CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SECOND SESSION, HELD DECEMBER 12TH, 1898.
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,
INCLUDING CASES COMMITTED TO THIS COURT UNDER ORDER IN
COUNCIL, PURSUANT TO WINTER ASSIZE ACTS OF 1879.
Held on Monday, December 12th, 1898, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SIR JOHN VOCE MOORE, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., and the Hon. Sir ALFRED WILLS , Knt., two of the Justices of the High Court; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M.P., and Sir DAVID EVANS , K.C.M.G., Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , K.C.M.G., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., Sir JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Knt., MARCUS SAMUEL , Esq., JOHN POUND Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., HENRY GEORGE SMALLMAN , Esq., and JOHN KNILL , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir FORREST FULTON, Knc., 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.
CLARENCE RICHARD HALSK, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
MOORE, MAYOR. SECOND SESSION,
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, December 12th, 1898.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. THOMPSON, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
67. FREDERICK JAMES NICHOLSON (22) , to stealing two post letters the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
68. JOSEPH BUTCHER (40) , to stealing a post letter and two postal orders the property of the Postmaster General, he being employed under the Post Office.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Month's Hard Labour. And
69. WILLIAM FLEMING (22) , to breaking and entering a warehouse and stealing There from a quantity of screws and other articles, the property of Frederick Perman Matthews.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. CAMBELL Prosecuted.
EDWARD SWIFT . I am a discharged soldier, of 13, Greenwood Street, Leeds—I was invalided home from Singapore—on December 2nd, about 9.30, I was coming out of the Metropolitan Railway Station in Gray's Inn Road when the prisoner came up to me and asked me if I had been a soldier; I said "Yes"—he asked me if I would treat him; I said "No"; and he struck me across the eye and he gave me a kick; I fell down, about five of his companions came round and one of them took £12 10s. out of my pocket and then ran away—I went to see if I could see any of them—I saw the prisoner and gave him into custody—I did not see where the others came from—I had never seen the prisoner before—I was sober.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was not talking to two women—the
others ran away and left me—you gave me a kick on the ground and then ran—I followed you and gave you in charge.
ROBERT HOLDING (43 E). On December 2nd I was on fixed point duty at the corner of Euston Road—the last witness came and made a complaint to me about 10.45 p.m.—he pointed out the prisoner tome, who was standing at the corner of York Road and Euston Road—I went towards the prisoner and he ran away towards Pentonville Road—I saw him again in Gray's Inn Road; he bad two women with him—I then lost sight of him—I saw him again and I got on a 'bus and when opposite him I jumped off and took him into custody—I told him what he was charged with—he said "I own I had a fight with him but I never took anything from him"—I took him to the station—he made no reply to the charge—I searched him—nothing was found on him.
CHARLES RAWLINGS (The prisoner) sworn. On December 2nd I was in York Road and I saw the prosecutor paying two young women. I said "Why do you pay two women? can't you pay a man?"—He said "Yes, I can hit you"—he took his coat off and he hit me, I hit him and knocked him down, he then said somebody had robbed him—I was by myself then.
Cross-examined. I was not doing anything in Gray's Inn Road—I was out of work—I did not see any scuffle with anybody else—nobody touched him but me—two women asked him if he wanted any flowers and he was hitting them.
GUILTY .—He was stated to be an associate of thieves and teas a deserter from the Army.— Eight Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat.
71. FREDERICK BURDISS (26) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the house of the Watchmakers' Alliance Company and stealing thirty-nine watches, their property.—Having been convicted of felony on July 20th, 1896. Six other convictions were proved against him.
Five Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Monday, December 12th, 1898.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
PLEADED NOT GUILTY, and a justification.
The COMMON SERJEANT informed the Prisoner that the justification was bad in law, but he persisted in being tried.
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted.
ALFRED SHOVER WILLIAMS . I am a director of Williams, Terry, and Field, of 108, Fenchurch-street, sole managers in London of the Atlantic Transport Company, Limited—we are registered as the managing owners of the steamship Mohegan, which was lately wrecked off the Cornish coast—on October 31st we received this letter, marked "A," by post in an open envelope, with a halfpenny stamp on it, and on November 2nd we received a letter in the same form from Lloyd's, and another
from the Gaiety Theatre, which they sent on to us—on November 8th we received from Cook and Son, the tourist agents, this postcard, in which we are also described as the owners—in two of those documents I am described as a ship's captain, who had his certificate suspended—I am not a ship's captain, and never was, and I know nothing of the prisoner—we have at the Docks a list of men who are undesirable men, who are not fit to be employed; I have inquired, and the prisoner's name is not on the list—I never heard of his name—the list does not apply to ships' captains at all.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. We had a Captain Williams in our employment up to seven years ago—he was no relative of mine—you never asked me for any money.
HENRY GEORGE WRIGHT . I am clerk to Pritchard and Sons, solicitors, of Gracechurch Street—on November 1st, having all these letters placed in my hands, I went to Caulfield Road, East Ham, and met the prisoner outside—I told him I was looking for Norfolk House—he said that he knew Captain Purdy, and took me to Norfolk House—he then said, "I am Captain Purdy"—he took me into a sitting-room, outside the door of which a paper was pinned up marked "The Norfolk Steamship Company"—I told him that I came to ascertain particulars respecting the loss of the Mohegan, and that I was a friend of one of the chief officers who was drowned—he asked me to accept one of his pamphlets, and handed me this one (produced)—it is not printed; they are all written—he told me that Captain Williams, the head of the firm, had "put the Suffolk away," and had his certificate suspended for six months; that the firm was Williams, Terry and Co., and that they were a bet of liars, rogues, and thieves, and that they had had £100 from the underwriters—he said, "They have black-listed me, and I will black-list them unless they make it worth my while"—he showed me a letter from the late Captain Griffiths, captain of the Mohegan—I asked him to give it to me—he said, "No; I cannot give it to you; but I will make you a copy of it"—he started to copy it, and I finished it—this is it; it is dated March 25th, 1898, from Captain Griffiths to Purdy—(The COURT refund to allow this letter to be read.)—hesaid that he had sent the letters to Lloyd's, and had distributed them all round the Docks, and also to the brokers who had insured the Mohegan—Isaid, "Don't you think you have acted very foolishly; you will get yourself into trouble?"—he then flew into a passion—I heard bounds in the next room, which was only separated by folding doors—he screamed, a man smoking a cigarette came who was very violent, and I made for the door.
Cross-examined. I asked you for letters—I did not call you a fool; I told you you were very silly—I may he said that you were very foolish.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate;"I did write the letters, believing them to be the truth. I said I believed the shipowner's clerk had black-listed me, but I did not ask for any money."
JAMKS SCOTT (Called by the COURT). I am medical officer, of Holloway Prison—the prisoner has been confined there about a month—I have kept him under special observation since last Session in consequence of the directions of the Court, and have conversed with him daily for a quarter of an hour or so at a time—I think he is of weak mind and takes
exaggerated and distorted views of nautical matters—I can scarcely call them insane delusions—I can not sign a certificate that he is insane—I conversed with him about the loss of this steamship—he had a great deal to say about her being scuttled—he said that the captain's certificate had been suspended and the ship had been wilfully wrecked—he seemed to think that he had a mission to put before the public.
NOT GUILTY of the attempt to extort money. GUILTY of libel, but the Jury considered that he was not responsible for his actions. He promised to cease from circulating the pamphlets. To enter into his own recognisances to come up for judgment if called upon.
MILLER PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
REIALI ANGELO (Interpreted). I am a dealer in ice cream, at 40, Hackney Road—on November 17th at 6 o'clock Churcher came in and asked me if I had change for a half-crown—I gave him two shillings and a sixpence—I examined his half-crown and said in English, "It is no good, this half-crown"—as soon as he saw me move he began to run, and I followed—I afterwards saw him with a policeman, to whom I handed the coin.
ARTHUR FROST (252 J). On November 17th, shortly after 6 p.m., I was on duty in Hackney Road, and saw the prisoner followed by several people—I stopped him—he said, "I have done nothing"—the prosecutor came up with a half-crown, and said, "It is bad," pointing to the prisoner, who said, "This is a bad job for me that I should be put away like this, worse luck; a chap named Miller gave it to me; I did not know it was a bad one"—he did not say why he ran away—I took him to the station—he made no reply to the charge—I found on him 2s. 6d. in silver and 4d.—I afterwards went to 449, Hackney Road, and took Miller.
CHURCHER— GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY, and his master engaged to take him back.— Discharged on recognisances.
MILLER— fourteen Days' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, December 13th, 1898.
Before Mr. Recorder.
75. MARTHA AMELIA HOWE (34) PLEADED GUILTY to causing a false entry to be made in a certain death register; also to wilful and corrupt perjury Two previous convictions were proved against her.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
MAURICE ROBERT SAXE . I trade as the Patent Window Cleaning Company, 132, City Road—the prisoner was my traveller to solicit orders—the mode of payment was that he was to receive the first month's money on every contract for twelve months, besides out-of-pocket expenses, and if the contract was for six months he would only get half—it was not his duty to collect the money, I had warned him about that—I had a special collector, Mr. Jolly—the prisoner never returned after November 3rd—I had not given him authority to collect money—my collector gave me information, and I applied to the police—Mr. Coldry owed me the first month's money, 10s.—the prisoner had obtained him as a customer, and I have paid him his commission for that—Mr. Winsor owed me £1 11s.—the collector told me something—I did not owe the prisoner £4 at the time he was arrested; he was indebted to us irrespective of these sums.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I found you very dishonest, during the last four months—you forged Mr. Smith's name to a contract for twelve months, and I can put that contract in—you owe me 13s. 3d. besides what you have taken—I did not delay payments—you got 5s. from Mr. Reynolds, of Wood Green, and insulted him and he stopped the contract—money was not paid to me without receipts—I never went into partners ship with you—this memorandum (Produced by the prisoner) is written by you—this is the agreement with the School Board—your name does not appear upon it—you have taken £1 11s. in that case.
JOHN WINSOR . I am caretaker at Blackstock Road Board School—I entered into a contract with this company to have the windows cleaned—it was not the prisoner who got me to sign this contract—on November 10th £1 11s. was due upon it, and the prisoner called on me and represented himself as the collector, and said that he called for the money—I complained about the work—he said that it should be improved—I gave him £1 on account, thinking he was the collector—on November 14th he came again, and I gave him the balance, 11s.—he gave me this receipt. (This was signed "C. P." and was for £1 received on account, and 11s. balance.)—I gave him another verbal order to clean windows.
Cross-examined. I first saw you when I paid you the £1—your wife is not here—she has not been required to attend—I told her that you wished her to come to the police-court.
By the COURT. He gave me a receipt for £1 and the 11s.—the original contract was for £1 12s. 6d. but 1s. 6d. was deducted because another man had that.
FRANCIS COLDRY . I live at Crouch End—I had a contract with this window-cleaning company first on October 6th for one month—on November 4th the prisoner came to inquire whether the work was satisfactory
and whether I would renew the contract for twelve months—10s. was due, which I paid him, and he gave me this receipt (produced)—I did not notice that he had not put my name upon it.
Cross-examined. I believe you made some remark about the money being due on the 6th, and I paid it—it would be due on the Saturday.
CHARLES DOLDEN (Detective-Sergeant 7). I had a warrant for the prisoner's arrest, and on November 26th I went to his house and read the warrant to him—he said, "I admit I had the money; it was only part of what he owes me; he now owes me £10."
Evidence for the Defence.
GEORGE PAGE (The. prisoner, sworn.) The money was given to me voluntarily—the prosecutor neglected to pay me money due to me, and for several weeks they never paid me anything—I considered myself legally entitled to the money as a bailee for the amount he owed me—he refused to give me any money for four weeks, except on account.
Cross-examined. I left on November 3rd; I went back several times—I went back on the Friday; I had received these moneys then—I told Mr. Saxe by letter of November 14th that I had received them, and 1 saw him and told him several times—I had collected 3s. 6d. from Mrs. Higging on November 3rd; I did not tell him that—I gave a receipt on one of the note-cards of the company—I went to Mr. Coldry on November 4th, and got 10s., but did not tell Mr. Saxe that I had not done so before the 14th.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not know when I was taking this money that I was doing anything wrong; they deprived me of money week after week, and I can refer them to the money that was due to me. I was told that I was indemnified against any action. I thought the counter claim would go against the other money, and I consider that I am much wronged. The provocation I have received from the prosecutor week after week and month after month is enough to drive any one to distraction.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of larceny on September 10th, 1894, and three other convictions were proved against him.
Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
ELIZABETH CUNNINGHAM . On October 2nd I met the prisoner in Somers Town—I am 23 years old—I told him I wanted to go to Batiersea—he took me home with him—I stayed there seven weeks—on Friday night, November 26th, I came back to the house—he told me to go and I did go, and I got a situation the same day and he got me turned out—I was not on daily service, I lived here; I went back to the prisoner's house to pay some money, and the lady asked me to stop there and I stopped the night—on the Saturday morning he heard me go out—he said, "I am very sorry I got you turned out, I will keep you till you get work again," but he struck me the same day on my head, and knocked me insensible with a poker—first he bit me with the poker, and I took a poker and hit him back again—this was at 4 30 p.m., but he hit me first at 12 o'clock.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were not in bed at 12 o'clock, you were dressed—you struck me with the tongs at 12 o'clock, and with the poker at 4 o'clock—I did not shake you when you were in bed, and ask you to get up and give me a drink, I had money of my own.
JOHN BRTHEL (21 Y R). On November 26th shortly after 4 p.m. I was called to 31, Johnson Street, and found the prosecutrix in the front room, ground floor, bleeding from severe cuts on her head—a surgeon was sent for, and the was sent to the hospital—I went back to Johnson Street, looked about the room, and found the tongs in the front room, and the poker in the bedroom which belongs to another woman—the prisoner was in custody for being drunk—I charged him—he said nothing.
MARY ANN SAUNDERSON . I am attached to the Temperance Hospital—the prosecutrix was brought there suffering from seven scalp wounds—a blunt instrument such as a poker or tongs would inflict them—these fire-irons would do so—they were serious wounds, very severe scalp wounds—she had lost much blood.
MARY BROWN . I live at 31, Johnson Street—on November 26th I saw the prisoner at a little after 12 coining from the back parlour with the tongs in his hand following the prosecutrix—an old lady lived in the back parlour—he called the prosecutrix a foul name and struck her—I had heard him say at 6 o'clock that morning that he would swing for her before long—I saw him at 4 o'clock that afternoon with a poker in his hand and he said that he had done for her.
ANN JAY . I take care of No. 31, Johnson Street—on a Saturday a fortnight ago the prosecutrix came-out of the back parlour into my room for a shawl—the prisoner ran after her—I went to my room to take a baby which I nursed, out of the cradle—I said, "George, you will kill her"—he said, "Yes and I will till you too," and struck me across my shoulders, a woman 75 years of age—he struck the prosecutrix seven or eight times, and each time made a wound.
A statement made by the prisoner at the station was here put in in which he said that he met the prosecutrix in Old Street, who stated that she was in great distress and he took her home to his landlady, stating that she was his cousin, and that he would pay for her keep, but afterwards told her to obtain another home; that on the day in question she knocked at his door at 6 40 a.m., and told him to look out for himself before the day was out; that she gave him two black eyes and five wounds, and that she had told him that she was an the street of Liverpool before she was sixteen years old.
ELIZABETH CUNNINGHAM (Re-examined). I was at Liverpool some time—I have been convicted no less than twenty-seven times of assaults on the. police, receiving stolen goods, shop breaking, and other offences, chiefly assaults, on each of which I have been sent to prison for various terms.
GUILTY .—He handed in certificates of his previous good character.—Judgment respited.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, December 13th and
NEW COURT.—Thursday, December 15th, 1898.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
81. EDWARD HAMPSHIRE, GEORGE RILEY , and ERNEST HAWKINS PLEADED GUILTY to attempting to break into the shop of Thomas Hexton, with intent to steal; also to being found by night without lawful excuse in possession of implements of housebreaking. HAMPSHIRE and RILEY— Eight Months' Hard Labour. HAWKINS*— Nine Months Hard Labour.
MR. TEMPLE MARTIN Prosecuted.
The prisoner stated, in the hearing of the JURY, that he was
They found that veldt.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN with MR. SELLS and MR. PEBCIVAL
HUGHES appeared for tied defence.
CHARLES GRAHAM JOHNSTON . I live at 131, The Grove, Hammersmith—I have an agency for American firms in this country—previous to the autumn of 1897 I had been abroad for some years on business connected with the Bovril and other limited companies—I there attended various exhibitions—coming home in August last year I found that my niece had married the prisoner Clappercon—at the end of that year I came from Scotland—I visited his house in December, and went to reside there at the end of January—in February at his request I advanced him money for his business as a money-lender—his agreement limited the amount to £200—that was invested in about nine weeks—Clapperton conducted the details of the business—I also advanced other larger sums upon securities recommended by Clapperton—in August this year he said there was a man in the Bengal Road who wanted £200, which I refused to advance at first, but on August 30th he produced this bill of sale—he said it was genuine, and that I should have ample security for £200, and that the furniture represented the value mentioned in the bill of sale—I accepted that—he also showed me this life policy of the Scottish Union Office for £250—he said it was all right—on August 30th he introduced another gentleman as Lemere, to whom, after some conversation on Clipperton's representation, I gave this cheque—I after wardspicked the prisoner Hollo way out as Lemere—I wrote the name on the side of the cheque—this is the counterfoil-J. M. Ellis was represented to be agent for Clapperton in the matter of £200, which was to be part of another transaction of £700 to purchase a "saloon" business or public-house—the cheque was endorsed and paid through the bank—I do not know the person who endorsed it—Clapperton said "We will have the bill of sale registered"—I afterwards
got this telegram at Soathend, saying it was duly registered—I also spoke to him in a general way, and he said it was all right—I did not hear any more till Clapperton and his clerk King said somebody was looking after me to get money out of me—Clapperton said he had seen the man in his public-house, and that we would go and see him—I asked him where it was—he said it was by Chancery Lane—he proposed that I should lend him £500 on mortgage to a lady for a business—I made inquiries and refused to lend it—after receiving this note, "Kindly meet meat Bishopsgate Station. Very important, to see solicitor re Lemere. Do not come out until you leave for the City.—ADAM, "I went with Clapperton to see Mr. Francis, a solicitor in the City—he said the bill of sale was no good, and that we had better have his mouth shut up—one gentleman present said that I had better take action against him for blackmail if he said anything—the upshot of the conversation was that I was to meet them on the Saturday, and make an appointment with an inspector of police, but I was to keep the documents, and not give them up to anyone—when I saw something was wrong I went to another solicitor, who advised me to go to the police at once, and I wont and got a warrant—Clapperton rendered accounts supposed to be weekly, but they were fortnightly or monthly—this is one for four weeks ending September 12th, 1898—I got that about a fortnight after September 12th—two of the items in this account are a payment from me of £200 on September 10th, and an advance to B. A. Lemere of £200—those balance each other.
Cross-examined. I have been brought up in the meat business—confined my attention to that in "America—I was arranging to go to Australia this year in the same business—I have never been in business—I was employed as foreman and manager—I have seen twenty years in the meat business generally-my arrangements to go to Australia were with Clapperton—I expected a salary and commission—I expected £500—I preferred to stay here, but I did not suggest a partnership with Clapperton he carried out the transactions as to money-lending himself with three or four exceptions—I have heard of some of the names you mention but he carried out the details and I merely kept the promissory notes and papers as securities for what I advanced—I do not remember anything about the transactions—I redeemed jewellery as a friendly transaction—I did not instruct Clapperton to demand £17 10s.—Mrs. Dodridge's husband did not threaten me with proceedings—I did not accept a small sum in satisfaction—I did not make such a statement at the Police-court—I did not receive any interest; I received a small sum, which Mrs. Dodridge insisted upon—I think it was £12 8s.—her husband simply came to me to settle up the matter—I did not authorise Clapperton, but he demanded £17 10—he made advances with my money—I was not present when promissory notes were signed to the best of my recollection—I have no recollection of any woman signing her husband's name in my presence to promissory notes—I was not aware he was lending to married women—nor that he threatened them with forgery for singing their names unless they paid a sum of money—that never came to my knowledge—I objected in May last to the whole business of money-lending—I said so at the Police-court—Clapperton explained that a poor
baker wanted new ovens to increase his business, and I considered by lending him money I was doing him a benefit—I had £250—I had no security but a life policy and a promissory note for £275, to be paid in quarterly instilments—£25 was not the interest per month, but for the use of the money—he was to pay £35 per quarter—I did not press for payment—I did not force him to pay another £25—I did not tell Clapperton to press the borrower—Clapperton went to him of his own accord—I did not discuss Miss Turner's loan—Gale I know now was the man she was said to be going to marry—the note was signed in both names—I know now that Sarah Ann Brown, of Hull, signed her husband's name—Clapperton kept back the fact when he handed the notes to me—I knew Mr. Brown was a sailor, and probably at sea—I understood he had given his consent—in the six months I had about 130 notes—Clapperton deducted his rent of 10s. a week—I never owed him any money—I have his receipts—I did not hand him the cheque for £200 for his own expenses—my suspicions were first aroused when I went to Mr. Francis's offices—I took Clapperton to Mr. Monroe because there was a dispute about a picture, and I wanted to avoid a talk—I put myself entirely in Clapperton's hands—he was to pay me 5 per cent, on increase of business—in Lemere's case he said he would get £10 10s.—I took the promissory notes to be genuine—I believed every transaction to be genuine I was not always in the office when transactions took place—I had not known Lemere previous to his transaction—I did not know him to be the prisoner Holloway—Sandford was the office boy—he never introduced Lemere as Holloway.
Re-examined. the £200 cheque has not been suggested to me as expenses before to-day—before the Magistrate the cheque was said to relate to Mortimer—these letters are Clapperton's writing. (These were from A. Clapperton, Holloway Prison, and addressed to Mrs. Brown; one dated "24-11-93," stated that he was innocently drawn into a transaction with another party, and was on remand; that her documents had been received at his house; that he was giving up business, and his solicitors were calling in his accounts, but that he was desirous of settling direct, and asking Mrs. Brown to pay the bank receipt for £150, dated April 1st, in her name to his clerk, and he would allow her the £8 interest, and deduct £25 from her indebtedness of £225, thus giving her a rebate of £33, the remaining £50 to be paid by monthly instalments of £2 to the prisoner's wife, the clerk to deliver up receipts and policies; that Percy Hilton was only a trading name, and asking for a wire reply to Holloway Prison, as he did not want the lawyers to call her loan in, as they would write to Captain Brown Another letter, of" 1-12-98," acknowledged two letters and a telegram, regretting that he could not settle upon her terms, and stating that he enclosed bank receipts for £150 for Mrs. Brown to cash and remit to his clerk, asking for a wire that she had done so, or he would stop payment of the deposits, and through the bank communicate with "the Captain." Another letter from Holloway Prison, of "16-11-98," was to the witness's brother and complained of being prosecuted through attending to prosecutor's business of a money-lender at from 60 to 700 per cent.)—I disregnrded that letter—on October 11th I received this letter from Clapperton (acknowledging a payment by a Mr. Appleton
of £12 10s. and two other payments, and that he had another letter from Hull giving the date of Captain Brown's arrival and stating, "I am not inclined to answer same at the present moment, as I intend taking advice in the matter. Your having instructed me to have Captain Brown's signature appended to the documents puts the matter in an awkward position" that he should atavist instructions, and stating "If Captain Brown hears of the circumstances he can redeem his bank deposit receipt and squash the contract")—I had never given him instructions for giving Captain Brown's name to be put upon the securities to my recollection—Clapperton had not capital of his own in a large sense—his business was small before I provided the money—this is Appleton's bill referred to in the letter—I got this letter from Clapperton of October 15th (from 189, The Grove, Hammersmith, asking for accounts to be returned to enable him to make duplicates and for books)—returned the Repayment Book, and stated my willingness to give him copies of the accounts required—on October 17th he sent me this letter (pressing for accounts—I had seen him between October 26th and 27th, but do not think we said anything about Captain Brown's signature—I received this letter from him on October 26th (offering to cancel letter of 11th inst. for an advance £200 for two years and to return certain promissory notes and an advance of £30 at 15 per cent, to his clerk, King, and himself, trading as"The Grove Dental Company," and undertaking to collect and hand over moneys due less actual expenses)—I. believed Appleton's, Brandon's and Bay ley's bills (produced) were genuine securities when I made the advance to Hilton—I am not aware that I owed Clapperton money in September—he rendered accounts and there would be a balance Very often—the last account is up to October 31st, when I advanced him £100 upon his promissory note for loans—I wished to relinquish the business—both the signatures to this bill of Turner and Gale is in the same writing—I notice it now for the first time.
By MR. HUGHES The promissory notes came into my possession about the dates they bear a them—I have no recollection of being present when Turner's was signed—I may have been in the office when the money was lent—the business was never mine—this note is also signed by James and Amelia Collins in the same writing—I believe the money was lent to the lady—my sight is slightly defective—I never carried on a money lending business—I am the victim—philanthropist if you like—I recollect speaking to Miss Gale with Clapperton in the street about the time she signed and that she was going to be married—I know now her name is Turner—I knew Mrs. Brown's husband was a sailor, but not that he was abroad—I said yesterday that being a sailor he was probably at sea—I never saw her—I advanced two cheques for £225—I had the counterfoil—it is not true that she only had £189 out of the £289 bill—I never received back apart of the advance—I made no stipulations what I should charge—Clapperton handed me Otine's papers—I did not know it was illegal to lend money on pawn-tickets—I know now—I have only had eleven months of this bitter experience—Clapperton made all arrangements—he got me to transact Mortimer's business against my wish—he forced me to do it—£100 was mentioned—I did not deduct £14 11s. from her £75—she received a £75 cheque with £25
which was overdue—two transactions were put together—I cannot explain why the amount was £150—nothing his been repaid on that note—it is not due—Mrs. Salmon's brooch was stated to contain diamonds and they were not diamonds—I received a bill for £72 10s.—I do not think I saw any other than Mrs. Salmon, Clapperton and his clerk—I possessed about 130 of these notes—Mrs. Salmon's jewellery was not attached, but Clapperton told me it had gone—I then would have believed everything he said—I have lost £500 or £600—I was his tool—a letter was written to me by a solicitor—there was a clause for forfeiture of the jewellery if the payments were not kept up—I have a letter stating the jewellery can be given up—I have not sold it—I have a made presents from it—it was in Percy Hilton's name—he is Clapperton—only two pieces of jewellery are gone—Clapperton's trading as Percy Hilton did not arouse my suspicions—I heard of Lemere wanting to borrow money about August 16th—Clapperton brought a note of the furniture and I took pencil notes—that was about August 29th—the life policy was shown me on August 30th—Lemere made no complaint—in every case an application was made for a loan—I never saw Lemere till he was seeking for me—I never said the life policy could be made of value if the premiums were paid—I was not in favour of these transactions, but Clapperton was so plausible—I never had an office in London—to say the bill of sale was signed by a person unknown to Clapperton is ridiculous—I have the impression that Holloway signed as Lemere and that both the original and copy were signed at the same time, I think in pencil—I could not be positive—I saw the blank bill of sale—Holloway was present—I have a distinct impression I saw Percy Hilton sign—I could not be positive about Lemere—it may seem strange, but I had such confidence, I took the whole thing as being right—I remember the signature being put in pencil—Lemere was present—I am not positive about the word "Lemere" being there—I am positive about the word "Hilton"—I was about two yards off—the man who personated Lemere was not wellknown to me—I had never seen him before. (Read from deposition: When I saw him (Holloway) afterwards I saw him in the street round by Benbow Road, and he nodded to me; I believed him to be the real Mr. Lemere. He signed the bill of sale produced in my presence, and it was witnessed by Clapperton in my presence")—that is true with regard to Hilton—I believed Holloway signed as Lemere—I had a thorough impression he had signed—I swore that because when I accepted the bill of sale I accepted it as being signed—Holloway was there—I was in the Police-court when Mr. Beecher was examined—I was at Southend when the affidavit was sworn before Mr. Beecher—I know Clapperton proposed to have the bill of sale registered, but that arrangement was departed from when I went to Southend—I left it all to him—the telegram was: "Bill sale registered to-day. Everything in order. Coming to-night or to-morrow.—PERCY"—I did not know the formalities as to a bill of sale, and I thought as Clapperton was acting for me, it was his duty to inform me.
Re-examined. I have no recollection of any woman putting any other name than her own to a bill of exchange—I was not present when more than one name was signed except in the case of Collins, when the husband was present—I saw the bill of sale in preparation by King, Hilton's clerk
in Hilton's office—it was signed before Holloway, as Lemere, came into the office—Holloway was introduced as Lemere by Clapperton—he sent me to Southend on September 3rd—I did not know the bill of sale had to be registered within seven days.
SYDENHAM HALL . I am an officer from the Bill of Sale office of the Royal Courts of Justice—I produce a copy, and the original, bill of sale left for the purpose of filing, together with original affidavit of Percy Hilton on filing same.
GEORGE PERCY BEECHER . I am a medical practitioner—my son Howard Percy Beecher is a commissioner for oaths—he is confined to his bed with typhoid fever—this is his signature to this deposition. (Read: "Howard Percy Beecher, on oath, smith: 'I am a solicitor and commissioner for oaths. I witnessed the execution of the affidavit produced by the prisoner in the name of Percy Hilton. He was duly sworn. Another man Was with him. The copy bill of sale was signed by the man as Lemere in my presence. The person (Lemere) now in court is not the one who signed the document as Lemere. To the best of my recollection, the man Lemere and prisoner signed the original bill of sale, as well as the copy, in my presence. Looking at the original, I am certain it was signed before me, as some words in the attestation clause were written in by me.—H. PERCY BEECHER.")
SIDNEY ARTHUR LEMERK . I am an ex-publican—I have known Clapperton eighteen months or two years as Percy Hilton—he was supposed to be a money-lender—in August last I consulted him as to raising a loan of £200—I was going to add money, and to go into a public-house—I showed him this life policy as security—he told me it was waste paper, because it had lapsed six or seven years—I thought if I paid the premiums I could renew—I did not know I should have to undergo a fresh medical examination—he came to my house at 2, Benbow Road, Hammersmith, and took an inventory of my drawing-room furniture only—he knew I occupied other rooms, but I did not specify them—after seeing a piano and other furniture, he said, "I have no doubt I can accommodate you"—I met him afterwards, when he said he was going in the country, but he would see me later—that was the end of August or the beginning of September—I called and saw him and his clerk—I did not see Mr. Johnston—about September 9th he told me he had arranged to make me an advance of £200, as a deposit on the public-house, "The Half Moon and Seven Stars,' which was to be paid on the 12th, when I was to be accepted as tenant—he did not turn up that morning, and the deal fell through—I never executed this bill of sale, and the name is spelt wrongly, "Sydney," instead of "Sidney"—this signature not the least, like mine—(This contained an inventory purporting to be of the jurniture of like whole house, and mentioned more rooms and furniture than existed in the house. It was signed"Sydney Lemere"—I occupy four rooms—there are eight rooms mentioned in the inventory, including the basement kitchen—when I found it was alleged that I had executed this bill of sale I made inquiries—I then went to the police—I never had any of the money.
Cross-examined. The negotiations were going on from the second week in August till December 20th—I knew the life policy had been taken away from my house—I did not complain to Mr. Johnston, I did not
know him—I asked Hilton to bring the policy back the same night that he had taken it away in the morning, and he said he would send it back by his boy—the day he called to look at my receipts I had gone to the Police-court—my wife knew where I was, but would not tell him—the bill of sale was taken off the file.
EMMIE LEMERE . I am the wife of Sidney Arthur Lemere—I have seen Hilton (Clapperton) twice—the first time he called and asked to look at this life policy—I said I did not know anything about it—he saw it lying on the table and took it away, saying "Lemere and I have talked the matter over"—about six weeks or two months later he called and asked to see the receipts for rent and taxes—I said Mr. Lemere was out, he had better wait and see him or call again—a man was with him he introduced as Mr. Johnston—that is not the man (the witness Johniton)—nor is Holloway the man—it was about the end of November.
Cross-examined. I said if it was business Mr. Lemere would see about it—that was the first intimation of the bill of sale except my husband telling me about it.
WILLIAM GARDNER . I have lived at 1A, Burymead Road, Acton Green, for eight or nine months—no Mr. Ellis lived there during that time—Holloway lived in the top flat—I have seen Clapperton with Holloway two or three times.
WILLIAM OGBURN . I am manager to Mr. Acton who keeps the "British Prince" public-house, Goldhawk Road—I have known Clapperton as Percy Hilton for about twelve months—he brought me this cheque for £200 on September 2nd—it has passed through my employers' bank—lie first asked me if I expected Mr. Acton home—I said I expected him home the same evening—he then produced the cheque and asked me to cash it—I said Mr. Acton had told me not to cash cheques—he said he only wanted it cleared and gave me 1s. for the bank to telegraph when it was cleared, and I paid it into the bank with those instructions—I told Mr. Acton the next morning when the prisoner came—Mr. Acton sent me to the hank, where I learned the cheque had been met, and Mr. Acton made out the cheque payable to Percy Hilton—I think it was an open cheque.
Clapperton, on the advice of his counsel, tore stated that he was
GUILTY of forging the bill of sale, and the JURY found that verdict.
WILLIAM NOTT (Detective Sergeant, T). I have seen the prisoners together repeatedly—I held a warrant for the arrest of Clapperton and a wan unknown—on November 30th, at the West London Police-court, I read the warrant to Holloway—it charged him with conspiracy, with Clapperton, to obtain money by fraud—he said, "I suppose we shall get out of it. I wish I had gone to Buenos Ayres now"—he then added, "£100 would be a lot"—Johnston identified him from about twenty men.
HOLLOWAY— GUILTY .
A conviction of felony was proved against him.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
CLAPPERTON, against whom five previous convictions were proved, Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, December 13th, and Wednesday, December 14th, 1898.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. CHARLES W. MATHEWS, MR. BODKIN and MR. HBWITT Prosecuted and MR. A. HUTTON Defended.
WILLIAM ROSS . I live at 82, William Street, Hampatead Road—I keep a baker's shop—I have been there 4 1/2 years—the shop is on the street level, and is entered through a door from the street—there is no other door; you have to go through the shop to get to the house—after going through the shop into the private part of the house there is a staircase going to the first and second floors—I sleep in the first floor front room; nobody else occupies that floor—on the second floor the servant and two of my children sleep, all in the same room—there is a back room on the second floor, and the man who works for me sleeps there—there is nothing above that—in the basement there is a bakehouse the same size as the shop (you get down to it by the stairs from the back parlour), and behind the counter there is a trap, which lifts up, and through which the bread comes—there is a ladder down—in the bakehouse there is a long baker's oven—there are also two troughs in front of the oven—there is whitewash on the walls—the troughs are for kneading—there is a clock in the bakehouse, also a window near the celling, it looks out into the area next to the street—the window is clear glass—you can see into the street—the top of the window is level with the street—if you got out at the window you would get into the urea, not on to the pavement—if you were in the street you could see into the bakehouse by looking down the area—the oven runs back from the road—in the bake-house a chopper was kept—outside the shop window in the street there is an iron grating in the pavement—it is about 4ft. long by 2ft. wide—when flour comes in it would be lifted up and the flour taken down a pair of steps—there are two bolts which go through some rings—it is always kept closed at night—when it is fastened it is impossible to lift the grating—I always look round before going to bed to see to the fastenings—the steps hang on to the grating with a chain—I have always had a baker to assist me, he has always lived in the house in the second floor back room—his duty in the bakehouse would chiefly be at night—he begins work about 7 o'clock to make the dough, which takes about forty-five minutes—he would use the larger trough for it—after that he goes, up to bed again—he used to have his food in the bakehouse—he gets it him self when he likes—I call him about 11.30 for his night duties—he then cuts the same dough back again which takes about half-an-hour, and puts away the ferment for the buns, that takes about five minutes—then he has got nothing to do till about 1 o'clock—he would stay in the bake house and at 1 o'clock he would make the next dough, which takes about half-an-hour—after that he starts the oven—the fire is on one side—he heats the oven till about 3.45, when the dough would be put into the oven—I go to bed about 11.30 after I have called the chap, and get up about
three—the baker calls me—I go down and help him to get the dough ready for the oven—the baking continues till about 11 o'clock next morning, my assistant stays there till then, at 11 o'clock all the baking is over for the day—I have had several assistants, the prisoner was one of them—I knew him by the name of Richard Montague, he worked for me about two years ago for five or six months—during that time he lived in my house—when he came in at 7 o'clock he used to sleep till 11.30—I knew he was a married man—he left about two years ago—one day he said he was not well, and I asked him on the Saturday if he would be able to come on the Sunday, and he said, "Yes," but he did not return, he sent another man—I next saw him on November 4th, a Friday, he came about 10 p.m.—he said someone had told him that I wanted a man for Saturday—I said, "No, I don't want anyone, because we are not busy, and we can manage it ourselves"—I had not said anything to anybody about wanting a hand—he said it was a man in the Christian Lodging-house in Leman Street who told him—I said to him, "Are you hard up?"—he said he had been out of work six weeks—I asked him if he would like to take two loaves for his children—he took the loaves, and then asked if I would take his address—I gave him the book which was lying on the counter, and told him to write it down—I was to write to him if I heard of any work—this is the book (Produced)—it was written on a loose leaf; it is not there now—he wrote down, "Richard Montague," I wrote the address, "144, Sewards Street Buildings, Goswell Road"—I kept the book in the shop till November 11th, when the police took it—on November 4th I had in my employ a young man named Conrad Berndt—he was about 19 or 20 years old—he had been with me about seven months—he lived in my house—he slept in the second-floor back bed-room—he did the baker's duties—while at work in the bakehouse he wore a soft cap, a shirt, and a pair of trousers, and a blue-striped canvas belt round his waist with two buckles in it—he was a dark man, with almost black hair—he was a very good workman—he had other clothes which he went out in—I have seen him wearing a silver watch and chain—he never took it into the bakehouse—I next saw the prisoner on November 10th at 11 p.m. at the shop-door—I was at the door—he asked if I would allow him to stop over the night in my bakehouse, as he wanted to go at six o'clock next morning after a place near Oxford Street—he gave the name of Grummell; it is a baker's shop—he said he was going to see the foreman—I said, "All right, Richard; I know you, you can come in"—he was wearing a hard round hat, and had a green bag in his hand—he went round the counter, opened the trap-door, and went down the steps and into the bakehouse, shutting the trap after him—I went upstairs—the gas was alight in the bakehouse—Conrad had been in the bake-house at 7 o'clock, and made the first dough—at 11, when the prisoner called, Conrad was in bed; I had not been down at all—I called Conrad; I went into his room—he was in bed, not asleep—he rose up in bed—I could only see his shirt; the room was nearly dark, but I could see that the room was tidy—I gave him some instructions, and then left him and then went down to my room—I heard Conrad come down about five minutes after I had called him—I heard the bakehouse door go as he opened it—nobody else was up then—I went to bed and to sleep—I had
not been in the bakehouse since the morning—at that time there was nothing over the window—I was not having any flour in that day—the grating was fastened—the chopper was under the trough—after I went to sleep the first thing I heard was someone knocking at the door—he did not speak—I heard the person then go right down into the bakehouse again by the stairs; I got up—I then saw it was 3.15—I dressed and went downstairs—I had a lighted candle in my hand—I went through the shop, and looked at the shop clock—I then opened the trap door and went down into the bake-house—I left the candle on the counter in the shop; I blew it out—I left the trap-door open—the gas was burning in the bakehouse—I stopped on the steps, and called out "Conrad"—I got no answer, and then I heard someone on the other side of the bakehouse on the staircase—I went down, and the prisoner came over from the stairs—he had his coat on, but nothing on his head—I said, "Where is Conrad?"—he said, "He has gone upstairs to lie down; he has been sick"—I said, "What a funny thing, he has never been sick before, and it is a good thing that you are here"—the prisoner spoke is a quiet way—I then turned towards the oven, I saw that it was alight—there were three cans in front of the oven door which Conrad used to use for himself in the bakehouse—in turning to the oven I should be turning away from the prisoner—I had not gone two steps before I had a blow on the back of my head—I stood for a moment stunned; then I turned round towards the prisoner, and saw he had moved, he was then standing near the trough—he had this life-preserver (Produced) in his hand—he had his hands crossed in front of him—I had never seen the life-preserver before—it is not mine—I rushed by him and up the staircase which he had come down—when I got half-way up I called "Police"—the prisoner came after me and put his arm round me—the only light on the stairs would shine through the bakehouse door—then I felt the point of a knife in my chest—I seized it with my right hand and kept on pushing the prisoner back with my left down the stairs—I heard my wife and servant calling out upstairs—the prisoner pulled the knife through my hand and ran down into the bakehouse—he took the knife with him—my hand was cut very much—I went through the shop, opened the door, went outside and called out "Police" and "Murder"—while I was doing that the grating outside the shop window flew open and the prisoner jumped out—that was about two minutes after I had got to the door—the grating could not have been fastened—the prisoner ran down William Street towards Hampstead Road—Constable Chrisp came up and afterwards Inspector Gough—I found my head was bleeding and both my hands were out—Dr. Maughan came to my house and attended to my injuries—I afterwards went into the bakehouse and saw that the dough which had been made at eight o'clock the night before had been cut back—the bun ferment had not been prepared—about three-quarters of an hour's work had been done—the window was covered with a flour-sack—the top of the window was pinching the sack between itself and the top of the window-frame—I had never seen it done before—I also looked at the book on the shop counter, and found part of the page where the prisoner's name had been written torn out, as it is now—the blood on the book came from my
hands—this round felt hat (produced) is the prisoner's—it was left behind in the bakehouse—this chopper (produced) is mine—it was left in the bakehouse on that evening—these two buckles had been on Conrad's belt—this piece of charred cloth is a piece of the trousers Conrad used to wear, and also this piece of belt—this green-baize bag is the one the prisoner was carrying on that night—this watch and chain and seal belonged to Conrad—I have never seen the knife before—all the money I take in my business I take up to my bedroom every night about 11 o'clock, and it remains there till next morning—I pay it away to the millers as soon as I can; I have no banking account—on this night I had between £20 and £25 in my house—when I go down to the bakehouse at 3 o'clock I used sometimes one staircase and sometimes the other.
Cross-examined. As a rule I go into the bakehouse during the day to see how things are going on—the gas is always burning down there—on the morning before the murder I was down in the bakehouse with Conrad—I saw the hatchet there under the trough—there was nothing over the window then—we never put anything over the window—after the prisoner left my employment two years ago I did not see him again till November 4th—I inquired for him during the first week—I found out he was ill, not buffering from his head—he said he had done himself harm by lifting a sack—I saw him every day whilst he was with me—when I saw him on November 4th I did not notice that his manners had changed at all—he was perfectly quiet—during the seven months he was with me there was nothing to be frightened of about him—on November 11th when he came he was perfectly quiet—when he struck me he made no sound—I was struck by the life-preserver, not the hatchet—when I turned round he was about two yards away from me—he stared at me for about two minutes before I made the rush for the stairs; till then he did not make any step towards me—he was dressed, but had no hat on—the first time I knew he had a knife in his hand was when he put his arm round me on the stairs—it only penetrated the skin—I was wearing a shirt and an under-shirt—when I went up to Conrad's room the night before to call him, it was nearly dark, but I could see it was tidy because the lamps in the street were shining into the room—flour comes in about once a fortnight—nothing else comes down through the grating—Conrad fixed the bar—if I know that the bolts were fixed, and nothing had gone through I do not look at them; if they are safe in the morning I should not go round in the evening.
Re-examined. I asked the man who the prisoner sent to do his work when he went away, how Richard was getting on, and he said, "I don't think he will come back again."
EVA MILLER . I am a servant in the employ of Mr. Ross—I have been with him for about three years—it was part of my duty to attend to the room occupied by the assistant in the business—I used to go into the room occupied by Conrad Berndt to make it tidy—he had a box in the room in which he kept his best clothes—there was also a cupboard where he kept a suit which he wore for second lest—his room was always nice and tidy—he used to wear a silver watch and chain and seal—as a rule they were kept in the cupboard in the waistcoat of his second best
suit—I never knew him to wear them in the bakehouse—when at work he used to wear a shirt with blue and white stripes—this burnt piece is a part of his shirt (produced)—he always wore a belt, he had two, one was leather and the other of a striped material—one of the belts had two buckles, one large and one small—these (produced) are the two buckles and this is a part of the belt—I saw Conrad on the 10th after he bad had supper and before he went up to bed—I saw him going up to bed, he had his bakehouse clothes on, he had no waistcoat on, that was the last I saw of him—my room was quite close to his—about 3 o'clock I heard a noise on the stairs, I had been asleep—I went downstairs, by that time the police had arrived—I accompanied one of the police-officers into Conrad's room—it was very untidy—the box had been opened and the clothes were on the bed—they were searched by the police., and a purse was found in the trousers' pocket—it was shut, but was opened in my presence, and £5 5s. was found in it—in the box was a cigar box in which Conrad used to keep some cotton and needles, and some money—he generally kept most of the money in the purse—the cupboard was open—these are Conrad's watch and chain and seal.
WILLIAM GRIST (265 s). On November 11th, about 3 a.m., I was on duty near the Hampstead Road—I heard cries of "Police!" and "Murder!"—I ran to the shop of Mr. Ross, and saw him standing against his shop door—he was bleeding from a wound at the back of his head—Inspector Gough came up, and I was sent for Dr. Maughan—I brought him back with me—the inspector and I then searched the house trying to find Conrad Berndt—we went down into the bakehouse, and saw that the fire in the oven was alight—in front of the oven there were three cans—the oven was very hot, with the assistance of an iron bur we opened the oven door, and saw lying inside the oven the remains of a human body—under directions I cooled the oven as rapidly as I could, and afterwards assisted other officers to remove the remains from the oven.
ALBERT JOHN HEARN (60 s). I was on duty in the Hampstead Road on November 11th, between 3 and 3.30 a.m.—William Street turns at right angles from Hampstead Road, and leads up to Cumberland Market—I saw the prisoner in George Street, which is hardly a quarter of a mile from William Street—he came hurrying towards me from Tolmer Square, which is on the opposite side of the street to William Street—I noticed that he was very much excited—he had no hat on—I went towards him, and said, "Halloa, what is the matter I"—he made no reply, but turned and ran towards the Euston Road—I ran after him—Constable Westcote was with me—while the prisoner was running in front of me I saw him throw something away—I did not see what it was—I caught him by Gower Street Station—I said, "What have you been doing?"—he said, "Nothing"—we took him back into George Street, and searched about where we had seen the prisoner throw something away—we found this knife (Produced) lying in the street open—I noticed that it had wet stains on it, apparently of blood—I said to the prisoner, "What have you been doing with this?"—he said, "It is not my knife"—we took him to the station—on the way I noticed his hands were wet with blood—I asked him how he got it—he said, "I must have got it last night, I was drunk"—I asked him, "Where were you going
when I first saw you?—he said he was going to work at the Meat Market in Farringdon Street—the front of his clothes was all white—Westcote asked him what it was—he said he must have got it leaning against a whitewashed wall—at the station Inspector Kerswell was in charge.
Cross-examined. When the prisoner turned to run away he was about six yards off—there was nothing very extraordinary about his appearance, he looked very excited, he looked as if he had been having a fight—he was panting and wild-looking about the face, he looked frightened as if he was afraid of meeting some one—he looked frightened when I first saw him—he went to the station quietly with one of us on each side of him we were both holding him—he was quiet in the station—he looked agitated—I did not have any conversation with him there—I did not see the knife in his hand—I did not see if he took it out of his pocket.
Cross-examined. When I first saw him he was looking very excited, he looked so before the other policeman spoke to him—he was hurrying before we spoke to him, he commenced to run when we spoke to him—he was going about six or seven miles an hour and when we spoke he began to run—he was coming towards us—he was on the opposite side of the road, he went on in the direction he was going which would take him into the Euston Road—we ran after him for about fifty yards, when he was stopped he came quietly to the station—on the way I noticed some white marks on his clothing and I asked him what it was, he said it was white-wash—he said he got it from getting over a wall—he was not excited when he said that—people running from the police are generally excited under those circumstances.
JOHN KERSWELL (Inspector S). In the early morning of November 11th I was on duty at the Albany Street Police-station—about 3.20 the prisoner was brought in by the last two witnesses—they told me in his presence that they had seen him running, and thinking that something was wrong, they ran after him, and immediately they ran after him he threw something away—they showed me this open knife; it was wet on the blade as though with blood—I asked the prisoner whose knife it was—he said, "It id mine"—I noticed that his clothes were covered with what looked like flour—I asked him what it was—he said, "I was drunk last night; I leant against a wall and got the whitewash on me"—I examined his hands, and on his right hand he had blood—I asked him how he accounted for the blood, and he again replied, "I was drunk last night, and must have cut myself"—I said, Why were you running?"—he said, "I was not running; I was hurrying to get to work; I am a butcher, and work at Farringdon Meat Market"—I tried two or three times to close the knife, and the prisoner volunteered to show me the way to close it—he took the knife, placed the back of it. against the iron rail of our dock, and pressed it, the spring is very stiff, and so closed it—about five or ten minutes after the prisoner was brought in Sergeant Lubley came in with a message from Inspector Gough, the prisoner was sitting down then—
on the piece of paper which Mr. Gough had sent me was a name and address, and the description of a man wanted, "R. Montague, 121 or 141, Sewards Buildings, Goswell Road"—I said to the prisoner, "Your name is Montague t"—he immediately replied, "No, my name is Schneider, and I am a Russian, and I live at 15, Regent's Park Road"—soon after that Inspector Gough came to the station and saw the prisoner—he then left and shortly returned with Mr. Ross and Dr. Maughan—I then searched the prisoner, and in the outside breast pocket of his coat I found this watch and chain and seal—I asked him whose they were—he replied, "It id mine, I bought it about two years ago"—I also found on him two pieces of paper—this is one of them (read): "121, Bartholomew Buildings, Seward Street, Goswell Road, E.C.: R. Mandelkow"—I also found this piece of paper (read): "Schneider, Cabel"—I told the prisoner that 150, Regent's Park Road was a shop—he replied, "No, it is not; I have lived there for the past two months"—I then entered the charge in the charge-book—I charged him with wilful murder, and also attempting to murder Mr. Ross—I asked him again for his name and address, and he gave Johann Schneider, 150, Regent's Park Road—is answer to the charge he said, "I know nothing about it; I do not know the shop."
Cross-examined. I did not consider him excited when he was brought in at 3.30—he was not put into the cells till 7 a.m.—he was in my presence the greater part of that time—when he was put into the cells he appeared more excited than at first—he looked as if he felt his position he looked wilder—he did not look wild when he first came in—he had a rather vacant expression and a glaring expression—he looked with a wild glaring look as if he had something on his mind—he had a depressed look—he did not say anything wild—I mean to say that being depressed and downcast and glaring and vacant and wild mean the same thing.
JOHN GOUGH (Inspector S Division). About 3.15 on November 11th I was in Stanhope Street—I heard cries of "Murder" and "Police"—I went to 82, William Street—outside the house I saw Mr. Ross standing and P.C. Grist—Mr. Ross was bleeding from the back of his head and his hands—I sent Grist for Dr. Maughan and I accompanied Mr. Ross into the house—the constable returned with the doctor—we then proceeded to search the house—on the stairs leading from the house to the bakehouse I found this hatchet—there was some hair on the head of it; it did not look like human hair—blood was on the handle where it fits into the head—it was wet—the doctor took the hair off it, and has got it now—on the floor of the bakehouse I found this roughly-made life-preserver—it is composed of a piece of lead with a piece of round, and attached by a piece of string to a short rope handle—on the rag when I discovered it, I found a wet spot of blood—we were then trying to find Conrad Berndt—Grist and I went to the oven, which was heated—I told Grist to open the door with an iron bar—inside we found the remains of a man very much charred and burnt—the body had been placed about 2ft. 6in. in—the head was towards the door—the skull was bared and broken on the right side—I gave directions for the fire to he drawn—Grist did so—about 5 a.m. I went to the bakehouse again, with Dr. Maughan, the fire was still burning very fiercely, we could not get
near the body then—we returned again when the oven had cooled, and then in the presence of the doctor, and under his directions, we removed the body from the oven and placed it in a shell—I saw that one of the kneading troughs was damp near the oven-door, as though it had been washed, and on the damp were some faint stains like blood—on the wall above the trough there were some splashes of blood; they were dry then—on a shelf I found this brown hard felt hat—on a stone in the ashpit, under the oven, was more blood—I went to Conrad's room—on the bed I saw a-suit of clothes, and in the breast pocket of the coat I found this receipt for a watch—the box in the room was open—the room was in great disorder—I then found that the prisoner was already in custody, and I was present when he was charged with this murder—in answer to the charge he said, "I know nothing about it. I do not know the shop"—a document was found on the prisoner giving his address as ill, Bartholomew Buildings—I went there—he occupied two rooms there—I saw the bedstead in the bedroom—it had originally four brass knobs—it was an iron bedstead, with brass knobs—when I saw it it had only two; I took off one of the remaining ones (produced)—the lead forming the head of the life-preserver appears exactly like the brass knobs, as if the lead had been moulded in a corresponding knob—I also brought away two pieces of brass, and in the bottom of one of the knobs was a piece of lead.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prisoner until just before he was charged except for a few seconds.
FRANCIS BOSWRLL (Sergeant S). On November 11th about 5.20 a.m., I went to 82, William Street, Hampstead Road—I assisted in the removal of the remains from the oven—Dr. Maughan superintended the removal—afterwards the burnt ashes in the mouth of the oven were swept out—I turned them over with my hand—a quantity of bones reduced almost to ashes were found, and also two buckles; these are the buckles—to the larger one a piece of coarse canvas was attached, also a portion of a trouser button—in the box in the deceised's room I found a savings' bank book in the name of Conrad Berndt, showing that he had about £15 to his credit—in the packet of the trousers on the bed I found a leather purse containing £; in gold and a crown piece—there was besides the suit, a hat and a shirt on the bed.
JAMES MAUGHAN . I am a Bachelor of Medicine, a Member of the College of Surgeons, an L.C.P. and divisional surgeon to the S Division of police—on the early morning of November 11th I was called to William Street—in the parlour I saw Mr. Ross—he had a wound on the scalp at the back of the head, exposing the bone, and a swelling in front of the left eye; on the right hand, between the thumb and forefinger, an incised wound, two and a-half inches long; on the right elbow five abrasions; on the left palm an incised wound three inches long; a second wound on the left hand between the thumb and forefinger; a punctured wound on the chest, a skin wound only—it was in a dangerous place—if it had been deep it would have been dangerous—in his shirt and vest I found cuts corresponding with the cut on his chest—they could have been caused by this knife—I wound into the bakehouse and looked into the oven—it was heated to about; 600 degrees Fahrenheit—I saw a human body lying about two and a-half feet inside—the hair of the head had been burned
off—the bones were exposed—the head was retracted and the bones charred—after some delay the oven was cooled, and the remains taken out and placed in a shell, and I examined them—in the bakehouse there it a large trough, and one end joins on to the oven, and on the wall by it I saw some splashes of blood—there were hairs on the wall, and it looked as if the wall had recently been wiped with something wet—the hairs were very dark and very healthy—the lid of the trough was damp and there were blood stains faintly showing through as if it had been wiped with something wet—on a piece of wood above the trough I found a piece of human brain with recent blood stains on it and weighing 57 grains—on a large stone under the oven I saw blood which had recently fallen on it and I found a piece of brain weighing 10 grains—the trough and the wall had been sprinkled with flour over the stains—on the hatchet there were spots of blood and on the middle part of the head there was something fluffy—the handle had been recently washed, but blood stains were clearly perceptible—I was also shown a clasp-knife and found blood stains on it—on the piece of material over the lead of the life preserver were two stains which were found to be blood—that was such an implement as would have inflicted the blow on Mr. Ross's head the remains were removed to the mortuary, and on November 12th, assisted by Doctor Jackson Clarke, I made a post-mortem examination and we arrived at the conclusion that death was caused by the fracture of the skull, which caused extensive bleeding on the surface of the brain, in consequence of which there was failure of the respiratory centre, or asphyxia—unconciousness was probably immediate, and then death—the fracture was caused by some person other than than deceased—the broad end of the head of the chopper was such an instrument as would produce the injury found on the deceased's head—the deceased was probably lying down, or his head was resting against a firm substance—the blow was delivered on the right side of the head—I think the man must have lived about half an hour after the blow—I do not think he would have recovered consciousness; he would not have been conscious when placed in the oven—on the early morning of the 11th I examined the prisoner at the station—on his right hand there were recent blood stains—across the palm there was a recent burn about 2 ins. long and 1/4 in. broad, and across the finger tips, except the middle finger which was gone, there was another recent burn—on the inner side of the palm of the left hand there was a narrow burn 2 1/2 ins. long, and a blister and a scorch, both recent—the left arm from elbow to wrist was smudged with wet blood—his left coat sleeve and vest sleeve were stained with blood—I saw some white marks on him, and I took some scrapings off them, and also off a sack in the bakehouse, and the two corresponded exactly—while I was doing that the prisoner said, "Oh, that is only a little whitewash that I got from a wall lost night."—he offered no explanation as to the burn or blisters.
Cross-examined. He did not appear to be suffering pain at all—insane people are less susceptible to pain—in certain kinds of insanity there is a total absence of pain—he had a fit at the Police-court, whilst the evidence was being given—I attended him, and he recovered—it is quite possible for a person to commit an act, and a short time after to be quite unconscious of having done it.
Re-examined. The fit at the Court I put down to lack of proper selfcontrol; the evidence had been particularly painful, and he could not control his emotion—it was not through an impaired intellect.
SAMUEL FELDT . I am an Hungarian, and live at 77, Mile End Road—in November last I made the acquaintance of the prisoner; he told me his name was Richard Mandeckow, and that he was a German—I was then living at 141, Bartholomew Buildings, and the prisoner was living in the same house—on November 6th we were together in my room—I opened my trunk where I kept this knife produced, which I had bought about two years ago—I took the knife out and gave it to the prisoner, it was a free gift, I had no use for it—he took it away with him, and I did not see it again—I saw him every day till the 10th—I saw him on the 10th about 10 o'clock, he said he was going to work somewhere for the night, with a baker at Islington—he left the house that night—he was wearing a hat like this, and he took his green baize bag—that is the last I saw of him until he was in custody.
Cross-examined. I had seen him frequently during the time I knew him—he was morose, downcast, and absent-minded—he never knew what we were talking about—he was depressed because of his poverty and because he could not find work, and he has three children and a wife—sometimes he would sit for hours in a corner by himself without speaking to anybody—he did not know what we said to him, we always had to repeat it—we made him understand at last.
Re-examined. He used to go out and try to get work, and read the advertisements in the newspapers; he said he could not find it—I only knew him from November 5th to the 10th.
PETER VOLHAUSER . I am a foreman baker to Messrs. Grummell and Sons, 12, Nassau Street, Soho—the prisoner did not apply to us on November 11th for work or on any other day—I do not know him, and we had no vacancy.
JAMES SCOTT . I am medical officer at Hollo way prison—the prisoner was received there on November 11th—in consequence of instructions I have made him a special subject for observation since then—in my opinion he was sane on his reception, and has remained sane since.
Cross-examined. To some extent he is an emotional man—when he first came to the prison he looked rather thin—an insane person is not so susceptible to pain as a sane person—I have watched him narrowly.
JOHN HENRY PARKER WILSON , F.R.C.S. At different times the prisoner has been under my medical observation—he was so from, May to November, 1897—I did not see anything tending to show that he was not sane—I had constant observation of him—he was again under my observation from September 3rd to November 2nd, 1898—during that time I saw nothing in his demeanour to indicate that he was other than of a sound mind.
Cross-examined. I only saw him in an ordinary manner, no special watch was kept on him—I used to see him about three times a day—during the day I should see between 200 and 300 people.
Re-examined. If there had been any indication of insanity in him my attention would have been directed to it—the least little matter is always brought to my notice by those under me—I should not put him under, special observation unless there was some reason for it.
GUILTY.— DEATH .
The prisoner war tried at the last Sessions, and the Jury, not being able to agree, were discharged without returning any verdict. Upon again being placed at the bar, MR. HUTTON, for tilted prosecution, offered no evidence, and the JURY found him
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HORACE AVOBY, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, December 14th
and 15th, 1898.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ELLIOTT Prosecuted, and MR. MUIR Defended.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .— One Month without Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, December 15th, 1898.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. GEOGHEGAN, for the defence, stated that the prisoner would
PLEAD GUILTY to an assault, and MR. BIRON, for the prosecution, accepted that plea.— Discharged on his own recognisances.
OLD COURT.—Friday, December 16th, 1898, and following days.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
90. RICHARD CHRIMES (32), EDWARD CHRIMES (31), and LEONARD CHRIMES (22) , feloniously sending to Kate Clifford a letter demanding money from her, under the threat of exposing her for taking certain drugs when with child, to procure her miscarriage, to which
EDWARD and LEONARD CHRIMES PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. CHARLES MATHEWS and MR. MUIR Prosecuted; MR. WADDY appeared for Richard Chrimes, MR. WILBERPORCE for Edward Chrimes, and MR. A. HUTTON for Leonard Chrimes.
The particulars of this case are unfit for publication.
GUILTY .—RICHARD CHRIMES— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.
EDWARD CHRIMES— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.
LEONARD CHRIMES— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
92. GEORGE ALBERT GROSSMAN (27) , to marrying Annie Osborne, his wife being alive, having been convicted of felony on April 21st, 1892.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Five Years' Penal Servitude.
WYLIE PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. SOPER Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HEPWORTH DICKSON . I am a match manufacturer, of Ingleton, Red bridge Lane, Wanstead—on November 29th I went to bed about 10 o'clock—all the fastenings on the doors and windows were safe—about 2.30 I was awakened by my wife—I heard noises down stairs—I got out of bed, and went on to the landing—the drawing-room door was open—it was closed when I went to bed—I heard a conversation going on in one of the rooms—I shouted out, "Who is there, what do you want?"—I got no reply—we raised an alarm—then I went down stairs, and saw a man running away—I went into the kitchen where I noticed a case of provisions, which had just been got in—then I went in to the dining-room—I found all the silver had been taken out of the cupboard and packed up in an anti-macassar off a chair—the police arrived, and Wylie was brought into the house, and then to the station—I went with him—while I was there James was brought in, and I identified as mine two odd boots which he had on—he also had a bottle of whiskey and a box of cigarettes—I had had a bottle of the same kind, and also some cigarettes—at the time I valued the property at £40, but I think now it is worth a good deal more—some boots were found in the dust-bin—the prisoners did hot say whose they were.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. At the Police-court I said I thought the maker's name was in the boots—no name was in them—you were brought to the station about 4.30.
WILLIAM BRAND (401 G). I am stationed at Wanstead—on November 30th, about 4 a.m., I went with Wilde to the prosecutor's house, and found that an entry had been made through the kitchen window—I saw Wylie arrested—I then went into some unfinished buildings in Martha Road, near the scene of the burglary, and saw James behind some timber—I turned my light out him, and noticed that he was wearing a pair of boots which were not in keeping with his general appearance—I caught hold of him and said, "I want you out of here"—he struggled to get away—I got him out of the building, and outside he produced a bottle of whisky and said, "Can you do a drop of whisky"—I said, "Yes, later
on"—we then walked some distance down the road and I told him that he would be charged on suspicion with having committed a burglary—he said, "You are artful: if I had known that, you would never have got me out of the hoarding, but I will be level with you yet, and the first time we meet you will know what to expect"—I took him to the station where he was charged, he made no reply—I was present when the prosecutor identified the boots and the whisky—I heard no statement about the boots.
Cross-examined. I found you about 4.40.
GEORGE WILDE (Police Sergeant 72 J). I am stationed at Wanstead—on Wednesday morning, November 30th, I went to the prosecutor's house—I found a burglary had been committed—I went into the kitchen and I found a box had been broken open—I looked into the dustbin and found two pairs of boots—I took them to the station—I was present when the prisoner was brought in—the property was identified by Mr. Dickaon—before taking the prisoner to the Police-court we removed the boots, belonging to the prosecutor—the prisoner had then no boots, and I told him to put on the boots I had found in the dustbin—they fitted him.
Cross-examined. You said the boots were not yours—I said. "If you don't put them on you will have to go without any"—you were brought in about 5.15.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said thai he had bought the boots and whisky at Stratford; that he had lost his way, and was sleeping under the hoarding, and that he had never been convicted before.
GUILTY ,—Four previous convictions were proved against JAMES.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
WYLIE— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. A. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. A. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. BIKON Prosecuted, and MR. SYMONDS Defended.
JAMES MURPHY . I am 13; I knew the little boy Crumpton, I went to school with him—on November 5th I went out with a guy, and went on to Southwark Bridge—I saw the prisoner coming over the bridge, and asked him to remember the guy, and he made a hit at me, but I dodged him—he went up to the guy, and pulled the nose off and went on over ihe bridge—shortly afterwards I saw some people carrying the boy away.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was on the right-hand side of the bridge—Crumpton was not with me then—there were a lot of guys on the bridge—I did not run towards the prisoner—I went up to him and said, "Please remember the guy"—the boys were not shouting.
THOMAS ALLISTON . I am ten years old, and live at 22, Moss Alley, Bankside—I was out with a guy on November 5th on Southwark Bridge—I know Crumpton—he was on the bridge on November 5th, on the right side—I was on the left—he was crawling along the parapet—there was another guy there, near him—the prisoner came along, and when he got near Crumpton he hit him with his fist, and he fell over—the prisoner was drunk—I did not call after him when he passed me, nor did Crumpton.
Cross-examined. The boys were calling out, "Please to remember the 5th of November"—they gathered round the prisoner—he did not push the boys away—he was walking close to the parapet.
Re-examined. He hit the boy on his side—I did not see Crumpton do anything—he was crawling on his hands and knees.
ALBERT EDWARD ROBINS . I am a labourer, of 67, Ancoras Street, Kingsland—on November 5th, soon after one, I was on the left-hand side of Southwark Bridge, going towards the City—I saw a number of boys and some guys—one boy was in a lying position on the parapet—I was about 100 yards off—I saw the prisoner push the boy over the parapet with his right arm—I ran across the road and caught hold of the prisoner and asked him what he had done it for—he said, he could not help it, he did not mean to do it—he was drunk—I held him till the police came up.
Cross-examined. The first thing 'I saw was the push—it was not a blow—it might be a blow and a hit at the same time.
Re-examined. I had not seen the boy before—I did not see if the man's hand was closed or not—he knew what he was about.
By the JURY. I did not see any provocation given—the prisoner was not helpless drunk.
LILIAN KEYS I live at 7, Cardwell Street—I was on the approach to Southwark Bridge on this day, coming from the City—I was with a friend named Maude—I saw the prisoner coming along reeling as if drunk—I saw a little boy crawling on the parapet and the prisoner made a step towards him, hit him in the side and knocked him over the parapet—I was about two yards away—I had not seen the boy do or say anything—
the prisoner looked over to see where the boy had fallen and staggered back—my friend rushed up to him and held him tight—he struggled a little and a gentleman came up and held him—he said, "Let me go, miss; I have not done anything"—my friend said, "Too shall not go, you wretch, till a constable comes"—I saw him taken away by the police.
Cross-examined. I did not know Crumpton or the prisoner—there were some boys and guys on the bridge—I was very angry at the time—I did not see the prisoner do anything to the other boys, because there was a bend—the prisoner leaned over the parapet after the boy had gone over.
WILLIAM HUMPHRIES . I am a carpenter, of 6, North Road—on November 5th I was working for Day and Martin's—they have premises at the side of the building—I heard a thud, and I saw a little boy near me on the pavement—it was in an alley paved with granite—he was removed to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I had before that seen some boys playing on the wall, and had warned them to stop.
GEORGE WATKINS (587 City). I took the prisoner into custody on November 5th—he said he pushed the boy, but the boy pushed him first—he was drunk—I took him to the station—he was very violent on the way.
PHILIP TURNER . I am house-surgeon at Guy's Hospital—Crumpton was brought in on November 5th—he was unconscious—he had a fractured skull, and there was a large surface of bone three inches by two and a-half inches depressed—he died on November 8th—I made a post-mortem examination, and found that death was caused by the fractured skull.
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SYMMONS Prosecuted, and MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and TRAVBRS HUMPHREYS Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
WILLIAM WILLIAMSON (Detective Sergeant). On November 10th about 8.30, I was in Guildford Street, Borough, disguised, and saw the prisoner and a woman—I had had them under observation for several weeks—the woman sat on a door-step; the prisoner left her and went to a house and then came and sat by the side of her and a man not in custody—the man said, "God blind me, I nearly had rumble yesterday; the old woman kept looking at the coin and at me, but she took it and gave me the change"—I did not catch the reply—I followed behind them and saw the man not in custody pass something to her—she said, "How much do you want now?"—he then took something out and joined the other man
and I saw money pass, but whether that was before or after he handed him the parcel I cannot say—I was alone at that time—about 9 the same evening we saw the two prisoners together but did not take action—on the 15th we saw them together again, the female prisoner (See next case) sitting on the same door-step—Cox arrested her about 8 30—he was standing about eighty yards from her—I went and saw him in conversation with another man—I said, "There is a woman locked up there"—he said, "That is my old woman"—he ran and struck the constable, and I arrested him, and told him I was a police officer—on the way to the station he said, "I should like to know who has put us up"—he was very violent—when charged he said to Sergeant Cox, "This is the b—case you have had, and I know who gave you the information"—I found some good money on him.
DAVID COX (Police Sergeant L). On November 15th I was in Guildford Street with other officers, and saw Lawrence sitting on a step—I arrested her she became very violent, and threw herself on the ground—the prisoner came up and struck me in the face, saying, "Take that!"—Sergeant Webb knocked him down—I received from the female searcher two parcels, containing fourteen half-crown and ten shillings wrapped up separately.
WILLIAM BIRCH (Detective Officer). I assisted in taking Lawrence—she was very violent, and threw herself down and kicked us—they were both charged together—Lawrence gave me a purse containing good money—she said, "You might be clever, but you have not got all what you would like now."
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint; these fourteen half-crowns are all counterfeit and made from One mould, and these ten shillings are bad and made from one mould—they are wrapped up in the usual way.
Prisoner's defence. I do not know anything about the parcels. I came out of a public-house, and he was nearly breaking the woman's arm I said, "Why don't you let the woman go?"and they shoved me into the station.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of a like offence at this COURT on March 21st, 1896, and seven other convictions we proved against him; lie had been sentenced to five years' and eight years' penal servitude for feloniously uttering counterfeit coin .—Six Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
The witnesses in the last case repeated their evidence.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate; "The parcel I had was given me by a woman; she went across the road to a fried fish shop. I sat on the step a minute, and this gentleman came up and said, 'What have you there? I said, 'What has that to do with you? He said, 'What
have you in your hand?' I said, 'My parse'; he said. 'What have you in it?' I said, 'Money.' They snatched it from my hand."
GUILTY .—She had been tried at this Court in 1887, with Greatorex, and acquitted.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JANUARY 9TH, 1899.