEN PARSONS . I am the prisoner's mother—on Wednesday night, January 27th, my son came in about 11.30—the gas had been out about half an hour—I was not undressed—his eldest sister let him in—I had cooked some liver and bacon, and put it in the oven.
Cross-examined. I have heard my husband's evidence—he is in the habit of going to bed as soon as the gas goes out outside—I occupy the front room, which opens into the passage—you pass through into the back room from the front—we have a wash-house and w.c. behind the back room—my daughter was curling her hair, and said she would open the door, and she did so, and put the bolts up—the prisoner had his supper in the room where my husband was—I went into the room while he was there to fill the water jugs—there is only one door to the front room—my son has no key; he has to knock—for the last fortnight he has been in every night before the gas has been oat—the night before the 27th he came home about ten minutes to eleven, because the man was getting ready to come and turn the gas out—I keep a clock in the front room, because I have to be up at five a.m. for my daughter to get to her work at six—I noticed the time he came in that night—on Thursday night he went to a boxing entertainment; I never knew him go to one before—I did not go before the Magistrate—I have never given evidence before—a constable told me my son was in custody.
Cross-examined. I live at home—I generally let my brother in—he had been in early till the last night or two—on the night before this Wednesday he was in just before eleven; and the night before about eleven, or very soon after—he was always in about eleven, or soon after—on the Sunday night he came in at 10.30—I never saw Johnson before—I was not undressed on the Wednesday; I had my hair to do—you cannot get out of the building without disturbing anyone, because of the bolte on the door—I should know if anyone drew the bolts, because I am very easily waked up—I have to be up and out at six in the morning,
and I open the door—when I went on the Thursday morning my brother was in bed, and sound asleep—I had to unbolt the door.
WILLIAM PARSONS . On the night of January 27th I was awake when my brother came home, about 11.30—I had not been long in bed—I had my supper about nine—he had some; he asked me to have some of his, and I said I had had some—he got into bed, and went to sleep.
Cross-examined. We had liver and bacon for supper—my brother woke me up, asking me to make room for him—I saw him having his supper—I went to sleep before he came home—my mother woke me up, saying "There is a noise outside; thank God, it is none of us, we are all in."
Parsons, in his defence, stated that he was in bed before twelve on the Wednesday night, and that on the Thursday night he was asking Johnson, whom he had not seen before, for a match when the constable arrested him.
---- NEAL (25 LR). I arrested Parsons on Thursday night—he and Johnson were walking together—it was just about one o'clock—they were locked up all night.
Johnson, in his defence, stated that he was in bed on the Wednesday night, but that his witnesses had not come to prove it; and that on the Thursday night Parsons was asking him for a match when they were arrested.
PARSONS— NOT GUILTY .
JOHNSON— GUILTY . JOHNSON then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in April, 1894, in the name of Joseph Willings. Three other convictions were proved against him.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. There was another indictment against the prisoners for robbery with violence on Hugh Corr, and stealing his watch, money, and haT. No evidence was offered against Parsom—
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MARCH 8TH, 1897.