CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 14TH, 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 Tuesday, September 14th, 1897, and following days,
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. Sir GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Bart, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir CHARLES HALL , K.C.M.G., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; Sir GAINSFORD BRUCE, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir JOHN NOEL MOORE , Knt., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., FREDERICK PRATT ALLISTON, Esq., and JOHN KNILL , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; and Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
ROBERT HARGREAVES ROGERS, Esq.
WEBSTER GLYNES, Esq.
RICHARD CLARENCE HALSE, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
PHILLIPS, MAYOR. ELEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have bean more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 14th 1897.
Before Mr. Recorder.
548. JAMES WINDSOR (28) and WILLIAM BONNICK (29) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing thirteen pigeons and two tame fowls, the property of Alfred Brown, Windsor,*† having been convicted at West minster in April, 1893. WINDSOR— Eight Months' Hard Labour. BONNICK received a good character.— To enter into his own Recognizances.
549. JOHN JACKSON (35) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Mary Helen Dorothy Dismore, and stealing a bracelet, the property of Mary Phillips.— Eight Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
550. HENRY STRATTON (30) , to five indictments for stealing cheques for £63 12s. 6d. and other sums, the property of Herman Francis Moore and another, his masters, and to making false entries in a book belonging to his said masters.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
551. JAMES JOSEPH CARRERA (35) , to stealing cheques for £740 10s. 9d. and £1,563 10s. 9d., the property of Louis Huth Jackson and others, his masters, and to making false entries in their books.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
552. WILLIAM CHARLES HERON (17) , to unlawfully appropriating to his own use £3,342 12s. 4d. Three percent. India Stock, he being trustee of Thomas Leonard Walters.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
553. ANN SAYERS (46) , to four indictments, respectively, for forging and uttering a notice of with-drawal and a receipt for £40, a receipt for £2 1s. 4d., and a notice of withdrawal for £1, from the Post Office Savings Bank. The prisoner stated she spent the money onbehalf of Mrs. Herbert, the depositor.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
554. THOMAS HOLLOWAY (34) , to stealing, while employed by the Post Office, a post letter containing twelve penny postage stamps and a post letter containing six penny and one ha fpenny postage stamps, the property of the Postmaster-General.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
555. ARTHUR TAYLOR (20) , to five indictments for stealing two postal packets containing a box of pills and a box of pomade, also two umbrellas and a hat, the property of the Postmaster-General.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
(556) CONGRAVE JAMES NOLAN (30) , to four indictments for forging and uttering orders, one for the payment of £5, and three of £3 each.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. SOPER Prosecuted.
SAMUEL JOHN HOLLOWAY . I am a clerk in the General Post Office—a portion of my duty is to investigate matters of complaint connected with the South-Western District Office—on July 28th I made up a letter addressed to the" Secretary of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, Jermyn Street, London, S.W."—it enclosed a postal order for 5s., No. J/94 182013, and one for 1s. 6d., No. B/35 708736—I posted it in a S.W. District box at 6.50 p.m. on July 28th, having given instructions to Inspector Banks, and having made up this facsimile envelope letter which I gave to P.C. Shayler, with instructions.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have not said that that letter was put in with letters you had to deal with—I was informed so.
WILLIAM HENRY BANKS (Inspector, S.W. District, P.O.). On July 28th, in consequence of instructions given to me by Holloway at 6.50 p.m., I took from the letter-box a letter addressed to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and placed it with Johnson's letters for the eight p.m. delivery—that would be the seven o'clock collection—he would reach the office about 7.25 p.m., and leave at 8.25 to 8.30 p.m.
Cross-examined. I put it with the letters you had to deal with first, although they were not all to be delivered on your beat—I saw you clear it in.
HUGH EDWARD SHAYLER (P.O. Constable). Acting on instructions, on July 29th I was present when the letter-box of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, in Jermyn Street, was unlocked about eight a.m.—I took this made-up letter with me, and looked for a similar one—there was not any similar letter.
MARTHA CHARLOTTE WARREN . I am employed at the Churton Street Branch Post-office—part of my duty is to pay postal orders—on July 29th, between five and six p.m., the prisoner presented about nine orders for payment, including these for 5s. and 1s. 6d., Nos. J/94 182013 and B/35 708736—I paid him the money; my initials are on the orders—they were not stamped by the issuing office, and I asked him if he could tell me the office—he asked me to hand them back; I did so, and he told me they were issued at Ightham, in Essex, and this is my writing: "Issued at Ightham."
Cross-examined. I do not remember the exact minute you came, but I remember you spelt it Igtham.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that though he had to divide, he had not to deliver those letters, and that on the afternoon when he was said to have called at Churton Street he was at Windsor.
GUILTY . There were two similar indictments against the prisoner.— Fifteen Mouths' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 14th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
MINNIE HAMMOND . I am barmaid at the George, Old Bailey—on Sunday, August 31st, about ten p.m., two men came in after each other—the first asked for some lemonade, price 2d., and the other for a small glass of whisky, price 1 1/2d.—the first man gave me a crown; I put it on the counter, and as it was rather a funny colour, I showed it to Miss Wheeldon, who was behind the bar—I then took it up again, and gave change to the man it came from—I did not take it out of the till till after eleven; there was no other crown there when I put it in or when I took it out.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not mark it.
AUGUSTA WHEELDON . I am barmaid at the George—on this Sunday evening I was serving with Miss Hammond, and saw the prisoner come in alone at ten o'clock or 10.15; he called for some lemonade and bitter beer, and put a crown piece on the counter; Miss Hammond took it up and put it in the till—I was present that night when the landlady cleared the till; there was not much in it; there was only one crown; this is it—on Wednesday, August 4th, I picked the prisoner out at the Police-court from a number of others.
Cross-examined. I swear you are the man—the constable did not point you out to me; Miss Hammond had gone in before me, and she was sitting at the back.
SIDNEY HARVEY . I am barman at the Black Dog, Shoe Lane—on August 4th, about ten p.m., the prisoner came in for some lemonade and bitter, and gave me a crown; I saw that it was bad, and handed it to Mr. Davis, the manager—this is it; he gave the prisoner in custody.
Cross-examined. Other persons were in the bar; I did not recognise you at the station till you stood up, but I saw you taken in custody.
CHARLES DAVIS . I am manager of the Black Dog—on the night of August 4th Harvey showed me a bad crown; I turned to the prisoner, and said, "This is a bad coin '—he said, "Is it?"—I said, "Yes, where did you get it?"—he said, "From Hurst Farm on Monday"—I gave him in custody with the coin.
JAMES KENNEDY (349, City). On the night of August 4th I was called to the Black Dog, and the manager gave the prisoner into my custody—he said, "I got it at Hurst Park on Monday"—he never said that he had not passed it at all—I found on him 11s. in silver, 11d. in bronze, and two empty purses—he was charged on the two utterings, and said, "I know nothing about that coin, but the other coin I got at Hurst Park on Monday—I was present when Miss Wheeldon picked him out.
Cross-examined. Both the witnesses were not in at the same time; Miss Hammond went out, and then Miss Wheeldon came.
By the COURT. It is not true that I pointed out the prisoner to Miss Wheeldon; no policeman did so—they went into the station together, and when one went out the other came in.
M. HAMMOND (Re-examined). I went in first, and could not identify
him; I then went to the back seat behind the row—Miss Wheeldon did not go in with me.
FRANK ALLEN . I am barman at the Cooper's Arms—on July 19th about midnight, the prisoner asked for some Scotch cold, and gave me a crown piece—I tested it, found it bad, and showed it to Mr. Andrews, who took it to the prisoner, who said that he got it in change for a sove-reign at a public-house the same evening—he was given in charge.
SIDNEY ANDREWS . I keep the Cooper's Arras, Tower Street, Kensington—on August 19th Allen handed me a crown piece—I tried it with acid, and found it was bad; I asked the prisoner if he had any more money—he said, "No"—I sent for a constable, showed him the coin, and then we went to the station—he paid 2d. for the whisky—this is the coin.
Cross-examined. I did not mark it, but there is a mark on it, and one on the left which I recognise.
CHARLES CUMBY (211 L). On July 19th I was called to the Cooper's Arms, and the prisoner was given into my custody—he said that he got the coin in change for a sovereign—I received it from Mr. Andrews—he gave no name—I took him to the station—about 18s. in silver and bronze was found on him—there was only one case against him, and he was disarged—he gave his name as John Ryan when he was charged; he gave two addresses.
Prisoner's Defence: I never went into the first house; I do not know such a place. As to the second charge, I had a two-shilling piece; I know nothing whatever of it.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and the evidence was interpreted to
ALBERT JOHN RICHES . I am barman at the Queen's Head beer-house, Commercial Street—on July 3rd a woman came in for half a pint of beer, and gave me what she said was half a crown—this is it (produced)—I did not like the look of it, and gave it back to her—a second woman then came in with the same coin—I saw the first woman down the street, and I know now that she was near Mr. Rosenthal's sweetstuff shop—I went near that shop, and saw a man come out and run after another man, and the woman who gave me the half-crown was with him—she went down the street, and I saw the man get hold of her.
LEWIS ROSENTHAL . I am a confectioner, of 11, White's Row, Commercial Street, opposite the Queen's Head—on July 23rd the prisoner came in, and his wife was waiting at the door—he spoke Yeddish; I served him; he gave me a half-crown; I did not look at it, but said, "I have got no change," and sent my servant out with it, and while she was out two customers came in, and the prisoner said to me, "I should ask these two chaps if they have change for a half-crown"—I got 2s. from them, which I gave to the prisoner, and twenty farthings, as he said he had not time to wait for the servant's return—he left with the change
and the sweets—I did not see the half-crown again—I went after the prisoner and brought him back, and said. "What made you give me false money?"—he said, "I have been cheated by somebody, so I am inclined to cheat you"—a constable was sent for.
ALICE SMITH . I am servant to Mr. Rosenthal—he gave me a half-crown on July 24th—I took it to Mr. Ritches' beer-shop and handed it to him—he handed it back to me, and as I went back I spoke to a constable—this is it.
ARTHUR EDE (113 H). On July 25th I was on duty near Commercial Street—Smith spoke to me, and handed me this coin—I went to Mr. Rosenthal's shop, and found the prisoner detained—Mr. Rosenthal said, "This man tried to swindle me with a bad half-crown"—I took the prisoner to the station, searched him, and found a good half-sovereign and four farthings—they were taken before a Magistrate, and the woman was discharged, as his wife—a man volunteered to interpret at the station, and the prisoner said that he was buying in the market, and some man gave him the half-crown, and he did not know it was bad.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said, through the interpreter, that he received the coin in the market, and did not know it was bad. He denied saying that he had been cheated, and was going to cheat again, and that he offered to pay Mr. Rosenthal with a half-sovereign.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ALFRED CHARLES PERKINS . I am barman at the Prince of Wales, Villiers Street, Strand—on August 11th, between 9.30 and ten p.m., the prisoner asked for some mild and bitter, and put down a coin; I bent it under my hand, broke it in two pieces, put it on the counter, and told him it was bad; he made no reply, but went away—I do not know what became of the pieces—some days afterwards I picked him out from a number of others at the station.
LOUISA BRENCHER . I am barmaid at the Griffin, Villiers Street, close to the Prince of Wales—on August 11th I served the prisoner with two glasses of ale; he gave me this florin—I examined it, and handed it to Mrs. Cockburn, who told the prisoner it was bad—I saw it put in the tester and broken in half—these are the pieces—he offered me a good half-crown in payment.
MARIA COCKBURN . I am manageress at the Griffin—on the night of August 11th Brencher handed me a crown, purporting to be a florin—I went to the counter and told the prisoner it was bad; he said, "How do you know that?"—I said, "I will soon show you," and broke it in two pieces in the tester—he asked me for the pieces, but I would not give him them—he was given in charge.
CHARLES CURTIS (15 ER). On August 11th, shortly before ten p.m., I was called to the Griffin, and the prisoner was given into my custody and charged—he said, "I did not know it was bad"—I found on him a small portion of a bad shilling, a half-crown, a shilling, a sixpence, and twopence—I took him to the station—he made no reply to the charge—he
declined to give his address, and he gave a wrong name—I was present when Perkins identified him from several others on the Monday following.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These coins are counterfeit, and this is a portion of another—these two pieces make a complete coin—the little piece has nothing to do with it.— GUILTY .**— Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 15th, 1897.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL, HORACE AVORY, and A. E. GILL Prosecuted, and
MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
AUGUSTS MARIOTTINI . I am the prisoner's son, and live at 14, Park-side, Knightsbridge, a cafe—on July 21st I was unwell, and confined to my room on the second-floor back—my younger brother occupied the room with me—my father, mother, and two sisters, aged sixteen and six, also lived in the house—my sisters slept on the third floor—in the course of July 21st my father came to my room in the daytime to see me, and between nine and 9.30 p.m.; that was the last time I saw him that night—I last saw my mother that day between three and four p.m—my attention was not called to anything in the course of the night—the water police awoke me next morning at 6.30—I found the house in the possession of the police.
Cross-examined. The coffee-house business has been carried on for about ten years—I am eighteen—my father and mother always lived quite happily until quite recently—my mother was a perfectly virtuous, good, and pure woman—about three years ago I remember an explosion of gas in the coffee-shop; in consequence of it my father was dashed through a glass door with great violence, and received such injuries about the head, face, and hands that he had to go to St. George's Hospital for five months—when he came back I noticed that his manner was greatly changed—he was very irritable and suspicious; he would fly into the greatest possible rage at the smallest provocation—he always suspected my mother of misconducting herself with the waiters and the customers—some painful scenes took place in the shop—he put up a written notice on a lavatory door that it was for ladies only, and not for gentlemen; that was his unreasoning jealousy—there were four private dining-rooms upstairs—for about ten days before July 21st, my father had very little sleep at nights; he suffered fearfully from insomnia—he walked up and down the house at night, talking and muttering to himself—the cafe opensabout eight a.m.—none of the waiters sleep on the premises; they come about eight o'clock—my sister lets them in—when the waiters came the prisoner would lay down on a sofa for half an hour and then get up, and, so far as I know, that was the only rest he had for ten days before July 21st—I got so frightened as to his condition that I advised him to go into the country for change of air—the customers noticed the change in his appearance and manner, and
spoke to me about it—when the prisoner said good night to me at nine p.m. on July 21st, I noticed he was in a highly nervous and excitable condition—his eyes were starting from their sockets—he complained that he was suffering great pains in the head—after the gas explosion he frequently complained of pains at the back of his head, and he used to put his hands to the back of his head—he has said that his brains seemed to be bursting through his skull—he was a most temperate man—after the cafe was first started he took great interest in the business, and worked it up—latterly he neglected his business greatly.
Re-examined. Very often male and female customers were in the shop when the scenes I have described took place—he complained of too much familiarity between my mother and men customers sometimes—he said, "You should not be so familiar with customers, but keep your own place"—she denied it—I have been present in the shop just before those observations have been made; no familiarity had taken place—between two and three months ago, my father in my presence made definite accusation against a waiter, aged twenty-eight or thirty, of having been familiar with my mother upstairs—my mother was present—the waiter had left about a week before he made that accusation—my mother simply denied the accusation—it led to a quarrel, and then it ended—I advised the prisoner to go into the country for change of air on 21st July, and before then several times.
JOHN GIOVANNI . I have been employed as a waiter at 14, Parkside, Knightsbridge, for about eighteen months; I was there on July 21st—I left that night at 10.45—the prisoner was then at the back of the bar; he bade me good night as I came out—his wife was sitting down at a table opposite the counter in the shop on the ground floor, finishing her supper—he had been speaking to his wife during that evening; they bad both been in and out of the bar, serving, all the evening—sometimes she would assist at the bar in the evening when we were busy—they seemed on their usual friendly terms that evening; I did not see anything different—they seemed very friendly that night—next morning, when I came to work and went to open a window, I found a shirt stained with blood on the sofa in the top front room—that was a room, used by customers and members of the family—it was not a bedroom.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Mariottini was a thoroughly respectable lady—she did not misconduct herself with the customers; she was always very honest, and a good working woman—the bar was not for drinking, but was a kind of serving bar, where dishes coming from the kitchen would be received—during the last three months there has been a great change in the prisoner's manner; he got very angry and very suspicious—on the evening of the 21st, up to the time I left, he had been walking up and down the shop, muttering to himself and gesticulating, and throwing his arms about—he went outside the door and looked, and came back, and looked at the table, and moved about—I did not know which way to take him—his manner seemed very strange—he often complained to me that he was unable to sleep at night, and he always had a curious pain in his head—he thought his brain was coming out of his skull—he put his hand on his head—he told me that many times, and I advised him to go to the doctor—he sometimes stood in the shop and shouted out at the
highest pitch of his voice—sometimes customers would go out because he was in such an excitable state, and made such a noise—he appeared to have given up all interest in his business, particularly the last two days or so; he gave me the key of the cellar and the key of the till, which he had never done before—he said his brain was not fit for business—we sold cooked food, mineral waters, and coffee, no wine—he was always in and out.
By the JURY. The whole house was occupied by the prisoner and his family—no bedrooms were let out to the general public.
LORENZO DA COSTA . I live at 1, Prince's Court, Soho—in July last I was second hand in the prisoner's kitchen at Knightsbridge—I left at ten minutes after midnight on July 22nd—I was the last to leave—the prisoner and his wife were there then—he was outside and she inside the counter—he said, "All right in the kitchen?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Good night"—he and his wife must have been on good terms, because I heard no quarrels.
Cross-examined. I am always in the kitchen—I had only been there for a week—I know nothing of what took place before I went there.
WILLIAM PAGE (78 A). About 3.35 a.m. on July 22nd I was on duty at the River Terrace, Westminster Palace, when I heard a splash in the water near Westminster Bridge—I looked out on the water, and saw a man struggling in the water near the centre arch of the bridge—he came to the surface, and fired five shots from a revolver; after the fifth shot the trigger went down with a click, but there was no report—I was right facing the man—I blew my whistle to attract the attention of the River Police—their boat came up after three or four minutes—the man seemed to be swimming.
Cross-examined. He was striking out in the ordinary way of swimming—after firing the five shots and clicking the trigger he dropped the revolver—I could not say how the revolver was pointed when it was fired—the tide was flowing, and he gradually came towards me, and had drifted about 100 yards with the tide by the time he was rescued.
ALFRED LINSTEAD (Inspector, Thames Police). About 3.40 a.m. on July 22nd I was on duty in a police galley—I heard reports of a revolver coming from Westminster Bridge—T rowed in the galley to the spot, and saw a man struggling in the water and throwing his arms about; he was not swimming or doing anything to keep himself from sinking—he was carried up some distance by the flood tide; he was about 100 yards from the bridge when we got to him, I should think—I saw him disappear two or three times before we got to him—I was steering, standing up in the galley—when we got up to him he tried to avoid the boat—I and another constable caught hold of him and pulled him in—I took him to Westminster Bridge, and sent for an ambulance—on getting him into the ambulance he said, "Why did not you let me finish it?"—T assisted to take-him to St. Thomas's Hospital, and helped to undress him—he had all his clothes on—Awhile undressing him he said, "Don't disturb them"—I said, "Don't disturb whom?"—he said, "I have killed my wife"—I said, "With the revolver?"—he said, "No, with a knife; I fired at my head four times"—I asked his name and address; he gave the address, 14, Parkside—I went there that early morning; I knocked at the door, and received no answer—I noticed
a bunch of keys lying on the pavement inside the iron railings in front of the shop door—the railings are about three feet from the front door, with a kind of gateway—with one of the keys I opened the front door, and, with a sergeant and constable, entered the bouse—on getting in at the front door, there is a passage leading to the foot of the staircase, and to the right, and about four or five yards further on were stairs down to the basement—the restaurant is on the ground floor—I went down the steps to the basement, and at the foot of the steps, sharp round to the right, I saw two patches of blood on the floor covered with freshly strewn saw-dust; the blood had partly soaked through the sawdust—on looking further I saw the body of a woman lying on the right side, fully dressed, in a large pool of blood—I left it in the same position until the doctor, for whom I sent immediately, came—Dr. Evans, the divisional surgeon, and Inspector Hornsby came about 6.30—the basement is used as the kitchen—the head of the body was nearly underneath the steps, which lead right into the kitchen—I did not see any signs of blood on the steps going down to the kitchen—I went in through the street door, and not through the shop.
GEORGE SIMPSON (Thames Police). I was in the police boat on the morning of July 22nd, and heard the four shots fired—I rowed to the spot; the prisoner was taken into the boat, and afterwards to St. Thomas's Hospital—I was left in charge of him there in the ward—he said, "I have killed my wife by stabbing her with a large knife; she had worried me so much for a long time that I told her she wtmld make me murder her, but she said, 'You are too big a coward'"—he said, "I changed my shirt' before I left home on account or its being all over blood"—I made this note at the time.
Cross-examined. When he made that statement he seemed very much upset and excited—he was perfectly sober.
JOHN MCCARTHY (Detective Inspector, B). Having heard what had occurred on the morning of July 22nd, I went to the ward of St. Thomas's Hospital where the prisoner was in bed—he knew me personally—I said, "Mr. Mariottini, you know me?"—he replied, "Yes"—I said, "Let me caution you before I tell you what I am going to charge you with, for if you say anything I must take it down, and it may be used against you"—I then told him I should take him into custody on a charge of murdering his wife by stabbing her, and he would be further charged with attempting to commit suicide by throwing himself into the River Thames—he replied, "Everything is right what you say; I had a quarrel with my wife; I have been unhappy for twenty years"—I took him in a cab to Gerard Road Police-station, where he was formally charged—when the charge was read to him he said, "Do what you like; I don't care; it is true"—he was taken to the Police-court the same day; on the way he said, "I have had a miserable life"—I went to 14, Parkside, at about two and five—in a bedroom on the top floor I found a pair of boots and jacket—there was a good deal of wet blood on both boots, with saw-dust adhering to it—there was blood on the coat-cuff; the doctor examined it.
Cross-examined. I knew the prisoner and his wife—she was un-doubtedly a thoroughly virtuous, respectable, and hard-working woman—I had known her about eleven months, but my inquiries go back
eighteen years, since they first came to England—the prisoner was very highly thought of by his fellow-countrymen in London, and by the trades-men in the neighbourhood of Knightsbridge—they were both respected by their neighbours.
ROBERT HORNSBY (Inspector, B). About 6.20 a.m. on July 22nd I went to 14, Parkside—Dr. Evans arrived just before me—on the kitchen table I saw this cook's knife—I saw some blood-stains on the blade near the handle—under the woman's body was a broken glass mineral water bottle stained with blood—on the kitchen mantelpiece I found this hammer—there were no marks on it—I afterwards went to the hospital and saw the prisoner—I was in uniform—after a few minutes he opened his eyes and looked at me, and said, "Where are my children?"—I said, "They are all right"—he said, "What a disgraceful thing! what will my friends say?"—soon after that Inspector McCarthy came in and charged him—while leaving the hospital in the corridor the prisoner said, "She did not want me; I could go; she had other men for years."
WILLIAM EVANS . I am a medical practitioner and assistant divisional surgeon to the police, at 85, Pimlico Road—on July 22nd, shortly after six a.m., I arrived at 14, Parkside—I saw the dead body of a woman lying in the basement—I judged she had been dead about six hours—I made a post-mortem examination the same day—I found twenty-eight wounds altogether; twenty-five of them were punctured and incited, and three contused—two of the contused wounds were on the left side of the head, above the left ear, and the third just in front of the left ear, on the side of the face—there were two punctured wounds in the left breast, four in the left side of the abdominal wall, three on the right side, two very superficial wounds in the middle line, one above and one below the navel—all the wounds on the left side of the abdomen entered into the peritoneal cavity; two on the right entered into that cavity—the bowels were punctured in one place, and nicked in two other places—there was a punctured wound in the left side of the chest, which had gone through into the pericardium, the bag surrounding the heart—there were two incised wounds in the palm of the left hand, and one on the palm of the right hand; those might have been caused by the woman trying to protect herself—there was also a punctured wound at the back between the shoulder-blades—it did not penetrate the thorax, but went deeply under the skin; its direction was upwards and forwards; its depth was about four inches, and its width one inch—it must have been done by a sharp instrument used with some violence—the deceased was fully dressed—the two wounds in the left breast had gone through her clothes; the one on the back, the one on the side, and two of the abdominal wounds had gone through her chemise—the others might have been done under her clothes—she had no corsets on—the wounds might have been caused by this knife—I think the two contused wounds above the left ear might have been caused by this part of this hammer, because the skull was fractured under the upper wound; it was a very severe wound—there was a depressed fracture half an inch long and a quarter of an inch wide, of an oval shape—the other contused wound in front of the ear might have been caused by the sodawater bottle, or by the woman falling down—the wounds, or some of them, were the cause of death—the stomach was
full of undigested food—I should say the woman had eaten half an hour before her death—my opinion is that all the wounds were caused before death, as they were gaping, and considerable bleeding had taken place, which would not happen after death.
Cross-examined. The blade of this knife is slightly turned at the point—on July 21st and 22nd, I think, the weather was extremely close and oppressive.
PAUL CATANIO . I live at Redstock Street, Park Road, Battersea—I was employed as chef at this cafe at Parkside, and had been there about five months—on Wednesday morning, July 21st, I went with the prisoner shopping—he said he had a very bad pain in his head, and that he was going to see a doctor—he said, "I want to finish this life soon"—I last saw him between 8.30 and 8.45 that night—I left work at ten—my work was in the kitchen—this is my knife; I left it on the kitchen table—the point was not bent, as it is now, when I left it there.
Cross-examined. The prisoner frequently complained to me of pains in his head—he has put his hand to his head, and said his brains were coming through his skull—he said he had been unable to sleep—he said that four or five days before July 21st he had got up at three or four in the morning, as he could not sleep—I noticed he was very strange in his manner—when I heard of this tragedy I was in no way surprised—I thought his manner was very peculiar.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JAMES SCOTT , M.B. I am the prison doctor at Holloway—the prisoner has been under my supervision since July 22nd—I have seen him daily—he has been in the prison hospital for closer observation—I have been present in Court during this trial—Dr. Bastian, Dr. Maudesley, and I have had a consultation as to his mental condition—Dr. Bastian is here—I consider the prisoner is now insane, and that such was his condition on July 21st, and that he was not then responsible for his actions, and did not understand the nature and quality of his acts—I have examined his cranium—there is a depression of the skull at the back of the head—the place to which the witnesses said he put his hand would represent the place—I should think the injury he received there may have affected his mental powers, having regard to the evidence as to the alteration in his mental condition afterwards—probably the close and oppressive weather on July 21st would aggravate the symptoms.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has stated over and over again his ideas as to his wife's infidelity, and brought very serious charges against her moral character—I can find nothing in the sworn evidence which supports him—he has also stated that on two or three occasions he was decidedly of opinion she attempted to poison him, and that he was under the impression that she was robbing him and allowing others to do so in his business—the facts he adduced as proof of these statements seemed to me quite inadequate—my opinion is that he is now suffering from insane delusions—in my opinion, the evidence goes to show that during the four or five days before he committed the crime, or perhaps longer, his mental condition was abnormal, and his restlessness, excitement, inability to sleep, and inability to attend to business seem to point to a more acute state of this disease during that time—his insanity was of such a nature
as to prevent his knowing the nature and quality of the act he committed the quality of the act, at any rate.
Re-examined. The fact of his possessing a revolver, and, instead of shooting his wife, inflicting twenty-eight wounds on her, strengthens my opinion, and the fact of his jumping into the river, and then trying to shoot himself in the water, points to his frenzied condition at the time.
HENRY CHARLTON BASTIAN , F.R.C.P., M.D., F.R.S. I am physician to University College Hospital and to the National Hospital of Paralysed and Epileptics—I examined the prisoner on August 11th and 18th—I heard and agree with Dr. Scott's evidence.
Cross-examined. I agree that, from his condition now, he probably on July 21st did not appreciate the nature and quality of the act he was committing—I think he is now suffering from insane delusions, and that he was then, and that the act was committed under the influence of those delusions.
GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time, so as not to be responsible for his actions. — To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MR. BODKIN, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence, as the GRAND JURY had ignored the bill.
NOT GUILTY .
He then PLEADED GUILTY to attempting to commit suicide.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. COUNSEL Defended
at the request of the COURT.
HENRY CUTHBERT . I am a labourer, and live at 16, Carr Street, Lime-house—I ave known the prisoner by sight two or three months—I was working at unloaoing the wood-boats in the Regent's Canal—there was a strike among the workmen at the wharf at Regent's Canal, and I went to work elsewhere, at Mr. George Cohen's, the iron merchant—I am married, and have twelve children—my daughter Elizabeth is seventeen, and I had a baby ten months old—about midnight on July 23rd I left my house and went to the Richard Cobden to get some beer—I saw the prisoner there—I was coming out with some beer in a can, when the prisoner stopped me and said, "You are the man who will work for 3s. or 3s. 6d. a day"—I said, "No; when the strike was on I went away, and I found a master some-where else to keep me and my family, Mr. George Cohen"—I then walked out—the prisoner came out after me with his wife, another woman, and a man—I walked alone along Repton Street towards my house, behind the prisoner—he deliberately turned round and gave me a back-handed blow on the chin, saying, "Take that, you f————"—I said, "All right; I can put up with that; we don't wan't to have no row. When I found I was fetched out from the strike at 5s. a day, and they wanted 6s.
a day, I have a little family that wanted keeping, and I found another master, and so long as I can get a living for my little children, that is all I want"—we talked about the strike—we were then near the ice-cream shop, half-way up Repton Street—my wife came up—she said, "You have not been gone long for that half-pint of ale"—the prisoner said to her, "Who are you?"—I said to my wife, "Mate, hold your tongue and say nothing"—my wife said, "That is my husband"—the prisoner said, "You can go through the same," and struck her and knocked her down—I said to her, "Come on; follow me, and come indoors, and say nothing"—the prisoner was close by—I walked on—the prisoner's wife and the other woman stood talking to my wife—I went straight indoors, leaving the prisoner behind—I went into my kitchen, where I saw my eldest daughter and the baby, Eliza—I stayed in the kitchen for a few minutes, and then went into the yard—while there I heard my daughter scream, "The baby is killed; you have killed the baby"—I went into the kitchen, and saw the baby was bleeding from the head—I went to the street door; my daughter was standing against it—a constable came round the corner when my daughter screamed, and he asked what was the matter—I saw the prisoner walking down the street, going towards his home in Maroon Street, away from my house—I could not say if he was carrying anything—the constable came to my house first, and afterwards went up to the prisoner—I took the child to a doctor, and afterwards to the London Hospital—I had not seen the prisoner on that day before I saw him at the Cobden—I had no spade in my possession on July 23rd—this spade is not mine—I had a little child's toy spade, not like this produced, but it had been lost four or five weeks before this happened—I had it about two years ago, when I did a moving job, but it was lost—I first saw this spade after this happened, at Arbour Square.
Cross-examined. I have said everything that happened in the public-house; only two or three words were mentioned in the public-house—I walked quietly away to my own house—I walked behind the prisoner from the beer-shop until he struck me in the face, between thirty and forty yards from the public-house—I did not say anything when I was walking behind him—there was no conversation till after he struck me—just as I went in the public-house and called for the beer the landlord called" Time," and as I was coming out the prisoner turned on me about the strike—I am not naturally excitable—I was perfectly quiet that night; I never raised my arm or hand; I did not go for him—after my wife was knocked down I walked away—she got up directly—there might have been one or two there—I left my wife talking to the two women who were with the prisoner—I thought she was following, but the women stopped and spoke to her—the prisoner stood there—I had no weapon in my hand that night—two and a-half years ago, when I was doing a moving job, I had a little child's spade given to me, and took it home to my children—I never saw this one or had it in my hand before I saw it at the Police station—I do not know where it came from—I did not run through my kitchen—I walked through my passage into the kitchen—my daughter was there with the baby, and she said, "Where is mother?"—I said, "Mother is coming along"—I went through into the yard, and I next heard "You have killed the baby," and I came and found
the baby chopped, and the prisoner had the spade in his hand—I stopped in my kitchen two or three minutes before I got into the yard—I had been ten or twelve minutes in the house when this happened—I told that to the Coroner and to the Magistrate, I think—I was never at handy-grips with the prisoner that evening—I did not attempt to strike him with a weapon—he did not tell me to go home, and leave him alone—he did not say if I would not he would push me away—he struck me twice—the second time he struck me in the chest; that was before my wife came up—there was no ill-feeling between me and the prisoner—before that night I had only known him by sight.
ELIZA CUTHBERT . I am the last witness's wife—my child who was killed was about ten months old—about midnight on July 23rd my husband left the house to go to the Richard Cobden—he was gone what seemed to me rather a long time—I went into the street, and as far as the ice-cream shop, about half-way down Repton Street—I there saw the prisoner and my husband jangling together about the strike—I said to my husband, "You are gone long enough for half a pint of ale"—the prisoner said, "Whoareyou?"—I said, "Never mind who I am; that is my husband"—the prisoner struck me, and I fell—I got up at once—my husband said, "Come on home"—I did not see any more of my husband or the prisoner when I got up—the prisoner's wife and Mrs. Farrow were near me, and we talked together about the strike, in the street, by the ice-cream shop—I then went home—I heard screams of "Murder!"—my husband was coming from the yard as I walked in—we got to the kitchen together—I saw the injury to the child—I went to the street door, ana saw the prisoner on the other side of the street—I saw the constable speak to him—I have not seen this spade before—I had a small child's spade, but I have not seen that for three months; I lost it just five weeks before this happened—we hod had it about eighteen months—we had no spade like this in our house or possession on July 23rd.
Cross-examined. When I came up to my husband and the prisoner in the street they were talking; they had hold of one another—the prisoner struck my husband—I did not catch hold of the prisoner, or touch him at all—the prisoner was facing me; he hit me in the face with his fist, saying, "You can go through the same as him"—it was not much of a blow; as he pushed me I fell down—at the same time as he hit me in the face he struck me again with his shoulder—as I fell he kicked me—the spade we lost was iron, with a long handle to it—I did not see the prisoner coming from my house, nor in my house—I did not see my husband with anything in his hand that night—I did not hear the prisoner tell my husband to go home—I do not know who went away first after I was struck, but I am sure that when I got up the prisoner, was not there—I did not see him till I heard the child was killed.
ELIZABETH CUTHBERT . I am the daughter of the last two witnesses—on July 23rd I was at home about midnight, sitting in the kitchen, with the baby Eliza, ten months old, in my arms—a little while after my father went out to go to the Cobden, my mother went out—after that my father came in; he stopped in the kitchen a few minutes—I asked him where mother was—he went into the yard—he had not been there long when the prisoner rushed from the street, through the passage, into the kitchen, and said, "First come, first served," and struck the baby, who
was lying in my arms, across the head with this shovel—I was sitting just against the window behind the yard door, beside the kitchen table—there was a large lamp on the table—I screamed "Murder!"—the prisoner stood against the kitchen door for a few minutes, and as soon as he saw the blood he rushed through the passage into the street, and on to the other side—I ran towards the kitchen door and screamed, and my father came from the yard and asked what was the matter—I showed him the baby and the wound—my father took the baby, and ran towards the street door—I was still screaming—not very long after I saw a constable—the prisoner was then walking along on the other side of the street—the constable asked me what was the matter, and afterwards went across to the prisoner—my mother came in while I was in the passage, after I spoke to the constable—when she came in my father was in the passage, with the baby in his arms—there is no light in the passage; the light from the kitchen shows through into the passage—the door was open—we had no spade like this in our possession before that night—I had not seen this spade before—we had had a spade longer in the handle; we had lost it three or four weeks before this happened—it was an iron spade, much smaller—we had not had it long—I did not see anything in my father's hand when he came into the kitchen before going into the yard—I don't know what became of our spade; we missed it all at once, three or four weeks before this—we did not use it for anything—it was about ten minutes after my father went into the yard that the prisoner rushed through into the kitchen.
Cross-examined. I distinctly remember what took place that night—I was sitting nursing the child when the prisoner rushed in—I was examined before the Coroner on July 27th; my statement was read to me, and I signed it; if he took down that I was standing, it was his mistake—I am sure it was in the kitchen that the baby was struck—as soon as it was done I started screaming—while I screamed the prisoner stood by the door for three minutes—I did not see my father go out that night with anything in his hand—I did not call the prisoner names, or abuse him; I had not seen him; I was inside all the time—he did it too quick for me to call him names—I did not see my father and the prisoner wrestling together—I saw the prisoner come in from the street with this spade in his hand.
THOMAS RAY . I am the landlord of the Richard Cobden—I know the prisoner by seeing him in the house—just before 12.30 a.m., closing time, on July 23rd, Cuthbert came in, and was served with half a pint of ale in a can—the prisoner, two women and another man were there in company—I heard the prisoner say to Cuthbert, "You are the man that works on the wood-boats"—Cuthbert said, "Yes, I work anywhere to get 1s."—the prisoner said, "You work for 3s. or 3s. 6d. a day, and other people get 5s."—Cuthbert walked out, and the prisoner followed him, and the other persons went out at the same time, and I closed the door—I did not see or hear anything that occurred outside—the conversation between Cuthbert and the prisoner in my house did not seem in an angry kind of way.
Cross-examined. The prisoner seemed quiet—he did not kick up any disturbance.
Repton Street on the night of July 23rd, and between 12.30 and 12.45 I heard some screams at 16, Carr Street—I went and saw the deceased's sister standing in the street—she made a statement to me—I ran down the street, and saw the prisoner with six other men at the Maroon end of Carr Street, about fifty yards from his house—he was pointed out to me as being the one who struck the child—I got hold of him—he had this spade in his hand—I said, "What have you got here?"—he said, "All right, governor; they set upon me first"—I took the spade from him and said, "You will have to come back with me"—he made no reply—we went to 16, Carr Street, where I saw the deceased child, against the door, held by the mother—I told the prisoner I should take him to Arbour Square Police-station for assaulting the child—he made no reply—he was taken to Arbour Square, and charged with maliciously wounding the child—when the charge was read he said, "I hope the child will die, and I shall get hung"—he had been drinking, out he was not drunk; he was in an excited state—the child was not dead then; it has since died—the prisoner gave the age of twenty seven, I believe, at the Police-station.
Cross-examined. When I came up to the prisoner he was on the way to his own house, walking quietly with six men, and with the spade in his hand—the Cuthberts seemed in a very excited state—I could not say if they had been drinking—I might say they had all been drinkiog, but were not drunk.
Re-examined. The daughter Elizabeth was perfectly sober, but she appeared very much excited.
STEPHEN WHITE (Insptctor, H). On July 30th I saw the prisoner at the Arbour Square Police-station in custody—at that time the child had died—I said, "Eliza Cuthbert is dead, and you will now be charged with wilfully murdering her by striking her on the head with a spade at 16, Carr Street"—he made no reply.
ARTHUR COOK . I was the house surgeon at the London Hospital till the end of July—about two a.m. on July 23rd I saw this child—it was suffering from a wound about two and a-half inches long, far back over the frontal bone on the left side—it had been stitched up—I took out the stitches and examined the wound thoroughly, and found there was a depressed fracture of the frontal bone and a fracture of the parietal bone; a piece of bone had been driven back down into the brain; there were fractures over the temple, and one forward, and across into the right eye—that was verified at the post-mortem examination—the cracks of the skull extended over a considerable extent—considerable force would be necessary to produce what I saw—the depressed fracture was raised successfully, but the child died at 7.20 on July 24th—the cause of death was shock and anæmia, or loss of blood from the fracture—this spade might cause exactly such a wound—one blow could easily have caused the fracture, and there was no evidence of a second blow on the head; there was only one mark—the cracks all radiated from the one fracture.
Cross-examined. I am a furniture polisher, living at 38, Carr Street, Limehouse, about a hundred yards from the prisoner—on the nightwhen Cuthbert's baby was injured I was with the prisoner, his wife and Mrs. Farrow, in the public-house—after we came out, Mrs. Cuthbert came up and struck the prisoner—the prisoner retaliated and pushed her away—after
that Cuthbert rushed up with something, which I thought was a chopper, in his hand—it might have been this spade—he rushed at the prisoner with it—the prisoner grappled with him, and got it away—they both ran away then into Carr Street—I saw nothing else of the prisoner till he was in custody.
R-examined. I had been with the Cronins and Mrs. Farrow about an hour that night—we had been in more than one public-house. (MR. COUNSEL objected to MR. BODKIN cross-examining his own witness; MR. JUSTICE BRUCE ruled that MR. BODKIN having called the witness in order that MR. COUNSEL might examine him, MR. BODKIN was entitled to ask any questions which were not of a leading character.) There was jangling between Cuthbert and the prisoner in the Richard Cobden about the strike—Cuthbert began it by asking about the strike, and where Cronin was working—I don't remember the answer—that was the starting of the row—there was some altercation in the house; the row happened outside—I don't remember what happened inside the house; I only came to state what happened outside—I did not see Cuthbert walking behind or in front of us after we left the Cobden about closing time—he came up to us in Repton Street, with what I thought was a chopper; we were outside the Cobden then—I first saw Cuthbert outside the public-house, about six yards from it—I, the Cronins, and Mrs. Farrow stayed just opposite the public-house, talking for about a minute, and while we were there Mrs. Cuthbert came out of the Richard Cobden and struck the prisoner, and that was the cause of the row—about two minutes after that Cuthbert came up with something in his hand; I expect he ran home and got it—I could not say whether Mrs. Cuthbert fell when she was pushed; I was being pushed about at the same time—I could not tell you whether either fell—I did not notice whether Cuthbert had a can of beer in his hand when he came out at closing time—I could not mistake a beer-can for a chopper—I am sure the prisoner snatched whatever it was from Cuthbert, who at once ran away, with the prisoner after him—I thought it was a chopper Cuthbert brought out to strike the prisoner with.
By MR. COUNSEL. There was time for Cuthbert to have gone to his own house for the chopper and come back.
Cross-examined. On the night of July 23rd I was with the prisoner and his wife and Corcoran about 11.12—the prisoner had no weapon or anything in his hand—I did not see Cuthbert till after the beer-shop had closed; then he had an altercation with the prisoner—he stayed there—I saw Cuthbert with a weapon in his hand, which I took to be a chopper—he deliberately went up to the prisoner and made an aim to strike him with it—the prisoner put up an arm, and with the other he broke the weapon away from Cuthbert's hand; they struggled together—I saw the daughter, Elizabeth Cuthbert, with the baby in her arms, and Mrs. Cuthbert, where the prisoner and Cuthbert were struggling for the weapon; they were attacking the prisoner—I did not see if the child was struck while the prisoner was wrenching, or trying to wrench, the spade from Cuthbert—I cannot say how the baby was struck—Mrs. Cuthbert and the prisoner were wrangling together while Cuthbert was away for five or
ten minutes; time enough to have gone to his house and back again-when he came back I saw the weapon in his hand.
Re-examined. I was in the prisoner's company that night from 11.20 till 12.30—we were in more than one public-house—Corcoran was with us the whole time—the prisoner was the worse for drink when he came into my company at 11.15—he was not quarrelling inside the Cobden—I did not see Cuthbert there—I first saw him on the opposite side of the road; he had a can in his hand; I cannot say if it contained beer, or where he came from—that was just after the public-house was closed—I and Mrs. Cronin walked in front up the street, leaving the prisoner and Corcoran to follow behind—I cannot say if Cuthbert walked behind them with a can of beer; I did not see him—when I saw Cuthbert he was having an argument with the prisoner about working for 3s. 6d. a day while the strike was on, about half-way up Repton Street—I saw Cuthbert pushed by the prisoner—he continued walking on with the prisoner till we got into the middle of Blunt Street, where it joins Repton Street; we stood there by the ice-cream shop, and Cuthbert then started the argument again—Mrs. Cuthbert came up and interfered—the prisoner did not strike or push her till she struck him, and then he returned the blow—she did not fall—as soon as Cuthbert saw the blow struck he ran towards his house and came back in a very short time with a weapon in his hand, and he deliberately went to the prisoner to strike him with it—we were standing there then—Mrs. Cuthbert was there—the prisoner caught hold of the weapon, and Cuthbert then ran towards his house again with the girl, and the prisoner followed with the weapon that he had just taken from Cuthbert—I did not see either of them again that night till the prisoner was in custody—my deposition was read over to me before the Magistrate, and I signed it—I did not say, "The prisoner got the spade away from Cuthbert; the child was not struck then"—my deposition is true—I cannot say how the child was struck—Mrs. Cronin lives with me—I went once to Holloway to see the prisoner since this case began—I have known him nine or ten months.
ELIZA CUTHBERT (Re-examined). There were not many people outside the Richard Cobden; it was too late—I saw my husband and the prisoner outside the ice-cream shop jangling together—the prisoner followed my husband and struck him.
GUILTY of Manslaughter. — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 15th, 1897.
Before Mr. Recorder.
565. GEORGE SMITH (21) and WALTER HASSELL (21) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Selina Jacobs, and stealing various articles, her property.— Nine Months' Hard Labour each. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
566. EUSTACE AUGUSTUS HICKS (35) , to three indictments for forging and uttering the acceptances to bills of exchange for £39 and £18, with intent to defraud; also to stealing £60, the money of Henry Prosser, his master.
He was stated to have defrauded his matter of £8,000 in six years, by forged bills of exchange.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
567. TED WILSON (26) , to stealing a purse and 13s. 9 1/2d. from the person of Frances Humphrey, having been convicted of a like offence in the name of Henry Levy. Two other convictions were proved against him.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. The GRAND JURY commended the conduct of the omnibus conductor, Weedon, and the COURT awarded him 20s. in addition to his expenses. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
568. ALFRED SUMMERS (23) and HENRY PARKINSON (20) , to maliciously damaging a plate-glass window, value £50, the property of Abraham Alexander.— Three Months' Hard Labour each. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
(569) MICHAEL DACEY (25) to stealing part of a gold chain and a seal from the person of Rowland Hill. Several summary convictions were proved against him.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and HUGHES Prosecuted; and MR. GRAIN appeared
for Moss, and MR. THOMPSON for Blow.
JOSEPH ROBERT GEARING . I am delivery foreman to John Knill and Co.—on July 23rd, about twelve o'clock, Mr. Stephen's foreman brought me a delivery order for four cases of onions—I endorsed it 3485, and put it on a shelf in the office—I missed it about 1.45, and reported the matter—the order was presented a second time, but I was not aware that it was the same, and delivered the twenty-four sacks of onions to Calnan, who brought the order—when I discovered that it was the same order I stopped it—I saw Dean there, who had been in our employ on the floor as a casual labourer—he had no business there—I saw nothing of the prisoners in the matter—I had made a pencil mark on the order in the morning which had been erased when it was produced the second time—I went to my office on the quay to lunch, but not off the premises—there are cash orders and credit orders; this is a credit order, because there is no price on it.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. White's salesman signed this order; this parcel of onions had been put to auction in Covent Garden, and White and Co. sold them—they warehouse goods—I have heard of a custom among small dealers of one buying a parcel and distributing it among others—the carman comes and gives us the order, and as long as we have the signature of our warehouse we are satisfied.
Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. I have known Blow some time, and know his employer—small dealers buy goods and divide them, and pay so much per share.
Re-examined. This order Comes from White and Co., and we give the goods to the carman and debit them.
HENRY JOHN HOW . I live at 53, Underhill Road, Dulwich, and am assistant to Messrs. Knill and Co.—on July 23rd I was in charge of the warehouse—Gearing came in and made a report, and about five or 5.15 he came again and made another report—I made inquiries, and gave the prisoners in custody—a man named Dean was discharged from our employ about three years ago, and he was there on this day from nine to 2.30, and was with Gearing in the delivery van.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I have said, "Newell was given in custody"—he was one of the carmen; he made a statement—these goods have been sold by auction, as far as I know.
Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. The two prisoners were taken to the station; I was outside—Mr. Gilmore was not with me; he was in the waiting-room—I heard the prisoners say something about buying the order.
Re-examined. These were Spanish onions, worth 8s. a case.
JOSEPH SMITH . I am carman to Alfred Stephens, of Monument Buildings—on the morning of July 23rd I went to Fresh Wharf with an order, which I delivered to Mr. Gearing, the foreman, who gave me a pass-out order for forty cases, and I took them to the Borough Market.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I know the buyer.
CHARLES CALNAN . I am assistant to my father, a market carman, of Whitechapel—I know the prisoners well—on July 23rd, about 4.30, Moss called on me and gave me this order for forty cases of onions; I sent one of the carmen with the order.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I know Moss by sight very well—he has a partner named Green—they have a stall in Spitalfields Market—I have known both the prisoners as buying in Monument Yard.
Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. It is the usual custom to divide the orders in Monument Yard—Blow has nothing to do with Moss.
HENRY NEWELL . I am carman to Mr. Calnan—on July 28th, about 4.30 p.m., I went with one of his vans, which was loaded with twenty-four cases of onions, and it was stopped; I was taken to the station, inquiries were made, and I was discharged.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I told the wharfinger where I was going to take them.
Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. I never found any difference between a receiving order and a cash order.
WILLIAM GILMORE . I am beadle at Fresh Wharf—on July 2nd I took Newell to the station with a cart and horse—I was there when the prisoners were brought there—a conversation passed between me and Blow. (A suggestion having been made to Blow by way of inducement, the RECORDER, at MR. GRAIN'S request, excluded the conversation.)
ARTHUR HUMPHREYS (City Detective). On July 23rd I was with Crouch and Mr. Calnan near Spitalfields Market—Calnan pointed out Moss to me—the prisoners were both within hearing—he touched Moss and said, "This is the man I received the delivery note from"—I told him we were police officers, and that he would be charged with stealing and receiving a delivery note, and obtaining twenty-four cases of onions—he said, "He (meaning Blow) and I bought the delivery note in Covent Garden Market about five o'clock this afternoon, from a man we know well by sight, but do not know his name; we put £5 each to it"—they were taken to the station and charged—they said, "This is not right," meaning the charge—they were shown the delivery note, and they said. "That is the delivery note."
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I know Covent Garden—Messrs.
White are very large dealers; they sell by auction—I have made inquiries about Moss; he has held a stall in Spitalfields Market since March, for which he would have to give references.
Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. I have made inquiries, and know nothing against the prisoners—there was no concealment about it.
By the COURT. Nothing was said about buying the note in Monument Yard; it was the Floral Hall, Covent Garden Market.
The Prisoners received good characters.
NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
KATE REDMAN . I live at 31, Wilberforce Road, Finsbury Park—I employed the prisoner as a charwoman about twelve months ago first, but did not miss money till lately—on the morning of August 5th she was told to go to a small ante-room and do some work, and not to go into any other room—I had myself in a cupboard in my bedroom, and was not there many minutes when I heard her come in—she went to a chest of drawers, opened the top one, and took out a bag of money—I went out and took hold of her arm; she said, "Oh, Mrs. Redman, I have done nothing"—I called iny daughter and my husband, and then she said that I was on the landing, and dragged her in, and that she was not in the room at all.
Cross-examined. She had opened the paper bag, and was just about to open the leather bag—I do not think I told the Magistrate about my telling her not to go into the room, but the only room she was told to go to was on the lower landing.
By the COURT. The money I missed before was from that bag, and another in the same chest of drawers—I had missed money on Bank Holiday, the Monday before—there were no servants in the house.
WALTER REDMAN . I am a teacher of music, of 31, Wilberforce Road—on August 5th my wife called me upstairs; I went just outside her bedroom, and saw her and the prisoner—she said, "I have caught the thief"—my wife had a bag in her hand—the prisoner said that she had not touched anything, and afterwards she denied being in the room, but I saw her in it.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
573. FREDERICK LEAH (18) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing three watches and a chain, of Ludwig Kieber, his master, having been convicted at Bristol in July, 1896; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick Arthur, Earl of Derby, and stealing three vests and other articles, his property; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Francis Everett, and stealing a chatelaine and other articles, his property. The Earl of Derby's property had been restored through information given by
the prisoner.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
575. WILLIAM HORNBY (32) , to forging and uttering an order for £3, also an order for £20, with intent to defraud. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]Recommended to mercy by the prosecutrix. — Ducharged on his own Recognizances, having been in custody since July 24th.
576. WILLIAM EUGENE NYE MARTINUCCI (21) , to forging and uttering a cheque for £500, with intent to defraud. He received a good character.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
(577) WALTER LEWIN CRAWCOUR (38) , to indecently assaulting Alfred James Champ. He was stated by a surgeon to be of weak intellect, and that his brother and sister had both been in an asylum. His father undertook to fake charge of him.—Discharged on Recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 15th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
578. WILLIAM ARNOLD** (27) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully assaulting John Williams, a constable of the Metropolitan Police, in the execution of his duty, and occasioning him actual bodily harm.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. And
(579) THOMAS CLARKE** (63) to unlawfully uttering a counterfeit crown to Harriet Glenny, and to a previous conviction at this Court in March, 1885.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
FREDERICK GREY (Detective, L). About 9.30 a.m. on August 19th I was on duty with Detective Sergeant White in. the Westminster Bridge Road—I saw Carter, at the corner of Oakley Street, joined by Redwood and Hall—they went over Westminster Bridge to Victoria and to the King's Heady Buckingham Palace Road, and had a conversation in the centre bar in the corner.—we went into the saloon bar, where I saw Redwood take a silver coin from a little red bag and hand it to Hall—Carter looked in the bag—Hall went out—I followed him to the Post-office at the corner of Vauxhall Bridge Road—as soon as he came out I went in and received information from the manageress, and followed Hall and arrested him—White and I found a counterfeit florin in his coat pocket—after further conversation with him I handed him over to uniform police—I went back to the public-house, and saw Carter and Redwood sitting on a stool where we had left them together, talking—I said, "We are police officers; I want to see what you have got about you"—I seized Carter, and White seized Redwood—we took them outside, and were about to search them when I saw Redwood drop a bag from his right hand—I found on Carter 3s. 6d. silver and Is. bronze, good money, and a knife and a postal order for 3s. 6d.—they were taken to the station—I charged Carter with being in possession of six counterfeit florins-some were wrapped up and some separate—he made no answer—Red
wood said to White, in the hearing of Carter, "It's no good searching; you have got the lot."
Cross-examined by Carter. You were all together from Oakley Street, and we followed you to the Post-office.
EMMA WATKIN . I was in charge of the Post-office, 329, Vauxhall Bridge Road, on August 19th, when Hall made a purchase, for which he tendered 1s., 2s., and 6d.—I found a bad florin, and returned it to him.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these seven florins are counterfeit, six are from one mould—they are the ordinary make—some were wrapped up to prevent their getting rubbed.
Carter, in his defence, stated that he did not know anything about the coins, though he was in the others company, and that thin was the first time he had been brought into Court for this sort of offence.
GUILTY**.— Nine Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM WARK . I live at 49, Caroline Street, Ratcliffe—on August 18th I was playing with some little boys near Broad Street about 3.30 p.m.—I saw the prisoner sitting on a step in a place called the Orchard—he said, "Tommy, go and change this 5s. piece in the Post-office"—he handed me this coin, which I took to the Post-office and offered for change—not getting it, I went in Bailey's beer-shop and offered the coin to a lady at the counter, who showed it to her husband—they kept the coin, and came with me to the prisoner—Mr. Bailey fetched a constable, and the prisoner was locked up.
GEORGE BAILEY . I keep the Vine Tavern, George Street, Ratcliffe—I was in the bar when the crown piece was offered—I tried it, and found it counterfeit—I asked the lad where he got it from—he took me to the prisoner, who was sitting on a doorstep, and said he gave it to him—I asked him if he gave the coin to the boy—he said, "No, he took it away from me"—I said, "Where did you get it from?"—he said, "I gave a penny for it"—I said, "You must have known it was bad"—he said, "Well, I did not think it was good"—I called a constable, and handed the coin to him—I should have given the prisoner change if it had been good.
GEORGE TUMNER (385 H). Bailey called me, and gave the prisoner into custody, with this coin—the prisoner admitted it to be bad, and that the lad could not change it—he said he bought it for a penny in Spital-fields—I searched him, but found no money on him.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I certainly had the five-shilling piece, but it was taken out of my hand."
Prisoner's Defence: I was not aware it was bad. It was taken out of my hand, and he went to the public-house to change it.
GUILTY.— Recommended to mercy by the JURY. Dr. Scott said the prisoner was in a poor state of health, and of weak intellect.— Judgment Respited.
MR. GRAZEBROOK Prosecuted.
EDWARD FELSTEAD . I am a labourer, of 12, White Conduit Street—on August 2nd I was in White Lion Street, C. Jerkenwell, about 9.30—the prisoner, who was standing at a corner, said, "You hoary-headed old bastard!"—I had seen him about before—I said, "I did not insult you," and went round the corner to look for a policeman—he pulled a knife out of his pocket, and I felt hurt in my arm—he ran away—I followed him down into the kitchen of a house—I went to the hospital four days afterwards, where I was attended by the med'cal officer—I have also been seen by Dr. Walker, who is here—my arm was bad nine days—Inspector Ledger came to my house and spoke to me—I was taken to the Police-station at Clerkenwell—I identified the prisoner in front of the dock on Saturday—I have no doubt he is the man—I did not identify him before because it was dark.
HUBERT JOHN WALKER . I am one of the medical officers of the Royal Free Hospital—Dr. Ralph Paul Williams, the resident medical officer, is suffering from fever, and unable to appear here—I saw him yesterday—I had seen a scar on the prosecutor's arm.
CHARLES LEDGER (Police Inspector, G). I was present when this case was before the Magistrate—I heard Ralph Paul Williams examined after he was duly sworn—the prisoner was present, and had an opportunity of asking him questions. (The deposition of Ralph Paul Williams: "I am resident medical officer, Royal Free Hospital. I attended prosecutor on Tuesday morning. He had a punctured wound on the outside of the right elbow, about half an inch deep. There is a corresponding cut in the vest—that has since been shown me. The wound is now healed.") From a communication I received, I sought out the prosecutor at the end of the first week in August—I afterwards arrested the prisoner, whom the prosecutor saw at the Police-station—I traced the prisoner by his being known as" the Coffee Copier"—an anonymous letter was written, which I followed up, and in consequence of information I arrested the prisoner—I told him I should arrest him for stabbing a man on Bank Holiday—he answered, "I did not stab the man; I did not have a knife"—when charged he made no reply.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 16th, 1897.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and A. E. GILL Prosecuted; and MR. SANDS Defended at the request of the COURT.
WILLIAM FINBERG . I am a boot laster, of 9, Dorset Street, Spiul-fields—I knew the prisoner and the deceased—about eleven or twelve a.m. on July 26th I was having my breakfast, and I came out and saw the prisoner and the deceased in Dorset Street, between the chandler's shop and the coal shop—they were on opposite sides of the street, rowing—I had a knife in my hand; I had borrowed it in the kitchen to cut up
my breakfast—when I came out the prisoner took the knife from me—I came out to see what occurred, because I heard in the lodging-house that the prisoner and the decea sed were rowing—when the prisoner took the knife from me he held it in his hand, and the deceased saw it and walked away, and I did not see any more of him till the afternoon—I said to the prisoner, "For God's sake, Scabby, give me the knife back; don't get me into a row"—the prisoner said, "I will keep it only to frighten him"—the prisoner went away with the knife—I next saw the deceased about five or six that afternoon—I was speaking to him in Dorset Street, when the prisoner came from Spitalfields Market way towards us, peeling an orange with the knife—the deceased walked towards the prisoner when he saw him coming down the street—the prisoner showed him the knife was in his hand—the prisoner pulled the knife from his pocket when he was about as far from the deceased as I am from the Judge—the deceased said, "You have got a knife,"and made one or two kicks at the prisoner—I cunnot tell whether they reached the prisoner—if I told the Coroner he made one kick, it was because I was excited—the prisoner then made five or six stabs with the knife at the deceased, and they clenched and fell to the ground—I cannot say if one fell on top of the other; the prisoner got up first—the prisoner was on the top when they fell—when he got up the prisoner went away with the knife—Scabby was his nickname—in two or three minutes the deceased complained of being stabbed; I did not think he was stabbed; he did not say anything when he got up, but afterwards he said, "scabby put two into me"—I said, "I don't think you are"—he put his hand to his side, and there was blood on the palm of his hand, and I said, "So it is; I did not think it was"—he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out coppers, and said, "I don't think I have enough for a cab"—afterwards he was put in a cab, and taken down the street.
Cross-examined. I had known the deceased for twenty years—he was about 5 ft. 4 in. tall; a bigger and stronger man than the prisoner, but not so tall; a lump stouter than the prisoner—about two days or more before July 26th I was talking to the prisoner outside the lodging-house, and the deceased came up intoxicated, and said to the prisoner, "You ought to be poisoned"—I walked away sharp, because I did not talk to him when he was intoxicated—the deceased did not kick the prisoner while I was there then—George Neville saw the prisoner snatch the knife from me on the 26th—I never saw my knife again; I never asked for the knife back after the deceased was stabbed, because if I had I should not have got it—I never had a knife of my own in my life—I borrowed this to cut my bread and butter—the knife was about as long as my finger; it had a galvanised handle, and was not an English-made knife; it shut up—when the deceased came to me in the afternoon he said, "Do you know where Scabby is?"—I said I did not—the deceased was drunk; he was looking for the prisoner—he said, "I will give him Scabby"—I suppose he meant that after the row in the morning he would have his own back in the afternoon—just at that time I saw the prisoner coming down the street, eating an orange—he was about twenty or thirty yards off when I first saw him, as he turned the corner—I could not fay if he was cutting the orange with the knife—directly he saw him the deceased walked towards him—as soon as he saw the knife in the prisoner's hand the deceased went for him and made several kicks at
him—I cannot say whether they touched him—the deceased deliberately ran at the prisoner; the prisoner jumped back to get away from him, and they clenched and fell to the ground—I did not see a stab—coming down the street, the prisoner pulled the knife from his pocket—I could not say whether it was my knife—I did not see him open it—I am sure it was a knife—I only saw the blade; he had the handle in his closed hand—I saw no more of the prisoner afterwards—I was left there with the deceased and Barnett, who is called Jumbo—Brooks was on the scene, too—I do not know if the prisoner lodged at 30, Dorset Street; there are several lodging-houses in Dorset Street—when the prisoner came down the street, eating the orange, he was going in the direction of 30, Dorset Street.
By the JURY. I thought the prisoner wanted the knife to frighten the deceased; I did not think he meant to stab him; he never did such a thing before; as they rowed day after day, and nothing occurred between them, I took no notice.
Re-examined. The deceased was drunk at five or six in the afternoon; he did not roll about—the prisoner was twenty or thirty yards from the deceased when he pulled out the knife—he continued walking towards the deceased as the deceased walked towards him—as soon as the deceased made the kick the prisoner made the five or six stabs at him—they were both standing facing each other—the prisoner was too far away to stab him; he was as far as I am from the Judge—the deceased tried to catch hold of the prisoner—the prisoner jumped back when the deceased kicked at him—the knife did not touch the deceased when I saw the stabs—I was as far from the prisoner as I am from the Judge—the prisoner was only flourishing the knife in the air—when they fell I did not see the knife go in—the prisoner got up, leaving the deceased on the ground; I could not say if he was on his back or face—he got up as quick as the prisoner, and was as firm on his legs as I was, and he did not complain of being stabbed till the prisoner went away—I did not think he was hurt—the prisoner was perfectly so ber—I could not say if the deceased was more drunk in the afternoon than he had been in the morning—I could not say what day of the week the 26th was, or what day of the week the previous row, about two days before, was on.
WILLIAM BROOKS . I am a hawker, living at 39, Dorset Street—I knew the prisoner and the deceased—on July 26th, about 12.15, I saw them in Dorset Street, quarrelling outside our shop—the prisoner said to the deceased, "If you hit me I will stick this knife into you"—I did not see any knife—the deceased then ran into my shop and picked up two pint paraffin oil glass bottles, and was making towards the prisoner—I stopped him at the door, and took the bottles from him—he then rushed into a barber's shop next door—when he came out he went straight through the street away from the prisoner, who was still outside my shop—nothing took place between them then—the deceased was drunk—I went for a walk with the prisoner in the opposite direction to that in which the deceased had gone—we walked about, and talked to people all the afternoon till 5.15, when we were at Great Pearl Street—I then came down Dorset Street from Commercial Street alone, leaving the prisoner at the Commercial Street end of Dorset Street—I saw Finberg, and spoke to him, and about five minutes after the deceased came from the other end
of Dorset Street and joined us, and said, "Where is Scabby? I will give him Scabby; I will make him eat the blade of that knife"—I saw the prisoner coming towards us—I did not notice anything in his hand—the deceased saw him coming down the street and made towards him, and made a kick at him—the prisoner stepped back a bit as he did so, to avoid the kick—I could not say if the kick reached him—the deceased made another kick at the prisoner, and then they closed and fell to the ground together—the deceased stood up and said, "I have got it"—I did not notice the prisoner; I was looking at the deceased—he unbuttoned his coat, and I saw the blood on his left side—I did not see the prisoner then; he had gone—I do not know where the prisoner lived—I was friendly with him because he was always down the street—I saw the deceased was wounded, but I cannot give any information of how he got that wound—I was as near him as I am to you—they closed and fell down—the wound was on the left side—I don't know what there was to wound him in that way—I did not see a knife all the afternoon.
WILLIAM BROOKS (Cross-examined). I was standing outside when the row was on; I did not see the beginning of it—I did not know, nor had I heard, that the deceased had kicked the prisoner—the deceased was a strong, powerful man, much stronger than the prisoner—before the prisoner said, If you hit me I will stick this knife into you," they had been rowing, and the deceased was going to hit the prisoner—they were talking over my barrow, which was in front of my shop, and the deceased said he would break his jaw, and then the prisoner said if he hit him he would stick the knife into him; then the deceased rushed into nty shop—he was very excited—he did not say anything when he took the bottles—I took them from him because he was coming towards the prisoner with them, and I thought he was going to strike the prisoner with them, and I did not want the bottles broken, for one thing—he had a bottle in each hand—he said nothing when I took them from him—he went to the barber's shop—I went away with, and talked to the prisoner—he was very much afraid of the deceased hitting him; that was why he went away from the street—he appeared to be afraid—he did not appear to be very excited, but he was excited and a little upset—it is a pretty rough neighbourhood—I do not know where the deceased lived—the prisoner did not walk back with me the whole way, because he stood at the top of the street talking to someone—I do not know that he did not come on with me because he was afraid of meeting the deceased—the deceased had not seen me go away with the prisoner—when I saw the deceased in the afternoon he appeared excited—he was drunk, but he was quite able to take his own part and fight and hurt a man very badly—the prisoner was eating something when he came down the street; I cannot say what it was, or which hand he had it in—the corner of the street was twenty yards from where we stood—the deceased went straight to the prisoner as soon as he saw him, and made a kick at him—he bad his clenched fist at his side—he was able to walk quite steadily—they were very close when the deceased kicked; the prisoner escaped it by going back; he did not do anything else—the deceased made another kick; I could not see if that
reached the prisoner; they closed and fell—I did not see the prisoner do anything with his hand—I stood and saw all the struggle; neither got the best of it, because as soon as they closed they fell—I have known the deceased for some time; he was a quarrelsome man when in drink—the prisoner put two hands up to keep the deceased off; one hand in front of the other—I could see his hands—he did that after the first kick—they were then within reach of each other—the prisoner was wearing the same clothes as he has now—the struggle was over in a minute or two—the deceased, who was the bigger man, was getting the best at first—I could not say if he got on top of the prisoner at first.
Re-examined. The deceased was about two inches shorter than the prisoner—the deceased seemed to me just as drunk at five as he had been at one in the day—the prisoner was sober—we had no drink in the afternoon—I had been talking with him in the afternoon about the deceased—he said, "Why is he always getting on at me every time he sees me?"—nothing was said about what he should do if he met the deceased; we did not expect to meet him any more after he left the street—when the prisoner put up his hands as the deceased kicked at him, they seemed half open and half shut—I did not see if there was anything in them; I was behind him—there may have been something in them without my seeing it—when I said the deceased was getting the best of it, I meant that he made a kick at the prisoner first, and the prisoner stepped back, and he made another kick at him—when they fell to the ground together there was very little rolling over and struggling together on the ground.
By the JURY. The prisoner appeared to be doing his best to avoid the deceased.
GEORGE WHITROW . I am a hair-dresser, of 38, Dorset Street—at mid-day on July 26th I was in ray shop, when my attention was called to a row going on outside between the prisoner and Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer, who lodged above my shop—the deceased was standing outside, and he came into my shop and asked me to go and stay the quarrel—the prisoner was tormenting the Dwyers by pulling them about, and having a lark with them—the deceased was taking no part in that disturbance—I Asked Mrs. Dwyer to go upstairs, and not make herself a fool—she said at first she would not—I said to the prisoner, "If you hold your tongue and go away, the woman will go upstairs," and at my request he went away, and the Dwyers went upstairs—the deceased was in my shop then; when the prisoner went away he went outside—a few minutes afterwards I went back to my shop, and I heard the prisoner and the deceased were quarrelling and threatening to strike each other, and calling each other bad names—the prisoner had an open knife in his hand—the deceased threatened to punch his head, and the prisoner said, "Come on, Jack; I am not frightened of you"—I went outside, and said to the deceased, "Come inside and cool your temper, and do not take any notice of him"—I should think the prisoner could hear that, he was near enough—the deceased would not come in, but after that he went away up the street, towards Commercial Street—three or four hours after the prisoner came into my shop and showed me a knife, and said, "I met Fishy Jack (meaning the deceased) "at the top of the street, and he attempted to kick me, and I struck him in the side with this knife"—it was a common pocket knife; I saw it at a distance of about five feet—I said he ought to have been ashamed of himself for doing so—he turned and walked out.
Cross-examined. I saw Brooks there when they were going to row in the morning; he was standing outside the window, I think—I did not see the deceased rush into Brooke's shop—he did not rush into my shop; I met him at the door—he was very excited and angry, and seemed much upset—just before the prisoner came in the afternoon a man had come, and told me the prisoner had stabbed the deceased—the prisoner spoke to me first—he was not excited, but perfectly calm—I did not tell the police, because he went away—I knew the prisoner well by sight—I thought it a very serious thing that he should have stabbed a man in the side—the police were not there at the time—I never gave information to anybody about this—about an hour after the prisoner came a man brought me the deceased's coat and hat to mind; he said they had left him at the hospital, where he was detained—I did not see the prisoner again till he was in custody—I first told anybody when they came to make inquiries two days after the prisoner was in custody—I knew he was in custody—I think a customer was sitting in the shop, speaking to me, when the prisoner came in; I do not remember his name—t did not know the prisoner and deceased had been on bad terms till they had the quarrel—the knife was about fouror four and a-half inches long; it was a clasp knife—I was not near enough to see if there were stains on it—the prisoner flourished the knife in his hand—he was quite cool and collected, as calm as I am now—I did not tell the police till Gaunter came to inquire—I suppose he came from information he had received; it might have been spoken of in the shop—I was a friend of the deceased and of his friends; he came into my shop a good deal, his friends do not—I was not bitter against the man who killed my friend; the prisoner never did me any harm—I thought it very bard that the deceased should be killed, but I had no ill-will towards the prisoner—the prisoner came in two or three minutes after it happened, and told me—it was about four or 4.30.
Re-examined. I gave evideuce before the Magistrate and Coronery I have no doubt the words I have stated were those the prisoner used—within a week I gave information to the police about this statement, as soon as anybody inquired of me.
By MR. SANDS. The prisoner was in my shop, when he came and made that statement, five, or it might have been ten, minutes—he stood against the shelf—he spoke at once when he came in: I told him he ought to be ashamed of himself, and he walked out immediately.
JAMES CHARLES SPILLANE, M.D . I was house surgeon at the London Hospital on July 26th—I received the deceased there about seven p.m.—he was suffering from a punctured wound on the left side of the chest, under the arm, about two inches deep—it penetrated the cheat wall—he progressed favourably until the 29th, and then became delirious—on the 31st it was necessary to perform an operation, in order, if possible, to stop the internal bleeding—that was not successful—in his delirium he occasioned more bleeding—he grew worse, and died on August 5th—on the 7th I made a post-mortem examination, and found that the wound had bled internally on to the lung—the cause of death was syncope, resulting from hæmorrhage—it was such a wound as might have been produced by an ordinary pocket-knife—this coat was produced to me by the police; in it I find a cut corresponding with the wound in the man's side—he was suffering from the effects of drink when he was admitted.
Cross-examined. The direction of the wound was forward and inward; by forward, I mean towards the front of the body—the knife entered the body obliquely, and almost straight, neither upwards nor downwards—it would have required considerable force to drive it in—if the man had fallen on the knife it would have been sufficient, provided the resistance offered by the knife was great enough—the knife must have pointed with the blade upwards to have caused that—the delirium was the result of alcohol—the wound was accentuated by his delirious condition.
ELI CAUNTER (Sergeant, H). I saw the prisoner in Lockhart's coffee-house, in Commercial Street, at 9.45 on July 30th—he was asleep on a form—I woke him and said, "I am going to arrest you for stabbing John Meady in Dorset Street on the 26th instant"—he said, "For stabbing?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "If it is only for stabbing that is all right"—I took him to the Commercial Street Station, where he was charged with maliciously wounding John Meady, with intent to do grievous bodily harm—he said, "Not that I know of"—on August 3rd I went to Holloway Prison, where I served on the prisoner a written notice to take Meady's deposition—I read it to him—I was present when the deposition was taken at the hospital by Mr. Hayden Corser, the Magistrate of Worship Street—the prisoner cross-examined the deceased.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was not represented by counsel nor solicitor; I believe he is uneducated.
STEPHEN WHITE (Inspector, H). Upon hearing of the death of Meady, on August 7th, I saw the prisoner at Worship Street and said to him, "John Meady has died; you will now be charged with wilfully murdering him by stabbing him in the side with a knife on July 26th"—the prisoner said, "Is it not manslaughter?I suppose this means a stretch"—stretch means penal servitude.
The Deposition of John Meady (the deceased) was read as follows: "I live at 20, Shepherdess Buildings, fishmonger. Last Monday week, in the afternoon, I was outside a barber's shop in Dorset Street; the prisoner was having a lark with an old man and woman who lived above the shop. I aid to him, 'Why don't you leave the old people alone?I will give you something one of these times.' He said, 'If you do I will stick a knife into you.' I said, 'All right.' About five minutes after the knife was in me. He showed me the knife; it was a pocket-knife, with a blade about two and a-half inches long. I ran for a cab. I don't know what the prisoner did. I had known the prisoner before as knocking about the street; I have not seen him since till now. I did not go into the barber's shop to get a razor. I did not run into Brooke's shop to get two bottles; you ran into Brooks's after me. It was not my knife; I do not carry one. I was not drunk. I did not kick you opposite McCarthys shop. You did not have a stick in your hand; you did not strike me with the stick on the arm; you did not fall down, and I did not fall on top of you. It was an hour before that you showed me the knife. I did go into John McCarthy's after I was stabbed, to ask for some money to pay the cab. I did not row with you on the previous Saturday, nor with Billy Flatnose, and another called Jumbo. I did not have a knife then."
MR. AVORY stated that he should not ask the JURY to convict the prisoner of murder, but that he should present the case to them as one of manslaughter.
NOT GUILTY ,
On the next day he was charged on the Coroners Inquisition with the like offence, upon which, no evidence being offered, the prisoner was acquitted.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, September 16th, 1897.
Before Mr. Recorder.
585. GEO. SMITH (19) and GEORGE JONES (18) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Elizabeth Sarah Hill, and stealing eight boxes of cigars and other goods; Smith having been convicted at Clerkenwell on March 2nd in the name of Frederick Bird. SMITH— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. JONES— Dischaayed on recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
586. WILLIAM MALONEY (19) to stealing four pairs of socks, value 6s., and with maliciously wounding Lilly Schutz, with intent to prevent his apprehension.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(588) EPPS FOSTER (22) to stealing 20s., the money of Albert Charles Sheerman, having been convicted at this Court on November 18th, 1895, in the name of James Evans.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
MR. SPOKES Prosecuted, and MR. DAVID Defended.
ARTHUR GARDINER . I am in the employ of a private detective—the defendant came to me in June, wanting some documents copied—my employer was too busy to attend to them, and seeing the state of Sheldon's health, I said I would do them in my own time, and I made a dozen or eighteen copies, and addressed some envelopes, principally, I think, to his. own relations—one was addressed to Mr. Friedlander, one to Mr. Lush, and one to Mr. Hudson—it is not part of my business to copy letters—I did not give evidence at the Police-court.
Cross-examined. Sheldon seemed very unwell and shaky, and did not seem able to hold a pen; that is why I wrote the letters—I wrote them at my own house, and he called for them.
THOMAS JONES . I am a medical practitioner, of 68, Leman Street, Whitechapel—Messrs. Warwick, Oliver, and Hudson, surveyors, sent for me in June to see Sheldon at their office—I went and examined him, but did not take notes, not expecting these proceedings—I think he was sitting in a chair in the office—he was in a state of great excitement—he was able to go home—I saw it was about some family matter, and I did not advise him one way or the other—I did not detect any sign of apoplexy—he said he was in fear, and that would account for the nervous condition in which he was—he did not complain of any bodily injury.
Cross-examined. I was there about five minutes—I spoke to young Mr. Hudson then for the first time, though I had known him by sight—he
was not abusing Sheldon—I did not find signs of any assault, nor did he, I believe, complain of one—I did not examine his hip, as he did not complain—he was simply in a state of fear and high excitement—I can not say that young Mr. Hudson told me to take no notice of Sheldon, as he was mad—I asked Hudson to leave the room—they were both excited—I saw it was a family quarrel between father-in-law and son-in-law.
A.H. COOKE, M.D. I live at Roslyn Hill, Hampstead—Sheldon consulted me on June 25th, and said an assault had been committed upon him by his son-in-law and partner; I believe that he had been kicked or struck on the hip—I called on him, as arranged, the next day at his hotel, and examined him—I found a yellow stain on his hip, which, in my opinion, was caused by painting with tincture of iodine, or something of that kind—he was suffering from great nervous agitation, and the whole of his face twitched—I gave him a certificate that he was not fit to attend as a witness, or to go to business—I saw no evidence of apoplexy, bat I was afraid he might have a seizure if he got more excited.
Cross-examined. He said he had been assaulted in Oliver and Hudson's office on June 23rd—his mental excitement might have been caused by an assault—he came to me again, and the twitching had somewhat passed off—I have not attended him professionally since.
Re-examined. If he had been kicked or bruised on the 23rd, I should expect to have found signs of it when I examined him on the 25th, and I did not—he limped on going out of the room—it often takes several days for a bruise to come out—I did not examine him when I saw him again.
CHARLES HUDSON . I am one of the firm of Warwick, Oliver, and Hudson, architects and surveyors, of Leman Street—I had to be away from business for some time owing to a slight attack of brain fever, and returned from Bethlehem Hospital cured—on my return I found Sheldon had been making slanderous statements against me—on June 23rd Mr. Oliver and I called him into our room—he had been employed there at £2 a week to look after my interests—I put certain questions to him and took his answers. (A document containing various questions and answer, the subject of the alleged libels, dealing with jamily matters, and imputing the contracting oj disease of a discreditable nature to Mr. Hudson, was then read, the witness interpolating that he had seen the mark referred to on Sheldon's hip for years when he was rubbed at the Turkish baths; that he had never kicked him, and that Sheldon had taken papets out of his cupboard during his absence.) I said I should discharge him—he said he should not take his discharge from me, but from Mr. Oliver, who engaged him—Mr. Oliver then repeated my words, and he said he should stop to clear up what he was doing—I said he must go at once, and he said he would get his hat and coat—he stayed on, and said he was ill, and I then sent for Dr. Jones—I took the doctor into my father's office, where Sheldon was sitting—he said, "I am your patient, doctor; I shall not speak to you before that man"—I said, "Very well; I will see you after you have spoken to Dr. Jones"—he said he was ill, and could not go home—I said, "Is there any reason why he cannot go home?I hare offered to pay his cab to any part of London"—the doctor said he was quite as well able to go home as I was—he took up a diary—I said, "I must have that
diary; it is a note of what is doing here. If it is a question of a shilling, you shall have a shilling"—it then slipped down from his waistcoat, and I picked it up—he took some notes from it—I paid for it, and have Waterlaw's bill for it—I told him not to take any other papers—he went at three o'clock; I sorted my papers next day, and found many of them with his in his iron box—I put them in my strong room until his messenger called, two or three days after, when I took bis receipt for his papers (press copy produced)—I have the original—I never touched the defendant.
Cross-examined. I stood with my back against the door he would have gone out of—Mr. Oliver and myself followed him into the room, and Oliver said, referring to me, "You have said many things behind his back, and now we want to know what you are going to say before his face"—he said, "I shall not speak before that man," meaning me—Oliver said, "I order you to stop," and he did stop of his own accord—I remained at the door—the interview lasted about an hour—he did not keep him a prisoner the whole time—we kept him till he answered certain questions, and when he wanted to go out he did—I sent to Mr. Oliver the deed referred to in that telegram—I have not the deed here—I think he wanted my wife to forge her sister's name to the deed, because she came to me with the deed, and pointed out where she was to sign—I put that question to him, "You asked my wife to forge her sister's name?" and he answered, "Oh, you fool!"—that is all the answer I could get—the defendant handed the keys to me—he did not raise any objection to our taking possession of his papers—I did not want them—I wanted my papers—we never told him he would not be allowed to leave the room till he answered the questions—I have spoken of him as a great liar, and have known that for a long time—I wrote his brother-in-law to the effect that he was trying to become the champion liar of the kingdom—he bathed his head in the office, from temper, I should say—I have often seen him like that—he drank some water in my private office, and, on getting into his own office, he sat down, and said, "I feel a little shaky, and I should like a little time to recover myself"—I said, "By all means, sit down," and he bathed his head and had some water.
MR. OLIVER. Mr. Hudson did not touch or assault Mr. Sheldon that day in any way whatever.
Cross-examined. I took him into my room—I did not fasten the door when we went in; I turned the lock of one door, but he had gone out at the other—neither of us put our backs against the door, not even for the fraction of a minute—there are two doors; he went out at the second door; I went out at one, and he at the other—I stated before the Magistrate that Mr. Hudson and I stopped him on June 23rd—I instructed my Counsel to have that altered—Mr. Hudson and I may have referred to this in a casual way since I was before the Magistrate, in Mr. Spokes's presence—you have got two affidavits of mine—I may have been incorrect in a way before the Magistrate—I said, "Mr. Hudson and I stopped him, one at each of the doors; we had certain questions to ask him; we kept him there till we had finished": that is all altered—Mr. Hudson and I prepared those questions at Clacton-on-Sea, on the Saturday and Sunday before this took place—Mr. Sheldon did not become very ill—we
had occasion to bathe his head with cold water; we often did that—he tried to get out of the room, and succeeded—Mr. Sheldon said that he had been kicked—when Mr. Hudson went away to the asylum I saw Mr. Sheldon; he (Sheldon) did not come and say that money was provided for Mrs. Hudson—he wrote a letter to Mr. Hudson, and after that I employed him in making out the firm's account and general office work—it was not something like £500 which he had to investigate; it was not my money; I gave no instructions about it—we had conversations about it—he did not investigate it by my instructions or wishes—that matter did not lead to considerable unpleasantness with Mr. Hudson, but I called his attention to it when he returned—I did not write to him about it, nor was there the slightest unpleasantness about it between us—I went to Clacton because I thought it a very nice place to go to, and I wanted to see him—Mr. Hudson wrote the answers to the questions; I was present, and heard all that took place—we were all very excitable, and we spoke about as loud as you are now doing—I wrote at a small knee-hole writing table—we had Mr. Sheldon half an hour in the room—we were excited, and I think he was—I had had £42 from him, but it had been paid back—I knew he was badly off; that is why he came to me for money—what he lent me did not come all at once—I had a letter from Mr. Hudson to say that a telegram was sent by me, but I never seat it; I did not speak to Mr. Sheldon about it next day, or he to me—he did not say that he had sent it, nor did we have a good laugh about it; there was nothing to laugh at—I cannot say how many of the letters complained of I have had—Mr. Hudson has not fallen off in my estimation at all, in consequence of those letters.
Cross-examined. He was not excited—he called about 3.30 he did not limp in the slightest—he and I are not on friendly terms—I did not expect him to make a communication of a friendly nature.
MR. DANECROSS. I produce this telegram from the General Post Office.
EDWARD PARRY CAMERON . I am a clerk in the prosecutor's firm—I received the libel marked "D" by post—I was in the office on June 23rd, during the whole time Mr. Sheldon was there, but not in the same room—I heard nothing like an assault going on; if there had been I must have heard it—I believe this writing on this fly-leaf is Mr. Sheldon's.
Cross-examined. I heard nobody talking in the room; nothing noisy—he was over an hour in the room—that is Mr. Sheldon's office; he I seemed pretty well when he came out, but he was a little excited—I saw him bathe his head in cold water.
Re-examined. There was not a clerk ready to take him home, but there was a cab.
Witness for the Defence.
JAMES SHELDON (The Prisoner). I am Mr. Hudson's father-in-law—in the early part of the year he had to be put away in an asylum—I was one of the petitioners, and my daughter the other—while he was away provisions for my daughter were supplied by Mr. Oliver—she was in want of money, and came to me, and I went and saw Mr. Oliver, and I was
employed by him and my daughter to make out a balance-sheet, which I did, and was employed at a salary of £2 a week up to June 23rd—on June 23rd, about eleven o'clock, Mr. Oliver called me into his house; my Son-in-law put to me some serious and irritating questions, which are in this list, and I declined to answer, and those answers which are put in there I did not give.
By the COURT. It is all fabrication—I have not charged Mr. Hudson with immorality, and do not do so now—I never mentioned the venereal disease, and never asked him what his opinion was; that is all absolute fiction.
By MR. DAVID. I tried to leave the room, but they would not let me; Oliver stood across one door, and my son across the other, and refused to let me out—there were two struggles, and in the final one Hudson struck me with his knee—something gave way in my head, and I saw blood, and said, "I am dying," and they let me out—I suffered much in my head, and have never been right since—I sat in a chair, and my son-in-law was taunting me, and saying that I was shamming; I was bathing my head quite two hours, and he watched me, and said that he would stop in there to see that I did not take anything out—I left my papers in my deed-box, and handed them to Mr. Oliver, and said, "I hand these to you as a gentleman," but in the interval they broke my drawers and my deed-box open, and this letter and the private collection of papers of a friend, which I have been collecting for fifty years—I have not summoned him; Mr. Southwark, my solicitor, is now bringing an action—my will, which was endorsed, "Not to be opened till my death," was among the papers, and it was returned to me broken open—these things had not taken place when I wrote the letter in which I spoke of Mr. Hudson as a scoundrel; I found out about the drawers being broken open about three weeks after the assault took place—this is my diary (produced); there are no entries in the early part of it—I bought it myself; other books of the same sort were in use in the office—my son-in-law took it from me that day—it contains some entries important to me—after I got home that day I was very exhausted, and suffering from my head—I saw Dr. Cooke twice—I sent a telegram in the name of Oliver—I did not speak to Oliver about it before I sent it, because he was not at the office—T have never sent a telegram to him before—I sent it because he was the new trustee appointed by my wife—I believe it was sent on to Oliver at once—I afterwards told Oliver about it, and he knew the circumstances.
Cross-examined. I swear before Oliver, Cameron and Hudson, now in Court, that I did not say to them that Mr. Hudson had venereal disease—I sent this libel to Mr. Friedlander, Mr. Lush, Mr. Potter, Mr. Thos. Wilson, Mr. Smith, Mr. Schneider, Mr. Rye a solicitor, Mr. Harris, and Mr. Dochess—two or three of them are customers of Mr. Hudson—I caused about eighteen copies to be made, and posted them, I believe.
By the COURT. I said nothing to Mr. Oliver about his sending a note for medical attendance on some woman—I told him there was an invoice there which I could not account for, as my daughter had no knowledge of the people who sent it in—it is possible that I spoke to Mr. Oliver about some woman—the majority of the entries in this diary relate to the business, but there are entries of my own private transactions.
MR. SPOKES put in the bill for the diary, by which it appeared that it was bought on February 13th, and the first entry in it was on February 14th.
GUILTY .—The JURY found that the justification was not proved.— Judgment Respited.
HARPER PLEADED GUILTY .
ROBERT HODGES (126, City). On July 21, about 3.15, I was in South Place, near Liverpool Street, and saw the prisoner—I saw him again about 3.45 in South Place, going in the same direction, and near the lavatory—I looked down the lavatory, and went down and found Harper in the office, which had been broken open, packing up a parcel of clothing, and five money-boxes on the table, which had been broken open—I found on him 3s. 6d. in silver, some coppers, and a screw-driver—I saw Young the same evening in the City Road, and said, "What were you doing in South Place this morning?"—he said, "You make a mistake"—I took him to the station—he said, "If I get out of this I will keep out of it in future," and when he saw Harper he said, "This is the first time I have been with him."
BERNAN DIAMOND . I am an attendant at this lavatory; it belongs to the Commissioners of Sewers—I have an office there—I locked up this safe, leaving in it about 3s. 6d. in copper and 4s. 6d. in silver—the boxes were safe; I took them off, and put them in a cupboard, and next time I saw them they were broken open.
Young's Statement before the Magistrate: "If you let me go this time I will never do it again."
YOUNG— GUILTY . Inspector Wise stated that Young had been convicted, but had made an effort to get an honest living since his father's death. Judgment Respited . Four convictions were proved againstHarper— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, September 16th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. MALLINSON Defended. The Prisoner, having stated in the hearing of the JURY that he was GUILTY, they found that verdict.—Judgment Respited.
594. MAY BAITETAITS (35) to uttering a cheque for the payment of £10 10s., with intent to defraud, and to a conviction of felony at Westminster in April, 1897.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
595. HOWILL PRICE DAVIES* (38) to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £33, with intent to defraud; also to obtaining by false pretences from Annie Marie Strong and another £10 and other sums, with intent to defraud; also to a conviction of felony in October, 1890. Several convictions ware proved against him.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
(596) JAMES KITCHENS (44) to two indictments for forging and uttering cheques for the payment of £40 and £50 respectively, with intent to defraud, having been convicted at this Court in April, 1893, of obtaining money by false pretences.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. MALLINSON Prosecuted, and MR. HORACB MILLER Defended.
GEORGE SAMUEL ELLIOTT . I am the prosecutor's son—on August 5th I was on the steamship London Belle about nine p.m.—she had been to Clacton—the prisoner is assistant fore-cabin steward—I was standing on the lower deck about the fore gangway, while the passengers were going off, when I saw Hawes give a licensed porter 1s., and I heard him say, "I will show you where it is"—there was other conversation, which I did not hear—I saw the porter go along the alley-way with the man Lasseder to the larder near the main boiler, where Lasseder assisted the porter to put a hamper on his shoulder—there was a label on it—I found that afterwards—the porter carried the hamper, and I stopped him—I examined the basket, and found in it three hams, three tongues, and some butter of the same brand as is supplied to my father—no one has a right to take provisions on board except our own trades-people and the sailors for their own mess—when I saw the prisoner the same night, I said to him, "Do you know anything about this?"—he said, "No, I have not seen it; I know nothing about it"—I had the stuff removed into our office—the next morning I asked him if he knew anything about it; he still denied it, and said he had never seen it, and knew nothing about it—I gave him into custody.
Cross-examined. There was an electric light left in the alley-way behind me, and another light a yard or two beyond—the prisoner and the porter were in front of it—it was about nine p.m.—I have seen the porter on the wharf—Holdsworth was close to the galley, and Hawes was standing close to him; Lasseder was a little to the left—Hawes spoke to the porter, and when the porter had got on to the dummy I stopped him, because my suspicion was aroused—we have had one or two cases before and since of losses out of the larder—a couple of employes left the boat the other day at Clacton—the second cook left the day after the prisoner was at the Mansion House, and two pantry-men left a day or two later—I generally see the stuff on board; not every day—people going on board or off the ship with stuff would be stopped by the chief steward—passengers have luggage, but I have not heard of any inquiries with regard to a black portmanteau or bag—that is news to me—I saw the hamper pulled out from a ledge by the side of the main boiler and lifted up—I was about fifteen feet away, not more—it was a vegetable hamper or pad, not a basket—we get the hams from George Higgs and Co., in the Borough, and the tongues from Pitt and
Co., wholesale people, who do a large business—the butter was Brittany butter, branded "L. B."—the accused's duties have nothing to do with provisions, but simply with drinks—the larder is twenty-five feet to thirty feet from the fore-cabin—the provisions are kept in the larder, except the dry goods, which are on the other side of the boat, by the saloon door—the larder is in charge of the chief cook, who has an assistant, and there are carvers—I was fore-cabin steward in the London Belle last season, when Hawes was serving under my directions—bottles of beer were stolen—I missed bottles of beer from the bilge—I do not recollect Hawes showing me how to prevent the abstraction—I do not think he would, because there is a lazarette down there, exactly underneath the bar—I think the boarding of the floor is wider than sixteen inches, but I could not say whether a hamper could be concealed there—the store is looked up at night—stock is taken every night—if anything was missed I should make a report—I received no complaint of things being missed that day—I received no character with the accused—I never found anything wrong with him—I believe he has been on the river a number of years—the accused came close to the office many times while inquiries were made—I knew he was in the neighbourhood—I cannot say I said to Hawes, "There may be nothing in it, after all"; I might have said so—I remember something about the accused finding a purse last season, and handing it to me.
Re-examined. I have not received an application for the basket—there are many places where goods could be stowed—this was a busy season, and close to Bank Holiday, and we were carrying large numbers—we should not miss a ham at the end of the day—I found this label on the basket: "Mrs. Heard, Britannia, Fish Street Hill, E.G."—I have not the slightest doubt Hawes was the man who spoke to the porter and gave him a shilling—it was light enough for me to see him.
GEORGE THOMAS HOLDSWORTH . I live at Minton Street, Bermondsey—I am a licensed porter for this wharf—I have known the prisoner about eighteen months—on August 5th he told me a gentleman had left 1s. for me to carry a packet to the Britannia—I went below, and he said, "There is the hamper there"—I took the package on my back, and when I got to the dummy Mr. Elliott stopped me.
Cross-examined. My hearing is bad—my sight is not so good as it was twenty years ago—the electric lights below dazzle the eyes—one is in the engine room, and one facing thegangway—I did not notice anybody to recognise who he was—I said, before the Magistrate, "I could not identify the steward who gave it to me"—I meant I could not identify the man who gave me a lift up—I had seen Hawes from day to day, and on board—I know him because he asked me a question and gave me a shilling—I had not carried goods off the boat for Hawes before—I go on the boat and take ashore anything that is about—I wait to be told what to take—I got a summons at the Mansion House to come here—I have only seen the officer in charge of the case; I have not spoken to Mr. Elliott about the case; I have seen him several times—I have not been to his office since this case has been on—I have not seen the solicitor for the prosecution—I saw a light on the saloon deck—they always light the electric light all over the ship when they come alongside the pier—there are two on the upper deck, as a rule.
Re-examined. The prisoner came to me on the upper deck—it was late in the evening, and dark—I have no doubt it was the prisoner.
HENRY LASSEDER . I was second steward on the London Belle when she arrived in London on the evening of August 5th—the prisoner asked me to give a lift up with a hamper, which I did—he said he would send a porter—I have known him ten years—I was charged before the Magistrate, and remanded for a week.
Cross-examined. Hawes spoke for me when I got the situation—I did not see Mr. Elliott in the gangway—I was waiting to help off with the empty bottles—I did not suspect anything wrong—I have never been in the larder—I have not been promised a reward for giving evidence.
JAMES RUSHTON . I am traveller for George Biggs and Co., provision merchants, of High Street, Borough—we supply Mr. Elliott with hams and butter—those I saw in the pad are of similar brand—one of the three hams had been sent to a place in Cheapside, and returned, being too large; it weighed 19 1/2lbs.—I afterwards sent it to this boat.
Cross-examined. Ours is a large wholesale firm—we do not supply tongues to this steamer—we supply hams to other people all over London and elsewhere.
ELIZABETH HEARD . I kept the Britannia on August 5th—I gave no instructions for a hamper to be brought—I know nothing about it—I have had no application for it—Hawes had not been in the habit of sending things to my place—I have known him as a customer.
Cross-examined. Hawes sometimes stayed at my house as a lodger—I have known him twenty-three years as a hard-working, industrious man.
HENRY THOMAS WHALLEY . I am No. 6 porter at Fresh Wharf—on the early morning of August 6th I saw the prisoner outside the Steam Packet public-house—he said, "Are you going to have a glass?"—I told him I had just had one—he said, "I am going to mention your name to Elliott," and offered me half a crown to say I took off a bushel of green-gages and two boxes of greengages which I never saw and know nothing of—I did not do it.
Cross-examined. I am a porter, and in the winter do a little stevedore's work; you may call me a waterside labourer—I know there is a difference between them—I have been a porter eleven or twelve years, but I have been working on the premises close upon twenty-six years—before I was a porter I worked at Fresh Wharf, London Bridge, as a labourer on board ship, or wherever I was sent—I have been a river-side labourer twenty-eight years—I have known the accused ten or twelve years—he has always been very friendly—Holdsworth spoke to me first about the case—I had not seen Mr. Elliott about it, nor Mr. Edmonds—the police asked me to come—I did not say before the Alderman, "I saw Mr. Elliott; he explained the case to me."
Re-examined. I have had drinks with the accused on lots of occasions—on the 5th I knew hams and things had been stolen—Holdsworth spoke to me on the 6th—I did not get the half-crown.
CLEMENT SHEPHERD (Detective, City). On August 6th I arrested the prisoner—I told him the charge—he said he knew nothing about it—a constable took him to the station—when charged he made no reply—I was making inquiries in the office when the accused came to the stores—he
went to the station willingly—I found the label on the prisoner—I do not know the prisoner's writing.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ARTHUR WILLIAM RICHMOND . I am head steward of the London Belle—I live at 185, Balham Street, Plaistow, Essex—I receive the stores, and if I am away the cook signs for them—I remember the hamper being lost—stock is taken every night—if anything is missing I know it in the morning—the stores are kept in the larder—I put a lock on the door about the middle of June, because I missed stock—I missed no stock the first week in August—the chief cook, second cook, larder-man, and three carvers coine in the larder—sometimes there are only two carvers—the larder might be left when we are very busy—I have not seen the pad since I left the ship—I last saw it at Mr. Elliott's office—I used it in the ship two or three times on August 5th—it contained vegetable marrows—it weighed about 40lbs. to 45lbs.—I have seen the accused on board—his duty is in the fore-cabin—he had been sick, but he turned up on August 5th, and I saw him in the fore-cabin—he is not supposed to go to the larder—I cannot recollect seeing him there—his duty is to attend to the liquid refreshments.
Cross-examined. I saw the pad towards the afternoon or evening—it was then empty—it was the only one that had a lid—that was when taking stock, before making out the bill of fare—I could not tell to a little butter or one ham after starting business in the morning, with the amount of business we have to do—we sometimes use nine hams a day and 48lbs. of butter—if the hamper was packed, it must have been when I was making out the bill of fare—I did not see it when the hams were found.
FRANCIS POWER . I am chief cook on the London Belle—my duty is to receive everything that comes on board, and to issue provisions from the kitchen and larder, except liquids and bread, but including meat and poultry—every night I make a return of what is left in the larder to the chief steward—stock is taken every night—I did not miss anything from the store the first week in August, nor the last week in July—Hawes's duty was not in the larder, but to deal with the liquid refreshments—I had two assistant cooks—one left.
GEORGE SCARF . I am fore-cabin steward on the London Belle—Hawes worked with me on August 5th—he did not leave the cabin more than three minutes at a time—I never saw him write—I have known him nearly thirty years.
Cross-examined. I never go on the upper deck.
JOHN FULLER . I am a fruit-porter, and dock-wharf cooper—I know the accused—I remember on the Thursday morning taking down two parcels of fruit from Fresh Wharf on to the London Belle for Mr. Hawes—there were two boxes and one odd bushel of greengages—I asked to be paid; I did not see Mr. Hawes; he was not there, and I had not time to wait to speak to him—it was business between ourselves, and that night when coming off the boat, he told me he paid the porter for them; I told him he had no right to do that, and had done it at his own expense—he said, "I will see you tomorrow morning"—the usual payment for such a service from Covent Garden would be 1s.; that is only a cab fare—I brought it down to save the shilling—I do not know whether stewards
are allowed to sell fruit—I went to see him again on the Saturday morning, but he was locked up—he asked me on the Monday morning, and I brought fruit on the Wednesday and Thursday mornings.
The Prisoner received a good character, and was stated to have given every satisfaction in dealing with salvage from the wreck of the "Princess Alice" in 1878.
GUILTY.—The JURY strongly recommended him to mercy, believing he was the tool of others, — Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, September 17th, 1897.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH SMITH . I have been married to the prisoner twenty-seven years—on August 12th I had had no quarrel or words with him—I woke up that morning, and found the sharpness of a razor on my throat—my husband held the razor; he was kneeling over me—he did not speak—I said, "Oh!" and that roused my daughter, who slept in the same room, and she came to my assistance—I got away from the razor, and as far as the room door—before my daughter came I seized the razor and held it as tight as I could in my left hand—I stood in the passage for some minutes; I saw my daughter holding the prisoner—I walked to the hospital—my wound was very slight; it is quite well now—the wound in my hand, which was caused by my holding the razor, is quite well now—the prisoner said nothing from first to last—he has been a good husband always, and worked hard; he was a waterside labourer—I had no quarrel with him; we have lived happily for twenty-seven years—I have had nine children; three are living—he has had very bad health for two years, and always been in great pain across his back—he had no accident or fall—he has been in very low spirits; he would stop in six months before he would go for a walk—he has not been able to work or earn anything for two years—I go out with my basket, and two of my children work—I do not know of any insanity in his family—he has slept very restlessly the last two years.
WILLIAM SPARROW (90 AR). On August 12th I was called to the prisoner's house—I found him on his hands and knees, in his shirt, by the window of the first floor front bedroom, bleeding profusely from a wound in his throat—this razor was lying on the floor at his right side; there was blood on the razor—I tied up his wound as well as I could, and took him to the hospital—he was not able to speak till we arrived at the hospital; he then said, "Where am I? What is all this?" looking at the blood on his hands—I had never seen him before.
CARL VERTANDIS . I am house physician at Westminster Hospital—I was on duty on August 12th, when the prisoner was brought in—his wife was brought in before him—she had a semi-circular wound below the lower jaw on the left side; it was quite superficial—there was another wound, also quite superficial, extending down along the front of the wind
pipe from left to right—there was a superficial wound between the thumb and first finger on the left hand, a little deeper than the others—those wounds might have been caused by this razor—the prisoner was in a far more serious state; he had a wound across the front of his throat, about four inches, which had opened into his throat—it was between the larynx and the bone above—it is a serious wound—I had no opportunity of speaking to him; I took off the stocking which was across the wound, so that the air all came out from the front, and he could not articulate—he endeavoured to say something, but could not—he was admitted into the hospital, but was not under my care—I just saw him, but I had no opportunity of judging of the state of his mind—the doctor under whose care he was is not here—I do not know to where he was removed, but I saw the policeman taking him away.
JAMES SCOTT . I am medical officer at Holloway Prison—on September 9th the prisoner was brought to Holloway, and since then he has been under my care and constant observation—I consider him at present insane; he does not seem to realise where he is—from the evidence of his wife, I should consider that, in all probability, that condition of mind has been going on for at least some months—he has not complained to me of a pain across the back; he is generally in a poor state of physical health; mentally, I should think he has been through an attack of melancholia, and is now becoming demented—I think, from the evidence and his present condition, that the prisoner on August 12th was so insane as not to know the character of his acts.
GUILTY, but insane, so as not to be responsible at law. — To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. FITZGERALD Prosecuted.
DANIEL JACOBS . I am a commercial traveller, living with my mother at 188, Richmond Road, Dalston—at the beginning of July we left the house; my mother went into the country, and I went to stay at High-gate—we left the house securely fastened—I was afterwards informed by the police that the house had been burglarionsly entered—a few days prior to that I had visited the house, and found everything secure—when I went to the house after the burglary, I found marks as if the door had been forced—I went to the Police-station, and saw Peach, and I was asked to charge him.
Cross-examined by Peach. I don't know where you were arrested; I heard you were arrested in the garden of 186 or 184, Richmond Road.
I was sitting at my window, doing needlework, and I saw the prisoners together, looking up at my house—No. 188 is just opposite to, and facing, my house—they then looked up and down 188 very suspiciously, and walked to the corner, and came back, and went in and knocked at the area door of 188; they got no answer; they came out, and walked up and down continuously till about ten minutes past nine—the prisoners were still together and alone—when dusk set in they went again to 188, and knocked twice at the hall door and once at the area door—they gained admission by the hall door; I did not soe how, it was done so quietly—I saw the door opened and shut behind them—I also saw two other men walking up and down on my side; I did not see them join or hold any communication with the prisoners; they only went to the side 188 is on, when we gave the alarm, and then they were outside 188—when I saw the prisoners go into 188 I told a gentleman in my house, Mr. Hunter, and he gave an alarm—I sat by my window—some time after, the police came, and went with Mr. Hunter to 188—I next saw Peach being brought out of the house by the constable; that was soon after ten—I identified both prisoners at the station.
Cross-examined by Peach. You came out of the house next door but one to 188, which is two houses from the turning—you were quite sober.
Cross-examined by Atkins. I was asked to pick you out from eight or ten men, and I said, without hesitation, "That is the man"—it was getting dusk when you broke into the house—I saw you about a dozen times in the course of nearly three hours, when you were walking up and down.
Re-examined. I identified both prisoners without hesitation.
THOMAS CLARK (470 J). About 9.30 p.m. on July 22nd, in consequence of a communication made to me, I went to 188, Richmond Road, Dalston—I searched the vicinity, and went to the back of 182 and 184 in that road—I got on the top of a high wall, and turned my bull'seye light up a tree, and then I saw Peach standing on the bough of a tree—he was bare-headed I asked him what he was doing up there; he said, "All right, I have come here for a sleep; I have been drinking"—he was not drunk—we got down—I asked him where his hat was—he said, "Over there, where you think I have been breaking in; but you will have to prove that first"—we got into the road—Mrs. Drayson came, and immediately identified him as the man she had seen go in—at the station he refused to give any account of himself—at 6.30 on 24th inst. I searched the back garden of 188, and I found this jemmy among some tall weeds—this is just the sort of thing that would be used to prise open the door—this is a piece of wood broken off the back kitchen-door, by which way they got out; there are marks of the jemmy on it—my sergeant examined the marks on the front door.
Cross-examined by Peach. You had had some drink; you were not drunk.
JAMES OLIVER POULTON . I am a merchant, and live at 182, Richmond Road, Dalston—just before nine p.m. on July 22nd I had just returned from business, and the girl had taken away my boots, when I heard a noise in the front, and a police whistle blowing—I went to the front door and asked what was the matter, and was told that burglars were in the house two doors away—I went out into my garden, and called to the girl to bring my boots, as I was in my slippers—while waiting for
my boots I heard a crashing at the bottom of my garden by the summer-house, and Atkins tumbled over through the ivy on to the lawn—he walked across tome, and I said, "Hulloa! what do you want here?"—he said, "They are after me for deserting; don't stop me; I have got a poor old mother at home"—he was going to push through my house; I said, "You cannot go that way; you must go back the same way you came"—he then saw the side door, and let himself out—just at that moment the girl brought my boots, and I put them on and went to the side door, but the prisoner was gone—my house is on the same side of the road as 188—there are two houses in between—I next saw the prisoner at the Police-court in Dais ton Lane—I made quite certain in my mind that he was the man, but I was not prepared to swear he was, so I said I did not identify him; then my governess came in to identify him, and I kept my eye on him, and when the inspector said, "You none of you identify him,"I said, "That is the man"—I am quite positive now that he is the man I saw in the garden that night; there is not a shadow of doubt in my mind.
Cross-examined by Peach. I should say 188 is four doors from Lansdowne Road.
Cross-examined by Atkins. I did not go out of the room at the Police-station, saying that I could not identify anyone—I went into my garden because I thought you might come that way to get away, and might get into my house—you let yourself out by the side door.
ARTHUR LAWRANCE (575 J). I arrested Atkins on this charse on his release from Peutonville on September: 8th—I said I should arrest him and take him to Dalston, as he answered the description of a man wanted for burglary there—he said, "I shall get out of that; I told you so'before."
SARAH SMITH . I am the wife of a boot-clicker, Charles Smith, of 36, Tower Street, London Fields, Hackney—on July 22nd you came to my house between five and 5.50, and sat there till eight or a little after; you had a cup of tea, and sat reading an evening paper all the time—you said you had been looking for work—you were at my house once or, perhaps, twice a week—you were supposed to be courting Miss Todd, who works for me.
Cross-examined. I fix the date, as I work for Jews, and am paid every Thursday—Atkins came on the 22nd, and asked me to lend him 1s.—it might have been three or four days, or a week, when he came before July 22nd; I cannot remember another occasion—he came back at 11.30 on the night of the 22nd, and asked if my mother had gone home—he often came to my place, being my youngest brother.
ISABEL TODD . I am single—I work for Mrs. Smith as a boot-fitter—at 5.30 on July 22nd you called at your sister's, and sat in the armchair till I had finished my work—I finished at eight, and then I went for a walk with you, and you never left me till eleven.
Cross-examined. He often went for a walk with me—I have been out with him since Christmas—I was out with him on the Tuesday night before the 22nd; he came about six o'clock then—I did not finish my work till eight, but he used to wait for me—the Tuesday was the 20th; I went for a walk with him then—I did not go for a walk with him after the 22nd—I saw him about eight o'clock on the Sunday night before
July 22nd—Mrs. Smith's house in Tower Street is in London Fields, Hackney.
Peach, in his defence, stated that he was drunk, and got over a gate, and lay down to sleep, and that after a time he was getting over the wall to go away when he was arrested.
Atkins, in his defence, stated that he did not know Peach, and that he was innocent.
GUILTY .—ATKINS then PLEADED GUILTY† to a conviction of felony in October, 1895.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. PEACH— Eleven Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Friday, September 17th 1897.
Before Mr. Recorder.
601. JOHN JEFFERY (40) PLEADED GUILTY to attempting to obtain by false pretences from Israel Finkelstein £5 10s., with intent to defraud.—JOHN JEFFERY was again indicted for possessing and uttering a silver watch with forged marks used by the Goldsmiths' Company of London, and forging the said marks.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
ISRAEL FINKELSTEIN . I am a drapery traveller, of 105, Wentworth Street—I was standing at my door, on August 19th, when the prisoner and a man named Cohen came up—Cohen said, "Are you living here?"—I said, "Yes"—the prisoner said, "We have got a bargain for you"—I said, "What is it?"—he said, "Come inside, and I will show you"—I took them in, and the prisoner took out of his pocket a gold watch, chain, and ring; he said, "This is eighteen-carat, and it will be a bargain to you"—I said, "How much do you want?"—he said, "£8 10s."—I said I would make it £5—he said, "Can't you make it £5 10s.?"—Cohen said to the prisoner, "What will I have out of this job?" and he said, "I shall give you half a dollar"—he said, "Oh!" and started to go—I kept him back, and said, "I shall give you half a sovereign out of my pocket; I have not the money with me; I shall go to my friend and get some"—I took them outside and left them by the beer-shop—I went to look for a policeman, but could not see one, and came back and said, "You must wait another ten minutes; I shall go somewhere else"—I went to the Commercial Street Police-station and reported it, and brought the police and gave them in custody.
Cross-examined. I have not done any business in jewellery, or bought cheap "gold rings" for 1s.—my line is general drapery and woollen goods—I did not look at the watch very carefully—I have no experience.
THOMAS SMART (Detective, H). About ten p.m. on August 19th I was called to 105, Wentworth Street, by the prosecutor, who said, in the prisoner's and Cohen's presence, "These two men produced a watch, chain and ring, and wanted me to give them £5 10s. for them'—Jeffery said, "I know the watch is only silver, gilded; I done it to-day; I bought it today of Myers, of Old Street; the chain arid ring are brass," and produced them from his pocket—he pointed to Cohen and said, "He told
me the old man would buy anything; you can do nothing to me; I think you ought to give us credit for trying to best him"—he was taken to the station and charged, when he again said, "I bought it of Myers this afternoon, and had it gilded over"—there was a return ticket on him from Waterloo to Portsmouth, with no date on it—these are the articles (produced)—on the 26th, at the Police-court, he said, "I thought you might think it is a secret; I can tell you where the things were stamped."
HARRIS MYERS . I am a watchmaker and jeweller, of 126, Old Street, St. Luke's—I know the prisoner by his buying one or two things of me before; second-hand silver English hall-marked watches—I think 14s. is the most he has given—he came to me about five o'clock on August 19th, and bought this watch for 14s.—he said he wanted to sell it, and to make a few shillings—I sell about 80 or 100 watches a week—I did not know his name, or where he lived.
Cross-examined. I do not ask all my customers' names; I had this watch for five days—it was then a silver watch—it was not gilded, and had not the No. "18" upon it, and no crown—I sell, perhaps, ten or twenty a day—that day I only sold eight—I look at every watch to see what it is marked.
Re-examined. I never sold a watch marked "18 ct." for 14s.
HERBERT ROBINSON . I am head of the Assay Office, Goldsmiths' Hall—their mark is stamped on gold and silver wares, and also, when gold, a mark is used to represent the standard; 18 ct. or 22 ct.—the 22 ct. has the leopard's head, the lion, the letter of the year, and 22—for the 18 ct., on gold standard articles, it is the leopard's head, the crown, the figure 18, and the letter of the year, the leopard's head being the exclusive mark of the company—those marks show the standard of purity—silver articles are marked with the leopard's head, the lion, and serial letter—those marks are put upon the articles by punches; the four marks on gold articles are impressed by one stamping of one punch—assuming the marks on these articles to be genuine, they are not exactly in order; we put the crown at the top, the leopard's head to the right, the letter to the left, and the "18" underneath; here the letter is to the right, and the leopard's head to the left—there is nothing to prevent the Goldsmiths' Company nltering the order if they like—these marks on these articles are forgeries—these two marks, I should say, are genuine for a silver watch, and put on by the Goldsmiths' Hall, in London, in 1856—the pendant of the watch has "18" and a letter on it—in the ordinary way, assuming it to be a silver watch, it would have a lion and a letter—the "18" is over the lion, as if a lion had been there before—the "18" is a forgery, and the other mark is genuine for a silver watch—on the bow of the watch a forged "18" is stamped over, probably a lion—the chain has "18" upon it, forged—the ring has something to represent a set of marks, but it is a forgery.
Cross-examined. I believe there is a considerable trade in cheap jewellery—cheap articles have small marks upon them, but you can see them with your eye—there are marks on this which are not ours, "T.H." or "T. A.," I think, and" 86"—they would not deceive me—if articles are properly marked they must be gold.
By the COURT. Ignorant persons might think marks on cheap articles indicated they were gold.
By MR. SANDS. Anybody would see these marks were false if they had a knowledge of marks—I do not think the "18" is a clumsy imitation—the leopard's head is a genuine silver mark—the crown is clumsy—it is an imitation of a crown—I know the crown so well that it would not deceive me—it might deceive some—the watch was marked forty years ago—I cannot say when the forged marks may have been put on.
Re-examined. The letter is" A," which shows me 1856—the maker puts the letter on.
The Prisoner here withdrew his plea of NOT GUILTY, and PLEADED GUILTY . (See next Case).
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. GREENE Defended.
Cross-examined. I knew Cohen fifteen years ago in the boot line—I did not meet him and tell him I had been to the Cape, nor did I ask him what he had been doing all this time—I had my suspicions of him for a long time—I did not ask him if he dealt in jewellery—I have been in Wentworth Street a couple of months.
COHEN— NOT GUILTY . JEFFERY then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell on April 2nd 1894.— Judgment Respited.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended. The RECORDER considered that there ivas no evidence to go to the JURY.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
GUILTY— Judgment Respited.
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. HUGHES Defended.
FREDERICK WILLIAM BURRUP . I am a manufacturing stationer, of 1, Royal Exchange Buildings—one branch is the distribution of Government stamps—C. J. Allen and Co., of 2, Cowper's Court, and Lloyd's Bank are my customers—the prisoner was in our service, and was authorised to receive money and give receipts—Lloyd's Bank owed me £52 1s. 8d., and on August 11th I asked the prisoner if Lloyd's Bank had paid—he said,"Yes," and that he had given the money to me—it is usual for such an amount to be paid by cheque—I accepted that as truth, and referred to a memorandum book, in which it was the duty of anybody receiving money to write it off—I found it had not been written off, but accepting the prisoner's statement, I initialled or wrote off the amount in the book—I discovered on Monday, September 6th, that the amount had been paid in,
cash—Mr. Matheison found that out on the Saturday—the prisoner did not hand over to me £52 1s. 8d. in cash—it was his duty as soon as he received the money to put it in an envelope, endorse it with the name of the person paying in the amount, and hand it over to us, and we should put it in a drawer and lock it up, aud it would be paid into the bank—I am quite certain it was never handed over to me.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been in our employ since May, 1895, and, as far as I know, he has carried out his duties faithfully and diligently; he simply said that he had handed over the money, he did not say the day before—I called for the book and marked it, in red ink, "Paid 11/8/97," across the entry—there are three or four handwritings in this book; anybody has access to it—I did not, when I wrote it off, go to the drawer—I did not say at the Police-court, "I will not swear that I did not refer to the cash drawer," but certain things have happened since to refresh my memory—two or three people in the office have access to the drawer; it is not under lock and key—six clerks have access to the ledgers, but they do not make entries—I always take the word of my clerk—this is not an account book at all, merely a memorandum book—I did not give the prisoner any acknowledgment—I receive a great many amounts in a day by cheque, but not in cash—it is very unlikely that we sometimes receive half a dozen of these envelopes a day—the address on the back of this note (produced) is "C. J. Allen and Son, I, Cushion Court"—that is the one that is in our books—the prisoner has not been several times to the correct address of C. J. Allen and Son since he has been to the Royal Exchange; not since February 14th.
Re-examined. The prisoner did not say when it was paid; he simply said, "It is paid, and I gave it to you"—there are no entries of the prisoner's in this book; it would not be his duty; he was behind the counter—this book simply refers to stamps where there is an account, and the envelope is for stamps sold over the counter, not on credit—this is not my endorsement on this £50 note—I have had occasion to warn the prisoner against going behind the counter, where the cash is kept; I forbade him-to go, but he went behind again, and I gave instructions that he was not to be allowed to go there.
By MR. HUGHES. Another clerk was warned not to go behind the counter in the day, but it was his duty to go there at night—the cash drawer was not behind the counter; it was in my desk.
THOMAS SAUNDERS . I am bank manager at Lloyd's, Lombard Street—on August 12th I went to Burrup's, and paid the prisoner £52 1s. 8d. with a £50 note and cash—this (produced) is his receipt; he signed it in my presence.
CHARLES JOHN WILLIAMS . I am a clerk in the Accountant's branch, Bank of England—I produce this £50 note; it was changed there for gold on August 12th, and is endorsed" C. J. Allen and Co., 1, Cushion Court."
Cross-examined. I did not cash it myself.
stockbrokers, of 2, Cowper's Court, Cornhill, and not of 1, Cushion Court; they are customers of Messrs. Burrup and Matheison—the endorsement on this £50 note is not mine, or that of any member of my firm; it has never been through our office at all.
Cross-examined. I do not know whether the defendant has ever been sent to our office on business.
GERARD JOHN MATHEISON . I am in partnership with Mr. Burrup—I did not receive this £50 note, or any portion of this £52 1s. 8d.—the prisoner came to me on the first floor, and asked me whether we had posted all the cash; I said, "I cannot look at the cash-book, because I have lost my key "; I borrowed his key, looked at the cash-book, and found it was not posted—I write in the cash-book usually, and from envelopes which I take out of the drawer—if the amount had been taken out of the drawer it would have been entered in the cash-book—I spoke to Mr. Burrup, and in consequence of what he said I went to the Royal Exchange, and found that Lloyd's Bank had paid it, and the Bank of England showed me the note, and directly I saw it I knew the prisoner's endorsement at once, and went to the police—I know his writing well—I had noticed the "Cushion Court" in our books early in the year in the prisoner's writing—on December 4th the prisoner spoke to me about this, and said that there were either three or four notes, and it was very difficult to get them into a small envelope, and that he gave the money to Mr. Burrup—the prisoner and others in the office make out slips like these; there are five in his writing on the very day the note was cashed; this is "1, Cushion Court"; the other four have no address.
Cross-examined. The address as well as the name on the bank note I believe to be the prisoner's writing—he was the first person to come and point out the omission of this sum from our books—he wanted to know. whether I had posted the whole of the cash—he has been in our employment two years—I never sent him to Cowper's Court, the correct address—I do not know whether he has been there—we have two or three of these envelopes a day, and very likely half a dozen on some days—the endorsement is not in his ordinary writing—when he was charged I did not offer him his freedom if he confessed to it.
THOMAS H. GURRIN . I live at 59, Holborn Viaduct, and am a professional expert in handwriting—I have had a great many years' experience—I have inspected the endorsement on this note, and have seen the prisoner's writing in the prosecutor's books and these slips, and have come to the conclusion that the writing is the same—I am prepared to give details if necessary.
Cross-examined. I am not aware that I have expressed a positive opinion, and been wrong—to the best of my belief, it is the same writing, but disguised; it is not quite like his ordinary style, but the characteristics of his writing are discernible—the writing of Civil Service clerks is very much alike so long as the writer adheres to the Civil Service style, till he begins to stamp it with his own peculiarites—this writing is Civil Service style.
By the COURT. I have had opportunities of examining writings for the Civil Service, the Treasury, and other Government departments—the defendant's writing varies, you can see; he makes two kinds of capital
T's, and J's, and A's—in this endorsement all the letters terminate on the level of the line; the J does, and the A is round, and both those appear in the books; then there is a similarity between the entries here and the entries in the books; there are ten instances of "Allen and Son," and" C. T. Allen and Son," the two "11s" in "Allen" are parallel, and very like those in the books; then there is the "S" in Son, which is elevated; it is an ordinary capital S, and this is almost a fac-simile—I have a great number of other illustrations if necessary, and have made a list of them.
JOHN EGAN (City Detective Inxpector). On September 6th the prisoner was given into my custody; he said, "They are making a great mistake"—he was called up into the office, and said that he had paid this money—Mr. Burrup said, "I never had it."
GUILTY .—Recommended to mercy by the JURY and the prosecutor.
MR. PURCBLL Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
THOMAS WHATTON . I was Deputy Registrar of Marriages for West Ham in 1876—I find in the register on August 16th, 1876, a marriage between George Bernaldus Fowler Heckford, widower, and Annie Louisa Robinson, a divorced woman.
ELIZA FRANKLAND . I live at 13, Belgrave Street, Stepney—I have known the prisoner over thirty years—he originally married my sister, and on her death a son of theirs was placed under my charge, and I was appointed guardian—in 1888 the prisoner came to live at my house, because he wished to live with his son—he told me he had married a second time to Annie Louisa Robinson, but had separated from her—he lived with me as my husband from 1888 till the end of last year, when information reached me, and I told him I heard he had been walking about with a young woman; he denied it at first, but afterwards admitted it, and said that he wanted to bring her home to my house—I told him I would find his wife, and acquaint her with what he was going to do; he dared me to do it—I went to Ilford and made inquiries, and then told him I had ascertained that his wife was alive and well—that was in February this year—he asked me not to hunt her up and send her on to him, as he was determined to marry the young woman, and would do so in April, and bring her home—I said that I should leave the house before she came, and I did so—I wrote to the wife, and she called on me—this "George Heckford" in the register is the prisoner's writing, and these two documents (produced) were written by him in my presence—I believe this letter and envelope are his writing; the letter is in smaller characters than the envelope, and I should say it is bis.
Cross-examined. When I first made inquiries at Leytonstone about the prisoner's wife I did not see her, nor till after he had gone through the ceremony of marriage with Miss Hustedt—I swore the information against the prisoner at the Police court—I did not instruct anybody to prosecute him—when I first saw this letter I did not say, "The letter
produced and shown to me does not look like the prisoner's writing"—I was unable to say; I said that I would not swear to it—I said that the writing on the envelope looked more like his—the prisoner did not tell me that his wife had gone to Canada, and I never heard that she had died there—he went to see his wife at his mother's house, 7, Lancaster Place—his mother died five or six years ago—it was owing to me that his legal wife came to the Police-court.
Re-examined. He told me five or six years ago that he was going to see his wife—I do not remember what for—I was living with him at 44, Lansdowne Road, Upton Park, on November 29th, 1882.
Cross-examined. I first saw these documents yesterday—there is no salient feature in them; it is a combination altogether—the most marked letter on the envelope and note is the capital "L," which I compare with the "L" in London—I have seen hundreds of "L's" made similarly, but the great feature is the length of the down stroke; that would depend on the temper the man was in when he wrote it—a man's writing fluctuates with the weather, and whether he has been dining out the night before; some people cannot write at all—there is a capital "G" in" George," and there is a similarity between that and the "G" on the envelope; they are kept on the line, and do not go below it—this is my signature; in my opinion, there is no similarity between the "G" in "Guerrin" and the "G" on this envelope, which is very large.
JOHN CANDY . I live at 216, Osborn Road, Forest Gate—I have known the prisoner fifteen years; he lodged in the same house as T did—I know the person who was then his wife; she is in Court—he called her Edie.
ANNIE SOPHIA HUSTEDT . I live at 23, Melton Road, Walthamstow—I have known the prisoner since August 29th, 1876, and after a little time he spoke to me about marriage—he said that he was a clerk, and had been married, but his wife had been dead eight years—I believed that, and went through the ceremony of marriage with him on July 4th this year.
Cross-examined. I am acquainted with his writing—I have seen the envelope and letter" D," and, in my opinion, the letter I saw is not his writing—he wrote me letters before our marriage, making appointments to see me, and, judging from them, I am convinced that these are not his writing—he treated me with the utmost kindness—he said that he was told that his wife had gone to Canada, and died there.
Re-examined. We were married on July 4th, and he was arrested on August 1st—I lived with him three days before we were married.
FREDERICK HARVEY (Policeman). I arrested the prisoner at Waltham-stow, and told him the charge—he said, "All right"—I found on him the document marked "E"—it is not addressed to the Universal Information Bureau; it is the answer from them, which states the law of evidence—it is dated May 7th, 1897.
Cross-examined. I was present at the Thames Police Court—at the first hearing I heard the question raised that there was no evidence that he knew that his wife was alive, and on the second hearing this letter was produced; it came from the solicitor.
Re-examined. The prisoner was not represented by a solicitor at the first hearing.
GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, September 17th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
607. JESSE RAIN (30) withdrew his plea, and PLEADED GUILTY to marrying Minnie Eliza Curtis during the lifetime of his wife. (Detective Mott, having made inquiries, handed a report to the JUDGE from the police at Preston, and stated he believed the first marriaoe was never consummated.
Four Days' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, September 18th, 1897.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
The Prisoner filed a plea of justification, which MR. BLACKWELL, at the request of the COURT, had drawn for him, as he was not represented by counsel or solicitor.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted.
The libel accused Mr. Goodwyn of grossly indecent conduct.
GUILTY .—The JURY added that they considered there was no justification for the charges made by the prisoner, and expressed their sympathy with the prosecutor in having such foul charges brought against him.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HATTON Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
GUILTY .—The JURY stated that they believed the prisoner knew that the girl was under sixteen.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, September 18th, 1897.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. WALLACE Prosecuted.
yards ahead of me—in his rear were two other men—the prisoner snatched at my chain, taking my watch—as he snatched I struck him—he fell, and I on the top of him—one of his companions kicked me on my side, but I was somewhat protected by a little board in my pocket-book which I use in business—I suffered great pain from the kick—I called for the police, and a policeman arrived quickly—I cannot recognise either of the other two—I never lost sight of the prisoner.
SYDNEY KINSLEY (Policeman, 159 J). I heard shouts of "Police!" and rushed up and found the prosecutor struggling with the prisoner—I caught hold of the prisoner and took him to the station—he made no reply to the charge.
GEORGE DOWNER (Policeman, 227 J). I was on duty about 1.30; I heard shouts of "Police!"—I went up and found the prisoner on the ground, and the prosecutor on the top of him—I searched and found two pieces of chain, and assisted to take the prisoner to the station.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I work very hard, and travel the country for my living. I am innocent. I have no witness."
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court on February 25th, 1895; other convictions were proved against him.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. FOULKES Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. P. HUGHES Prosecuted.
EDWARD HUMBLESTONE . I am a printer's labourer, of 14, Francis Court, Berkeley Street, Clerkenwell—I was standing on the kerb in Berkeley Street at 10.30 p.m. on August 7th—the prisoner and three others came up—the prisoner said, "Who are you talking to?"—I had not said anything to him—I said, "Not to you"—he struck me on the shoulder with his fist—I fell, and he kicked me; I got up, and he stabbed me in the left thigh with a knife—he went away, and I went to the Police-station, and had my wound dressed—I had known the prisoner by sight two or three months—he lives in Berkeley Street.
By the COURT. I never had a quarrel with him—I had been to meet my brother, and had been into one or two public-houses—I did not jostle against him—I can't give any reason for his attacking me, unless he mistook me for somebody else, and thought I was talking to him—I said to my brother, "You are a nice one; you might tell me the right time"—he had said in his letter that he would be there at three o'clock—I was finding fault with my brother when the prisoner came along, and he said to me, "Who are you talking to?"
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You knocked me down, and when I got up yon were the only man near me.
By the COURT. I have no doubt the prisoner had a knife in his hand—there were other people about the place quarrelling; a drunken row.
7, Berkeley Street, Clerkenwell—I met my brother at about 10.25 in Berkeley Street on this night—I had arranged to meet him earlier—he did not say anything to me when I came up, except "You might have let me know what time you were coming; I was up at Waterloo to meet you"—there were three others with the prisoner—my brother asked me how I got on with the Militia—I think the prisoner mistook that for an observation to him, and he struck my brother three times with his fist—he fell, and the prisoner kicked him—the people hulloaed out" Shame!"—he said, "I'll serve you the same," and with that he pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the leg—that was when my brother got up after he had done kicking him—the prisoner walked away with the others, and I went with my brother to the Police-station.
By the COURT. The prisoner was sober—I was down at Gravesend that afternoon—I am in the Militia—I had been paid off, and we had to get our clothes at Kingston—I came straight home—I am a printer's labourer, and had been doing my Militia training—I can only suppose that the prisoner thought my brother was alluding to him—my brother was sober; he was calm in talking to me.
JOHN ALEXANDER MILLER . I am Divisional Surgeon of Police at Percy Circus, Clerkenwell—I examined the prosecutor at the station at 11.15 on August 7th—I found an incised stab wound in the middle third of his left thigh, one and a-half inches long and one inch deep—he had been drinking, but knew what he was doing—the wound must have been caused by a sharp instrument—there was a corresponding cut in his trousers.
JAMES LAING (Detective, G). On August 20th, about three p.m., I saw the prisoner in Old Street—I stopped him and said, "You are wanted for stabbing Dutton"—I believe he said, "You are making a mistake"—I told him the date of the offence, and he said, "I was at work, and have two witnesses to prove it"—on the way to the station he said it was his own pal done it; that they were having a fight, and rolling in the road—he was charged, and said to the prosecutor, "You ought to be taken, for striking me over the head with a bar of iron."
Prisoner's Defence: I was going along Old Street when I was tapped on the shoulder. I said, "Who might you be?" He said, "I am a private detective; I want you for stabbing." I said, "It is a mistake." He said, "Step inside, and I will show you in print." I said, Yes, I would. I was taken to the station, and charged with stabbing, which I am innocent of.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I was going along Berkeley Street between 5.30 and six on August 7th. I saw the prosecutor and another man fighting. The prosecutor was drunk, and six or seven more men were also drunk. They knocked him down, and the man the prosecutor was fighting with kicked him. He told the prosecutor he would be back presently. Between ten and eleven there was a riot in Berkeley Street. I came to the door, and saw the prosecutor with a mob round him. I went upstairs, and came down again, and when I came out of the door I received a blow across the head. I went to the hospital. I have no witnesses. This is the hospital notice" (produced).
informed by the porter at the gate that the prisoner was attended to there for a cut head some time between ten and twelve on the night of August 7th.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. KERSHAW Prosecute and the evidence was interpreted to the Prisoner.
DAVID SWEETING (Constable, G.E.R.). On August 7th I was on duty at Liverpool Street Station about 4.30, and saw the prisoner on the platform—I watched him moving among the luggage; he got into the luggage van and examined the luggage—I saw a train arrive from the north about 7.30—he entered the van and looked at a portmanteau—I followed him to Bishopsgate Street, and told him, in English, who I was, and took him to the station—he said, in English, "You have made a mistake; that belongs to my pal"—he was under my observation from 4.30 to 7.30, and was alone; nobody spoke to him.
RICHARD LAMBERT (Constable, G.E.R.). On August 7th I saw the prisoner enter Leaclenhall Street Station at 3.30—he was not carrying anything then—no one was with him—I kept him under observation till 7.30, during which time he spoke to no one, but I saw him go into vans, and into the van of the train which arrived at 7.30—there was no one with him then—I also saw him there on the 4th and 6th.
RHODA BAILEY . I am the wife of Edward Bailey, of 1, Dimock Road, South Norwood—on August 7th I travelled to King's Cross by the train arriving at 7.30—when I got in my bag was placed in the van; I missed it on arriving at Liverpool Street—it contained clothing value about—3.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate; "Last week I was carrying portmanteaus for several gentlemen; this constable asked me what I was doing. Two men came and asked me to carry the bag, and showed me which to take. I looked for them, but could not find them."
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ROACH Prosecuted.
CHARLES BRETTEN. I live at 45, Vernon Place, Roman Road—on August 31st I got out of a tram car, and asked the prisoner if he had got a cigarette paper, as I had broken my pipe; he began to use me roughly, and put his hand in my pocket and took what money I had; there were three pieces of silver there, a shilling, and, I think, some sixpences and coppers—a policeman came up, and I gave him in charge—he hit me on my face several times.
HARRY PARKER BEARD . I am a solicitor's clerk, of 48, Portman Road, Bow—on August 31st, at midnight, the prisoner went up to Mr. Bretten, and asked if he had got a cigarette case—he said, "No"—the prisoner pinned him up against the railings, and did something to his trousers—a policeman rushed across the road, and he gave him in custody.
WILLIAM BUCKINGHAM (14 KR). On the night of August 31st Bretten gave the prisoner into my custody—I took him to the station, and found 2s. 6d. in silver and 1s. 0 1/2d. in bronze on him—the prosecutor and prisoner were both sober.
Prisoner's Defence: I have had a good character ever since I have been in the Army.
CHARLES MEATON (Police Inspector, K). On November 19th, 1894, the prisoner was convicted of larceny from the person, and assault, and sentenced to eighteen months' hard labour—there were eleven convictions against him—after he was liberated he went away for about two months, and came back and joined the Army, and in 1896 he was charged at West Ham with a similar case to this, and with another case of a similar description, in which he was committed to this Court for trial, but the prosecutor was rather the worse for drink, and he was acquitted I have known him personally for some years—he has been convicted under various names; he was also convicted at Marlborough Street on January 14th, 1893—this is his photograph.
GUILTY .— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. CLEMENTS Prosecuted.
GUILTY of indecent assault. Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Six Months' Imprisonment.
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, September 18th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. G. A. BLACKWELL Prosecuted, and MR. DALZELL CHALMERS Defended.
JAMES HENRY WILLIAMSON . I am a licensed victualler and proprietor of the Woodbury Tavern, Seven Sisters Road—I have known the prisoner as an occasional customer about two years—about five p.m. on Saturday, March 27th, I cashed this cheque for him for £4 18s.—I had been in the habit of cashing trifling amounts, but this being more than usual, I said I hoped it was all right—he said, Yes, it would be met—the following day, Sunday, he brought another cheque—I said, "I shall not be able to accommodate you now," and he went away, but called again, and desired me to give him silver, which I eventually did, for this cheque for £4 10s.—I paid the cheques into my bank, and they were returned a few days after, marked" N.S."—the inducement for cashing the cheques was that others had been paid, and I believed the prisoner had money at the bank. (The cheques were drawn by the prisoner on the Tottenham Branch of the London and Provincial Bank).
Cross-examined. He gave me his card as a pianoforte tuner, and I employed him to tune my piano for twelve months up to August last, but he failed to do so—I paid him in advance—his other cheques have been met—the following Saturday a person called to take up the cheques, but I said the matter was out of my hands—probably I should have taken
the offer if I had had the cheques—I had then laid the information—I cannot go into dates—I had obtained a warrant—when the gentleman called, the matter was in the hands of solicitors, and the cheques out of my possession.
ROBERT KYNASTON . I am the manager of the Railway Tavern, West Green Road—at the end of March, about the 22nd, I cashed a cheque for the prisoner for £1 because I had cashed one before for him, and received the money for it—on Sunday, 27th, he called and wrote two cheques on the counter for £10 and £5, and I cashed them—I paid them into my bank, the Brondesbury Branch of the London and South Western Bank—they were returned, marked" N.S."—on a Saturday, five weeks later, I was called out to the prisoner in a cab—he was laughing—I said, "Are you aware a warrant is out for you?" and returned into the house, being very busy—Mr. Williamson and I joined in the information—I cashed the cheques because I had cashed cheques before which were paid, and I believed the orders were valid and represented money.
JOSEPH HOLLINGSIDE HOLROYD , M.R.C.S. I am acting as locum tenens for Dr. Hatton—I have been attending Alexander Sterling, of 70, West Green Road, the last nine days—he is suffering from inflammation of the bowels—I saw him last night; to come here would endanger his life—he has been in bed a fortnight.
JAMES CHANDLER (Detective, N). I was present when Sterling gave his evidence at the Police-court—I heard his deposition read over to him, and saw him sign it—the prisoner had an opportunity of cross-examining him.
The Deposition of Alexander Sterling: "On March 27th last the prisoner came to my shop and ordered a bottle of whisky and twelve bottles of beer to be sent to 55, Cornwall Road. They came to 6s.; he handed me the cheque "E" for £2 10s. I gave him £2 4s. change. I believed the cheque would be met. I paid it into the Tottenham Branch of the London and Provincial Bank. It was returned, marked 'N. S.' I thought the prisoner would call again, but he did not. (Cross-examined.) I have known him five years. I never cashed another of his cheques. I have cashed cheques brought by him, and they have been met. This cheque is not crossed."
SPENCER WALTER SKELTON . I am a clerk in the Tottenham Branch of the London and Provincial Bank, where the prisoner opened an account on February 12th—I produce a certified copy of it—I made out the statement of accounts—it was examined by the manager—the three columns show the cheques paid, cash paid in, and the balance—on March 24th the balance was 16s., on 20th, 22nd, and 23rd, £5 8s.—he had a pass-book sent him between March 3rd and 5th—there is a credit on 15th and 19th of £10 19s.—19th is the last credit—the total payments in were £45 19s., and the drawings out £45 3s.—the cheques dishonoured were £63 10s. 6d. between March 29th and April 3rd—on March 31st we wrote him to close the account, when there was a credit, after deducting 5s. charges, of 11s.
Cross-examined. I could not speak with certainty at the Police-court, but I have since ascertained that the bank ledger shows he had a pass-book—his account was not overdrawn.
apprehension on April 6th, and made efforts to find him—I saw him on August 17th, in St. Ann's Road Police-station—I asked him if his name was Evans; he said, "Yes"—I read the warrant—he made no reply—he was charged before a Magistrate, and reserved his defence.
GUILTY** (except on the cheque of March 22nd). He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in March, 1881.
Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PASSMORE Prosecuted, and MR. HUGHES Defended.
HENRY WILKINSON . I live at 83, Tavistock Crescent—I am a commission agent—on August 2nd I left the Metropolitan Tavern, West-bourne Park, about midnight—the prisoner, whom I had not seen before, joined me about twenty yards from the house, and said, "I am going your way," and in about a yard took my watch from my pocket—I took him by the wrist, and put the watch back; we had a scuffle, and he got away—he pushed me; I am not clear whether he actually struck a blow—I fell in the scuffle—the swivel was still attached to my waistcoat—I was quite sober—the prisoner was stopped and arrested when I got up to him again.
Cross-examined. This was Bank Holiday—I had been to Hurst Park Races—I did not see ihe prisoner there—I have heard since that he was there—I had had one or two glasses, but was entirely sober—I tried to detain the prisoner—he did not say to me, "We were shut out of that house rather early"—I had no conversation with him—I did not take my watch out, and say, "This is not one of your 17s. 6d. ones," nor anything like it—he spoke to me, and took the watch out all in less than a minute—we both fell—when the manager of the public-house came up I said the prisoner had tried to steal my watch—it was in his hand, but not detached.
GEORGE STILES . I am the manager of the Metropolitan Tavern, West-bourne Grove—on the night of August 2nd, Bank Holiday, I was talking to the prosecutor in the bar, who left about twelve—I saw the prisoner in the bar, and went through the yard to watch—I heard the prosecutor say, "That is your game, is it?" and saw him fall off the pavement into the road—I ran after him about thirty yards and caught him—he said he had done nothing, and begged me to let him go—I refused—two police-men came up, and he was given into custody.
Cross-examined. We do not serve people who are the worse for drink—the prosecutor had had a drink or two—that does not mean more than he could well carry—he was quite sober—there was a second scuffle when the prisoner was detained—he was charged with attempting to steal the watch—the night was dark—I was about twenty yards away when I saw the scuffle.
FRANK STOKES (548 X). On Bank Holiday night, about twelve o'clock, I saw the prosecutor coming through the passage by the Metropolitan Tavern, and the prisoner go behind him and strike him on the back of his neck—they both fell—the prisoner made a grab at the chain—I pulled him by the collar; Police Constable 314 came up, and took the prisoner to the station—I waited on the prosecutor, who was on the ground, a few minutes, till he was able to get up, then told him to come to the
station—the prisoner was charged with highway robbery with violence—he was taken before a Magistrate, and committed for highway robbery—there is a mistake in the indictment—the prisoner had the chain in his hand when I pulled it away—it was still attached to the waistcoat—the prisoner took hold of the chain when the watch was in the prosecutor's pocket.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had his hand on the chain when I had him by the collar, and pulled him away—the night was dark; there was a light near—the prosecutor was exhausted; he was sober.
GEORGE WALLIS (314 X). The prisoner was given into my custody on the night of Bank Holiday—I took him to the station—on the way he said, "I did not hurt him; I was taking care of him; he is a pal of mine"—at the station he was charged with attempting to rob—he replied, "Oh, Christ! it is a wicked shame."
Cross-examined. I found on the prisoner 15s. 6d. in silver and 4 1/2d. bronze.
GUILTY**† of attempting to steal. — Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
618. WILLIAM HAYES (28) , Unlawfully causing and inducing Raymond Wood to endorse a bill of exchange for—187 16s., with intent to defraud. Second Count—Unlawfully obtaining the same bill of exchange, with intent to defraud.
The JURY, being unable to agree upon a verdict, were discharged, and the case postponed till the next Sessions.
OLD COURT.—Monday, September 20th, 1897.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
BLOOMFIELD and ABRAHAMS (being the principals) fined £100 each, and to pay the costs of the prosecution. JACOBS (an assistant) fined £10.
MR. PASSMORE Prosecuted.
ANNIE DOLE . I am cashier to Matthew Rose and Son, of Hackney—on June 4th, in the afternoon, the prisoner came to me and asked if I could spare him a few coppers for the Hackney Station, which is exactly opposite our place—I thought he was the booking clerk there—I asked him how much copper he wanted—he said 3s. worth—I had not that amount loose, but asked him if a 5s. packet would do—he said that would be better—I gave it him, and he gave me 3s.—he said he would bring back the 2s., which he did, and he then asked if I could spare some silver.—I said I had some £5 packets of silver, if that would do—he said, Yes, that
would do, and I handed him a £5 packet—I said, "I must ask you for the gold before I give it you"—he mumbled something about our obliging each other, and said he would go and get me the gold; he went out, but he never returned—I waited some time, and then went over to the booking clerk—I then found he was not the prisoner—I went to the police—I afterwards went to Hackney Police-station, where I saw seven or eight persons; the prisoner amongst them—he was then dressed differently, as he is now, without a collar, and no hat on, and I could not say whether he was the man—I asked that his cap should be put on, and I then said he was the man—looking at him now, I say he is the man—when he came over for the money he was respectably dressed, with a collar on, like a clerk, and I really thought he was the booking clerk.
ELEANOR THOMAS . I am an assistant to Matthew Hose and Son—on June 4th a man came and asked me to call the cashier; I did so—I am not able to identify the prisoner—I afterwards saw him at the station, but he was so differently dressed I could not point him out.
CHARLES PATTISON . I am a shoe-black outside Messrs. Rose's shop—on June 4th, about half-past five, I saw the prisoner, whom I knew by sight; he came out of the station, and went into Rose's shop;' he came out again and went into the booking office, and returned; he came across a second time, and then returned to the booking office, and I saw him no more—I afterwards saw him at the Police-station, and picked him out—I have no doubt at all about him.
ROBERT ATTWOOD I am booking clerk at Hackney Railway Station—on June 4th, between five and half-past, the prisoner came to the booking office and asked me if I could take some coppera of him; he said he had a 5s. packet—I declined to have anything to do with him; at the same time he asked me if I would have some silver; he did not say how much; the copper was done up in brown paper—he was dressed in a light suit, wearing a cap and collar, something similar to myself, not as he is now: he was clean shaved—I declined to have anything to do with him, and he left—I afterwards identified him from ten or eleven others.
RICHARD NURSEY (99 S). I received a description of the prisoner, and on August 11th I was on duty in Euston Road in plain clothes, and saw him—I told him I was a police officer, and I believed him to be known as Birmingham Frank, and I should arrest him on suspicion of stealing £5—he said, "You have made a mistake; I am an hotel-keeper."
ROLAND THORNELL (Detective, L.) On August 12th I saw the prisoner in Albany Street Station, detained—I told him I was an officer, and should take him into custody for stealing £5 from Messrs. Matthew Rose and Son on June 4th—he said, "I know nothing about it"—he had given his address as 15, Euston Square—I went there; he was not known there; it is a private hotel; he was not the proprietor—I ascertained that he had taken a room at No, 13, Euston Square; beyond that, he had nothing to do with the place.
Prisoner. I did not say I was the proprietor. I have nothing else to say.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
The Prisoner having stated that he was guilty, the JURY found that verdict — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PASMORE Prosecuted.
BERTINETTI FRANCESCO . I am an Italian, and am a Pullman-car conductor—early on the morning of August 31st I was in the Victoria public-house, and saw the prisoner and another man; he said that he knew where we could get some drink, and gave me a cigarette—the other man went away, and I said to the prisoner, "Whereis the other one?"—he gave me a blow with his fist on the side of my head, and I was struck down—he got my watch-chain, but I picked up my watch—he ran away—I saw him again next day outside the next public-house; I went on purpose to look for him, and while I was speaking to him a detective came and said, "Ie this the man you mean?—I said, "Yes."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. This was between 12.30 and 12.45 on Wednesday morning, September 1st.
By the COURT. It was between Tuesday and Wednesday; it was the early morning of Wednesday—I identified him on Tuesday evening, the same day that I saw him outside the public-house, and the same day that I was robbed—I found three policemen besides the one who was with me when he was arrested—I sometimes work on Sundays, but I did not that week; I worked on the Monday, but not on the Tuesday, because I had a day off.
ZINA CHANDLER (Policeman, Y). On Wednesday, September 1st, I saw the prisoner in York Road, King's Cross—I am certain it was Wednesday—the prosecutor was talking to him—I went up to the prosecutor, and said, "Is this the man you told me about?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, 'I am going to take you in custody for stealing a watch and chain at a quarter to one this morning"—he said, "That cannot be; he has made a mistake"—the prosecutor said, "I am more certain now that you have spoken"—the prosecutor said that it was the same morning at a quarter to one; he had not been home.
Cross-examined. You made a statement before the Magistrate, but the prosecutor was not there, and you were remanded—I did not see you at a quarter to one that morning.
Prisoner's Defence: I am innocent of the charge.
GUILTY of robbery without violence .— Judgment Respited.
CHARLES TRIM . I am a labourer, of 65, Devonshire Street, Lisson Grove—on September 1st I went to bed—I awoke at two a.m., and saw the prisoner and another man in my bedroom with a lighted candle, which they blew out when I awoke, and ran down stairs—I missed my watch and chain, and opened the window and shouted "Police!"—I saw the prisoner getting over a fence, and the other running away—I identified the prisoner from a lot of men—my house was fastened up.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you in my bedroom, and saw you getting over the area—I cannot say which of you held the candle; I was looking for my watch and chain, which were hanging on the wall—my wife was sleeping with me—I did not know you before—I take lodgers,
but there were none in the house that night—I picked you out from eleven others.
THOMAS WHESLER (187 d). On September 2nd I was on duty in Devonshire Street, and when I passed the prosecutor's house he spoke to another man—I knew him well—I went on my beat, and about a quarter of an hour afterwards I heard shouts coming from the prosecutor, and found that a burglary had been committed.
Cross-examined. You stopped suddenly—there were two men together—I did not stay in the street to watch you; I had no occasion—I did not see you stop.
GEORGE STONE (117 d). I took the prisoner on September 2nd from a description I received—he made no reply to the charge—he was put with ten other men at the station, and the prosecutor identified him—he said to the prosecutor, "Where did you find me last night at 1.30?"—the prosecutor never spoke—I examined the premises, and found that some-body had scrambled up the wall—the paint had been scraped off the area door by somebody climbing up, and three panes of glass had been taken out, and a hand could be put in and the catch pulled back.
Cross-examined. You were under the influence of drink.
The Prisoner called
ANNIE CARMODY . My husband is a blacksmith, of 137, Marylebone Road—he is the prisoner's son—on Wednesday, September 1st, the prisoner came round at a quarter to one, when I was just going to bed, and asked for money for his lodging—my husband gave him fourpence through the window—I know the time, because I was waiting for the clock to strike, as my husband had to go to work—he was asleep in bed, and I did not awake him—I did not answer the prisoner, but I looked out at the window and saw him; he went away, and I went to bed and went to sleep—I afterwards heard the knocker and woke my husband, who looked out at the window and asked him what he meant by knocking at the door at that hour; he said that he could not get in, because his wife had gone away, and he had no money for his lodging—my husband gave him 4d., and I went to bed again—it would take me about a quarter of an hour to walk from my house to the prosecutor's.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that his son gave him 4d., and he went and had some coffee; that a Mr. Grant then took him in, and he knew nothing about the burglary.
GUILTY .—The police stated that he had been convicted thirty-four times and had had three years' penal servitude for assaulting the police .—Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. MALLIITSON Prosecuted, and MR. HUGHES Defended.
The Prisoner stated that he would PLEAD GUILTY to the carnal knowledge, upon which the JURY found him GUILTY on the Sixth Count. — Seven Days' Imprisonment, having been a month in custody.
MR. FITZGERALD Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
During the progress of the case, upon the advice of his Counsel, the prisoner desired to withdraw his plea of NOT GUILTY, and in the hearing of the JURY said he was GUILTY of a common assault. The JURY returned that verdict.— Discharged on Recognizances.
Before Mr. Recorder.
626. WILLIAM COOPER **† (32) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a bracelet and other goods to the value of £32, the property of John Rhodes, in his dwelling-house. Having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell in February, 1895, in the name of William Whitfield.— Four Years' Penal Servitude. And
MR. ROACH Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
HANNAH BOTTLE . I live at College Place, Forest Road, Walthamstow—on Wednesday afternoon, July 28th, I was in charge of my father's butter and sweet shop—Vincent came in and asked for a bottle of kola—he drank it and went out—he came back with Johnson and another—they asked me to get a pail of water for their horse—I said I would ask mother, and went to ask her—when I came back they were gone, and the till was on some ginger-beer boxes against the door—I missed 2s., 1s. 6d., and a threepenny piece—I went and made a communication to ray father.
Cross-examined. The prisoners were strangers to me—the other lad, whom I heard was named Baker, was older than the prisoners—I was out of the shop about five minutes—my mother was out at the back—I know what money was in the till, because I put it there.
DAVID BOTTLE . I keep a small shop at College Place, Forest Hill, Walthamstow—on Wednesday afternoon, July 28th, my daughter made a communication to me, in consequence of which I went a distance up the Forest with Rudd, and saw the prisoners, who started running on seeing Rudd run—we overtook them—Vincent took money from his pocket and said, "Is this any of yours?"—I said I could not say—I had not charged him with stealing money—the third nun got away.
Cross-examined. Johnson said nothing—I had not told him what I should charge him with—the prisoners were searched in my presence—on the tallest one was found lls. 1d., and on the shortest 8s. 2d.—there is
about half an inch difference in their height—we followed the prisoners a little over half a mile—as soon as the girl came to me we started.
DOUGLAS RUDD . I am a cycle maker, of New Road, Epping Forest—I was with Bottle when the little girl made a communication to him—in consequence of what she said I took up the chase with Bottle—the Forestkeeper made a remark to us—I said, "Here they are," and started running, and caught Johnson—Bottle took Vincent, who had got in a ditch outside Fraser's nursery—they tried to hide themselves—we took them on suspicion, because they ran away—Johnson struggled with me—he said, "Don't show the game up; let me go"—I said, "No, you have got to come with me"—I took him to Lea Bridge Station—he walked quietly.
WALTER HANBASH (Detective, N). I am stationed at the Lea Bridge Road—on Wednesday afternoon, July 28th, the prisoners were given into my custody at Lea Bridge Road Station by Bootle and Rudd—they were charged with stealing about 5s. silver and bronze from the till of a shop in Forest Rise—Vincent pulled some money from his pocket and said, "Is this any of the money?"—they were searched—11s. 1d. was found on Vincent, and 8s. 2d. on Johnson—they gave false names—Johnson gave an address at Bow Chambers, which was false—Vincent gave no address.
Cross-examined. Andlaw is Vincent's real name—he had been charged when he made the statement about the money.
GUILTY, with a strong recommendation to mercy on account of their youth' From the sworn statements of Johnson's father and Vincent's brother, Johnson's real name was John Harris, and Vincent's name was Andlaw. They appear to have been respectable working lads, and to have been influenced by the elder lad, who escaped.— To enter into Recognizances of£10 each, with a surety of £50 each, to come up for judgment if called upon.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
MABEL DAVIS . I live at 247A, Lewisham Highway—I take care of my mother's shop—at ten p.m. on Tuesday, August 17th, I served the prisoner with a pennyworth of burnt almonds—he tendered this bad shilling—I said, "This is not a good shilling"—he said, "Is it not?"—I said, "No"—he then offered me a good shilling—I asked him where he got the bad one from—he said, "Down the road"—a gentleman came in and spoke to me, in consequence of which I went to 22, Lewisham
High Road, where my mother keeps a shop—I saw the prisoner detained.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say you had come from the public-house—I did not say I might get into trouble—I tested the coin—I bent it—I gave you a sixpence and fivepence in coppers, change for the good shilling.
ESTHER BEARD . I am the mother of the last witness—I keep a baker's shop at 223, Lewisham High Road—about ten p.m. on August 17th the prisoner came and asked for a penny Bath bun—I said I had not got it—he asked for a penny scone; I said I had not a penny scone—he looked into the window, and said he would have one of those, which was a penny puff, and with which I supplied him—he tendered a bad shilling—I held it up in my fingers, and said, "This is a very bad one; where did you get it?"—he said, "Down the road"—I placed it in my tester, and it broke—I showed it to him again, and said, 'It is a very bad one"—he tendered a good sixpence, and after I had given him change he asked for the shilling back—I said, "Certainly not"—my lad was shutting up, and I sent him for a policeman—the police arrived, and my daughter.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were at the door when the policeman came—my daughter came to identify you—she keeps a sweet-shop—I have two shops.
Re-examined. I gave him four pennies and two halfpennies, or else three pennies and four halfpennies, change for the sixpence.
ARTHUR COLLISON (400 R). I saw the prisoner at 223, Lewisham High Road, where Mrs. Beard handed me a bad shilling, and said, "This man has tendered this in payment for a penny puff"—the prisoner said, "I did not know I had it"—I searched the prisoner and found fourteen good sixpences and fivepence bronze—I took him to the station—he was charged with uttering coin, knowing it was counterfeit—he said, "I did not know I had it."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was standing opposite the shop when called in, and I found you opposite the shop door—you had 7s. 5d. on you.
Witness for the Defence.
CAROLINE RUSKIN . The prisoner is my eldest son—I am a widow—I gave him fifteen sixpences and a 2s. piece to get his coat out of pawn—I said to him, "Your coat is in pawn for 7s.; it will take eighteen-pence for the interest; now be careful"—he has been in the hospital, and we have gone rather bad—he is a shoemaker—his father worked for Mr. Raddock thirty-five years, but he has been dead four years, and I go out nursing—I have other children, who are married—the prisoner has been a good boy since Mr. Wheatley started him with Selling fish.
The Prisoner. She did not test it; it would not bend, or I should not have taken it to somebody else; you (Davis) said you did not know whether it was good or bad.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and
MR. THOMPSON Defended.
CHARLES PRIM (through M. Albert, an Interpreter). I am a cattle-man—I came to London in a cattle-boat from Buenos Ay res—on Monday, the day we arrived, August 30th, I met the prisoner in Deptford in a public-house, about 5.30 p.m.—I was with Charles Le Brun—when we came out he told me he was from Calais—we went to the Duke of Cambridge, where the prisoner was refused to be served—then he sent us to another public-house—I had a Monte Video five-franc coin, and was going to pay for the drink, but they would not change it—the barman returned the coin—I had it in my hand when the prisoner took it, and let it fall on the ground, and the coin disappeared—I stooped to find it, but the prisoner put his hand in my trousers pocket—I took out my handkerchief with a sovereign and a half-sovereign tied in the corner, to see if they were safe—they were safe, and I put it back in my pocket—two others joined the prisoner—about ten minutes after we went in the second public-house, and then two women came—when the five-franc piece fell on the ground the prisoner took hold of me by the throat, then the two women and the two men struck me blows—others were in the bar drinking—I sent my comrade for the police—the prisoner passed my handkerchief and the money to the men before he seized me by the throat—then they tried to get away—I went outside and saw two policemen, and I had a conversation—five minutes afterwards I saw the prisoner outside the Duke of Cambridge, smoking a cigar, and I pointed him out to the police.
Cross-examined. This is my second voyage here—I do not speak English—we heard the prisoner say, "Calais, Calais "; then we asked him, in French, "Do you speak French?" and he made a sign, "No"—we first met the prisoner outside the public-house, and went in together—we were in the first public-house with some women the first time, but not afterwards—we were not with the women when the prisoner came in—he was in the same compartment in the second public-house—when I gave the prisoner in charge he was about forty yards away—the barman did not send for the police.
Re-examined. The women were drinking far off us on the other side, although we were speaking to them, but we did not understand each other—I did not speak any English—the only English I understand is" a pot of beer" and" money," because" money" is the same in French—we did not treat the women—in the second public-house I ordered the drinks, and the women followed in—how they came there I do not know.
CHARLES LE BRUN (Interpreted). I am a cattle-man—on Monday, Aug 30th, I was with Prim in Deptford, having a glass together—I saw the prisoner when we came out of the Duke of Cambridge—all we understood of what he said was, "Calais, Calais"—we asked him, in French, if he was a Frenchman—we did not understand the answer—he did not understand us—we went back into the Duke of Cambridge, where they refused to serve the prisoner—then he took us to another public-house, the Distillery, No. 143—the prisoner ordered three glasses of beer, which Prim
took out a Monte Video dollar to pay for—the coin was refused, and I offered to pay—Prim showed it to the other people, two men and two women, who came in about the same time—I did not recognise them—the next I saw was the prisoner holding my comrade by the throat, and the other four taking hold of his arm—Prim asked me to fetch the police—I went out, and left them in the public-house, the row still going on—I returned in five or ten minutes—I saw a policeman at the door—the men and women had disappeared—I was with Prim when we found the prisoner smoking a cigar outside the Duke of Cambridge.
Cross-examined. Immediately the prisoner was refused to be served, we walked to the second public-house, about fifty yards away—about a quarter of an hour elapsed—other beer was ordered when the women came in—the first I paid for, the second my comrade wanted to pay for, but the coin was refused, and five glasses I paid for—that included the ladies, who remained in our company a quarter of an hour in the Distillery—the beer was poured into glasses—we had no other drinks that day.
Re-examined. We were both sober.
EDWARD HATTON . I was barman at the Duke of Cambridge public-house, High Street, Deptford, on August 30th, about 5.30, when Prim and Le Brun came in and had a drink—soon after the prisoner came in—some women were in the bar—the prisoner called for drink—I refused to serve him, acting under orders, and he left with the two Frenchmen, leaving the women, who left a few minutes afterwards—four or five people went out together—the prisoner had been in before and on the previous day—I saw him in the evening, and on Sunday, the 29th.
Cross-examined. There had been a dispute on the Sunday evening, and that was the reason I did not serve him—his friend paid for the I drinks—the Frenchmen only had one drink on the Monday night—they came in before the prisoner did—I have seen the others in the house frequently—I know the public-house called the Glass House—I have heard it called the Distillery—it is in the same street—I only know one house called the Distillery, but I have not been in Deptford long—Mullens has a shop opposite, but I do not know him.
WILLIAM THOMPSON (484 R). On August 30th, soon after six p.m., Prim came to me in High Street, Deptford—he endeavoured to make me understand with his left hand—I asked him, in French, if he could speak French—he answered, in French, "I have been robbed in that Distillery," and took me to the Distillery—the prisoner was not there then, but at 6.20 the prosecutor pointed him out—he was crossing the road from the corner of Charles Street, towards the Duke of Cambridge public-house, smoking a cigar—I told him I should arrest him for being concerned with others in assaulting and robbing two foreigners in the Distillery public-house—he said, "You have evidently made a mistake, governor; I was never in the house at all"—I took him to the station—an interpreter was sent for, and the prisoner was charged—on searching I found 3d. in bronze—he made no answer to the charge at the station—I know only one Distillery public-house—I know the Glass House as the Pilot—it is about 300 yards off on the other side of the road.
Cross-examined. The distillery is known as the King's Cross Distillery; that is the only Distillery I know—it is a tied house—the prisoner lives
in Charles Street, about 200 yards off—he has never been charged with felony—he has been charged with gambling and disorderly conduct, but there is no previous conviction of felony.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOHN BURGESS . I am manager of the Lion and Wheatsheaf, High Street, Deptford, which is known as the Glass House and the Distillcry—about 5.30 or 5.50 p.m. on August 30th two Frenchmen came in, accompanied by three women and two men—seven ales were called for in English—I served Prim, who tendered a silver English coin, I cannot remember what, but change was given—when attending to other customers I heard a coin drop, and the words, "Money lost"—I turned round to see what was going on—a woman was claiming a scarf which was round a man's neck, and holding by the scarf—I sent the second barman, Walter Kent, for a constable—the prisoner was in the next compartment—while the disturbance was going on he came round the partition and looked on—he took no part in it—they all cleared out of the house—the prisoner followed the others out—in two or three minutes Prim came back with a constable.
Cross-examined. There is another house, known as the Distillery, or the Pilot, about 350 yards down the road—the Pilot is the name up outside—the compartments are like stalls opening into a passage, with a door in the last compartment, or private bar—they lead into one another—I do not remember saying, "The prosecutor said, 'Money lost!'"—I signed my deposition. (Read: "After they had been in there a few minutes a disturbance arose, and the prosecutor said, 'Money lost.'") When I got into the witness'box the Magistrate told me to be careful what I was going to say—I believed the prosecutor called for the seven ales, as he paid for them—I could not positively swear he called for them—I did not know he could not speak English when I was called in to give evidence—I have heard it since—that is the man in the corduroy suit (Prim) who paid me an English coin for the ale, not Le Brun.
Re-examined. I was three or four yards away when Prim ordered the ale—there are four barmen; one other was in the bar with me; Walter Kent; he is outside—drink was called for only once—Le Brun did not pay for three drinks—no Monte Video dollar was tendered—the prosecutor had one in his hand—I am not sure ales were not paid for by Le Brun—the prisoner went into the bar where the prosecutor was, facing the door, where there is a lobby and a gate. (The witnes explained the shape of the bars by means of a rough sketch.) It is easy to get from one bar to another; they are open to the passage.
WALTER KENT . I am a barman at the Lion and Wheatsheaf—I saw a Frenchman drinking at the bar with two or, I think, three women and two men—I heard a noise, and the manager (Bargess) sent me for a policeman—I returned without one—I have seen the prisoner in the bar—I did not notice him then—I did not see the prosecutor seized by the throat, nor anything, but that there was a bother.
JAMES MULLENS . I am a wholesale and retail fruiterer, at 55, High Street, Deptford, just opposite the Duke of Cambridge public-house—I have known the prisoner as long as I have any recollection—he works in the trade with a pony and cart—on August 30th he was in my shop, buying fruit, from about rive to 5.30—I sold him ten bushels of pears, and
he carried them from the back of my place to his house—he lives about twenty yards from the back of my place.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
633. DAVID FORBES (36) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Emily Day, his wife being alive. The police stated thai he had seduced several girls by promising them marriage.— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and P. HUGHES Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HENRY MARTIN . I am a waterman, of 50, Thames Street, Greenwich—on July 31st, between eleven and twelve p.m., I was on the garden steps with my wife and her brother—the prisoner came up and said he would blind me for giving a man two shillings to summon his father—I said I did not do so, but was a witness in the case—he started to fight a man named Brown, and kicked him in the privates—he then ran indoors, and got this (a stick)—he made a blow at my head with it, and I caught it on my arm—the stick fell, and a man named Court picked it up—he then ran into his house, and got a hammer and smashed my eye—I was then taken to the hospital—he ran indoors, and shut the door—my eye was taken out at the Royal Eye Hospital—I have done one day's work since, but I had to leave off, I could not see—some time previously the prisoner came into the Ship's Stores and threatened me—he said there were about six that wanted piecing up—I have been threat-ened to have my other eye knocked out by another man; I do not know his name; he keeps a house called the Pubs Yacht—it is a licensed house—I have given information to a police inspector—I do not think he is here.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were outside your door when you struck me with the hammer—I was going to give you in charge—this is the handle of the hammer—I was knocked nearly insensible.
ALFRED COURT . I am a coal porter, of 4, Bensgate Street, Greenwich—I was standing outside the Ship's Stores—the prisoner ran out of Broomhouse Lane with this stick—he struck the prosecutor, who put his arm up, and caught it on his arm; it dropped, and I picked it up—I next saw Martin being led away, with his eye bleeding.
WALTER BROWN . I am a waterman, of King George Street, Greenwich—when the prisoner came in I heard no threats—when I came out the prisoner said that I was one of those he wanted, and fought me—he made a strike at me, and I fell down—he kicked me on the privates—he was talking about Martin lending a man 2s. to summon his father—after he kicked me, he left me and hit at Martin with the stick—he came from the court; Martin put out his arm to defend himself—I saw Martin go down the court after the prisoner—I could not see what happened then, but I saw Martin being led away by his wife and brother.
PERCY EDGAR SMITH . I am porter at the Ship Hotel, and live at 66, Marlborough Street, East Greenwich—I was in the bar on July 31st, about 11.15, to take the other porter's place—at closing time there was a fight outside, between Brown and the prisoner; he kicked Brown in the
privates—he then brought out a piece of wood, and said that there were "five or six to go through the mill"—he went at Martin with the stick—Martin followed him down the passage, and the prisoner went in, and came out and struck him in the eye—Martin said, "He has done it; he has knocked my eye out"—I did not see what he did it with.
Cross-examined. I was about four yards off when you struck Martin—I can see from the Ship's Stores, through the house, into Broomhouse Lane—there is a passage.
EMMA MARTIN . I am the prosecutor's wife—I was with my husband when the prisoner said he would blind him—I persuaded him to go home to his supper—the prisoner struck him on the arm with a piece of wood, and ran down the lane—my husband followed him—the prisoner went in and came out with a hammer, and hit my husband in the eye with it—I do not know what because of the hammer-head, I heard it fall on the pavement; I did not see who picked it up—I took him to the hospital.
W. H. MARTIN (Re-examined). My brother, who was with me when it happened, picked up the handle of the hammer and handed it to me after I came out of the hospital.
DOUGLAS DARBISHIRE . I am house surgeon at the Seamen's Hospital, Greenwich—Martin was brought in on July 31st—he had a cut on the outer eyelid, and his eye was swollen, and had been very seriously damaged—it was an extensive injury to the eye-ball—I examined him the following day, which confirmed my opinion—it was more swollen—the sight was gone absolutely—it must have been a severe blow by a blunt instrument—it might have been caused by a hammer, or by this handle with or without the head on it.
GUILTY — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted, and MR. COUNSEL Defended.
JOHN SUMMERFIELD (289 P) produced a pian. The place where the accident is alleged to have happened was pointed out to me, and I have marked it on the plan; it is on the left-hand side of the road, going towards Kennington—the Camberwell New Road runs north and south—there is a tramway loop crossing close to the place I have marked.
ALFRED MORLEY . I am a horse-keeper, living at 20, Buff Place, Camberwell—on Sunday, August 15th, about nine, I was riding one horse and leading another in Camberwell New Road, going towards Kennington, on my near side—I had got about half-way across the crossing at Vassal Road when a hansom cab passed me, going at about ten miles an hour—I could not swear if the prisoner was driving it; I only saw his back—at the loop of the tram-line a tram-car was standing on the near side, heading in the same direction as the cab was going—the cab passed it on
its near side; its pace was not slackened before, or as it passed—the deceased was standing just oft* the kerb, on the near side of the road—the cab shaft knocked him down, and the near side wheel passed over him—the cab pulled up at the north end of the loop nearest Kennington—I did not hear the driver shout out—I was fifteen yards from him—I pulled round to the off-side after the accident.
Cross-examined. Except for the accident, I should have remained on the left side—there are nine feet at least between the tramway line and the kerb-stone at that spot—the prisoner's horse was trotting when he passed me.
GEORGE BAKEWELL . I am a conductor of the London Tramways Company—on Sunday, August 15th, I was conductor of a car going down the Camberwell New Road in the direction of Kennington—at five minutes to nine the car stopped on the loop near Vassal Road to allow two ladies to alight, and another car to pass us—the ladies had got out on to the roadway—the other car was coming up, but had not got on to the loop—an old gentleman was just off the pavement, waiting to get into the car—I noticed a cab coming along on its near ride at ten miles an hour, if not more—the cabman did not shout or slacken speed—I pulled the two ladies out of the way, and towards the car—the cabman swerved to the near side to avoid the ladies, and knocked down the old gentleman—it was impossible for him to get out of the way—the cabman pulled up when I shouted to him—the police fetched him back, and I put the old gentleman into the cab, and I left the case in the constable's charge—it was dark—there was a lamp on the cab, but it was not alight—I could not see who was driving the cab.
Cross-examined. The ladies got down on the near side; you can only get down on thar side, away from the other rails—I did not see the cab till it was on top of us—I just saw it coming, and had time to pull the ladies back—the horse swerved to the near side to avoid the ladies; the man did not pull across—the horse was going at a very fast pace, and it was impossible for the driver to pull the cab up—it passed on its proper side—a hansom cab is about five or six feet wide, I think.
HARRY GREENWOOD . I live at 109, Walham Street, Kennington—about nine p.m. on August 15th I was in the Camberwell New Road, close by the tramway loop on the left hand side, going from Kennington towards Camberwell—I saw the tram-car stop—it was going in the opposite direction to me, towards Vauxhall—I saw coming up a horse and cab, and behind it two horses, one ridden and the other led—I could not say at what pace the cab was going—I crossed the road, and saw a man lying down on my off-side as I came from Kennington—I helped to pick him up—the cab came back—I got into it with the man, and drove to the Police-station—I saw the prisoner when he got off the cab; he looked half asleep in his eyes—he drove us to the Police-station.
Cross-examined. He looked dazed—he came back with his cab, and waited for the man to be put in, and drove to the station.
GEORGE GOODRUM (350 A). I was a passenger by this tram-car on the night of the accident, going to Vauxhall—I was in uniform—I did not see the accident, but I got off to see what was the matter—I found the man lying in the road—the cab was standing about twenty-five yards from him—I called to the cabman to stop, as he seemed in the act of
moving off—I told him to turn round, and he did so—he was standing still when I reached him—I brought him back to the injured man, who was put into the cab and driven to the nearest Police-station—I went in the cab with the injured man and the boy—the prisoner drove—the injured man was taken into the Police-station, and then I asked the prisoner to get off his cab—he did so, and I found he was drunk, and I took him into custody and charged him with being drunk during his employment as a hackney carriage driver—he made some remark I could not understand—I should not expect a drunken man to make an intelligent remark—the charge was taken by the inspector, who is here—he did not ask for a doctor—I saw the dead body of the man at the inquest—a doctor was sent for to look at the injured man—he did not see the prisoner that I am aware of.
Cross-examined. The prisoner stopped about thirty five yards from the injured man; beyond the end of the loop—the nearest Police-station was about 900 yards off, just beyond the Vassal Road, at Camberwell Green—he drove us and the injured man all right and carefully, so far as I could judge.
By the JURY. The cab was going towards Kennington.
GEORGE MARMOY (Inspector, P). I was in charge of the Police-station when the deceased was brought in—I took the charge against the prisoner of being drunk during his employment as a hackney carriage driver, and, further, with causing grievous bodily harm to William Dempsey—the prisoner made no reply—he was undoubtedly drunk—he understood what was said to him, but was not capable of driving a horse.
Cross-examined. I bear in mind the fact that he drove the constable, the injured man, and the boy nine hundred yards on a busy road without Accident—a doctor attended to the injured man at the station; he did not examine the prisoner—the prisoner made no request, or he would have been examined at once.
GEORGE PASS . I keep the Metropole Tavern, Denmark Hill—the prisoner drove me and a friend in his cab on this day from about four p.m., from my place to Putney, which is five or six miles, and then to Richmond, which is two or three miles further, through Richmond Park, back Kingston way, to Denmark Hill—we stopped at the Robin Hood, Kingston, for about an hour—the round was about twelve or thirteen miles altogether, I should think, not much more—I paid the prisoner 10s.; that was the agreement when we started—I only know of the prisoner having one drink at the Robin Hood—he had no more than three drinks, to my knowledge, all the time he was out, and it came to 2d. each time; I don't know whether it was beer or whisky—I should have known if he had more drinks when we were driving, but when we were waiting I should not—when we got back to the Métropole he did not have any drink; he asked for a drink, and I said, "You had better not have any more; you have your horse and cab to look after"—I considered he had had enough, as he had his horse and cab to look after; I did not consider he was drunk at the time—I did not pay his fare when I discharged him; I said he had better go and put his horse up, as he said he was going to, and if he would come back I would pay him—we got home about eight; I could not say to ten minutes—I do not know where his stable was—I did not see the accident.
Cross-examined. He would have plenty of time to drive quietly to Camberwell New Road by 8.55—if his stable was at Kennington, he would go from my place by the way where the accident happened—I have understood since that his stable was at Kennington, but I do not know what part—it was a very good horse—the horse could not have been very fresh, because it is a good round to go in the time—I should not think we went fifteen or sixteen miles; twelve or thirteen is only my estimate; I do not bind myself to it.
ROBERT WALSH (Inspector, P). I saw the deceased at Havil Street Infirmary, Camberwell, at 2.30 a.m. on August 17th—he was then alive—Charles Goddard Clark, a J.P. for the County of London, was present—the deceased was sworn—I said to him, "Are you in fear of death?"—he said, "Yes"—he then made a statement, which was taken down in writing—he made his mark to that statement, and it was witnessed by myself and Sergeant Boxall—this is the statement—the prisoner was not present—I was informed that the deceased died about thirty hours afterwards, on the morning of the 18th—the prisoner was at Holloway at that time—I only asked the deceased if he was in fear of death; I did not ask if he had any hope of recovery. (MR. JUSTICE BRUCE was of opinion that this was not enough to admit the dying declaration, as there was no evidence as to the deceaseds settled hope or expectation.) On August 23rd I saw the prisoner, and said that in consequence of Dempsey having died at Havil Street Intirmary from injuries he received through being knocked down by his cab on August 15th, I was about to charge him with the manslaughter of William. Dempsey—the prisoner said nothing—he was charged, and the charge was read to him; he made no reply.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been in prison since August 15th.
JOHN BEAUMONT , M.R.C.S. I am medical superintendent of Havil Street Infirmary, Camberwell—Dempsey, the deceased, was brought there about ten p.m. on August 15th—he died on the 18th from shock and exhaustion following on extensive fractures of ribs on both sides, and haemorrhage into both pleural cavities—sixteen ribs were fractured, nine on the right and seven on the left side—the injuries were such as might have been occasioned by a hansom cab passing over him.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "The man stepped off the path into the road, and I could not stop the horse. As soon as I stopped I turned round and took him to the Police-station. I had only driven the horse twice."
NOT GUILTY .
The Prisoner received a good character.— Three Days' Imprisonment.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
CHARLES COLLINS . I am a bricklayer, of 19, Callinos Street, Tooting—on the night of July 31st I was in High Street, Tooting, in the company of Mrs. Cleverly; we met the prisoner—I passed him; nothing took place between us, but as I passed he suddenly rolled me round
and threw something in my face; I saw a bottle in his hand—the stuff burned me on the left cheek and down my neck, and blinded me in the left eye—he came at me again with the bottle; I put up my hand to save my face, and it came on my clothes—he never spoke, but he pushed me nearly down on my knees, and went away—I was wearing this felt hat and these clothes (produced)—the inside of the brim of the hat was burned, and some of the clothes—I was taken to the Bolingbroke Hospital, and was there sixteen or seventeen days, and I am still an Out-patient—the lid of my left eye is very much contracted; I cannot lift it, and I cannot see as well as I did—I had been lo*dging in the prisoner's house for three months—Mrs. Cleverly had been living with him as his wife, but she had left him, and was living with me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was a perfectly sober man, and was at work every day, and earning two guineas a week—you told me that Mrs. Cleverly was a married woman—you did not say I should get into trouble with her husband.
HARRIET CLEVERLY . On the night of July 31st I was with Collins in High Street, Tooting, and we met the prisoner—he passed us by, and in a moment Collins was pulled round by the shoulder and I saw him lying down at the prisoner's feet—I did not see the bottle—Collins exclaimed, "I am blinded; he has thrown vitriol over me"—I did not hear the prisoner say anything.
Cross-examined. I am married—I have not seen my husband for six or seven years—you assured me that he was tilled in a coal-pit five years age—you did not tell me that you had seen him lately—I have not heard of him for seven years—I lived with you for some time, and worked for you, but I left you, and was living in the house with Collins.
ARTHUR BATHURST . I am a bricklayer, and live at 11, Bristol Road, Tooting—on the night of July 31st I was with Constable Alkin in High Street, and saw the prisoner—Alkin went up to him, and said, "Have you thrown the vitriol over Mr. Collins?"—he said, "I have not"—the constable asked him to go with him to Collins's house, and on the way there I heard something drop behind the prisoner; we got a light, and on the ground found this bottle, three-parts full of vitriol—the prisoner was between me and the constable; there was no one else within three or four yards of us—the prisoner saw me find the bottle—I kicked against it, and picked it up—the constable ased him if it belonged to him—he said, "No."
HENRY RICKARDS . I am an oil and colourman, 8, High Street, Tooting—I know the prisoner as a customer, but not by name—on July 31st, between nine and ten in the morning, he came to my shop and bought half a pound of sulphuric acid; I served him with it; it was supplied in a mineral-water bottle—I believe this is the bottle—it was labelled "Poison"—the label is not on it now—he had no bottle with him—I said I could not oblige him with a bottle, and he went out and came back with this—he said he wanted it to use as a mason—vitriol is a common name for it—since then something has been mixed with it, which has reduced its strength at least twenty percent., and altered the colour.
Cross-examined. You asked for aqua-fortis, and I said we did not sell it.
GUY MANNING . I am a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and was house surgeon of Bolingbroke Hospital—I was not there on July 31st; I became surgeon there on August 6th—I saw Collins on that day—he had been attended by Dr. Lister—he was suffering from a burn on the right side of his face and neck; the left eyeball was burnt—he is under my observation now as an out-patient—when I first saw him his sight was not affected at all, and there was no reason to suppose that it would be—the eye-ball became inflamed, but it has to a great extent recovered, probably it will cause him annoyance to the end of his life, but, in my opinion, the sight will not be seriously injured by the accident—his sight is affected, being an old man, and he ought to wear glasses—I have seen the clothes which he was wearing at the time; they bear marks of vitriol—I have seen the con tents of the bottle, but have not tested them—some organic matter has been added to the vitriol, and darkened it—the lid of his left eye is contracted; that is due to the burn.
CYPRIAN ALKIN (104 W). On the night of July 31st the witness Bathurst came to me, and made a statement, and I went with him to High Street, Tooting, to the house where the prisoner was lodging; on the road Bathurst pointed the prisoner out to me, standing at the corner of High Street—I went up to him, and asked him if he knew anything of a disturbance here—he said, "No"—I did not say what kind of a disturbance, for I did not myself know what it was—I said, You had better come along with me to 19, Callinos Street"—he walked by my side, Bathurst being behind—something dropped at my feet—I said, "What's that?"—I stopped and got a light, and searched, and saw this bottle lying at my feet, between me and the prisoner—he said, "I did not drop it; I know nothing about it"—I had not seen him do anything; he was standing straight—I went into No. 19, and there saw the prosecutor, and the condition he was in; he was partly undressed—at the station I sent for a doctor—the prosecutor charged the prisoner with this offence—he said he did not know anything about it—I charged him with causing the prosecutor grievous bodily harm by throwing vitriol—he said, "I know nothing about it"—on the Monday following I saw the prosecutor's clothing; there were stains on it—I did not notice any marks on the prisoner's clothes.
By the COURT. The bottle was not broken; it fell on some dry ashes, and the soil was soft.
The Prisoner, in his defence, alleged his innocence of the ofence, and denied ever having the bottle in his possession, but asserted that the husband of Mrs. Cleverly was on the spot at the time, and that he had done it, being actuated by jealousy.
MRS. CLEVERLY. That is not true—I had not seen my husband for six years.
Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
638. ALBERT RANSOM (21) PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling 4s. 3d., 2s. 9d., and 6s., received by him, on account of John Barker and Co., Limited, his masters, and to a conviction of felony at Woolwich in July, 1896.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. And
Before Mr. Recorder.
641. THOMAS RYDER GLANVILLE (25) to stealing a bag, a pair of trousers, and other articles of Wallace Gordon Morrison, having been convicted at Guildhall on October 10th, 1892.— Twelve Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
642. JOHN MORRIS (31) to unlawfully sending a telegram, arid thereby obtaining £4 by false pretences, having been convicted at this Court on June 25th, 1894.— Fourteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
644. JOHN TILLER (30) to burglary in the dwelling-house of William Henry Morley, and stealing twenty pieces of silk, eighteen pairs of gloves, and other articles, his property. He received a good cluiracter.— Ten Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
MR. LOUIS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HARVEY THOMPSON . I am a master farrier, of 7, Star Yard, High Street, Borough—on Sunday afternoon, August 1st, about 3.30, I was going home, and saw three men at the corner of the public-house gateway—someone knocked me down from behind, and, while down, I was robbed of £1 4s.—Cowmey was in front of me, and snatched my watch and chain from my pocket—they ran away—the third party I can't swear to, but I can to the prisoners—I was kicked and knocked about, and not able to do any work for three weeks—I know the prisoners—I picked Cowmey out at Staines Police-station, and Howell some days after; Howell was dressed differently when I picked him out; I did so at once—my chain is worth £3 1s. 6d.
Cross-examined by Cowmey. I have not been in your company drinking, or done busineps with you.
By the COURT. He has often asked me for a few halfpence for click money when short of a night's doss.
SAMUEL LEE (Police Sergeant, M). I arrested Cowmey in Southwark Street at about 12.30 a.m. on August 2nd—when I told him the charge he said, "I know nothing of the charge"—this man has known me for years; I was there all the time, but I had nothing to do with it"—he seemed sober, but in a great state of fear.
THOMAL DIVALL (Police Sergeant, M). I was present when the prosecutor identified Howell amongst several others—beforehand he was wearing a hat similar to this, and when the prosecutor went in he changed it—he identified him in a second or so—he said, "You must have made a mistake; I can prove I was out selling at the time "
Cross-examined by Howell. I said to the prosecutor, "If he is the man touch him," and he touched you.
Witness for Howell.
FRANK BLOWER . Howell was with me on the August Bank Holiday between 2.45 and 3.30—I was at the corner of my street, Rodney Street, waiting for a mate—I heard that a robbery took place in the Borough, and know Howell by buying feathers of him.
Cross-examined. I have seen Howell with other people—I know the time I speak of from writing for a friend of mine to finish his dinnec.
Howell's Defence: I know nothing about this case.
Witness for Cowmey.
By the COURT. The prisoner had been drinking a little; he fell down against the gate when he came off the kerb—I picked him up and put him against the wall—I helped him as a friend, the same as I would any man.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.