CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
THIRD SESSION, HELD JANUARY 9TH, 1899.
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.
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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 THE WINTER ASSIZE ACT OF 1879.
Held on Monday, January 9th 1899, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SIR JOHN VOCE MOORE, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir CHARLES JOHN DARLING , one of the Justices of the High Court; Sir HENRY KNIGHT , Knt., and Sir REGINALD HANSON, Bart., M.P., Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C, K.C.M.G., M.P., Recorder of the said City; Sir JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Knt., MARCUS SAMUEL , Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., JOHN CHARLES BELL , Esq., JOHN POUND , Esq., JOHN KNILL , Esq., and Dr. CROSBY, other of the 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.
CLARENCE RICHARD HALSE, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
MOORE, MAYOR. THIRD 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, January 9th, 1899
Before Mr. Recorder.
102. WILLIAM GEORGE ARNEY (20) , to stealing a post packet, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] To enter into Recognisances.
103. JOHN NEAVES FAULLS (54) , to stealing a watch and chain, the property of the Post-master-General, he being employed under the Post Office. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.]He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony on February 28th, 1893— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
104. WILLIAM RICHARD DENSON (25) , to detaining and delaying seventeen post letters, the property of the Post-master-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Discharged on his own Recognisances.
MR. FITCH Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted.
JAMES HENRY FIRMIN . I am a carman in the employ of Mr. Webster, a contractor to the Post Office. On December 24th I was driving one of Mr. Webster's vans from Mount Pleasant to London Bridge filled with mail bags and baskets—behind me there was another van, driven by a man named Crisp—it was a four-wheeled open van—we do not have a man behind when carrying Post Office parcels—it was not a red van; it had a card on the side—it was an extra van for over work—the other van was about 100 yards behind—in the course of the journey we had to cross the City Road—before I got there two men got on the tail-board—I told them to get down—after that my attention was
attracted to Crisp, who waa struggling with the prisoner on the ground; the bag was behind the men standing up against a public-house—I went up to Crisp, and gave the prisoner in charge—he said, "I will give you a quid if you will let me go, I have a poor old mother to keep"—the ropes on my van were all loose—I knew the bag was one of ours, but I did not know which till I got to London Bridge, when I signed for one short.
GEORGE CRISP . I am a carman to Mr. Webster—I was driving a van behind the last witness in the City Road on December 24th—I saw two men following the van—the prisoner got up and pulled a bag from under the ropes on to the ground, put it on his head, and walked towards me with it—I was about 100 yards away—when he got opposite me, I jumped down and caught him from behind; we had a struggle for about five minutes—my mate came up, and I gave the prisoner to him, as I had had enough of him—he had hit me in the eye—he said, "Let me go, don't let me spend Christmas in there, sir"—I lost sight of the other man; the prisoner shouted out to him, "Come on, Jim"—there was a crowd there—it was a light night; I could see quite plainly—I did not say to the prisoner that I would let him go if he would not hit me—I told the police-man that the prisoner had hit me.
JOSEPH GEORGE STEVENS . I am a travelling clerk—at midnight on December 24th I went to Kingsland Road Police-station, where I saw a mail bag, marked No. 17—the seal was intact; it was opened in my pressence, and I checked the contents with Mr. Chetwood.
ALFRED BUDD (435 G), On December 24th I was on duty in Finsbury Square—the prisoner was given into my custody—I took him to the City Road Police station—I saw this mail-bag (produced) on the dicky of risp's van, the prisoner was charged with stealing the bag, and also with assaulting Crisp—he said, "I wish I had bunged the other eye up—he was quite sober.
GUILTY ,— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted, and MR. TURRELL Defended.
CAROLINE MARY BERESFORD . I am the wife of George Beresford, of 32, Hampton Street—on December 13th I bought two postal orders—I took down the numbers—one was for 5s., and the other for 1s.—I addressed them to the Hackney Furnishing Company, Mare Street. Hackney, and posted them about eleven o'clock—I had not put in the words "Essex Road" or "A. G."
OLIVER LANGMEAD . I am overseer to the Hackney sorting office—letter as described by the last witness, posted about eleven o'clock, would arrive at our office about thne o'clock—on December 13th the prisoner was in the office about that time sorting letters—he might have sorted it himself.
Cross-examined. The Hackney Furnishing Company is not on the prisoner's round—four other persons would have access to the letter besides the prisoner—at this office the postmen act as sorters as well—there is no check to see if the letters are properly sorted.
Re-examined. Each man would sorb some of his own letters and some of the other men's—each sorts them out into different walks.
LIZZIE WINTLE . I am clerk to the Hackney Furnishing Company, and I open the letters received by the company each morning—these two postal orders did not reach the company at all—they would have been stamped and entered to the credit of Mr. Beresford.
ALICE RANDLE . I am the wife of Walter Randle, the sub-post-master, of 202, Essex Road, Islington—these two postal orders were presented for payment on December 17th by the prisoner—they were then signed "A. G."—I paid the amounts—I saw a man named Fraser in the post-office shortly afterwards—he asked the prisoner if he had signed the orders, and he said "No"—I gave Fraser the orders in consequence of what he said to me—Fraser asked the prisoner if he had any more in his pocket—he said, "No."
Cross-examined. They were brought in by the prisoner in the same condition as they are now.
ROBERT GEORGE FRASER . I am a constable attached to the Post Office—on December 15th I went and took lodgings near the prisoner in consequence of instructions—I can ride a bicycle—on December 17th I saw the prisoner come out of his house and mount his bicycle—I did likewise and followed him into the Kingsland Road—I do not think he knew me, but I knew him—he went across the Kingsknd Road to Rother-Worth Street where he dismounted, and I became a very bad rider and fell off my machine—I went down the street, and after turning down two or three turnings I returned and rode past him, I then went into the Essex Road and went into two or three shops, while I was doing that the prisoner came up and got off his bicycle in front of the Post Office, and I went in and saw him giving the orders over the counter—he had ridden about 1 1/2 miles—he got the money, and I asked for the orders to be produced—I said to him, "Did you sign these orders?"—he said, "No, they are not mine"—I said, "Have you got any other orders?"—he said, "No, I bought them from a man in Dalston Lane; I gave him 6s. for them"—I said, "How many more have you got?"—he said he was sure he had no more—I took him to the Post Office, and he was interviewed by Mr. Doubleday—I searched him and found orders for 5s. and 3s.—these are the orders (produced)—they are signed in the same way as the others "A.G." in the same writing, but to a different paying office.
Cross-examined. If the office in Essex Road is filled in, the orders must be changed at the Essex Road office—an office must always be filled in.
J OHN DOUBLEDAY . I am a clerk in the secretary's office at the General Post Office—on December 17th I saw the prisoner in the office in company with Fraser—I saw the postal orders—Fraser said that he had seen the prisoner get the money for the orders at Essex Road—I said to the prisoner, "I belong to the Post Office, where did you get those orders?"—he said, "I was on midnight duty last night; I bought the orders off a
man in Dalston Lane"—I said. "Did you give full value for them?"—he, said, "Yes; six shillings"—I said, "Have you any objection to being searched?"—he said, "No"—I asked him if he knew the man—he said he had seen him, hut did not know him—he was searched by Fraser, and the other orders were found in his waistcoat pocket—I said, "Where did you get these orders from?"—he said, "I bought them from the same man; I gave him 6s. for the lot"—I was instructed to give him in custody.
By the COURT. He said they were already filled in when he bought them.
EDWARD JOHN LARKMAN (The prisoner: sworn). At the time of my arrest I was in the employ of the Post Office, earning 20s. 9d. per week—I had been in the employ since I was sixteen—on December 16th, just before midnight, I received these postal orders in Dalston Lane from a man who seemed like a gentleman in distress—he asked me to buy a watch—I said, "No, I have got a watch"—he said, "I want to get a good bed and breakfast"—he showed me two postal orders; they were already filled in—I bought them for 6s.—I thought there was only two, but after he went away I found two more under them—he went away very sharp—I put them in my pocket—next day I got on my machine and rode down to Essex Boad, when Mr. Fraser came and took them—the signatures, "A. G.," are not mine—I do not know whose writing it is—they were like that when I received them—I told Fraser that I had no others in my pocket, but when he spoke to me I was speechless—when I was searched I did not remember that I bad the others in my pocket.
Cross-examined. I was employed in the sorting-room on December 13th at three o'clock—if a letter arrived there at that time I should have an opportunity of taking it—I had eeen the man in Dalston Lane before about the same time—I did not think it was suspicious when he walked away—I thought it funny—I did not think it best to nquire—I do not know why I should only pay 6s. for orders worth 14s.—I thought the man had made a mistake—I get my wages on Fridays—this signature, "A. G.," is much smaller than my writing—Mr. Doubleday asked me to write "A. G." on a piece of paper—this is it (produced)—I do not think they are alike.
EDWARD LARKMAN . I live at 24, Liverneve Road, Dalston—I am a mantle-maker in the firm of James Priestly—the defendant is my son—if he had a bad character I do not think he would be in the employment he was in.
GUILTY .— There was another indictment for stealing an order on September 19th, on which the prosecution offered no evidence. There had been many robberies, but all had' stopped since the prisoner had been in custody.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
The RECORDER commended Fraser for the way in which he had acted,
NEW COURT.—Monday, January 9th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
to forging and uttering a cheque for £16; also, a cheque for £15, with intent to defraud.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour , And
109. WILLIAM GERVASE COLBECK (31) , to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £3 3s. 6d., with intent to defraud. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] He revived a good character.— Discharged on his own Recognisance.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted. BERTHA FANCLOUGH. I keep a tobacconist's shop at 41, Great Western Road, Paddington—on December 15th, in the evening, the prisoner came in for some cigarettes, price 1d.; he gave me a half crown—I tried it in the tester and found it bad—I said, "This is a bad half-crown" he did not answer, but ran out—I ran to the door—he ran to the left—'a police-man came almost at once—this is the coin (Produced)—on the following Thursday I saw the prisoner at Marlborough Street Police-court with a number of others, and picked him out.
ROBERT JOHNSON (115 X). On December 15th, about 4.45 p m., I was on duty opposite the prosecutrix's shop, and saw the prisoner leave, running—I was about eight yards from him, and the gas was on—I followed him about a quarter of a mile and lost sight of him—on January 5th I picked him out from several other men at the Police-court, and hare not the least doubt of him.
THOMAS PAGE . I am barman at the Marquis of Angleses., Devonshire Street, Lisson Grove—on December 29th, about 6 p.m., I served the prisoner with a pint of ale, and he gave me a florin; it was black—I took it to my master in the bar—the prisoner could see that, and he did not wait for bis change, and left his drink on the counter—this is the coin.
Cross-examined by the prisoner.—You drank some of the ale.
WILLIAM HENRY LAMBERT —I am head barman at the Marquis of Anglesea—on the evening of December 29th my master made a communication to me, and I saw the prisoner leaving the bar door; I followed him about eighty yards—he was walking hurriedly away—I overtook him and asked what he meant—he said, "I did not know it was bad; I have just had it paid to me for a day's work"—I gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. You were not standing outside the door—I did not strike you.
HENRY TUTTY (167 D). Lambert gave the prisoner into my custody—he said, "I have been working for a man today; he gave it to me for work, but I should not know him again"—I found 6 1/2 d., a knife, and a piece of soap on him.
The prisoner produced a written defence, stating that he was sent into the public-house with the florin, and when he found it was bad he went out to find the man, but he had gone; that the policeman told him that he would make it hot for him, and pointed him out to the witnesses who came to identify him, and that he was innocent of the half-crown.
identify the prisoner; I had no idea that she had done so when I went in and identified him.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. COLLINS Prosecuted, and MR. LEMING Defended GEORGE EDWARD HODGKINSON. I am a solicitor, of 124, Chancery Lane—the prisoner was in my employment about five weeks—I left him there on August 19th at night, and next morning the cashier reported that the cash-box could not be found—I knew nothing then about a registered letter—a week's wages was due to the prisoner less 5s., which he had received on account, and there was something else due for overwork—my cashier held this I.O.U. (Produced) for the 5s.—it is the prisoner's writing—he has made no claim on me—I never saw him again till December 28th—I communicated with the police—I did not receive a registered letter from Mr. Dibbin containing £4 4s., the amount of my debt.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. Your wages were a guinea a weck—you did not tell ine that it was not sufficient.
WILLIAM FRAZIER . I am messenger at the London Joint-Stock Bank, 124, Chancery Lane, and receive Mr. Hodgkinson's letters—a registered letter came into my hands, which I took into the office and gave to a clerk—I cannot say whether it was the prisoner, but he signed the book in my presence, "A. H. Roe."
G. E. HODGKINSON (Re-examined), This receipt is the prisoner's writing.
JOHN STOCKER (City Policeman). On December 28th I went to Clement's Inn and saw the prisoner—I said, "Mr. Roe?"—he said "Yes"—I said, "I am a police officer, I am going to take you in custody for stealing a cash-box and a registered letter"—he said he did not know what I was talking about—I said, "You are Mr. Roe, are you not?"—he said "No"—I said, "You were employed by Mr. Hodgkinson in Chancery Lane, were you not?"—he said "No, I do not know the people"—he was taken to the station and identified—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. He did not give me his name, he denied it, but after he had been identified he admitted it.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I left that employment having heard of a better berth, and receiving more money on behalf of my wife and children."
G. E. HODGKINSON (Re-examined). A record of all registered letters received is kept by the officer of the bank; they arrive at 8 a.m., and he signs for them—I do not enter them in any book—I did not receive any registered letter that day to my recollection and I do not think I ever had a private registered letter addressed there—letters for the firm would have two names on the envelope—I am pure that I did not receive any
other letter there during August in my own name, for the last two years.
By the COURT. If this letter arrived at 8 a.m. it was before my clerk arrived, and the night porter would receive it; it would afterwards be taken up to the office and signed for; here is one addressed to the firm on the 24th.
W. FRAZIER (Re-examined). I received a letter on August 19th, not from the postman, it was given to me—I do not live there—the night-porter and the watchman would be there at 8 a.m.—I come at 8—I got it from the night-porter; I do not remember whether it weighed heavy as I held it.
ARTHUR ROE (The prisoner: sworn). I was at Mr. Hodgkinson's on August 19th—this signature in the book on August 19th is not mine, but it is very much like it—if I received any registered letters I should hand them to the office-boy, or I might take them to the firm myself—a great many letters passed through my hands, and it would be impossible to recollect whether I received it—it would be unusual for me to sign my name as this is of August 19th—I usually initial, and I am quite certain it is not my signature—this "A. A. R." on August 11th is mine.
Cross-examined. I never signed for this letter on August 19th—I did not go to work next day because I was disgusted with the way I had been treated—I do not know that any overtime was due to me—I had received 5s. in advance, and gave an I 0 U for it, and this is my signature—I was not in want of money on August 19ih or 20th, but I had a friend in the country who wanted to see me—I have been employed since at 215, Edgware Road—I said at the Police-court that I left because I had not sufficient to support my wife and children, but I left because I was disgusted—I was obliged to borrow 5s., but I did not go and get the rest of my money because I did not intend to go back—looking at this I O U and at this signature, "E. H. Roe," I still persist in saying that it is not my writing, nor is it joined as the other is—I have heard the constable'n evidence—he did not say that ho should take me in custody for stealing a registered letter and a cash-box from Hodgkinson's in Chancery Lane—he said, "I shall arrest you for stealing a cash-box from Dobson's"—I sai bd that I was not Mr. Roe., because he referred to Mr. Dobson; if he had said Hodgkinson, I should have owned to my name, but I thought he was a man whom I borrowed some money of two years ago—I was arrested in Clement's Inn, which is a few minutes walk from Chancery Lane; I did not go there and ask for the money, because it was too early in the morning.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Brent ford on February 3rd 1898. Mr. Hodgkinson stated that there was £8 10s., and 10s. worth of stamps in the cash-box.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, January 10th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.
ARTHUR STAINTON (417 G). On the morning of December 6th I was with Police-constable Langridge in Old Street, Shoreditch—we were in plain clothes, and saw the two prisoners between Vincent Street and Tabernacle Square, loitering about on the pavement—we watched them for about five minutes, they came across from Old Street—I saw Bryan make a rush at Mr. Scobel, and catch hold of his coat as if to tear it open—he struck him on the mouth with his fist and knocke 1 him down on the pavement, and he then kicked him about three times—while this was going on Williams made a rush at Mr. Vaughan, and struck him on the chest—I went across the road, and caught hold of Bryan as he was in the act of kicking Mr. Scobel again—I caught him round the waist; he broke away from me—I caught him again by the collar—a constable came up and caught him by the arm, and he said, "I will kick your f——eye out of you; leave go, or I shall"—the constable took out his truncheon, and Bryan was taken to the station—Williams ran away with the other two—Scobel came up and said, "That man has tried to rob me, look at my coat"—one button was torn off his coat—as Bryan was being taken to the station Williams looked towards Scobel, and said, "I will do for you yet"—when charged they made no reply.
Cross-examined by Bryan. I saw where you came from—I knew you well before—you asked me to go and see your mother, but I did not find the address.
SAMUEL SCOBEL . I am a general dealer, of 10, Wright's Road, Old Ford—on December 6th at midnight I wa with Mr. Vaughan opposite Pitfield Street; we were surrounded by six or seven chaps and knocked down—I was smothered with mud; I could not identify the per-sons—I had had a little drink—I remember nothing more till I got to the station—I was wearing a coat, and the middle button was torn off—it has different buttons now—this is the coat I am wearing now—I had no overcoat—I was not able to go to the Police-court at first—I did not say anything about the prisoners trying to rob me; I remember nothing after I was knocked down—I don't remember whether others were assaulted; perhaps they had had a little drink the same as ourselves; they were entire strangers to me.
Cross-examined by Bryan. The whole thing occurred in two moments—I suppose they wanted to get at my watch and chain—as I went to call the police I was legged by somebody in front of me—I did not go to the police-court, because I was sore.
Cross-examined by Williams. You did not say, "I will do for you yet."
FREDERICK VAUGHAN . I am a general dealer, of 24. Railway Approach, London Bridge—I was with Mr. Scobel on this night at mid-night—four men came up to us—I was knocked down, and I ran and called "Police!"—I was wearing a watch and chain—no attempt was made
upon that—I don't know why I was knocked down—I had been drinking—I remember walking to the station—I did not say to the policeman, "Those men are trying to rob me."
Cross-examined by Williams. I don't remember your hitting me in the chest—I can't say I remember falling down—I do not remember much about it—you did not attempt to rob me—I believe I was struck—I was not hurt very much—I gave evidence at the Police-court a week afterwards.
By the COURT. No one has spoken to me since about giving evidence—I don't think these men meant to rob me—we had all been drinking—I don't remember anything about it—a little of my watch-chain was exposed, and so was Scobel's in a similar way—they did not grab at it—I don't think I saw. what was done to Scobel—he was knocked down—I have not seen any of the prisoners' friends since—I had never seen the prisoners before—I don't think they attempted to rob us.
ALFRED LANGRIDGE (243 G). I was with Stainton in Tabernacle Square—I saw the prisoner and two others on the footway—I saw Mr. Scobel and his friend come along—when they came opposite them Bryant knocked Mr. Scobel in the neck, and he fell, and I saw Williams knock the other man in the chest, and he fell—Williams then turned to the left with the other two, and ran towards Vincent Street—Bryan ran to the right—we both closed on him—he said, "I will take your b——f——b——out"—Scobel said, "He has tried to take my watch "--they were taken to the station—Mr. Scobel said, "That is the man that took my watch and robbed me"—Williams said, "I will do or you yet"—Scobel had been drinking—both the prisoners were sober—I knew them both well before; I gave a description of them.
JOSEPH NEWTON (394 G.). I was at Tabernacle Square at midnight—I heard a shout, and ran up—I saw Bryan and the others—I told him he answered the description of a man that was wanted for a robbery—I chased him and caught him, and threw him to the ground—his companions got him away—I went for him again with two other constable's and he was taken to the station; Williams also—he kicked me about, and hurt my hand as he lay on the ground—he was quite sober.
Bryants Defence: This is a got-up case against us by the police.
William's Defence: There was no attempt at robbery—the police may know me, and that is why I was arrested.
GUILTY .—They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous conviction, Bryan on October 6th, 1897, and Williams on June 30th, 1898, and a number of other conviction were proved against the prisoners.
BRYAN— Nine Months. WILLIAMS— Six; Months, and twenty strokes with the Cat each.
MR. ABRAHAMS Prosecuted and MR. HUTTON Defended.
LEOPOLD CASIMINO (interpreted). I am a potato seller—on December 16th, about 9 p.m., I was in Budge Row selling potatoe—the prisoner came up—he had had some drink and he began to annoy me—he ordered four potatoes—he gave me Id.—I said they cost 2d.—the prisoner tried to strike me, and then tried to upset the barrow—we tackled each other
—he tried to kick me—his mother came and took him away—I then turned to my frying pan, and the prisoner came behind my back quickly and struck me with a knife just behind the right shoulder, and then ran away—I saw the knife in his hand—I was taken to the Police-station.
By the COURT. After he left me the first time he returned in a minute or two.
Cross-examined. There was some people standing round at the time—before I was stabber I punched the prisoner several times in the mouth—he put his fingers into my mouth and I bit them—I do not know if they bled—when I was stabbed I supported myself by some railings—I saw him stab me—I turned round as he stabbed me—I saw the knife—I do not know what kind of knife it was—I could not see the handle.
JOSEPH GIBBONS . On December 16th, at nine o'clock, I was in Church Road, Homerton—I am in the building line—I saw the Italian and the prisoner—the prisoner asked for four "taters" and then ho struck the Italian in the chest and kicked him—then Bye went to the other side of the road and came back with a knife in his hand and stabbed the Italian in the back and ran away—I saw the knife; I cannot describe it—I only saw the blade—I cannot swear that this (produced) is the knife—I did not go after him, I took the can home.
Cross-examined. I cannot speak Italian—the prosecutor spoke in English—when the prisoner came over with the knife the Italian had his hack to the prisoner—he could not see the prisoner—I thought the prisoner was going to stab the Italian—I could not stop him; I tried to pull the Italian away—I thought I might have got stabbed myself—there were people there; it was dark—I did not go to the Police-court or the station—I know the Italian; I have seen him before.
JAMES PORTWAY . I am a fishmonger, living at Church Road, Homerton—on this day I was in Church Road about nine o'clock—I saw the prisoner and the prosecutor fighting; the prisoner's finger was bleeding, and he accused the prosecutor with biting him—the prisoner's mother got him away—the prisoner returned in two or three minutes and struck the prosecutor in the back-the prosecutor said, "Oh, oh,"—the prisoner was not sober—there were several persons there, but I do not think they were near enough to stab him.
Cross-examined. I saw the prosecutor knock the prisoner down—I was three or four yards off—there were people within a yard of the prosecutor.
By THE COURT. I said I did not think that anybody was near enough to stab him.
WILLIAM JAMES RATCLIFFE . I am a grocer, of Church Road, Homer-ton—I saw this disturbance; the prisoner and the-prosecutor were quar-relling—two women came up and took the prisoner away; he returned in a minute—I saw the prisoner strike the prosecutor in the back.
Cross-examined. There was a crowd round about five or six yards away—I did not see anything in the prisoner's hands—I should think there were people near enough to strike the prosecutor, but I did not see any-body else strike him—I went up and found the prosecutor bleeding.
prisoner about 50 yards—I told him I should take him into custody, and charge him with stabbing the Italian—he said, "I did not do it"—I took him to the station—I searched him and found these two knives (Produced) on him; there were no marks on him—I asked if the knives, were his; he said, "Yes."
JOHN CANNE (Inspector). I was at the station, and took the charge in this case—in reply the prisoner said, "We had a fight, the prosecutor struck me in the mouth and cut my lip, and also bit my finger, but I did not stib him"—the prosecutor came to the station; he was-bleeding; I sent him to the infirmary.
JAMES HENRY TURTLE . I am divisional surgeon to the police—I was called to the station, and examined the prosecutor—his face was pale, his pulse feeble; he was suffering from an incised wound over the right shoulder about one inch long and a little more than deep—I examined his clothing, he was wearing a coat, a waistcoat, a shirt and a thick woollen vest, and all had a clean cut through them corresponding to the injury—the vest was saturated in blood, likewise the shirt near the wound—I sent him to the infirmary—the direction of the wound was from above—it was not a very dangerous wound—I think it possible this the larger of the two knives could have caused the injury.
Cross-examined. I thought the wound had been done by a wider knife than this one.
By the COURT. I should not exp ct to find any blood on the knife after passing through the amount of clothing it did—drawing the knife might make the cut appear larger than it actually was.
Evidence for the Defence.
WILLIAM BYE (The prisoner). I am twenty-one—I never had a quartel with the prosecutor—I asked him for 1d. of potatoes and he gave me three—he wanted another 1/2 d. and I would not give it him—he knocked me in the face and bit my finger—I ran at him and had a struggle with him—my sister and another young woman came and took me away—I went back and the constable came and said he would arrest me for stabbing: the man with a knife—I said, "I never stabbed him"—my mother was not there.
Cross-examined. I returned when I heard them calling out that the man was stabbed because I thought I should get the blame of it because I Was around with him—I saw the big knife in his hand—I took it away from him and put it in my pocket—I cannot say who stabbed him.
GEORGE CARTER . I am assistant manager to Henry Bacon and Co.—the prisoner had been in the employ of the company from 1805 till. January, 1898—whilst with us we had nothing to find fault with—his conduct with us was very satisfactory.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour ,
116. HENRY MONTGOMERY (40) PLEADED GUILTY to falsifying the books of Hannans Lake View, Limited, and converting to his own use the sum of £125, he being an officer of the said company.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, January 10th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
117. ARTHUR CLARKE (19) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Lucy Harrisson, and stealing two bicycles, the property of Alice Tilbury and Lucy Harrisson: having been convicted at West-minster on December 14th, 1892, as Arthur Clark.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
118. MATILDA TAYLOR (26) , to two indictments for forging and uttering the endorsements to bills of exchange for £23 7s. and 18s. 6d.; also to stealing an order for 18s., 6d. of Charles Graham, her master.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Judgment respited. And
119. MARK LEVY (22) , to robbery with violence on Nathan Phillips, and stealing part of a watch-chain, his property, having been convicted at Clerkenwell on May 18th, 1897; also to assaulting Milly Brookman to resist his apprehension. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Four other convictions were proved against him.— Five Years' Penal Servi-tude, and the COURT awarded £3 to the prosecutrix.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
JOHN MICKLEJOHN . I live at 74, Oakley Square—on May 9th I became landlord of 93, Chapel Street, Somers Town—Cain was a weekly tenant of the first-floor front—I went there from time to time to receive my rent—I have seen him there, but I generally received it from Mrs. Cain—I have seen Butler there three or four times, but I was only there once a week.
WILLIAM FRASER JACKSON . I am a chemist, of 175, St. John Street, Clerkenwell—Cain has dealt with me for a year or so—on December 23rd I sold him some cyanide of potassium, mercury, and nitrate of silver, which I have identified by my writing on them.
Cross-examined by Cain. I saw you two'or three times in September, and sold you thesame kind of things, but not always these three—your first purchase was about July.
ALFRED AUSTIN . I am assistant to Smith and Sons, metal merchants—on December 23rd I sold to someone 2 lbs. of grain tin, some antimony, and copper wire—he asked for a receipt, and I gave him this one (Produced)—these are the articles I sold.
DUNCAN MACKINTYRE (Police Inspector). On December 24th I went with other officers about 1.30 a.m. to 24, Chapel Street, Somers Town, and turned the handle of the first floor door, and the prisoner Butler jumped on to the bed with this bottle in his hand—a fire was alight and a kettle on it—I told him I should arrest him for being about to make counterfeit coin—he was fully dressed—a woman and two children were in the bed—the two prisoners are related to each other—I told them I should take them in custody—Cain made no reply, Butler feigned to be asleep—a picture was on the table, glass uppermost, and four
good half-crowns and a crown piece on it, and this brown paper—this ladle was in the fireplace—I touched Butler and he got up—we took them to the station—they were charged and made no reply—they described themselves as railway porters at the Great Northern Stations.
Cross-examined by Cain. You never touched the coins; I took this bottle from your hand.
Cross-examined by Butler. You were not on the bed when I went in.
FRANCIS ALWRIGHT (Detective Y) I went to Chapel Street with the other officers, and saw Butler standing behind Cain; he threw himself on the bed—I said, "Now Ginger, get up"—he pretended not to know what was the matter; he was not the least the worse for liquor—we found a bag of plaster of Paris on the table, a sheet of zinc, some antimony and wire, and in a cupboard this bottle of acid, and on top of the cupboard this cyanide of potassium and some mercury—a receipt for the metals was found on him.
THOMAS KISH ROSE . I am M.D. of Science of the London University—this soda-water dottle contains carbonate of soda, which can be used for cleaning metal or for cleaning genuine coin before taking moulds—here is hydrochloric acid, cyanide of potassium, mercury, plaster of Paris, and the whole of the component parts of a battery of uncommon form, which could he used for coining—here is a porous cell, copper wire, and zinc, but it would be necessary to stand it in a jam pot—one liquid used is here: the other could be made by dissolving cyanide of potassium—the mercury would be used for amalgamating.
D. MACKINTYRE re-examined. There were three large jam-pots in the room, but I did not bring them away as I did not know what they were used for—the room measured about six feet by twelve—I have no doubt that Butler threw himself on the bed.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of coin to H.M. Mint—from the way in which these coins were placed on the glass I should say that they were to be used to make moulds: as pattern pieces—they would have to mix the plaster and pour it on the glass—they must have a smooth surface, and so they get the obverse and reverse—it requires great skill—the coins are then silvered by a battery—good coins, are struck, not cast—I saw no base money.
CAIN produced a written defence, stating that he was employed at the Great Northern Railway, that he had been connected with coiners some time ago, but left it off and allowed a man to make some things in his room and who went away and left the articles there.
GUILTY .—The police stated that Cain was a maker and utterer of counterfeit coin. Seven Years' Penal Servitude. BUTLER Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
men round Mr. Borthwick's shop—I went into our room, changed my clothes and came out and saw the two prisoners with a man named Turner, who has been discharged by the Alderman—they went into Mr. Webb's shop and took a case of turkeys, and took it to Mr. Borthwick's shop, which was empty—there are two or three entrances to Mr. Webb's shop, and there were persons there, but they were busy and the case of turkeys was in the passage—I caught hold of the prisoners and said, "I want you for stealing that case of turkeys"—Moger said, "You have made a great mistake this time"—Bevan said, "I met the others, I am very sorry, or T should not have got into this trouble."
Cross-examined by Bevan, I am positive of you.
Cross-examined by Moger. You were not five yards away from the shop—the case of turkeys would weigh 1 1/2 cwt.—I have seen you both in the market for years.
JAMES PINK . I am a supernumerary constable in the market—I saw the prisoners there on the night of December 23rd coming up the steps at the south-west corner—they walked to Mr. Webb's shop and placed them-selves alongside the case of turkeys for ten minutes—they left and met Turner and convened together for a few minutes, all three then walked towards the case of turkeys, Moger placed his hand on it—I called a constable to assist me; when I got back the case had been moved round the corner into Mr. Borthwick's shop, which adjoins.
ARTHUR WILLIAMS (331 City). On December 23rd three prisoners, were brought to Snow Hill station—I charged them—Bevan said that he was innocent and that the constable had made a mistake—Moger said he same—I found 1s. 8d. on Bevan and 2s. 2d. on Moger—Turner gave evidence before the magistrate and called a witness and was discharged.
HENRY JOHN WEBB . I am a provision merchant of 377, Central Meat Market—on December 25th I saw a case of turkeys at the Police-Court—they were mine—I knew the prisoner by sight only—the case was not taken from my shop by my authority.
THOMAS BEVAN (The prisoner: sworn). I was not in the market two minutes—I met Mr. Moger and said, "Dick, will you come and have a glass of ale with me?"—he said, "Yes"—I afterwards met him again—I was never near Mr. Webb's shop stall and had nothing to do with moving this case.
Cross-examined. I was not in employment at this time—I had been working for Nelson who has a shop in the village—I left th*re on Wed-nesday and this happened on Friday—I was looking out for work but never touched this case of turkeys nor did I see anybody else move it—nor did I see that it had been moved—I never saw it till it got to the station house.
WALTER MOGER (The prisoner: sworn). I went to the market and saw Bevan—we went into the Avenue and saw a friend of his—we went towards Mr. Webb's shop, and a constable came up and said, "I want you three men," and took us to the station—I never saw the case till I got there—I was looking for work—there always is a lot of work on Saturday night.
Cross-examined. I did no work that day—I was in the market all day
on Tuesday—I knew Mr. Webb's shop when I was working for Mr. Connell, bat I have not worked there for two years.
By the COURT. I was not near Mr. Webb's shop at all—I was not standing there for ten minutes.
J. PINK (Re-examined). I was watching the prisoners for ten minutes—I adhere to my statement that they were standing by the case in Mr. Webb's shop—no other man was there, but they walked away and met Turner—I called Burke—I was not away a minute, and when I came back the case had been moved—only about a minute had elapsed.
JAMES BURT . I knew that Pink was watching these men—I first saw them outside Mr. Webb's shop, and saw them take this case of turkeys and put it into Mr. Borth wick's shop—Pink had made a communication to me—when I first saw them they were standing talking in the avenue—I saw the case in Mr. Webb's shop, but it had been moved from its place and set on end—I spoke to Smith whoput on private clothes; I left and when I came back Smith had them in custody.
R. H. SMITH (Re-examined). I arrested them actually in Mr. Borth-wick's shop, all three standing over the case.
NOT GUILTY .
THOMAS SMITH . I am a labourer, of Hammersmith—on November 30th, just after 11 o'clock, I was in Queen Street going home; I was knocked down and kicked, and became insensible-a policeman picked me up, and I missed my silver watch and chain—they are them (produced), but the locket is gone.
CHARLES PAGE . I am a carman, of 6, Trafalgar Street, Hammersmith—the prisoner worked in the same place with me—on December 1st I met him in King Street with this watch and chain—he asked me to pawn them for him; I pawned them at Ashby Road for 10s., which I gave to the prisoner—he told me he gave is. for them.
CHARLES BARNARD (687 C). I was with the sergeant when he arrested the prisoner and charged him with assault and robbery and stealing this watch and chain—he said, "You might have got the other four"—I saw four men in the street and I said, "Have you got his watch and chain?"—they said, "Yes; the man was very drunk; he was not knocked down."
Cross-examined. You did not say "I remember buying one"—I did not say, "Leave off, or else I will kick you."
PETER CORIO (The prisoner, sworn). On November 30th the prosecutor came up; I moved—he went towards the Broadway, and he was very bad—a lad went to pick him up and got there just before I did—they took him towards the doorway and I saw no more; afterwards a man said, "Will you have a drink?" I said, "Yes," and had a drink—we came out
and about seven minutes afterwards four men came up to me and said, "Do you want to buy a watch?" I said, "What do you want for it?" they said, "Twelve shillings." I said, "I have only got eight"—I gave them 28, each, and was to give them the rest next day—I saw Page next day and asked him to pawn it—he did so for 10s., and I gave him 1s. for himself—I never saw the four men again.
Cross-examined. They were four boys—I did not see them go to his pockets—I did not tell the policeman that I saw four men rob the prose-cutor; he is committing perjury—I did not tell Page that I paid 4s. for the watch, I said that I paid 8s. and owed four—I did not pawn it myself because he was dressed more respectably than I was.
GUILTY * on the second Count. Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
GUILTY .—LAST— Nine Months' Hard Labour , SIMPSON— Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, January 11th, and Thursday, January 12th, 1899.
Before Mr. Justice Darling.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. COUNSELL Defended ALBERT HAWKYARD (Police Constable 354 H) produced and proved plans of the house 26, Dorset Street, where the occurrence took place.
DAVID ROBERTS . I am by trade a painter and decorator, of 26, Dorset Street, Spitalfields—on November 26th I was living there, in the first-floor back room, with my wife, the deceased woman, and her sister, the prisoner—they carried on the same business of whip-making—we had all been living together in the same room for some time—on Saturday morning, November 26th, I left home about half-past seven a.m., leaving my wife and the prisoner in the room with my little boy, three years old—I returned about half-past six or a quarter to seven in the evening—only my wife and the child were then at home—my wife was sober at that time—she went out at about a quarter past seven, leaving me and the child in the room—she came back about twelve with the prisoner—they brought with them a quart can full of beer—my wife gave me a glass of it, and I drank it while I was in bed—then the two started quarrelling about the profits of the work—they kept on quarrelling, and the prisoner rushed on my wife—I got out of bed—they fell against the table, over-turned it, and both fell on the bed, and then on the floor—I parted them, they left one another, and I went to my bed again—the child was a bit fidgety and crying, and I cuddled it in my arms—the women kept on arguing the point—the prisoner then got hold of part of a broken jug, and dashed it against the window—I got out of bed, and she deliberately
rushed at my wife and said, "You thing, I will give you something for this," at the same time rushing at her and striking her a blow in the right breast—I did not see anything in her hand at the time, afterwards I did—she was facing her at the time—my wife turned round and said to me, "Dave, she has stabbed me"—I laid the child down in the bed, and rushed to the prisoner, and claimed her by her two wrists, and struggled with her till I got her out of the door on to the landing, where I kicked the partition and called for help—(referring to the plan) this shows the position—I cannot read or write, but I can see it—the window is at the foot of the bed, the door opens into the passage—I kicked against this partition, which separates the witness Amory's room from the staircase; the partition ends at a small room called the storeroom—Amory came out of his room—during the struggle with the prisoner my wife came out of her room and fell against me, I was standing up, struggling with the prisoner; I had still got her by the wrists—I then let go of her left hand and secured the knife from her right hand, and handed it to Amory—we were then on the ground to-gether—we fell against Amory's door, we could not get any further, and we both fell on the ground there—I took the knife out of her right hand—I could not say whether there was anything on it, I was so confused—I felt it, it was a bit sticky like—a woman came out of Amory's room, his wife, or the woman he lives with, Mary Johnson, and another woman, I don't know her name—I saw the policeman arrive—I said to him, "Take this woman in charge, she has stabbed my wife"—the prisoner said, "Good God, let me see her;" or "let me kiss her"—the policeman said, "Hold her tight while I go and alarm another constable"——he went down the stairs and blew his whistle, and another constable was on the spot—I was not dressed, I was in my shirt, just as I jumped out of bed—when I saw the last of my wife I dressed and went to the station—my wife lived for about ten minutes after she was stabbed; she was carried into Amory's room where she had the last drop of brandy, that was given to her by the doctor; she died there—at the time my wife and the prisoner came in at 12 there was a lamp hanging on the side of the wall in the room; that was still alight after my wife had been stabbed—a paraffin lamp was brought out by Mrs. Amory, when she came out of her room—this knife (produced) is the knife I took from the prisoner's hand—it is apart worn shoemaker's knife—the prisoner showed it to me on Thursday night when she bought it, and she said, "This is a nice little knife for our work, is it not?"—I never saw her using it—I never stay at home in the day time; I go out early in the morning—it would be useful for the work—I had not seen it at all on the Saturday; I had not seen it about the room—I was sober on this night—the prisoner was drunk—she and my wife had both been drinking together—the prisoner could stand and walk without help, and my wife also.
Cross-examined. I did not say that Amory brought out a light, some one from his room brought it when I called for help—until it was brought there was no light on the stairs—there was a small light in my room, a small paraffin lamp—I have not said before to-day that I put the child down when I jumped out of bed—I have said that I called for help; I said so to my solicitor—I was in bed while the prisoner was breaking
the window—I did not knock at Amory's door; I kicked at the partition close to it—I first saw the knife in the prisoner's right hand after struggling withher in the room getting her out on the landing, before I threw her down—it was upwards in her hand when I gripped her wrists—I was examined before the Coroner—I can't remember everything I said then—while we were struggling the prisoner tried to tear my shirt, and hurt me—that was before I took the knife from her—she did not tear my shirt off—she tore it with her fingers—she grabbed the bottom part of it—I swore before the Coroner that when Amory came out I noticed the knife in her hand—that is true—I noticed that she had it in her right hand before I gave it to Amory—you must make some allow-ance for a man of no education; besides it is a long time ago now, I can't, be expected to remember everything—I noticed that she had the knife in her hand when I got her by the wrists—I said to the Magistrate that the prisoner said, "You thing, I will give you something for this"—that was in the room before she struck the blow—I believe I stated that before the Coroner—she did not try to stab me—the women were always quarrelling—I was awoke on this night by their quarrelling—I did not see them come in—I was asleep—I saw the can on the table when I woke up—I daresay they had been there five or ten minutes before my wife gave me the beer—I can hear Spitalfields' clock from my room—I did not hear it strike twelve, but I can always tell the time by the people coming from the public-houses—the prisoner has very often threatened to stab me—she did not try to stab me that night—when she stabbed my wife she was holding up her hands with the blade up—then it was I grabbed her hands—I saw blood on her hands—that was how the blood came on my shirt—I saw it when the constable told me of it—it was after she had torn my shirt that I found the knife in her right hand—I took it from her in the passage at the head of the stairs—my wife was an honest industrious woman and a good wife to me—I was bound over to keep the peace towards her—that was a month or five weeks ago—I had hit her on the head with a poker when I was drunk one Friday night—I have had three children—I have no recollection of going home that day about half-past one—I had not been at work that day—I bad been out of work for the last two months—I had nothing to drink on that day till my wife gave me the beer—I did not leave the house between half-past six and ten—I did not drop the child into the fire—I am now living in Brick Lane, at a lodging-house—I know Annie Jackson; she was living in the same room as the Amorys—I have not been talking to her about this case—I have spoken to her—I did not ask her to come up—she is no relation of mine, I have always been on good terms with her—she has not been like a wife to me—when my wife was struck, she did not call out, "Oh, Jesus," and run on to the landing; she came out and fell against me in the passage—she squeezed through us—I let her go by to get assistance, and when she got to the top of the staircase she fell—I was fond of my wife—I did not go to help her, I had the prisoner by the wrists, and she might have thrown the knife down and blamed it all on me—I was certainly afraid that I might be accused of the blow, or somebody efee—after the blow my wife was standing in the room, close to the door—I did not notice any blood on
the floor at that time, not till the Sunday morning—while I was struggling with the prisoner I did not see my wife knock at Amory's door—I did not insult my wife that night while I was in bed; we were on very good terms, until that affair six months ago—I did not threaten to break the other side of her head with the poker; I did not use any such threat to her that night—I did not rush at her and stab her—I did not try to escape from the prisoner when she seized me; she had got my shirt grabbed all the time we were struggling—I had part of my shirt on when the policeman arrived, the front part of it was torn; I went and dressed my-self—I did not see that it was covered with, blood till I got to the station—I swear I did not return home in the middle of the day and give my wife sixpence to get dinner—I can't swear I did not return in the middle of the day; I swear I never offered her sixpence that day—I swear my wife did not say "What am I to do with this sixpence?"; in fact she did not require sixpence that day—I swear she did not say those words—I won't swear that I was not drunk at half-past one.
Re-examined. I have lived in that room with my wife about seven months—we had been married fifteen or sixteen years—the eldest child is fifteen—we lived together twelve months before we were married—the only assault was the one I have been asked about, and I was then bound. overon my own recognisances to keep the peace for six months—there was no fine; that was four or five weeks before November 26th—my wife had been living with me since that up to this occurrence—there was no quarrel or disturbance between us that day—I never had the knife in my hand until I took it from the prisoner—there was a gentleman before the Magistrate who put questions to me on the prisoner's behalf—my hands were not. cut at all in my struggle with the prisoner.
CHARLES AMORT . I am a wire-worker, and on November 26th I was liying at 26, Dorset Street, in the first floor front room—two women, named Mary Johnson and Annie Jackson, were also living in the Same room—I only knew David Roberts by sight, he was not a friend of mine—I knew bis wife by sight—I also knew the prisoner as living in Roberts's room——I was at home on November 26th about 1.15 p.m., and I stayed home till about 3.15—I did not see or hear anything of Roberts, during that time—I returned home in the evening about 7.30, and stayed in my room till midnight—about twelve o'clock I heard two women quarrelling in Roberts's room—they left off for a minute or two and then started again, and about 12-15 I heard a crash which sounded like glass: then struggling and a kick at the partition, and a man's voice asking for help—I recognised it as Roberts's voice—I rushed to the door, I was not in bed then—I opened my door, and saw Roberts struggling with the prisoner—they were standing up struggling when I first saw them, and then Roberts got the prisoner, on the floor, holding her two wrists—I saw the deceased coming along the landing towards her husband with a terrible gash on the right breast—Roberts gave me the knife, which he snatched out of the prisoner's hand—I saw him take it from her hand—he said, "Take this knife"—there was blood on the blade and the handle stuck to my fingers—when the knife was given to me the deceased fell on the top of the stairs—Roberts held the prisoner till the constable arrived, and when he arrived Roberts asked him to send
for assistance; the constable blew his whistle at the bottom of the stairs, which fetched another constable who went and fetched a doctor—Roberts said to the policeman, "Arrest this woman, she has stabbed my wife"—just before the consstable took the prisoner down the stairs, she tried to get hold of the deceased, and said, "O God, 0 God, what have I done Liz; I must have a kiss before I die"—in the struggle with Roberts the prisoner tore the shirt off him and tried to bite him; that was while he was trying toget the knife from her—I think the man was sober, but I think both the women had been drinking—when I heard the women's voices quarrelling I did not hear Roberts's voice.
Cross-examined. The partition is all woodwork—I can hardly say where the knocking was, but it was not at my door—I never said that Roberts knocked at my door—I was examined before the Magistrate—I said then, "All of a sudden I heard a crash and straggling. About 12.15 a.m. the husband was struggling on the landing, and he rapped at my door,"that is true—I have not spoken to Roberts about the case—I lived at 26, Dorset Street, till last Friday—Roberts left soon after the murder—he left after I was examined at the Police-court—I talked about the murder to him, but not about knocking against the partition—I did not hear Roberts's voice at all till he called for help—when I went to my door I had nothing in my hand—the two young ladies, Mary Johnson and Jackson, came out too—Annie Jackson had a lamp; she was behind me—there was no light on the stairs till then—Roberts never rowed with hie wife—there was nine feet between his room and mine—my door was shut—Roberts did not accuse his wife of anything that night—if I could hear the sister's voices I could hear the husband's—I know the women's voices—I saw the deceased coming out of her own door when I opened my door—I could see her door from where I was standing—Roberts and the prisoner were struggling on the right-hand side of my door, in the corner—the prisoner was sitting down on the floor, and Roberts held her two wrists—Mrs. Roberts fell at my door—I did not hear any cry from her—there was about three or four minutes between the rowing and the crash, between the two—I heard nothing from Rbberts's room—I saw the knife in the prisoner's hand—I cannot say how she was holding it—Roberts tried to get it away—he snatched it from her with his right hand—he had hold of her right wrist with his left hand—the knife was in her right hand—he did not let go her right wrist—she was sitting down, leaning against the partition—Roberts was facing her, bending over her—there was no light except from the lamp which Jackson held—when Roberts first had the prisoner there was no light—Jackson stood by the stairs which go upstairs with the lamp—I was close to them—I was by them—Mrs. Roberts was lying at my feet—I only saw the blade of the knife pointing up—the prisoner was trying to get her hands away—I did not see any blood on the prisoner's chest—a little on her right hand and on her two largest fingers—I have not told anybody that before to-day—I saw some blood on Roberts's shirt—I did not say anything about Jackson living in my room to either the Magistrate or the Coroner—I saw the prisoner and Roberts standing up first, and then he got her on the floor—it was after the prisoner was got down that I saw the deceased coming out—I did not see any blood on
Roberts's hands—as the deceased woman passed the prisoner and Roberts, the blood rubbed Roberts's shirt—the deceased forced her way out on to the landing—the prisoner did not say, "I must have a kiss before I die," but, "If I die first"—then, "Oh, Liz, won't you speak? what have I done?"—I told the Coroner that.
Re-examined. I knew the two women's voices—I had heard them before—they were generally quarrelling—I heard Roberts say, "Stop rowing"—that was the only thing I heard him say—there was not room for the deceased to pass Roberts and the prisoner in the passage without touching—she touched Roberts as she passed—I saw the blood coming from her breast.
MARY JOHNSON . I am a single woman, and on November 26th was living with the last witness, at 26, Dorset Street—a little after twelve I was in the room with Amory and another young woman named Jackson—I heard a quarrel—I know the room where the Roberts's and the prisoner lived—the sound came from the prisoner and her sister—I knew their voices; I had heard them before—I had never heard them quarrelling before—after the row I heard a smash like crockery-ware, and then a struggle—I heard Roberts ask for assistance—up till then I had not heard his voice at all—I went to the door and saw Roberts holding the prisoner by her two wrists—the deceased was then standing outside with her hands up to her head—I went for a policeman and returned with him—afterwards the deceased was taken to our room.
Cross-examined. I heard a knock at the partition—I said before the Magistrate and the Coroner that I heard a knock at the door, but it was at the partition—when I came out the deceased was outside the door—I came out with Amory—I did not see the deceased coming out of her own room—she could not have knocked at our door—Roberts called for assist-ance—the prisoner was lying flat down and Roberts was holding her down—she was not sitting up—I did not see her standing at all—I should have seen her if she had been standing.
By the COURT. When we came out of our room Amory came out first.
ANNIE JACKSON . On November 26th I was living at 26, Dorset Street, Spitalfields, in the room with Amory and Mary Johnson—I did not know Roberts or his wife or the prisoner well—I have spoken to them once or twice—I was at home on November 26th in the middle of the day—I did not see Roberts at all—about twelve p.m. I heard the two women come home—they were quarrelling—they were quiet for a time and then they commenced again—about 12.15 Roberts knocked at the wainscotting and asked for help—Amory rushed and opened the door—he went out first—Mary Johnson followed him and then I went out and saw Roberts hand Amory a knife—he took it out of the prisoner's hand—I saw him—I held the lamp myself—I was present when the constable came and as he was taking the prisoner downstairs she said, "Oh my God, what have I done? let me go back and kiss her; I must have a loss if I die for it."
Cross-examined. I was in the doorway when the constable came up the stairs—when I first saw the prisoner Roberts had her by the wrist—she was in a sitting position, with her back to the partition; her feet were towards Amory's room—Amory was bending down—I cannot say, I saw the knife in the prisoner's hand; I saw it in Roberts' hand—I cannot
swear that I saw blood on Roberts—I saw some on Amory's hand from the knife.
Re-examined. I cannot say that I heard Roberts say anything when he gave Amory the knife.
ALFRED FRY (317 H). In the early morning of November 27th I was called to 26, Dorset Street—I went upstairs and saw the deceased in a sitting position on the landing, with her feet towards the staircase, with a large wound over the right breast, and a long cut on the left arm—she was unconscious—I saw it was a serious case and I blew my whistle for assistance, and when P.C. 417 came I told him to go for the nearest doc-tor, as a woman had been stabbed—I saw the prisoner being held on the same landing by Roberts, who said, "This woman is my wife, and this woman has stabbed her; take hold of her while I get my clothes on"—he was partially naked—the prisoner was screaming and straggling—another constable came, and I handed the prisoner over to him—I attended to the deceased, and a doctor came—the deceased died shortly afterwards—in my opinion Roberts was sober—I saw the prisoner at the station—I think she was drunk.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was acting like a mad woman on the landing, very excited, and a lamp was being held by a woman, and I had my own lantern, which I turned on, but I could not see how the prisoner was being held—I did not examine Roberts—I did not look, at the prisoner's hands or dress—I did not know the deceased.
JAMES RANDALL (154 H). In consequence of hearing a pnlice-whistle on the morning of November 27th I went to 26, Dorset Street, and saw the prisoner on the first-floor landing—the last witness had hold of her—he "handed her over to me—I took her downstairs—I did not hear her say anything—she appeared to have been drinking—she went quietly to the station—Amory handed me this knife (produced), and I took it to the station—there was wet blood on it.
Cross-examined. I did not examine the prisoner's hands or dress—I did not see any blood on her hands—I saw some on her bodice—I do not know if they were old spots—the prisoner was swearing as I took her downstairs.
WILLIAM EVANS (Inspector H). On the early morning of November 27th the prisoner was brought to the station and I charged her with causing the death of Mrs. Roberts—about 12.50 I said to her, "The woman who it is alleged you have stabbed is now dead, and I caution you against any statement which you may make, as I shall use it in evidence against you"—she replied, "That woman is my sister; my God, if it had been any other person than my sister I would have done it. Oh my sister! O Liz, O Liz!"—she was afterwards formally-charged with "wilful murder—when she was first brought in I thought she had been drinking—in answer to the charge of wilful murder she said, "I hear, I am innocent"—she was formally charged about 4.30 a.m.—Roberts came in about 1 o'clock; he appeared to be sober.
Cross-examined. I saw some blood spots on the prisoner's blouse—I cannot say if they were fresh or not—I did not see any on her hands she was rather violent and she was being held by the constables.
Street—about 12.20 on November 26th I went to 26, Dorset Street—on the first floor I saw the deceasedsitting on the landing—she was un-conscious and suffering from awound in the right breast—she was taken into Amory's room—I tried to revive her with brandy, but she died a few minutes later—she also had a wound on her left arm; it was about two inches long; it was a cut not a stab—on November 28th I made a post-mortem examination—there was an incised wound in the right breast, and puncturing the lung for about one inch—it had gone through the cavity of the chest—it was the cause of death—it might have been caused by this knife—I went to the police-station, and saw the prisoner there about 1.40—she was under the influence of drink—I saw Roberts when I was at-tending to the deceased; he was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined. I looked at the prisoner's clothing in the dock, and saw two or three dark spots; they were not recent—at the post-mortem I found the stomach and intestines normal, and the stomach contained a little fluid like alcohol—she did not seen to have been a drunkard—I did not examine the prisoner's hands—she seemed to be in rather a delicate state of health; I had admitted her to the infirmary some days pervious—she had been in from the 3rd to the 15th, I think—I did not see any marks on the deceased's body—there was an abriation on the back of the left hand, one on the left knee, and one on the right knee—the direction of the blow in the chest was downwards and inwards—I do not think the wound could have been done if the knife had been held upwards—there must have been considerable force used to drive the knife so far in—I think in wiothdrawing the knife, the wound on the left forearm was caused—it could not have been caused from behind—the knife handle was satu-rated with blood, and the inside of the bodies was full of it—the wound might have been inflicted by either the right hamd or left.
Re-examined. A woman would have no difficulty in inflicting a wound of this description.
FRANKLIN HEWITT OLIVER . I am a divisional to police at Kingsland Road—on November 26th, I was sent for to 26, Dorset Street but the deceased was already dead—I assisted at the post-mortem—I agreed with the other doctor's description of the wound—when I went to the house on this night, I went into the room which had been occupied by the Robert's—the room was in a condition of disorder, the table was broken, the windows were smashed, and there was some broken crockery ware on the floor—both the top and bottom panes were broken in the window—there were blood-stains on the floor just inside the door.—I also saw a shirt which Roberts had taken off(produced)—there were blood-marks on the left sleeve, on the back an don the front—it was torn as it is now—the marks on the back appear to be smears of blood—I saw the prisoner at the station between three and four o'clock that morning—I saw some staind upon her bodies—I do not think they were recent—she had a little blood on her right wrist—I should not except to find blood on the peraon who inflicted such a wound, because the clothing would prevent the blood from spurting out.
Cross-examined. I should except some blood on the handle of the knife—there might possibly be blood on the hand which held the knife—I saw a little blood on the landing, and a litle pool on the two top steps
of the stairs—I saw some blood on the prisoner's hands—I did not examine Roberts that night—there are a few spots of recent blood on the front of the shirt as well as the back—the post-mortem did not disclose that the deceased woman was a drunkard.
Re-examined. There is no indication of the blood having spurted on to this shirt in the front.
ANNIE BLANCHE HASEMAN . I live at the Britannia beer-house, 87, Commercial Street—I knew the deceased by sight, but not the prisoner—on November 26th I saw the deceased in my house—the prisoner was with her; they left about 11.45—they had been in there some time—I can-not say how long—there is a public-house called the Bluecoat Boy—they would not pass it to come to me, but it is quite close.
Cross-examined. While in my house they seemed friendly—they had a glass of mild ale each; they did not take a can of beer away—there is no public-house which they would pass after leaving mine to go to Dorset Street.
Thursday, January 12th, 1899.
KATE MARSHALL (The prisoner: sworn). On November 26th I was living at 26, Dorset Street, with the deceased woman, Mr. Roberts, and one child, on the first floor back-room—the deceased and I carried on the trade of whipmakers—the room occupied by Amory is separated from ours by a passage and a spare room, which is used at nights to put lodgers with their children in—on November 26th I was at home at 1 o'clock; I did not go out till 7 o'clock—at 1 o'clock my brother-in-law came in drank; he had a pair of boots under his arm—he gave the deceased 6d. to get dinner for four of us—she cried, "Dave, what do you think I can get for 6d.? you can get boots for yourself, but look at mine"—he said, "I will tell you what you will do with it if I send you back to the hospital with the other side of your head"—he was going to strike her with a piece of bent iron which we used as a fender—I said, "Dave, what do you mean?" and I got the fender away—my sister went out with the 6d. he had given her, and brought in a half-quartern of rum and a pint of ale, and said, "That is the dinner I will get for him"—I did not go out with her—when she went out my brother-in-law had already gone—my sister and I went out at 7 o'clock to sell our work—we left the Britannia beerhouse at 11.50—we did not go into another public-house after that—we went home together—Roberts was awake, but in bed—there was a can of beer beside him half full on the table—one table was against the bed, and the other was at the foot of the bed—the can of beer was on the table near the head of the bed—when we got in Roberts said, "You pair of—, you have not been selling whips till this hour of the night"—my sister went over to the can of beer, and said to me, "Look here, Kate, the drunien—, he has even got the beer by the side of him!"—he kept on calling us names, and my sister said some-thing impudent to him, and he made a rush out of bed—I knew he was going to do one of us an injury, but I thought it was me, and I jumped back, when I saw his hand go to my sister, but I felt certain that
it was meant for me—she never screamed, but said. "Oh, Jesus," and ran out the door, which opens outwards—Roberts made a rush to go after her, and thinking he would catch her on the dark stairs, I rushed at him and caught him by the shirt (I think it was the collar) with both hands—I thought my sister bad gone for the police, and I held him, and we struggled, and the table went over, but the cups were broken before—he got away from me, and made a rash towards the bed which is near the window—I caught him again, and we struggled towards the door, getting out on to the dark landing—he had not got hold of my wrists than, but when wegot on to the landing he had them—he tired to get my hair and my throat in the room—on the landing he put his leg behind me, and I went flat over on my back—my head was close to Amory's door—I dragged Roberto over with me—I was lying along the Passage with my feet towards my own door—my head hit the partition—I kept on screaming, but nobody came till I fell—I did not see any knife till I saw it given to the policeman by Amory—I cannot swear wheather it was Amory or Roberts who gav it to the policeman—I had a knife which my sister and I used in our own work—I bought it—the last time I saw that knife before, it was given to the policeman was at seven o'clock, when we were going out, when I put it with some wax on a shelf, and the leather on the top of it, with other things—when my head knocked against the partition I saw Amory and Mary Johnson come out, but I never saw the other woman till yesterday—when Amory came out my brother-in-law said something which I did not not hear, but I saw Amory wanted to hold me and Roberts wanted to go back to the room—I caught him again, and then as the policeman came up the stairs he let go one wrist, and held both hands on the other—there was some blood on my wrist—in the struggle his nail caught me, and made me bleed—there is a mark here—when the poliman came I was excited—I was always on good terms with my sister—we had an argument about the leather sometimes; we never had any serious quarrel—I did not strike my sister fifteen years ago—I never struck her, and she never struck me; she was a quiet, industrious, good woman—when the policeman came Roberts was holding me very tight, and he said to the policeman, "I charge this woman with stabbing my wife"—it gave me such a turn that I lost power of myself, and I said. "What have I dome to you?"—I never said anything about a kiss; I never kissed my sister—I was taken to the station; I was drunk, and so was my sistershe was not in the habit of drinking much spirits, but it was a very wet night, and she was upset I was charged first with stabbing my sister I said, "Is it me to hurt my sister"—I meant to say, "Woe be to me to hurt my sister"—afterwards the inspector said. "You are charged with the murder of Elizabeth Roberts; do you hear?"—I said, "Yes, I hear, sir, but I am innocent"—I was so knocked up—I remember two doctors looking at my hands—my sister asked me to live with her—when we were out selling our work my sister did not want to go home, bat we did so because the child was at home.
Cross-examined. It must have been Roberts who stabbed my sister—of course, I did not touch her. and there was nobody else there to do it—I swear I saw him strike her—I bought the knife th. day before the
murder in the leather-shop—before that we used an old blade, which was very blunt; it was still in the room, and there, was another old one which would not cut anything—we had both been using this knife up till about 6.45—my sister's work was nothing to do with mine; we each sold it separatdy—that night her work was better than mine—I did not have a discussion with my sister that night—I paid her 1s. a day for living with her, and we paid 10d. a night for the room—we had been drinking nearly all day—we brought drink in—we had not had too much when we went-out at 7 o'clock—we could not sell our work if we were drunk—when we came home at 12 we had had a good deal to diipk,. but we were not drunk—we knew perfectly well what we were doing—we were afraid to go home at first—I was never silly drunk in my life—my sister proposed to give her husband time tp sleep and get sober before we went home;—Roberts does not show it when he is drunk—before my sister was stabbed, she had not offered any violence to any-body—she never struck anyonie in her life that I know of—my sister and I were always talking loudly—we were doing so on that night—Roberts answered quietly—he will not let the neighbours hear him call his wife bad names—the people were against him when he was bound over, and he kept quiet—when I was struggling with Roberts in the room, my aster was outside—I did not hear Roberts call for help—Johnson and Amory never came to the door till my head struck against it—my sister did. not return to the room again—when Amory came out Roberts was holding me by one wrist and my hair, and I had him by the shirt with my other hand—I saw either Roberts or Amory give the knife to the policeman, I do not. know which—it was never in my hand—I did not give it to Amory—I did not see the knife in Roberts's hand on the landing—I thought it was Roberts who had stabbed my sister when I was being taken down the stairs—I did not say so—I did not know what I. was, doing—I turned to my sister, and said, "Oh Liz, what have I done?" meaning my sister to. speak and say what I had done—I did not say Roberts had done it when I was charged with wilful murder, because I was so bewildered—I could not get over the shockwhen I heard she was dead—I did not break any panes of glass that night in the window—there were none to break it was all patched up with paper—when I was charged with wilful murder I said, "Oh Liz, if it had been any other woman who done it," meaning woe be to any other woman to hurt my sister, much less me—I cannot swear that I did not say, "If it had been any other person I would have done it"—I know what I meant to say—if anybody provoked me, and I had a knife in my hand, I do not know If I should stab them. (MR. AVORY proposed to ques-tion the witness as to her past life in the matter of stabbing other persons, and also. to former convictions. MR. COUNSELL objected on the ground that he was not entitled to do so under the Criminal Evidence Act of 1898, as it was a question directed to the character of the witnessthe accused in the case. MR. JUSTICE DARLING, however, considered the evidence admissible.) I have been convicted two or three times for wounding people—in 1879 I was convicted at the Middlesex Sessions for wounding, and sentenced to eight months' hard labour—that was with a broken plate—in 1883 I was convicted at the same place of an assault, on Roberts's siste, and
sentenced to two months' hard labour—on November 13th, in the same year, I was convicted at the Thames Police-court of an assault on a police-man, and sentenced to two months' hard labour—I was struggling, with the man I lived, with for twenty-four-years, and the policeman came up—in October, 1884, at the Middlesex Sessions, I was sentenced to ten months' hard labour for wounding Roberts's brother with a working knife—I did not then say that it was Roberts, the witness, who had done it—I pleaded guilty to that and every conviction against me—in April, 1889, I was sentenced to eighteen months for Wounding a woman with a knife—in August, 1894, I was again sentenced to three months' hard labour for an assault, and in May, 1895, I was sent to five years' penal servitude for wounding the mail, I lived with—I have been convicted about twenty times for being drunk and disorderly—all the assaults were done in self-defence—I have had twenty-seven stabs on my body—I did not know that the coroner's-inquest was going on in this case—I was in bed at the hospital and I heard a voice say there Was an inquest; but I did not understand it—no policeman ever spoke to me about it—I do not know if I said that I did not intend to give evidence there—I did not go, I knew nothing about it.
Re-examined. I never on any occasion put the guilt on anybody else—I never on any occasion disputed my guilt.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY on the ground of the absence of premeditation, and being done in a state of drunken frenzy.
MR. SCLARKE Prosecuted. During the hearing of the case the prisoner withdrew his plea and said he was GUILTY , and the Jury therefore returned, that verdict, The pre-secutor undertook to send the prisoner, abroad— Discharged on his own recognisances in £10.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, January 11th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. C. W. MATHEWS and MR. W. H. LEESE Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended. SARAH BURGESS. I live at 43, Upper Wood Street, Old. Brompton Chatham—in March last I saw an advertisement similar to this in the People newspaper. ("Immense fortunes going begging. £100,000,000 lie buried in the Court of Chancery which belong to the people including all classes of the community," etc., if they would put in claiine, and that a Genuine Property Register was published by Turner and Co., of 63 and 64 Chancery Lane, containing the full christian and surnames of thousands to whom this vast wealth belongs with full instructions how to. recover without
law costs, etc., a 2s. 6d. book for 1s. 6d.; that "the register cannot be supplied by any other persons," and containing a list of names)—in con-sequence of reading; that statement I purchased a register for 1s. 6d. in which I found the name of Thomas Millgate—my grandfather's name was Millgate—I did not know his Christian name—I read the notice on the cover—(that "On receipt of £1 1s. we will search the various papers, re-cords or documents relating to any name in this register, and forward the information we obtain. Should any name in this register not be connected with money, or other property, the fees will be at once returned," and that to sue "in forma pauperis" one must "present a petition to the Master of the Rolls setting out his claim, and an affidavit to the effect that he is not worth £5 (his wearing apparel excepted). The Court will then provide such person with the services of a solicitor and counsel free of charge, until the amount claimed is recovered.")—I wrote for information, and received the letter of March 3rd from Turner and Co., stating: "This name appears in our register, but we cannot give the information until we have searched the records," which they would do on receipt of £1 1s.—on May 9th I wrote, sending two postal orders for £1 1s., and received their receipt produced of May 10th—on May 19th I received this: "Dear Madam,—Re Thomas Millgate. As the result of our search, we beg to inform you that we have searched the records, etc., in the above name, and following is the information we have obtained:—In the Times of March, 1863, an adver-tisement appeared relating to a sum of £40 11s. 10d., Bank of England unclaimed stock consolidated in the £3 per cent annuities, and standing in the names of Thomas Millgate, of Gres-ham Street West, a warehouseman, and Mark Bucknall, of New Bond Street, Bath, a confectioner. The dividends thereon had remained unclaimed since July 5th, 1849"—(the advertisement in the Times, on March 2nd, 1863, also contained a notice that the £40 lit. 10d. would in three months be transferred and the dividends paid to the survivors unless another claimant appeared)—on May 21st, I wrote asking for further in-formation, and on May 22nd I received this letter—" We cannot further assist you," "You can obtain further particulars by writing to the Bank" and "You should, however, be able to prove your relationship"—on May 26th, I wrote to Turner & Co., that Thomas Millgate could not be the man referred to, as he was never near London, and asking for the guinea to be returned in accordance with the promise on the cover of the register, as I was poor and had to borrow it—on May 27th, they replied they only returned the fee if the advertisement did not refer to money or property and this advertisement referred to money—I subsequently communicated with the Bank of England—I got no money back from Turner & Co.
Cross-examined. I did not know my grandfather's name—I thought his money was in Chancery—he and his brothers were farmers near Canter-bury—I wrote saying where my grandfather lived, but I forgot to say it was 100 years ago—I found his name was Robert Millgate—he lived at Boughton near Bleen near Faversham—my father and mother went to Charing—my mother told me particulars.
Re-examined. I believed my grandfather had left property which was
unclaimed and that induced me to send a guinea to have search made—the Bank of England sent for me and told me what had been done.
ELIZABETH SHEPPARD . I am a widow—I live at 159, Lavender Hill Road, Battersea—my granddaughter, Elizabeth Netley, lives near me, and assists me in letter-writing—about July last I saw an advertisement in Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper relating to £100,000,000, and to the "genuine copyright Register," which had "just been published"—I saw my name, spelt Sheppard—I sent 1s. for the book—I believed "Sheppard" was related to me—I got this book, in which I found at page 230 the name "John G. Sheppard"—I believed it was my husband's nephew, and that I would get information about £160 in the Bank—I read the notice on the cover of the Register, and sent a guinea for the search—I received this receipt of July 23rd—I next received this letter from Turner and Co. of August 11th. (Read: "In The Times of May 10th, 1870, an advertisement appeared relating to £166 Bank of England un-claimed Stock Consolidated in the Long Annuities, and standing in the names of John George Sheppard, of Campsey Ash, Suffolk, Esq.; Rev. Robert Wilson, of Ashwell Thorpe, Norfolk, clerk; Rev. George Charles Hall, of Churcham. Gloucestershire, clerk; and Barclay F. Watson, of 36, Lincoln's Inn Fields, gentleman. The dividends had then remained unclaimed since January 5th, 1860"—that is all the information I got. (This advertisement also gave notice that the dividend on £166 16s. 2d. would be paid at the expiration of three months to claimants unless other claimants sooner appeared)—I wrote and asked them to take the case up, and expenses could be paid out of claim if successful, and offering to pro-duce my marriage certificate—the answer was they could not assist me further—I wrote for a return of my guinea, but did not get it.
Cross-examined. I hoped my husband's nephew had left some property—I saw several Sheppards spelt the same as our name—my nephew lived near Colchester—when I saw the names I saw it was no good to me—I wrote, "I am next-of-kin to John George Sheppard"—the clerk at the bank told me I need not come again, and I got a letter the next day that the money was paid out previous to my taking the copy in—I wrote, "Would you be so kind as to take the case up?"—I believe there is money in the family, but whether in land or other property I do not know—I did not look at the supplement to the London Gazette.
MARTHA FAYERS . I live at 25, Boar's Head Lane Passage—last sum-mer I saw an advertisement in Lloyds' newspaper (a similar advertisement)—I wrote the letter of August 4th for a book—I sent 1s.—I received the Register in return—I saw the names Maria, Sarah, and George Crowfoot—I believed they were my relatives—Henry Crowfoot, a farmer, had left property—I wrote the letter of September 5th, explaining that we were of the pauper class, and that my maiden name was Martha Crowfoot—I received the reply of September 5th, and sent the guinea fee for the search—I received this advertisement. (Relating to two sumsof £51 9s. 11d., and one of £102 19s. 10d. annuities but again omitting the notice that at the expiration of three months from the dates of advertisement November 19th and 29th 1860, and April 7th 1864, the stock would he transferred and dividends paid to survivors who claimed them, "unless some other claimant shall sooner appear and make out his claim thereto ")—I wrote
again to Turner and Co. on October 10th giving more family particulars, and received this reply of that date stating they had supplied me with all the information, but that I could ascertain what became of the dividends "providing you can prove relationship by writing to the Unclaimed Dividend Department of the bank"—I subsequently placed myself in communication with the bank—I went there—I never got my guinea back.
Cross-examined. I live at Ipswich—my father's relations lived in Charles Street—I did not arrive at the conclusion that George Crowfoot was related, because my uncle lived in the lower part of Suffolk—I believed" money had been left by Henry Crowfoot.
Re-examined. I believed money was left which was unclaimed, and I paid my guniea to find out.
WILLIAM REVILL . I live at 4, Felham Street, Lincoln—in May last I saw an advertisement in the Daily Mail purporting to have been issued by Turner & Co, in relation to large sums of money unclaimed and mentioning a Register which had just been compiled containing names of persons entitled to money to be obtained from 63 and 64, Chancery Lane—I purchased the Register and saw the name William Revill at page.209—I wrote to Turner & Co. on August 12th, explaining that I had money and property in Chancery—I sent a guinea to have a search made—I received this receipt of August 28th—I wrote again on Septem-ber 19th for information and stating I was only a working man earning 18s. a week and enclosing postage stamp for reply—the answer of Turner and Co. was they had not quite completed the search and would forward the result in a few days—on September 6th, I received this copy of advertisement in the Times of April, 1877 (Relating to £83 17s. 1d., of Stock unclaimed up to January 1986 belonging to William Revill of Carill Street, Gainsborough, but omitting notice of transfer and payment of dividends to claimants)—I replied on 29th that I could find no such place and asked what I should do—on 30th, Turner & Ca wrote that they knew nothing further, and referred me to the Bank of England—I com-municated with the Bank of England.
Cross-examined. I have not looked at any back Register to see if the Revill in the book is related to me—my family have told me there was money and property which should belong to them, but I never could get particulars—I understood it was in Chancery.
MARY WHEATLAND . I live at Broadwater, near Worthing—I saw an advertisement relating to millions of unclaimed money, and for 1s. I got this Register through my newsagent—in it I found the name of Benjamin Edgington, who was a partner with John Edgington, my uncle—I wrote Turner and Co. for information, believing my sisters ana I were next-of-kin—I sent them a guinea for search, and got this receipt—on May 14th they wrote me that an advertisement appeared in the Times of June, 1881, relating to £52 19s. 1d. Annuities—wrote again asking for more information as to how I should get the money, or if they could get it for me—they replied they had no more information, and referred me to the Bank of England—I communicated with the Bank—I never got my guinea back from Turner and Co., I think I am entitled to half.
Cross-examined. I believed Benjamin Edginton, whom I learned
lived at Lavender Hill, was my cousin, and a son of John Edginton—I ascertained that in June, 1881, the Consols standing in his name had been transferred to the trustees of charities.
Re-examined. I did not get a copy of the advertisement—Turner and Co. told me nothing of the transfer.
WILLIAM BENJAMIN TYNDALL. I live at Leylands near Staines—I am a clerk in the chief accountant's department of the Bank of England—I have made an examination of the bank-books for the purpose of ascertaining the facts and dates in relation to the claims investigated here to-day as they appear in the bank-books—in all these cases the money has been paid over in accordance with the terms of the advertisement in the Times at about the times mentioned in the advertisement—the Bank of England charges itself with the funds accumulating either as unclaimed dividends or stock—up to 1845 a list was published by the bank contain-ing the names of persons to whom dividends were payable, but not stocks—that list was discontinued at the suggestion of the Treasury Authorities after some correspondence—since 1856 a uniform course was adopted—in 1886 there was a great change—notices were sent out immediately alter transfer up to 1886—after that we only communicated with anybody con-nected with accounts, taking under power of attorney, and persons of that sort—the department is worked under a special staff who give information under certain conditions as to identification—I should look to see if the name is on the register—if the money had been paid over I should say there was no money left—the defendant could have found out there was no unclaimed money.
Cross-examined. A special clerk is appointed for this business—I could not give you the amount unclaimed in 1896—in case of dividends un-claimed for ten years, the account being unoperated upon, there it a transfer to the National Debt Commissioners—the amount passing through our hands in nine and a-half years would be nothing like a quarter of a million—the other day there was a transfer of over £15,000 of stock—I do not mean there would be £15,000 every ten years—I do not give the figures as being absolutely accurate—that is an approximate idea—the return In 1896, which speaks of dividends due and not demanded, amounting to £283,000, refers to dividends transferred to the National Debt Commissioners—if inquirers do not give particulars we give them a circular; it' they give the name we look for it—we require the name of the stock and account before the application can be passed—we help people who can give particulars—when stock has been transferred in accordance with the notice the name is removed from the register, and the answer to an applicant would be there was no stock—notwithstanding the Act of Par-liament giving power to the Court of Chancery as to recouping stock, transferred in error, no such case has ever come under my notice.
THOMAS BROCKWELL (Detective Inspector, Scotland Yard), On Sep-tember 13th last, I received a warrant for the arrest of the prisoner—on December 14th I went to 63 and 64, Chancery Lane, about 10.45 a.m., with Inspector Seager and Detective Willis—I arrested the priaoner—we detained the mail for that day—there were 201 letters—of these, 64 con-tained postal orders and stamps for 1s. 6d. each; 97 for 1s.; five re-mittances for one guinea; three for 1s. 1d.; one for 1s.2d.; one for
1s. 3d.; one for 2s.; 27 with no remittances, and two private letters—in the safe we found three cheques for a guinea each——in all there were 286 orders of different kinds from all parts of the world, mostly English—the total is £458, including £57 18s. in the safe, which included £8 10s. in gold, 12s. 6d. silver, bronze and postage stamps—we found also press copy of letter written to the prisoner from the Secretary of the Master of the Rolls of November 9th, 1898 (complaining of the annoyance of being obliged to reply to letters erroneously referring to the Master of the Rolls by persons who wished to secure their dividends by suing "in formd pauperis." Home pencil shorthand was on the letter which was explained to be notes with regard to altering the statement in the prisoner's published register)—we also found between 4,000 and 5,000 copies of the register, also a cash-book, day book, and postage-book—the cash-book shows the receipts for November to be £480 10s. 9 1/2 d.—the outgoings were principally for advertising, £204 178. 4d.—we also found cards of Next-of-Kin agents and circulars, specimens of Turner & Co.'s adver-tisements in various newspapers, and circulars relating to several thou-sand of the Smith family entitled to receive and claiming money.
Cross-examined. The books were kept in a business-like way—the ex-ternal appearance was that of a well-conducted business—from inquiries I find the defendant has been carrying on this business since May, 1897—before that he was a clerk to a Next-of-Kin firm named Cox & Co.—I have seen the names of McDougall & Co Sidney Preston & Co., W. H. Lydall and others as carrying on the same business—I believe the defendant is respectable.
Evidence for the Defence.
FREDERICK TURNER WOODMAN (The prisoner sworn). I assumed the name Woodman because my mother married again—my name is Turner—I was employed by Cox and Co., Next-of-Kin Agents, for two years—upon leaving them I arranged to open a business of the same kind—I was six months preparing my register—the 291 pages contain the names of persons advertised for since 1700—I got the names from various news: papers, including the Official Gazette, the Times and the Supplement to the London Gazette—information from the Times I got from Palmer's Index, from which the names were copied bodily into my book—I kept fifty-four volumes, which were found in my possession, like this (pro-duced) as an index to my register—against the names I put the source of information—"John Ferguson, 2462," would mean from London Gazette and so on—when search is required I go to this index, search for the advertisement, and then send the information—I returned the fee of a guinea when the advertisement referred to a missing friend—I have the receipts from persons to whom I returned the guinea in a number of cases—that is the meaning of the note in my book—about three per cent, of the notices are issued by the Times—Payer's advertisement I got from Palmer's Index to the Times of July 18th, 1862—if a person pays for the information I search the Times—that shows the money is to be transferred in three months—the latter part of the advertisement was always given to clients except for a short period—latterly I referred them to the Bank.
Cross-examined. I did not say three per cent, of advertisements are Bank advertisements—they relate to unclaimed money—the earlier issues of the register were in 1897—the last about six months ago—some names are of persons advertised for—the first twelve months I sent the latter part of the advertisement to clients (the notice of the money being claimed)—I produce the last letter of December 13th, 1898, in which I did so—that was the day before my arrest—I never thought proceedings were contemplated till Brockwell came—I did not know on December 13th my office was watched—I omitted the statement in the advertisement that the money would be paid, for briefness—there was still a chance of recovering the money if it was paid in error, even thirty years ago—I did not go to the Bank to see, because they would not know.
Re-examined. Upon receiving the letter from the Master of the Rolls pointing out that I was giving a wrong form of procedure I went to the Law Institution to search the new Rules—from that time my circulars were altered, and I did not refer to the Master of the Rolls in my register.
The Prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY.— The JURY strongly recommended him to mercy on the ground of his youth and previous good character.—Judgment respited.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, January 11th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
ME. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour
JAMES DUNNING (City Police Sergeant). On January 1st at 2.15 a.m. I was on duty in Eastcheap in plain clothes with Thompson, and saw a drunken man there going east—the four prisoners were on the south side of Eastcheap going west—one of the prisoners crossed the road, and stopped the man—he said, "Let me go; I want nothing to do with you"—one of the prisoners lifted up the gentleman's mackintosh, and put his hand in his pocket—they went on to Tower Hill—I followed them and saw Bruce stand the gentleman against the wall, and put both hands in his pocket—he said, "For God's sake do not do medown "—all the other prisoners were covering, and joined in kicking him when he was down—Beaton evidently did not want to be mixed up in the robbery; he walked ten or fifteen yards up Tower Hill and came back, and said, "Here is a policeman coming; give the man a chance"—they all walked away—I got assistance and told them I should arrest them for attempting to rob the gentleman—they had this bottle (Produced), which has contained Irish whisky; Hart threw it into the gardens—Beaton said, "I saw what was going on, but
foolishly returned and told them to go away—I searched the Tower Gardens and found this bottle and the gentleman's cap—I searched then and found on Bruce 4s. 3 1/2 d. in different pockets, and in his stocking 15S. and a cigarette case which has not been identified, on Hart 3s. 6d. in silver and 5d. in bronze, on Beaton 9d. and 3d. and on Campbell 9s. 6d. in silver and 8d. in bronze—none of them made any answer to the charge.
ERNEST THOMFSON (City Policeman). Early on January 1st, I was on duty with Dunning in Eastcheap and saw the four prisoners on the south side—they commenced a conversation with a drunken man, and between them they got him to Tower Hill and set him up against a blank wall and Bruce put his hands in his pockets—he said, "For God's sake don't do me down "—Bruce struck him in the face, and knocked him down, and they gave him a hick each—I was about ten yards off on a wall—there was a light about 20 feet off—Beaton kicked him when he was on the ground—they searched his pockets while he was on the ground—Beaton walked away, and came back and said, "For God's sake give the man a chance, here is a policeman coming"—that was a uniform man—the three walked away, and Bruce followed the officer—I got further assistance and then said, "We are police-officers, and arrest you for assaulting a drunken man"—Hart said, "This is a b—fine thing for the new year"—Beaton said. "I saw what was going on and walked away, but foolishly came back to see what was going on; if my chums get punished I shall get it, too"—they all belong to the Scots Guards.
JAMES DOHERTY . I am a printer, of 37, Euston Road, Silvertown—on January 1st, about 1 a.m., I was on Ludgate Hill—that is the last thing 1 can remember—I had not been in a public-house, but I had a bottle of whisky with me—this is the bottle—I do not know whether I had any money—I found myself at the police station next morning—I was dis-charged without going into the box—I bought the bottle of whisky about 10 o'clock—it was full—I drank some of it—I know this bottle, because I bought it at Webb's in Aldgate—when I came to myself I had not got the bottle—this is my cap.
Cross-examined by Hart. I did not feel myself kicked but I felt stiff.
Evidence for the Defence.
JAMSES HART (The prisoner). The prosecutor came up and asked us if we could get him a bed—he is Scotch—he said that he came from Lennox—I was on leave from Aldershot—we said, "Come along, we will try"—he wished us a happy new year—we looked round and saw Bruce and Doherty behind us—when we got to the barrack gate Bruce struck him a blow and knocked him to the ground—I heard him say, "Don't do me down "—we pulled him up—I saw him pick up a coin of some sort from the ground.
Cross-examined. I have heard the constable's evidence that Bruce stood the prosecutor up against the wall—that is true—he also said that the three of us were standing round at the time—I saw Bruce strike him—I did not kick him, I pulled Bruce off—I saw the bottle—I never had it in my hand—he offered it to me and I said "No."
this gentleman came up to us in Eastcheap and asked us the way—I said that I could not direct him—he said, "Do you know who I am?"—I said, "No"—he said, "I am Doherty, the boxing man"—I told him to go about his business—he gave me his hand to shake—I shook hands with him and took no more notice—Campbell said, "Are you coming?"—I said, "No; I am going into barracks now"—I wanted to get away—I heard him say, "Do not do me down "—I saw Bruce with his hand round his waist—the three of us laid hold of Bruce, and asked him what he meant—he said, "Nothing"—I lifted the gentleman up, and asked him if he was hurt—he said, "Not much"—I saw his cap there and some letters—I picked them up and gave them to him—Bruce threw his cap into the garden; the money we had was our own. (A juror here fell down in a fit; a doctor examined him and stated that he would not be able to resume his duty; upon this the JURY were discharged another juror sworn, and the witnesses repeated their former evidence.)
JAMES CAMPBELL (The prisoner), I belong to the Cameron Highlanders—Bruce was absent on leave, and we were on the road to barracks—we met this man, and he asked us the way—we could not tell him—after we got further I turned round to go, and saw Bruce catch the man with his hands, and throw him down and pick up a piece of silver off the ground.
HART, BEATON and CAMPBELL NOT GUILTY . Sentence on BRUCE— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, January 12th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HARRISON Prosecuted.
MARY ANN GREGORY .—I am married and live at 144. Columbia Square, Hackney—on March 22nd, 1885, I was present at St. Stephen's Church,. Spibalfields, when the prisoner was married to my sister Sophy Smith—I signed the register—I have not seen my sister since 1893, but I have seen her since 1891 when the prisoner committed the bigamous marriage—I have spoken to him about her—he asked if she was all right and I said "Yes"—he said last December that he would send his love to her when he wrote to her.
ELLEN ELIZABETH STRONG . I am now staying with friends—I have known the prisoner eight years—on August 30th, 1891, I went through the form of marriage with him at St. John's Church—he said he was a widower and that his wife died while he was in America—I had been in-timate with him before marriage, and I wrote to him, and asked him to marry me, and threatened to drown myself if he did not, and he came up to London and married me—I had no suspicion that he was married—his
brother spoke to me about two years ago about his being a married man—we have no children—he has ill-used me at times.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Your brother did not tell me four years ago that your wife was dead.
WALTER SELBY (Detective G). I produced the marriage certificate at the Police court—I went with the last witness on December 21st to 220 Gray's Inn Road, and saw the prisoner on the staircase—he ran upstairs into a room and pushed the door shut—I pushed it open and told him the charge—he-said, "All right; she knew I was a married man; when we married my wife was doing fourteen years"—I took him to the station—she was sentenced for baby farming in July, 1891, and the prisoner was married on August 2nd—when she came out she went to her mother's, and I find that the prisoner has been in constant communication with her mother—in 1890 they agreed to separate—I do not think he treated her properly.
Cross-examined. Your first wife told me that you agreed to separate.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, January 12th, 1899.
ME. GREENFIELD Prosecuted. ARTHUR GEORGE PAGE. I live at 82, Cromleigh Road, St. John's. Road, North—I was in High Street, Shoreditch, at 6.15 p.m., on January 6th, looking in a shop window—the prisoner was with others in front of me—I stepped back—they fell on the top of me—I saw my chain hanging and seized the prisoner—he got away—I followed and caught him—I asked him for my watch—he said he had not got it—a. constable came up and I gave him in charge.
GEORGE KNIGHT (308 G). I was in Great Eastern Street, and heard the cry of "Stop thief"—I saw the prisoner chased by the prosecutor—we caught him together—the prosecutor said, "This man has got my watch"—the prisoner said, "You will not find the watch on me"—I took him in custody—he was charged at the station—he said, "I have not got the watch"—it has not been recovered.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You passed me at the point—you ran 200 or 300 yards to the corner of Bethnal Green Road.
Evidence for the Defence.
EDWARD EMMS (The prisoner). I was going to the Standard Theatre on Friday evening with two or three others—we looked into a shop-window—the prosecutor took me by the arm and said, "Give me back my watch"—I said, "Your watch? I did not steal it. Let me go. If you think I have your watch search mo"—he refused to search me—the constable came up and he gave me in charge—I never took a watch, in my life, nor have been in prison.
Cross-examined. I was by myself.
GUILTY — One Month's Hard Labour.
MR. PURCKLL Prosecuted and MR. C. F. GILL, Q.C, Defended. DE LEONE (Interpreted) I lived at 7, Charles Street, Knightsbridge, at the time of the accident—I was secretary to Monsieur Saint-Saens, the musical composer—on Saturday, October 29th, about 11 p.m., I was walking near the Albert Hall—it was raining—I held my umbrella open in my hand—the prisoner asked me in English what time it was—I replied in French, because I do not speak English—I thought it was about 11 o'clock—I walked on, and he came to my left side—he con-tinued to speak, but I did not understand what he said—he placed his right arm round my shoulder, and his left hand on my chest, laughing at the same time—he placed his hand in my coat pocket—I was upset, and told him to leave me alone—with his right hand, which was round my shoulder, he seized my umbrella and ran away—he dropped his hat. and I picked it up—I was going to give it to a policeman—in about a hundred yards I heard a noise behind of steps following—I turned and saw him with this closed umbrella in his hand in the act of striking me—he struck me on my arm—we struggled, the umbrella was broken, and I received a kick on my thigh from the prisoner—he dropped the umbrella and hat, and held my left hand, on which I had two rings; one was tighter than the other, which he took, and my scarf-pin—a Hansom's cab came up, and I hailed the cabman to protect me—I was on the side of the park—the cab went on—I went after it—the prisoner ran after me, and pushed me under the cab—I was just by the horse, but had not passed the horse—I was running as fast as T could—one wheel went over my right leg, and I received a kick in the back from the horse—the cab went on, and I crawled along, having my leg broken, to the pavement on the opposite side, where the houses are—I could not raise myself—I could not stand—the prisoner ran across the road and down a street opposite—I next saw him ten to fifteen minutes after—I tried to raise myself by the rails of the houses'—then I saw that the cab had a gentle-man inside, who brought back the prisoner—I was placed in a four-wheel cab—a constable took me to St. George's Hospital—I remained there six weeks and I was in a convalescent home at Wimbledon a week—I still suft'er, but can walk unsupported.
Cross-examined. I paid my solicitor, Mr. Newton, who gave me the address of the French Consul—Mr. Newton is not now acting for me—I went out about 10 p.m. on October 29th in the direction of Kensington—I went further than the Albert Hall—I did not go in the park and speak to the prisoner—I was always walking on the opposite side of the road to the park—the prisoner did not push me away—I did not fall on, my umbrella—I showed Mrs. Hammett my evidence—the cab did not pass when the prisoner was chasing me out of the park—I was not in the park at all—at that moment I was running with the prisoner's hat in my hand—I was marching along with the intention of giving it to a police-man—when the prisoner was striking me he took the hat out of my hand—I only ran by the side of the cab—I was on the Park side when the prisoner took my umbrella and dropped his hat—he ran away into the Park, that is when I went across—the original assault took place near
the houses—I followed but not into the park—I went along outside the railings—I only answered Mr. Newton before the Magistrate—my ring had two snakes, half silver, half gold—the ring that was stolen had two serpents, one in gold, the other in silver—I had had it about four years—having other rings I only wore it occasionally—I had three rings—one was large and had a piece set in to fit the finger—the one stolen was half gold, half silver—the other two were silver—I got the one that was stolen as a present from my brother in Paris about four years ago—the pin was a 20-franc Louis, on which was engraved Louis XV.—I had had that seven or eight years—I much appreciated this pin—as it was somewhat loosely mounted I was afraid of losing it—I have described the value of the pin as £8, and of the ring as £4—I gave the price of £8 because that was offered several times—my friend in Raphael Street is M. Dupuis—he speaks English—I saw him when I came out of the convalescent home—he came to see me at the hospital—he is a butler, out of work—I told the Magistrate that the first time I came to London I went to 83, Westbourne Street, Pimlico; that the last time I came to England was the beginning of September—that was true—I was never at 61, Faubourg St. Honoré, Paris, M. Saint-Saëns' place—I told the Magistrate I came to London to learn English and to work also, to earn sufficient to live—I have boen in London the last time from September till now—I have been in London ten or twelve months—the last time would bo four and a-half or five months—I have not been in London continuously for twelve months, because I ab-ented myself once in the summer after leaving M. Saint-Saëns—I went to Paris—I stayed there about a month—that was in August—I arrived in England near Christmas, 1897—I went to the Hotel Chester—I left there some time in January—I could not speak English then—I did not leave Paris in a hurry—I came with luggage—when I went to M. Secrable's hotel I lost the ticket of my luggage, and could not recover it—I had registered it—when I left the Chester Hotel, I went to Mrs. Hamraett's at 83, Westbourne Street, Pimlico, and remained from January till June—I was looking for a situation, but could not obtain one—I got a place as valet in June—I was with the gentleman two months—on July 17th M. Saint-Saens left London, but I continued in his absence—I left his house on July 20th—I went back to Mrs. Hammett, hut was told my room was let, and I went to the Hotel Chester—I did not stay at that hotel continuously till October 5th—J left the day I went to Charles Street—I did not tell M. Secrable T would call in the evening, and pay his bill of £17—he said he would send it on to Charles Street—I told him my address—he even accom-panied me, and we remained two hours together—he did not go as far as Charles Street; he left me in the neighbourhood of Victoria—he had busi-ness errands, and said. "Come with me"—he did send the bill, but it was overcharged—I believe the bill was for £10 or £11—he had charged the expenses of another person—I have the bill, but not with me; I did not think it would be asked for—I have bills with the receipts—I did not pay the whole bill, because we had some difference as to the items—on October 29th I was in the hospital—when I left I had a front-room furnished at Charles Street at 5s. a week—I never showed my jewellery to the landlord
at the Chester, nor to Mrs. Hammett—they could see it when I wore it—I have left Charles Street—I live in Raphael Street-at Charles Street a Maltese spoke French—I do not know M. Renau-M. Dupuis lives with Madam Richards in Raphael Street.
Re-examined. I did not pay my bill, because I had enough, and he said "That is all right; you pay when you can"—when I read the bill, I went and told him "This bill is not correct"—he came to see me in the hospital, and said he had rectified his bill, that his head waiter or manager had committed the mistake, and Promised to let me have a correct bill; but I never received it—I never refused to pay—I came form Amsterdam, and my luggage was lost between Amsterdam and the Hague—the ticket I lost was from the Holland Railway—the baggage was found and sent to Paris—it contained winter clothing—I did not want them any more—I gave someone authority to fetch it away—I heard it was found in the spring.
THOMAS WESTBROOK . I am a hansom "cabdriver—my badge is No 522—on October 29th I was dridng a fare (Mr. Lazton) from Street Kensington, towards Piccadilly—I saw a short man and a tall man rush from the direction of the park, close to the park railling—I was within a few yards of the wicket-gate near Rutland Gate—they appeared to run from the park—I saw them start running from a dozen to twenty yards-the shorter man was first (the prosecutor), about twenty or thirty yards-the teller man (the prisoner) was gaining ground—they ran from the park railings to the opposite pavemnt, and a short distance up the. short one ran behind my cab after they had been on the offside—the prosecutor cried. "Plees, plees. help!—I understood him to mean Police"—the shorter man put on a bit of a spurt, and the taller man deliberately pushed him under the horse—the cab went over him—the hores, being startled, jumped forward; I felt the cab go over him—I saw him drag himself form behind—I looked and saw the prisner run down a turning—I turned and drove to the top of the turning—there was no thoroughfare—I got down-the prisoner dashed out from the first door—I caught hold of him—I asked him that he wanted to do that for—he said the man had tried to take liberties with him in the park—I said, "why did not you catch hold of him and give him a good setting and not throw him under my cab? you are big enough to eat him—I believe he answered that he, did not push him—held him—there was no one about only my "fare" and a four-wheel driver—I got hold of my whip and said "If you attempt to escape from me I shall use it on you "and I got hold of a small chisel and said, "All right, old man; I won't try to get away, I will stop"—the night had been terribly wet, but was not then—the "injured man was put into the four-wheel cab and token to the hospital—I told the prisoner the best thing he could do was to get in my cab—I drove him till we met a policeman just before we got to Knightsbndge, and I said, "Here's the man that done it," and I drove him and the pohceman to the station.
Cross-examined. The four-wheel driver is outside—I said before the Magistrate, "I saw two men running out of the park"—I was under that impression—I did not mention the railing there—I was not annoyed—I thought it was a dirty action—I said, "You don't care what happens to me—"I was a little upset—I saw the prisoner put his hand on the prosecutor's
shoulder or neck and deliberately push the prosecutor, so it seemed to me—the whole thing occurred in a second or two; quicker than we can talk about it—the prisoner did not say he ran away because he was frightened—he did not say the man's falling frightened him—he did not interfere with me—I had not to use my whip or chisel—I expected to—it was about 11.40 p.m.
WILLIAM PERCY LAXTON . I am yard manager at Tattersall's—I was in Westbrook's cab—we had gob to Richmond Gate between 11.15 and 11.30 on October 29th, when I saw De Leone on the near side about twenty yards off—when he got alongside the horse I saw the prisoner, who caught hold of De Leone and threw him under the horse—he put one hand on his left shoulder, and the other under his back, and deliberately threw him under the horse—the horse and cab seemed to go over him—I spoke to the cabman, who turned his horse round—I saw De Leone standing on the side of the road on the pavement—the cabman drove a few yards to a turning—I found the prisoner on the top step of the second door—he rushed out and I caught him in the mews—I walked to Sloane Street and spoke to a constable, and left the prisoner in charge.
Cross-examined. This matter is quite as fresh in my recollection now as when I was before the Magistrate—I do not remember saying it was 11.45—I leave Kensington about 11.15 to 11.30, but I left slightly earlier that night—I believe the prisoner said he should not attempt to get away, and that the prosecutor had attacked him in the park—I believe he said he had attempted to take liberties with him—I am not positive—I do not believe I asked the question—I only heard of the charge of robbery after the second hearing—a constable told me.
ARTHUR BARBER (185 B), On Saturday night, October 29th, I was on duty near Albert Gate—I was called to the High Road about 12 p.m.—I saw the prisoner detained—the prosecutov said, "That man done it," in English, pointing to the prisoner—I sent the prosecutor to the hospital, and took the prisoner to the Police-station—I afterwards went to the hospital, and then returned to the station, and charged the prisoner with causing the prosecutor grievous bodily harm by pushing him under the cab—he said, "Very good"—he was brought before the Magistrate on the Monday, and remanded from time to time until December 12th—then he was charged with robbery—while proceeding with the prosecutor's evidence the sheet was altered—I believe the prisoner had been drinking, but he was sober.
Cross-examined. De Leone never mentioned being robbed that night—I visited him every week at the hospital to report to the Magistrate—the prisoner was bailed—De Leone was represented by a solicitor—he never mentioned the robbery till the hearing on December 12th—I have made inquiries and the prisoner bears a very high character—De Leone spoke English—he said, "Yes, me better"—he had friends with him who speak English, and could have interpreted.
Cross-examined. I was coming from Kensington to Knightsbridge at a walking pace—opposite the Prince of Wales' Gate I saw the prisoner, and the prosecutor walk out of the Park about a yard apart, janghing
together—they walked about ten yards when the prosecutor pulled off the prisoner's hat and ran away with it—I went after them till we got opposite the wicket gate near Rutland Gate about 200 yards——the prisoner got his hat back—then they jangled, and there was a struggle between them—then the prosecutor took his hat off again, and ran away with it—the prisoner ran after him till they got opposite Rut-land Gardens, between fifty and sixty yards—the prosecutor went across the road, the prisoner following, when a hansom cab came along and the prosecutor ran against the collar of the horse as the prisoner was. making grab at him—neither appeared to see the horse—the night was very wet—it was not raining, but it had been raining very hard—the horse's collar knocked the prosecutor down and the cab went over him—the prisoner picked up his hat and ran away—I saw the whole of it—I was not five yards off the whole time—I went with the hansom cabman and saw the prisoner—I asked him why he had run away—he said he was frightened—I took the prosecutor in my cab to the hospital, and the prisoner was on my box, and a policeman—he made no objection, and got on my box beside me at Rutland Gate—at Hyde Park Comer we saw two policemen—I never heard a word about the prosecutor being robbed—the prosecutor asked me to take him to his brother's at 7, Charles Street—he spoke in broken English—he knocked at the window and I got down—when we got to Knightsbridge and saw the constables, the prisoner got off the box—I explained what occurred—I heard no more till the day after the committal, when I saw the case in Lloyds news-paper, and on the Monday as I was passing the barracks and I saw the sergeant, and I asked him—I have been licensed twenty years; fourteen on a cab and six on an omnibus—ft was an accident.
Rc-examined. I gave the policeman my number—the man never went on the off-side—they never got behind the hansom, they got broadside on as near as makes no difference—they ran against the near side of the horse—it would not be right to say the two men ran one after the other fifty or twenty yards by the side of the hansom.
Evidence for the Defence.
EDWARD MITCHELL (The prisoner sworn), I am a trooper in C Squadron Royal Horse Guards—I have been in the regiment five years—I have never had any imputation on my character—on October 29th I had leave from barracks for the night—I left the barracks about 7 o'clock or a little after—I went straight across to the Marble Arch and met two friends,. Jack Jenkins and Henry Ashford, two naval men—I gave their names to the Magistrate—they live in Portishead, Somersetshire—I met them about eight o'clock—they were leaving London that night—I was in their company all the evening—we went to Brondesbury, and I was in their company till the 11.30 p.m. train left Paddington Station for Bristol—then I went down the Bayswater Road, by the Magazine, towards knights-oridge Barracks, crossing the Serpentine, and going towards the Prince of Wales' Gate—the prosecutor came aod asked me to go for a walk with him—I did not know him—I asked him why I should go for a walk with him, and said, "Why don't you go away 1 I do not want to have anything: to do with you" and I pushed him and walked on—he came to me a second time, caught hold of me by the arm, and asked me to go with him
again—I shoved him off the second time—he attacked me the third time just crossing the road—with that he snatched at ray fly and tried to undo it, then I shoved him—he fell across his umbrella and broke it—when he got up he snatched my hat off my head and ran away with it—I was in plain clothes and had a felt hat—he left the park by the Prince of Wales' Gate—I ran after him and was gaining on him all the time—the horse touched him on the shoulder—I sriatched the hat out of his hand and he went under the cab—I did not see the cab till it was on me—I did not push him under nor had any intention of doing anything of the kind—when I saw he was run over I was frightened and ran away into Rut-land Gardens—the two cabmen came after me—I was spoken to and got on the box of the four-wheel cab till we met a policeman who took me in charge—it was not true that I took hold of the prosecutor's hand and pulled a ring off it; nor that I took his scarf pin—I did not have his umbrella, nor kick him—I never attempted to raise my foot—I was taken to the Police-station and before the Magistrate, and remanded for a week, and then bailed—I was searched—I was remanded from time to time till December 12th—till then I never heard the sugges-tion that I had robbed him—I gave evidence before the Magistrate on the evening of October 29th—I had with my friends eight or nine drinks of bitter between 8 and 11 p.m.
Cross-examined. I was going back to the barracks about 11.45 p.m.—I had leave till 5.55 a.m.—that is the leave we always put in—I did not hit the prosecutor, because I might give him an unlucky blow—I never struck him with the umbrella—after he had snatched two buttons of my fly open, he snatched my black felt hat off and ran away with it—I cannot give a reason why he should do that—he did not run after the cab, he ran in the direction of the horse's head—he shouted something like "Plees," I could not say what—I have before said I heard the prosecutor as he came close to the cab callhig out, "Plees, Plees"—I could not say why he called out unless I had robbed him; especially if he had indecently assaulted me—the cabman asked me why I had knocked the prosecutor under the cab—before the Magistrate I said he did not—I could not say for certain—I did not remember it—both the cabman and the fare must have seen it.
ALICE HAMMRTT . I am the wife of William Hammett a cabinet-maker, of 83, Westbourne Street—De Leone was staying at our house from January 15th till some time in June last year—he went to M. Saint-Saëns the commencement of June—down to that time I saw him nearly every clay—he occupied a front room—he did not clean thn room; he was clean in his habits—he cooked his own food—when he went to M. Saint Saëns he had no occupation—I saw that he had one silver ring—I never saw him with a gold ring or a gold pin—in the evening he came down to teach one of my children French—he improved in English—I could understand him—I do not speak French—he would have, no difficulty in complaining if necessary—he was a valet and butler—I went to him at M. Saint-Saëns' place once—my Utile boy wcnt—he was bringing things down—he had an apron on.
Cross-examined. He had a book of English and French phrases, which he used sometimes—I read the letter for him to come to the Police-court
—he went out daily about 2 or 3 p.m. came in about five, and went out again in the evening,
The Prisoner received an excellent character.
NOT GUILTY ,
OLD COURT.—Friday, January 13th, 1899.
Before Mr. Justice Darling.
MB. HUTTON Prosecuted.
PERCY HOPCRAFT . I am a typewriter, and live at 33, Oxford Street,. Chelsea—on December 14th, about seven in the evening, I was near the Albert Bridge on the Embankment at Chelsea—I was leaning over the parapet—I heard a baby crying about twenty-five feet from the Embank-ment; it was on a piece of something, and surrounded by water—I called the attention of the police, who went and took the child out.
THOMAS MAGNER . I am a waterman and lighterman, of 27, Gilroy Square—on December 14th, about seven in the evening, I was standing on the Embankment near the Albert Bridge—my attention was called by a lad to a baby lying on a heap of ballast that had been washed up by the water, leaving about two feet of tide over the ballast—I called a con-stable—we went into the water and got the child out—I took it to St. Mary's Hospital—it was perfectly dressed, and was only a little damp on the side—when I brought it to the top of the steps I saw the prisoner—she handed me a cross-over to put on the child—she said nothing—the ballast was about four feet from the water—there was a sewer there—I got through it into the water under my armpits—if the child had laid there the tide would have come over it about five feet.
ARTHUR MANSFIELD (82 B). On December 14th, about seven, I was on the Embankment, near the Albert Bridge—I was called w the fore-shore—I saw the prisoner there on the opposite side of the road to where the child was—I said to her, "Is that your child t" pointing to the river—she said "Yes"—I said, "I shall take you into custody for attempting to kill it"—on coming along the Embankment she said, "I did it because I had no money. I lost my money when I took it out to pay my fare. I intended to put it out to nurse and go to service again"—on the way to the Station she said she had come out of the workhouse that morning and she was sorry she had not put herself over as well, "Then I should be out of the way"—she was quite sober.
EMILY CORNISH . I am matron at Walton Street Station—I saw the prisoner when she was brought there—I searched her, and found on her a. baby's robe and two pieces of flannel—she said she was very sorry she done it; she did not intend to hurt the baby, but she had no friends, she had come out of the workhouse that morning—in the cell she said that she was a bit frightened—she seemed very ill and was weak and trembling—she had been confined in the workhouse that day.
ALLAN PARSONS . I am House surgeon at Victoria Hospital—I saw the child when it was brought in—it was in a healthy state—there was. no sign of injury but a little hump nt the back of the head that might
have been caused by being put over the parapet—if it had remained there some hours probably it would have died from exposure.
Prisoner. All I have to say is I am very sorry.
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY.
Mr. Jack a Missionary attached to the Police-court undertook to take charge of the Prisoner and get her a situation. To be bound over in her own recognisances to come up for judgment.
For the case of EDWARD JOSEPH NUGENT,alias HOLLAND,
See Essex Cases.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, January 14th, 1899.
Before Mr. Justice Darling.
MR. INMAN Prosecuted.
GUILTY of the attempt —(Smith had been several times convicted and Hunt once).— Eighteen Months Hard Labour,
NEW COURT.—Saturday, January 14 th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILDEY WRIGHT Prosecuted, and MR. ROBEBTS Defended.
GEOROE INGLIS BOYLE . I am a clerk in the London Bankruptcy Court—I produce the tile of proceedings in the case of Henry Barker, trading as H. Barker & Co., High Street—the adjudication is dated June 11th, 1894—the liabilities were £1,160 10s. 7d., and the assets £69 10s. 8d., showing a deficiency of £1,090—he is still undischarged.
Cross-examined. The petitioning creditors were Poultman & Co., timber merchants, of 25, New Broad Street.
EDWABD HOBBS . I am a clerk and accountant in the Old Jewry—I was the trustee in the bankruptcy of Henry Baker & Co.—I have had frequent communications with the prisoner—only a few shillings of the assets were realised—it was under £1.
JOSEPH WHITING . I am one of the firm of Whiting and Manning, timber merchants, of 4, St. Mary Axe—I first met the prisoner in 1892 and did some business with him—he was in the timber trade when I was manager of the Pehang Co. which I left in 1892, and became a timber merchant—I met the prisoner again in September, 1897 accidentally at Liverpool Street Station; I had not seen him in the interval—he said, "Are you still in the timber trade?"—I said, "Yes"—he said that he could often do with some parcels of timber if they were cheap and worth the money—he said, "I can pay half cash, and the balance by monthly instalments"—I had not the slightest idea that he was an undischarged bankrupt—I found that out in November, 1898—the first transaction I
had with him was on February 23rd, 1898—I sold him timber on February 5th, value £59 158. 4d., and he paid £20 I think—I had a further transaction with him in July I believed, and gave bim credit for £747 odd—he paid £270 off that—he owes me £470 now—I pressed him for payment in November, and found him bankrupt.
Cross-examined. I was manager to the Pehang Timber Company at which the prisoner was a dealer—I cannot say that I ever see the Trade Jowrnal—I have been in the timber trade since 1892, and have-a very large connection—I remember meeting the prisoner in 1895 at Liverpool Street Station almost immediately after he came out of prison—I did not have drinks with him—I did not know that he had been convicted—I did not see the account of his conviction at Chelmsford in the London papers—this letter (Nét dated, and offering an engine for sale) is mine—I am under the impression that it was written last February—it is written from Lime Street—I was not in Lime Street in 1898, therefore it must have been in 1897—this other letter of March 11th is my writing (Asking the. prisoner to lend him £5 till Saturday, and offering to pay interest)—I left my office in Lime Street at the end of 1897, and went to St. Mary Axe—I had a timber traveller in my employment named Charles Eadie—now that my memory is refreshed T say that I saw the prisoner two or three times in the early part of 1897—I made a mistake—I cannot give you the time that Charles Eadie remained with me—my impression is that it was not a year—I left in 1892—I went into business on my own account from the Pehang—I was there a little over a year—Charles Eadie was not in my employment while I was at Lime Street, or travelling for me—he has not travelled for me since I was in business on my own account—he may have received an order from me when he was not in my service—I do not remember paying him a commission—it is totally false that Charles Eadie read me a report of the prisoner's bankruptcy in the Timber Trade Journal at the end of 1895, and that he said, "What a bad job for Harry"—I was not on more friendly terms with the prisoner than with other customers—I had a loan of £25 from him, but nothing previously—he was a debtor to the firm—I telegraphed to the prisoner from Margate in the name of Joe—(This telegram was dated July 23rd 1898)—there is a letter from Mr. Barker dated Saturday evening—I cannot fix the date of that, but it was 1898, of course—I wrote it from my house—(This woe marked private, asking the prisoner to lend him £25)—I should say that that was in July, 1898—I had £25, but this letter was prior—the prisoner did not take a diamond ring off his finger and hand it to me when I was in difficulties—he sold me a diamond ring—I did not pawn it for £14—I did pawn it—I was to pay him £6 or £7, but I paid him nothing, because he owed me money—Mr. Manning is my partner—we commenced business in November or December, 1897—I remember in 1897 intro-ducing a man named Nesbit to the prisoner with a view of doing business—I do nob remember Nesbit coming to me on March 11th, 1897—my firm was by no means on very confidential terms with the prisoner, but I have lent him money—I know Alfred Basham, but he did not inform me in January, 1895, at my place of business, that the prisoner was bank-rupt, and had been sent to prison—my office at that time was in Lime
Street, but he was never in it in his life—I have had nothing to do with him since 1895, but I might have met him in the street when I was manager to the Penang Company—I do not remember meeting Mr. Perkins, a traveller, ac the end of 1895, with the prisoner, at Liverpool Street Station, but a man of that name was called as a witness at the Police-court—I never heard from Basham that the prisoner had been con victed at the Bankruptcy Court—the prisoner never told me that the goods were being bought to the credit of George Barker—he did come to the office with George Barker, no relation of his, on February 24th, 1898—I had received £6 from the prisoner as a deposit on timber the previous day, but he did not say it would be safer to deal with George Barker direct as he was an undischarged bankrupt—Mr. Manning was present at that interview—we have two rooms leading into each other, he might have gone into the other room but he could hear the conversation—George Barker gave the prisoner £15, but not to me, in part pay-ment, he handed it to Mr. Manning—I did not say, "Cannot you pay without borrowing money"—nor did the prisoner say, "It is difficult as I have not got my discharge"—nor did I say, "Cheer up"—the prisoner brought James Barker to my office—I did tell them to clear out of my office, but not because Barker asked me whether the prisoner could do straightforward business, pressing me as to whether he was an undis-charged bankrupt.
Re-examined. The prisoner never told me till November that he. was an undischarged bankrupt, my impression is that after 1892, I did not see him till early in 1897—I could not get my money for Queen Street, Cheap-side, and Mr. Warren, the landlord, said, "Don't you know he is an undischarged bankrupt?"—If I had known he was undischarged or had. been convicted I should not have given him credit for £700.
By MR. ROBBBTS. Mr. Stewart has acted for me as solicitor occa-sionally, as a friend, but he is not my solicitor—I heard on Monday that Mr. Stewart was present at Chelmsford when the prisoner was tried.
RUPERT MANNING . I am junior partner in the firm of Whiting and Manning—I first saw the prisoner in February, 1898, when he came to the office abouta parcel of white woody—I did not know till November that year that he had been convicted of fraudulent bankruptcy—if my firm had known that we certainly should not have given him credit for £700.
Cross-examined. I went into partnership with Mr. Whiting in 1897—I was then 22 years of age—I put some money in—I remember George Barker coming with the prisoner—I went out of the room, but I could hear the whole of the conversation—Mr. Whiting said that he should not like to do anything behind prisoner's back—I saw the £15 paid in gold—the prisoner did not say, "You had better deal with Greorge Barker, as I am an undischarged bankrupt"—I do not remember his saying that it was all right, on the occasion when George Barker paid the prisoner £50—Barker did not say, "Don't you think I am a fool to lend £50 to an. undischarged bankrupt."
Witnesses or the Defence.
—I met him at Liverpool Street Station three or four days before Christ-mas, 1895—I was with Henry Perkins—we met between Nos. 1 and 2 platforms at the bottom of the stairs—I spoke to Whiting—he said, "I am very glad to see you; I had no idea the time had gone so quickly" he referred to my twelve months' imprisonment—I was tried at the quarter Sessions—we adjourned and had a drink, and discussed my life in prison—Perkins was with us all the time; I do not think I introduced him to the prisoner—he had seen him previously—we were there not less than an hour—we had two or three drinks—I was going home to Old Ford, and Whiting was waiting for a gentleman—this was about 10.30 a.m.; I saw him several times after that between February and March, 1896; I saw him at The Bone House, Bishopsgate—when I came out I heard from my friends that my case had been reported—at the time I was committed Whiting lived in the district in which I was committed—the fraudulent bankruptcy was at Leyton—I saw him a number of times between 1895 and 1898—witnesses were called at my trial, which lasted about two hours, and I was convicted by the jury—early in January, 1897, Mr. Whiting introduced me to Mr. Nesbit—I have frequently discussed the bankruptcy business with Whiting—Nesbit's timber came to about £170—Whiting did not suggest that I should trade in my brother's name—I have a brother—George Barker is no relation of mine—Whiting suggested that I should trade in my brother's name in 1897—my brother would be unlikely to be able to pay £700—it was done so that I should not run any risk—Whiting had no money at the time—Nesbit was the name of the firm—this was an account which I was to open with Nesbit, but I declined—at the end of 1897 I met Whiting several times at Liverpool Street Station—he was in want of money, and I borrowed half a sovereign for him—I came across him again in January or February last at the office at St. Mary Axe, and he gave me a specification about February 14th or 16th—I did not think much of the wood—I went up to see them at the office and Mr. Whiting said, "I can find another customer like him, I know what he is"—I asked him if he knew anything about my bankruptcy and he said, "I don't want to know anything about that, have you any money?"—I said I had about £5—the advantage Whiting was to obtain in giving me credit for this large amount was to help me along—George Barker called with me next day—Mr. Manning was pre-sent, but he went out of the office—George Barker said, "Is this all right?" and he lent me £15 in gold, and the next transaction I had with him he lent me £50—he knew that I was an undischarged bankrupt—he said, "Don't you think I am a good old 'pal' to lend you £50?"–when I told him of my bankruptcy he said, "We don't want to hear so much about that"—about Whiteun, 1898, I took George Barker to the office and Whiting said of me, "I know more about him than you do"—we had a few words over the quality of some wood and Barker was ordered out of the office—he lent me a ring in July, when he was going for his holiday, and when he asked me for it I said I had not got it—I got the money from George Barker to get it out—I cannot say how much it was pawned for—I have helped him.
Cross-examined. I had twelve months at Chelmsford, but I was not guilty—I was convicted of not disclosing to the trustee—one was a
sale by auction which I never received 1d. for—I saw Whiting from 1892 when he was in the Penang Company, till I was convicted, but I was not in his company—I was convicted in October, 1894, and I came out in 1895—I saw Whiting dozens of times between 1895 and 1898—I have often mentioned my bankruptcy—we sometimes talked about some-thing else—I won't say we talked about it a dozen times after I got credit, but more than once—I was anxious about it because I did not want to go to prison again—they were trading in bills, and knowing I was an undischarged bankrupt, my bills were no good to them—I mean to say that I gave cash to meet the acceptances as they came due—I have paid £270 in cash during that time—my money would be useful in meeting the acceptances—I did not say at the Police-court that the meeting at Liverpool Street was in the evening—the meeting lasted about an hour, or it might have been more—I do not know A. H. Culver—this is a receipt signed by Culver, he is my customer's man—this is a receipt for goods supplied by me (Produced)—I do not know C. Barker or G. Barker—I never in my life traded as "J, H. Baker and Co."—this is my writing; the solicitors asked me to sign it—I said, "I am not J. H. Baker," but they told me to put it down.
By the JURY. The ring was worth £20—I gave £6 for it—I was in possession of the ring—I only wore it occasionally.
ROBERT MANNING (Re-examined). I was in the habit of drawing bills, but we never accepted any—it is quite untrue that there were a number of trade bills due from time to time, which we had to find cash to meet—Whiting found no money, but he had a connection—I found about £1,000—I know very little about timber—I never found any difficulty in meeting trade bills, because I never had any.
HENRY PARKINS . I am a traveller, of Norfolk House, Well Street, Hackney—in December, 1895, just before Christmas, I was with the prisoner at Liverpool Street Station; Mr. Whiting came up—it was in the morning—we adjourned to the refreshment bar for half an hour or longer—Mr. Whiting said that he was very sorry for his bankruptcy and anything he could do for him in the future he would—the prisoner dis-cussed the routine of the prison—I knew that he had been in prison, but did not exactly know what the charge was—an appointment was made to meet at the Bone House, Bishopsgate Churchyard.
Cross-examined. I was a stranger to Mr. Whiting—I have known Barker two years—I am not a great friend of his—I travel for myself—I have no offices—I have a travelling show; swings and roundabouts—this conversation was about a fortnight before Christmas—I said before the Justice "We were there about a quarter of an hour altogether, from 10.15 to 10.30"—I only knew from his own conversation that Barker had been in prison—there was no reason why the conversation should be impressed on my memory—I met him again months afterwards, and then he told me that he might do business with them—I did not see the pri-soner every day; I sometimes met him by appointment, and sometimes casually—I was in their company several times at the Bone House—my attention was first called to this some months afterwards; I suppose it would come out in the course of conversation—I talked with Barker about it before I went to the police, or I should not have gone there.
JAMES BARBER , I am a timber merchant, of Amberly Road, Lea Bridge Road—in July last I went with the prisoner to Whiting and Manning—Mr. Whiting knew me before—I went in consequence of a parcel of walnut, which was in two parcels—I had been to the docks, and decided to take one parcel which I considered the best of the two, but. the order was issued for the inferior parcel, and I went to inquire about it—it belonged to Whiting and Manning—I said, "What does this mean? is this the way you transact your business? if I had not been 'cute I should have lost £30 or £40"—he said, "You are doing with Mr. Barker"—I said, "No"—Mr. Whiting, or the manager, or whoever he is, said, "I understand my business; what do you mean by your in sinuation? leave my office"—I said, "I am very sorry I ever came into it"—I saw Barker again, and accepted the parcel—then there was a cigar-box handed to me, and I had a smoke—we talked it over, and I said, "We shall see if this order is clear before I part with my money"—a bottle of wine was offered to me; I did not drink any of it, I took it away—that was all that passed.
GEORGE BARKER . I am a cabinet maker, of 44, Columbia Road, Hackney—I am no relation of the prisoner, but have had business relations with him—I first went with him to Whiting and Manning about February, 1898, and I paid them £15 for him—Mr. Whiting knew that I was paying it on Barker's account—I said "Barker is a funny fellow"—he said "Yes, he ia a d——d funny fellow; I have known him longer than you"—there was a little conversation and Barker said, "Yes, I am a b—funny fellow. You will never be paid, I am an undischarged bankrupt," but I knew it before that.
Cross-examined. I did not think the conversation was serious—it was jocular from beginning to end—Mr. Manning was there—I do not know that I thought of it again till I heard of this aflair—the prisoner subpœnaed me after the charge, but I had no conversation with him at all—I do not remember one-third of the conversation, I never thought of it till I got the subpœena—nobody told me what I was to come and speak to—I saw Barker before I went to the Police-court—I did not have a drink with him—I did not know the purpose for which he wanted me—I have had some of this timber, and paid the prisoner for it £200 or £300—he owes me money—he is not a friend of mine—I have known him five or six years—no one has mentioned this to me till I came into the witness-box.
CHARLES EALING . I am a traveller in the timber trade, of East Ham, and have been in Mr. Whiting's employ as traveller—I took an order for timber of the prisoner—I was in business relations with him after he left—he was with White and Warmington till about 1893—I saw the report of his conviction in the daily journals, but I was not with Mr. Whiting then.
J. WHITING (Re-examined). I read the Timber Trade Journal; everybody in the trade looks at that—I take it in—I am sure I never saw in it an account of the prisoner's conviction, at Chelmsford, of fraudulent bankruptcy—I believe there is a column for that purpose—I pay cash at thirty days for my timber; they never draw on me.
By the JURY. I was satisfied in my own mind that he was perfectly straightforward, so X allowed the balance to run on—his previous
account with the company was about £150 or £180—I am not in a position to say whether he paid the company—I left before he paid—I did not make inquiries before giving him credit—I knew that there was such a place as Stubbs', and Parry's; we used them.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Monday, January 16th, 1899.
Before Mr. Justice Darling.
MR. C. F. GILL, Q.C., and MR. BODKIN Prosecuted;
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on May 10th, 1889, of a like offence when he was sentenced to ten years' penal servitude.— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Monday, January 16th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
137. GEORGE FREDERICK TIPPETT (69) and HENRY WILLIAM TIPPETT (40) , Obtaining from Messrs. Brown, Janson and Co., £2,797 14s., and other sums from Messrs. Baelay and Co., Ltd., and from Lloyd's Bank, Ltd, by false pretences with intent to defraud. Other Counts, for obtaining credit from the same persons by false pretences and for conspiracy.
GEORGE FREDERICK TIPPETT PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining credit by false pretences.— Judgment Respited.
No evidence was offered against Henry William Tippett. NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Darling.
MESSRS C. F. GILL, Q.C., HORACE AVORY, and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MR. PERCEVAL HUGHES Defended.
GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL, HORACE AVORY, and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and PERCEVAL HUGHES Defended.
GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
141. JOSEPH HILTON (26) , to stealing an overcoat, the property of Alfred Robert Jackson; having been convicted on Sep-tember 10th, 1894. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Six convictions were proved against him.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
142. CHARLES JOHN WINTER (47) , to Forging and uttering a receipt for £2 16s. 6d.; also a receipt for £10 10s.; also to stealing £20, the monies of Frederick Gilbert Bourne, and others. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.]
Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. SANDS appeared for Johnson, and MR. DRAKE for French.
EDWARD THOMAS DODD . I am a labourer, of 3, Addington Street, Canning Town—on Sunday, December 11th, I went out at 7.40 for a walk, and came back through the Barking Road—I was not sober—I saw five or six men walking towards me arm in arm—I stepped into the road, and was struck and knocked down—there was a fair light—Johnson and McMahon are two of them——I do do not exactly identify French—a man put his hand in my pocket—I got up and was knocked down again—all the lot were at me—some-one said "Look out Day, the coppers are coming"—I saw that man taken by a policeman about 200 yards off and my chain was found on him—this is it—I never saw my watch again—the next morning'I picked Johnson out from a lot of working men differently dressed—I also picked out the other man, but I was not thoroughly certain.
Cross-examined by McMahon. I was perfectly sober—I struck you in the chest after the policeman arrested you, but you struck me first—you did not walk across the road nor did I follow you—we did not then start fighting nor did a young chap say, "If I were you I would get away, or you will get into trouble"—the constable and I did not then go over to you.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. I had just turned into the Barking Road and this happened very suddenly—the moment I saw them I was knocked down—I cannot say what position Johnson occupied in the row, but I recognise his face—they were pretty well all alike—the outside man knocked me down—I will not swear whether that was Johnson—when I got up the first time Johnson was standing there with the gang—I can not say whether he struck me, but somebody did, or I should not have fallen down—I identify Johnson by his face, not by his clothes—he is a labouring man—he is not all smooth-faced—the polioe were with me when I identified him; their hats were off—I did not giro the police any description of the men; I remembered their faces, and I identified two.
EDGAR CREW (416 K). I am stationed at Plaistow—on Sunday evening, November 11th, I was in Barking Road near the corner of Liver-pool Street, and saw the three prisoners whom I knew by sight, and had had occasion to speak to them that night about ten minutes before the robbery—they were all in a row, and I followed them down Barking Road—Mr. Dodd was going in the same direction, and the prisoners crossed over to the opposite side and walked towards Trinity Church, till they got to the Royal Oak, and stopped; and when Dodd was passing them McMahon struck him to the ground—there were no words—I crossed the road and saw McMahon standing over Dodd, and Johnson and others rifling his pockets—French was one of the six, but I did not notice what he was doing; alter seeing me he
ran away, and I blew my whistle and ran and caught McMahon—he said, "You have got the wrong one this time!"—447 K came up and took this chain from McMahon's hand—on the way to the station he asked Dodd if he was going to charge him with robbery—Dodd was sober—I did not take Johnson—I took French on the Monday morning in Canning Town, and told him it was for being with McMahon and committing a robbery in Barking Road—he made no reply—he was placed with several others at the station and Dodd picked him out—he said nothing when he was charged.
Cross-examined by McMahon. You ran away—Dodd had not got his chain hanging down on his waistcoat—he said that he had lost his watch and his chain.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. The time was about 11.30—it was about ten minutes before we got to the station—I did not see Dodd step out in the road to pass the prisoners—I knew Johnson before personally—the first hearing was against McMahon only.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I had not known French before—I had never seen him in the company of McMahon or Johnson before this Sunday evening—I arrested him at hap hazard on the night of the 1st—I picked him out from a lot more—it is a quarter of an hour's walk from the public-house to the station—I did not hear him say, "I was not there"—when he was charged Johnson was at the station—I said so before the Magistrate.
Re-examined. A solicitor appeared for French before the Magistrate—this is the first time I have been asked whether French did not say, "I was not there."
ARTHUR CHENEY (447 K). On September 7th I was on duty at the corner of Adnam Road, Barking, and heard a police whistle—I went and found Crew struggling with McMahon—Dodd said, "I have been knocked down and robbed of my watch and chain"—I seized McMahon and took this chain from his hand—Dodd said, "This is my chain"—I assisted in taking McMahon to the station—he began to stagger and said, "I am drunk; I don't know what I have been up to to-night"—he was not drunk.
Cross-examined by McMahon. You were struggling violently when I went up, and trying to get away—I did not strike you—Dodd tried to strike you.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. I could see the clock quite easily—I had left the station at 11.5 and was just going home—I am certain about the time—it was not earlier or later—it was just about five minutes' walk from the station—I do not know McMahon or French—it is about 200 yards from the stall to Liverpool Street, but I did not measure it—I do not think it is 400 yards—I could easily walk it in five minutes.
CHARLES BUCHANNAN (204 K). On Sunday night, December 11th, I was on duty at the corner of May Street, Barking Road—there is a coffeestall at the corner—I saw Johnson, at 11.15, with his arm on the coffeestall, facing it, and several others with their backs to the road.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. There were other men there—they were all talking—I was not on point duty, I was on my beat—it was not a little earlier; it was 11.15—the clock struck eleven when I came up Rathbone
Street, and I looked at the clock at the corner of May Street; it was 11,15; I had stayed in Rathbone Street a little while, watching two other men who had got a seafaring man in tow.
CHARLKS HUTTON (Detective K). I went with Crane to Canning Town at 5.50 am., and saw Johnson in bed—I said, "I shall arrest you for being concerned with other men in stealing a watch and chain in Barking Road on Sunday night"—he said, "What time?"—I said, "Eleven"—he said, "I was at home at half-past ten and in bed;" and that he had not been with McMahon at all on that Sunday night—I made a note of that—up to that time neither I nor any of the other constables had men-tioned McMahon or "Mack."
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. McMahon had been before the Magi-strate the day before—Johnson spoke of him as "Mack"—he is well known to Johnson.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I have made enquiries about French's character; he has lived with his parents all his life—they have lived in the same house for thirty-six years—he bears a good, steady character.—The Recorder considered that there was not sufficient evidence against FRENCH.
NOT GUILTY .
Evidence for the Defence.
EDWARD MCMAHON (The prisoner). On December 11th, about 11.20 Sunday night, I was passing by the Royal Oak, and met Thomas Dodd—he was coming in the opposite direction—he pushed against me—he was a little bit drunk—he struck me in the chest twice and I struck him back—I said, "I do not want anything to do with you," and walked across the road—he followed me, ami struck me three or four times in succession without any reason whatever—I was alone—a young chap said, "If I were you I should stop fighting, or you will get into trouble"—I saw some men at a coffee-stall—when the policeman took me Dodd said he would charge me with fighting him, and that he had lost his watch—I said, "I do not know who took it"—another constable came—I threw up my hands and another constable caught hold of me, and then left me and went to Dodd, and they came back and laid hold of me, and Dodd came and hit me a severe blow on my nose—a policeman stopped him, and when we got to the station a second constable came up and charged me—while I was in the dock Dodd came up to fight me again, and the second constable said I had two coins in my possession, but when he got to the Police-court he said I had the coins and the chain—I mean to suggest that it is absolute fiction about having the chain in my hand.
Cross-examined. The constable must have got the chain and coins from the prosecutor—my suggestion is that Dodd and the prosecutor conspired together.
WALTER JOHNSON . About 11.10 on this night I was at the top of Liverpool Road, and saw McMahon and Dodd walking towards the Royal Oak—I followed them there—they were both drunk—I saw Dodd fighting—the prisoner McMahon was alone—the prosecutor struck him back, and walked across the road—McMahon said, "Go away, you will get me locked up," and ran away—I walked on and saw the policeman and McMahon—there was no attempt to rob Dodd—I never saw anybody else with McMahon.
Cross-examined. I was there quite by accident—I am Johnson's brother, and live in the same house with him—I came there quite by accident—I walked down Barking Road, and saw McMahon by himself—I knew French before—if he had been there I should have seen him—I went home and woke my brother up, and told him that McMahon was, locked up—he said, u What for?"—I said, "For fighting."
Cross-examined. I was not there—I do not know the constable Charles Buckland—I did not go out till late—I went to my brother's and stopped an hour—I came out and went to a public-house, and had a glass and came out, and walked round to a public-house—I stopped there till 10 o'clock, and as I was going home I saw my brother John standing by a door—I had a bit of a yarn with him, and went home to bed—that was another brother—I know the coffee-stall at the corner of May Street—I was not there—I know Cornish by sight—I did not see him there that night or Buckland—I did not see McMahon—I worked with him—I have a seven years' character—in September, 1893, I was convicted of stealing seven pigeons, and sentenced to a month's imprisonment.
Re-examined. I was then seventeen years old—these constables may have seen me without my seeing them—this coffee-stall is ten minutes' walk from where I live—the public-house is the Bentham Arms—I did not pass the coffee-stall on my way home, I cut down another street—Con-stable Crew says he saw me at the corner of Liverpool Road at 11.15, and another constable says that I was at the coffee-stall at that time: I am a funny man to be in two places at once.
By the COURT. I have not been convicted summarily several times as a rogue and vagabond—I have been convicted three times, but only for assaults.
CHARLES DENISON . I am a coal-porter, and live in the same house with Johnson—he was arrested on a Tuesday, and I saw him on the pre-vious Sunday night about 11 o'clock—I do not think it was after—I saw him in bed when I came home.
Cross-examined. I generally notice the time when I go to bed—I very seldom go to bed later—I was not out and in the Barking Road at 11 o'clock or a little later—I know McMahon slightly as "Mack "—I was not with him that night or with Johnson—Johnson and I did not go about together—there was a lamp in his room—it is my custom to go into his room for the lamp if there is not one in my room—it belongs to the house—Johnson's brother Harry sleeps with him and was with him when I went in—I do not know whether Johnson was awake—I work for William Boyde, of the Victoria Docks and am paid daily—I work casually but sometimes all the week—I worked throe days last week.
McMahon's Defence. 1 wish to say that the two constables have made a mistake in their evidence. Crew says he saw me, Johnson and French at 11.15 on the Sunday night and that we were talking ten minutes, the third constable says he saw French and Johnson at the corner of May Street at 11.15; they could not have been talking to me there at the same time, as there is 500 yards between the two places. This man struck me twice and I hit him again.
McMAHON and JOHNSON GUILTY —Johnson then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in September, 1893—McMAHON.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour and twenty strokes with the Cat —JOHNSON.— Thirteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
WILLIAM GORDON . I am a stevedore of 4, Crawford Place, Tidal Basin—I was with Barry on Christmas Eve—we went into a public-house and saw the two prisoners; Johnson said, "I will have a drop of run with you"—I said I would not drink with him—we left the house, and Brill struck me a violent blow on my jaw and knocked me down; I got up and Johnson struck me on my jaw and put his hand in my left pocket and took out 9d. and showed it to Birll—there was a gret crowd of women and men—Michael Courtney came up and said, "Have them locked up"; and they knocked him down—I went with a constable to the public-house and arrested Johnson; and he kicked me in the groin, but did not hurt me, though he left the mark of this hoot on me—the blow I had from Johnson caused blood, and my cheek was cut by my teeth.
Cross-examined by Brill. I had earned £1 2s. the night previous—I never stole a purse and silk handkerchief from a sailor.
PATRICK BARRY On the night of December 23rd I as walking wiht Gordon in High Street, Woolwich—we went into the Three Daws—Johnson was there—Gordon said, "You will have nothing with me"—Johnson said, "I will see you later on," and outside, Johnson said, "Why did not you give me a drink?" Gordon said, "I do not associate with your equals"—Johnson knocked him down with his left hand—he got up again and stood against the wall, and Johnson put his hand in this pockets—I did not interfere, as there was a strong gang there, and a lot of women.
Cross-examined by Brill. I am coal-porter—I do not steal—I do not cut people's heads open with a pot, or knife them, to get money; I have not been long in Woolwich.
MICHAEK COURTNEY . I live at 4, Crawford Street, Tidal Basin, with the prosecutor—I am a coal porter—on December 23rd I saw Gordon outside the Three Daws, bleeding from his mouth—I asked him what was the matter—he said that Johnson had been kicking him about and Johnson came up and hit me on my mouth, and kicked me, and as I was getting up he kicked me just below the temple, and made a great mark.
Cross-examined by Brill. I a not the terror of Woolwich—I have been convicted of assaults, but these men are called the Woolwich Arabs, and it is not safe for a man to go ut with a shilling in his pocket.
kich at Gordon's private parts—I said, "Don't do that"—he said, "It is enough to make anybody violent"—there were many people about, prostitutes and loafers.
EDWARD BRILL (The prisoner). On December 23rd, in the afternoon, I went with Johnson and had some ale—we stopped till five minutes to eight, when Gorden came in and gave me into custody, and that is the first time I saw him thay day—the constable took Johnson away, and I stopped there—Courtney came in, and said that I had knocked him about—they are trying to get me false imprisonment.
Cross-examined. When Gordon came into the public-house that was the first time I saw him that day—they have given false evidence to put me into prison—four months ago Gordon came into a public-house with a man named Jerry, and asked me to give him beer; I said I had no beer for him; he hit me and I hit him back again, and he has always had a grudge against me—Gordon said to Johnson, "Keep out of Brill's company"—we were in the Three Daws from ten to three, and in the evening till nearly eight—I never get into any disturbances, if a man interferes with me I cannot help it, but I never ask for a row—I have one perhaps twice a year I have been in trouble, worse luck—I was in prison twice last year, and on December 28th, 1897, I got three months for stealing fours pairs of boots—I did not steal them, but I was with the chap who did—the first time I was in prison was for assault—I have been convicted about eight or nine times for gambling and drunkenness, and I got two months for assaulting the police, but I never spoke to the man—I sometimes work in the docks, and sometimes get 1s. for helping people, and sometimes I do coal work, but not regular.
Johnson's defence. Brill and I went to a public-house, and had three glasses of ale and a man came in. We were there till 5.30, and afterwards Gordon came in and said, "I want that man arrested."
GUILTY .—They then PLEADED GUILTY to former convictions. JOHNSON on March 16th, 1897, and BRILL on December 28th, 1897. Three other convictions were proved against Johnson, and eleven against Brill.— Eighteen Month's Imprisonment and Twelve Strokes each with the Cat.
Before Mr. Justice Darling.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted. CHARLES MERCER. I live at 25, King William Street, Greenwich, and am the landlord—the prisoner occupies three rooms with her husband and three step children—last Thursday week, January 5th, I was at home soon after seven—I heard her say to the children, "I will burn you Nellie," and "I will burn you Harry "—I heard her wrangling at them in rather a loud voice, but no other words—a out 8.30 I heard a knock at the door—in consequence of what a gentleman said I went up to her room—I saw the prisoner and three children—I said I would go for the police—she said I could do what I liked—the room was full of smoke—I could see smoke coming from the fireplace—I asked her what she was ing—I ran from the room and got a constable—she was very excited,
my belief is she was drank—the constable came and took her into custody—the eldest child is eleven, a boy; one is four or five.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I saw chairs in the fire-place, half in the fender and half on the hearthrug—they were burning—there was a great smell of paraffin.
HENRY GEORGE STONEHAM . I am eleven years old—the prisoner is my step-mother—I lived with her in King William Street, Greenwich—I have a brother, eight, and one sister, six years old—on this Thursday night she said she would burn us—she upset the water, made the fire up and put the chairs on; then she got the oil-can and put oil on the fire in the grate and on the chairs—it blazed up—there was smoke in the room—we went to the door, but mother shut us in—she would not let us go out—she held the door—then she lay on the floor—then a policeman came after Mr. Mercer came in.
Cross-examined. No one told me what to say—we were not playing on the tin box near the window during the day—we thieved an apple and. some nuts from over at the shop—mother said the policeman would lock; us up—before that I had stolen a halfpenny, but I gave it to mother back again.
THOMAS PARSONS (518 R). About 8.50 p.m. on Thursday week I was called to 23, King William Street—I went to the front room on the first-floor—I found the prisoner lying on the floor close to the fire-place—a cane chair was on the fire still burning: another chair was on the hearthrug, also smouldering, and the chimney was well alight—I looked up and saw it, it was quite red as far as I could see; both the structure and the soot, and the three children were in the room—I asked the prisoner if she put the chairs on the fire—she said, "Yes, I put them on because I paid my insurance"—I said, "Why did you put the oil on"—she said "To make it burn; I do not care"—I have great experience of drunken people—she was not drunk then; she had evidently been drinking earlier in the day—she knew what was going on and answered me quite well—I took her to the station—she was formally charged with feloniously setting fire to the dwelling-house of Charles Mercer—she made no answer.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I have no recollection whatever of the fire, nor of Mr. Mercer entering my room; and I do not believe I ever said anything about the fire insurance. I will go into the box."
The prisoner stated, in her defence, that the children were troublesome and given to thieving, and she threatened them to prevent their bad ways bringing them into trouble; but the fire and smoke was an unfounded story.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. KENT Prosecuted.
ALEXANDER WASHINGTON TRAICE . I am a glass painter, of 142, Earlsey Road, Battersea—on Saturday, December 3rd, I left work at 1 o'clock—I went into Battersea Square and had several drinks—I re-member being in Battersea Square between four and five and being at the Police-station between nine and ten—I had nothing in my pockets then—I had had £2 and a magnifying glass about the size of 1s.—I do not remem-ber seeing the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I do not know what time I left Battersea to go to Wandsworth—I do not remember being in your company.
Re-examined. I had a slight bruise on my eye, and a slight cut on my neck.
ROBERT WHITFIELD (112 V). On December 3rd, about 8.45, I was on duty in plain clothes at Wandsworth—I saw the prisoner leading the prosecutor who appeared to be drunk—the prisoner said to the prosecutor "Come along, we will go this way"—they went into the Putney Bridge Road—I met another officer who I got to accompany me—the prisoner then tried to get the prosecutor down towards the river, but he declined to go—at the top of Fore Park Road the prisoner took the prosecutor into a field; I got behind a hedge and watched—I saw the prisoner strike a light and look on the ground—he got up and struck the prosecutor over his left eye, he fell, and the prisoner made off rather quickly; and we went after him, stopped him, and brought him back—I took him by his left hand, in which I found 3s. 4d.,—the other officer had him by his other hand and found some money in that—he was wearing this hat, which the prosecutor afterwards identified—the prisoner's cap was in his own pocket.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You tried to drag the prosecutor down a road which is not named yet—you did not go into the Queen Adelaide—you were never out of my sight—I was on the left side of the road—we were ten or twelve yards away—we could see everything that took place—the other officer took the glass out of your hand.
By the COURT. The prisoner had 6s. 6d. in his pocket—he had been drinking; he was not drunk.
JOHN GILLAN (707 V). On Saturday night, December 3rd, I was on duty in plain clothes with Whitfield in Fore Park Road, Wandsworth—I saw the prisoner take the prosecutor along Fore Park Road, and tried to induce him on to a piece of waste ground; the prosecutor declined to go—he then, took him about 500 yards lower down, and struck him on the face and knocked him down; he lay on him a few moments, and then ran away, we went after him—I caught bis right hand and took 2s.1d., and this magnifying glass (Produced) from it, which the prosecutor identified—just before the prisoner struck him I saw a match struck—I was two or three yards from the last witness, looking through the fence.
Cross-examined. The fence was about twenty four yards from the road—I was about twelve yards from you when you struck the prosecutor—you forced him across the road.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he-met the prosecutor in a public-house
who asked him if he would go to Putney with him, that they went into another public-house, and on coming out the prosecutor fell and struck his face on the footpath: that the prosecutor put the prisoner's hat on his heady and the prisoner put the prosecutor's on his own, and they crossed the road, arid the prosecutor put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some money, which fell on the grass; that the prisoner struck a match and picked it up, and the prosecutor asked how much he had, and the prisoner went across to a lamp to see, when the police took him.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony on December 21st, 1897, and ten other convictions were proved against him— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MOSELEY, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
148. JOHN WHITE (74) PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining by false pretences from Harry Stuart Marks, six under-vests arid other articles, and from Thomas Brown, three overcoats; also to attempting to obtain a sewing-machine from John Nicholls, and three overcoats from Alexander Vaughan, with intent to defraud.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. J. O. MATTHEWS and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, MR. HARRISON appeared for Sullivan, and MR. RANDOLPH for Symonds.
SYMONDS— NOT GUILTY .—SULLI VAN and BAILEY— GUILTY . Bailey had been convicted in July, 1888, at Epsom, of assault—Sullivan had been convicted of drunkenness and poaching. Three: Years' Penal Servitude each.
MR. GUY STEPHENSON, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
151. WALTER PRY (18) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering St. Paul's Church, Dorking, and stealing 14s. 6d., the moneys of the church wardens, also to stealing a purse and two watches, the property of Matilda Rose, having been convicted at Dorking on September 8th, 1894 Other convictions were proved against him— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, FEBRUARY 6TH, 1899.