CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 12TH, 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
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Tuesday, September 12th, 1899, and following days,
Before the Kight Hon. SIR JOHN VOCE MOORE, KNT., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir WALTER PHILLIMORE , Knt., one of the Judges of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS , Bart.; Sir GEORGE F. FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Bart, G.C.I.E., Aldermen of the said City; the Right Hon. Sir CHARLES HALL , K.C.M.G., Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; SIR JOHN KNILL , Bart.; WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq.; THOMAS VEZY STRONG, Esq.,; THOMAS BOOR CROSBY, Esq., M.D., 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 HASLE, ESQ.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
MOORE, MAYOR. ELEVENTH 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 figrures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT—Tuesday, September 12th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
566. ANN DOYLE (74) , to stealing two dresses, the property of William McDowall, she having been convicted on July 2nd, 1897. (Thirteen conviction were proved against her.)— Four Months' hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
569. HENRY FREDERICK DIGBY (21), to stealing two post letters, value 4s. each, the property of the Postmaster General, while employed under the Post Office.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. SANDS, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence. NOT GUILTY .
MR. VAUGHAN-RODERICK Prosecuted.
CHAS. WENNEGAR . I am cashier to Messrs. Chas. Cameron, of Sheffield—on March 10th I paid £5 on account of Messrs. Jepson, and received this receipt (Produced) from their representative—it was written in front of me, but I cannot recollect who the man was.
WALTKR HAPER . I am the secretary and managing director to Messrs. Jepson and Co.—I last engaged the prisoner in January at 1s. per week salary, and 50 percent, commission on orders received, which would bring him in something like 70s. a week—his duties were to colect money and take orders on our account, to get fresh names and keep the other names correct; he had to give the receipts supplied by us and remit the balance to us, less his commission, once or twice a week—this is one of our genuine
receipt books, produced—they are similar to the ones supplied by the prisoner—he wrote to us, and said that he had used no other receipts, and that the blank receipts in his possession were the only ones which had been used—he had no authority to upe any other—this (Produced) is not one of our receip, tsit has been printed by somebody else—it is signed by the prisoner—he ought to have accounted to us for that money—since he has been charged he has admitted that he collected this £5—he ought to have accounted for it to us in the account ending March 22nd—I received this letter from him. (Saying that, he would give full information on the distinct terms that he should not be annoyed in any manner or way afterwards,) I also received this letter. (This stated that the prisoner had had hopes of putting everything straight but that things had been so bad that he could not do it and that the only thing he could offer to liquidate the debt was to remit all he goi, but that he could not make his expenses less than they were then.) He has admitted about 40 receipts which were given on forms not printed by us.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You have been in our employ three or four years since the last engagement, altogether for about 16 or 17 years—you had about 25 receipts given you as a rule.
Re-examined. We paid his travelling and posting expenses—when he gave this forged receipt he had 31 of our receipts in his possession.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that he was kept short of receipts, and had to use the orders, but that he would take up the debts when he had opportunity.— GUILTY . He had been discharged from other firms for similar practices.— Ten Monthns' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 12th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
JOHN BUCK . I live at 222, High Street, Camden Town—on July 23rd the prisoner came to my shop for half an ounce of tobacco, price 2d.; my son served him, and I gave him change for this 5s. piece (Produced)—I took no other 5s. piece that day—at the end of the day I paid it into the bank, and it came back to me—I had seen the prisoner once before—I afterwards identified him at Marlborough Street among several others.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were not served at my shop on the following Wednesday.
FRANK BUCK . I am the son of the last witness—on this Sunday evening I sold some tobacco to the prisoner; he gave me a 5s. piece—I gave it to my father—I afterwards picked the prisoner out from others at the station.
1st, about 5.30, I sold the prisoner some socks; he gave me a 5s. piece; I put it in a little box—I had no other crown there—I gave him the change—a constable came about five minutes afterwards and I handed him the coin—about three-quarters of an hour afterwards I picked the prisoner out at the station from a number of others.
FREDERICK HARVEY . I am a stationer, of 62, Great Portland Street—on August 1st, about 6 p.m., I served the prisoner with some envelopes, price 3d.—he gave me this coin (Produced) I saw at once that it was bad, and said, "Do you know it is bad?"—he said, "No," and that he received it from a man in Covent Garden, and asked to have it back; we said that we should keep it—he said that he would fetch his mother, and left—I sent the boy after him.
FREDERICK JARVIS . I am an assistant in Mr. Harvey's shop—I was there when the coin was tendered, and followed the prisoner as far as Langham Street, where he went to a building and stopped there a few minutes—I spoke to a constable, and the prisoner was arrested—he was under my observation ten minutes or a quarter of an hour.
Cross-examined. You were standing when I first saw you, and sitting when I saw you again—I brought a policeman with me—you were by yourself—you said, "There is the foreman."
EDWARD DENTON (79 D). Jarvis pointed out the prisoner to me; I said, "I shall take you in custody for uttering a bad 5s. piece"—he said, "What! me; I never uttered it"—he was charged at the station, and said, "All right"—I found 1d. on him.
ALFRED DYER (352 D). On August 1st, about 5.30, I was on duty in Cleveland Street, and saw the prisoner and another man—he left the other man and went into Mr. Clay's, and came out and put a parcel in his pocket—I went in, and Mr. Clay produced a 5s. piece—I found the prisoner at the station.
Prisoner's Defence: I never saw any of these coins in my life. I was put with four or five lads, and, being much older, I had no chance at all.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT—Wednesday, September 13th, 1899.
Before Mr. Justice Phllimore.
The GRAND JURY having ignored the bill, MR. SANDS offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
(For other Cases tried this day, see Surrey Cases.)
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 13th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
(For other Cases tried this day, see Essex and Surrey Cases.)
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 13th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
576. FREDERICK OAKES (22) PLEADED GUILTY * to stealing a watch from the person of James Dixon, and to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in February, 1896, in the name of James Smith.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
579. GEORGE HAMMOND (54) , to four indictments for unlawfully obtaining from Walter Herbert Goss and others a quantity of quinine, and forging and uttering requests for the delivery of quinine and other goods; having been convicted of felony at this Court in July, 1895. There were five other convictions against him .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]And
(580) CORNELIUS SHEEHAN (46) , to attempting to have unlawful carnal connection with Maggie Strachan, a girl above 13 and under 16 years of age.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. J. P. GRAIN and PETER GRAIN Prosecuted.
ERNEST GEORGE VAN TROMP . I am a solicitor, of 16, Essex Street—I have been subpoenaed by the London and NorthWestern Railway Company to produce correspondence—I received a letter from the defendant on January 18th—I take the ordinary solicitor's objection to produce any document unless ordered by the Court to produce it—I was instructed by the prisoner that an accident had happened to him—he spoke of it as "Friday last, about midday"—at his request I wrote to the Railway Company—I received an acknowledgment of January 21st from Mr. Turnbull, and other letters of January 23rd and 25th, and later corropondence was followed by statement of claim, defence, interrogatories and answers—the company declining to make admissions, the case was set down for trial after March 18th—about the end of April I wrote to Howard, declining to act—I told him to instruct another solicitor—that was in consequence of information I received which had nothing to do with this action—after that I ceased to act for him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I wrote to Dr. Whitlock, and got his report of January 20th about the injuries, and after seeing Counsel
Put £500 in the statement of claim—you did not mention the sum—I have not doubt you would have taken £100 after seeing Dr. Page—the £33 18s. was for the doctor's fees and costs.
CHARLES FRANCIS HOCKIN . I am a solicitor, and in the Solicitors' Department of the London and North-Western Railway—I produce letter of January 13th from Howard to the secretary of the company, and othe letters—I accepted service of writ on February 10th—I produce statement of claim delivered by Mr. Van Tromp on February 28th, and the rest of the pleadings—I was in charge of the case—on April 11th it was in the paper, and followed a part heard on the 12th—when called on there was no answer—judgement was given against the prisoner—no proceedings have been taken to set aside the verdict.
SAMUEL ADAMS . I am a labourer in the Engineer's Department of the London and North-Western Railway—I was working with other men on January 13th at Kensal Rise Station, on theup-plaform—this model fairly represents the station platforms—I assisted to open a hole to put in new drain pipes—it wa 2 ft. by 4 ft.—we put a 11 in. plank for passengers to step on—there was no clay, only spent ballast, ashes—I went to work at 9 and to dinner at 12—I returned at 12.30, and was there till 4 o'clock—I saw no one fall down the hole, nor being assisted—I saw the guard get out of the 1.10 train, which I believe comes from Richmond—it came up opposite the hole.
Cross-examined. It was a wet day on and off—when it rains we stand under cover—I stood aside, but did not take notice of the passengers—no one tumbled where I was at work at the hole—I must seen them if they had.
CHARLES EDWARD MOLE . I am a labourer, employed by the London and North-Western Railway Company—on January 13th I was at work on the up platform of the Kensal Rise Station—I went to lunch from 12 to 12.30—the 1.10 train came in I was about five yards from the foot of the staircase—I did not see anyone slip on the plank acrose the hole, nor picked up, assisted in the train, not with his head bleeding, nor anu accident of any kind, nor bear of anu complaint.
Cross-examined. I crossed the line—we had dinner in the porters' room—we do not stop working for the rain on a job like this one, which must be finished—I do not remember seeing you come downstaris.
JOHN ARMSTRONG . I was working at this hole—I went to dinner about 12.30 to 1 o'clock—I was close to the hole after dinner—I saw no one fall on his back, nor any accident, nor anybody bleeding from the head, nor helped into the train.
Cross-examined. I cannot say that I was there when the train came in—I had to go that day to several places.
JAMES BEDBOROUGH . I am a guard on the North London Railway—I was the front guard of the 12.58 from Kew Bridge, which was due at 1.10 at Kensal Rise—my van stopped a few feet from the hole—it generally stops near the bottom of the stairs to get all the train in I walk down the train—at the end of the train was second-class carriage—if anybody had got into the train with his head bleeding I must have seen him—no complaint was made to me—I watched the train—I saw no accident, and nothing unusual.
Cross-examined. The next carriage to my van was a second class—it was only a few yards from the bridge—you could not have got in before I got out of the brake—I can remember my brake stopping opposite the hole—I noticed it because the hole was open.
JAMES BERRY , I was rear-guard of the 12.55 ex-Kew Bridge due at 1.10 at Kensal Rise on January 13th—when the train stops I walk up the train, the front guard walking to the back—I saw no one injured or bleeding, or assisted into a carriage.
Cross-examined. I was not likely to see anyone at the engine end of the train.
HARRY ROSE TAPLIN . I am a porter at Kensal Rise Station—I or Hopley, the other porter, took the tickets at the up platform on the arrival of the 1.10 train on January 13th—I saw no accident, no fall at the foot of the stairs—no complaint was made to me—taking tickets, I should have stood by the hole, a little way from the bridge.
GEORGE WHEELER . I am station-master at Kensal Rise—I held the position on January 13th—Hopley and Taplinwere the porters who collected the tickets—both wore on duty—I did not hear of any person falling—no complaint was made to me—I cross the line when the up and down trains do not clash; then there is one man on the up and two on the down platform.
Cross-examined. I do not remember seeing you before—Girdlestone took Griswood's place, and I have been there over two years.
WILLIAM FREDERICK LINE . On January 13th I was ticket examiner at Broad Street when the 1.40 train ran in from Kensal Rise—I stood at the gates—one would be open, and the passengers would have to pass me and give up their tickets—I saw no injured person—nobody complained of any accident—I belong to St. John's Ambulance, and if I had seen anybody injured I should have made inquiries.
JOHN RICHARD BELL . I am platform porter at Broad Street—I was on duty at No. 8 platform when the 1.40 arrived, being the 1.10 from Kensal Rise—I shut the carriage doors—I saw no one injured, or being assisted—no complaint was made to me.
CHARLES RICHARD ABBOTT . I am an architect and surveyor—I have known Howard a little over seven years up to January 7th last—I have known him as a commission agent—on January 17th I received this postcard, "Please call here to-morrow, Wednesday morning, 9.30.—W. HOWARD"—I called at his house—Mrs. Howard let me in—the prisoner asked me to take a sealed letter to Mr. Van Tromp, 16, Essex Street—he gave me the fare—he was dressed, and in the sitting-room—I noticed no injury—he said he was not well—at his request I changed a cheque for him at his butcher's for £3 odd—he said nothing about an accident—I saw him the next day, and every day for a little time, from January 17th to 27th, except on Sunday—I took letters for him to Mr. Holland and others, and notes to Mr. Wanklin, of 20, Behring's Road, Kensal Green—previously I had known Wanklin as Nash—these messages were requests for money, especially on February 9th—he said Wanklin owed
him money—at Howard's request I paid the rent of 20, Behring's Road, where Wanklin lived—I first heard of the accident from Mr. Van Tromp on January 30th, when I complained of being employed in doing work without knowing what it was—Howard asked me to make a drawing of Kensal Rise Station—he said he had had an accident, and asked if I would be a witness—I said, "I do not know anything about it; I shall call on the 31st," and I called on him, when he sent me with another letter to Mr. Van Tromp—he told me he would coach me up and prompt me—I left that proposal open—I last saw him on May 12th, when I went for the money for the photographs I had secured of the station—he told me to tell Mr. Van Tromp that he was ill in bed, and too ill to come and see him—I told Mr. Van Tromp that—Howard was always dressed and downstairs when I saw him—he told me the accident was on the platform—when I found out there was no accident I was disgusted, and sorry I had had anything to do with it.
Cross-examined. I have lived in Kensal Green seven or eight years—I was in business at Watford, afterwards in London, at Kensal Green, Station Road originally—I had no plate nor anything painted up—my name was Lovejoy at Watford—I was married in the name of Lovejoy—my wife and children live at Watford—there is no warrant for my apprehension for deserting them, and never was; neither have 1 deserted them—I left Watford because the landlord wished to live in the house—I never used the name of Sinclair—my wife and I parted by mutual agreement—she knew where I was, and that I was living in the name of Abbott—the woman and her children are living close to Willesden Station, in one of my houses—I never lived in Warfield's house, nor any house he had any connection with, nor paid him rent—I had no flat, room, or apartment of his—I collected rents—I handed the principal part over—I did not steal any part—a small amount is not paid in—it is in the bank—until it is proved to be due I refuse to pay it—it is 23s.—I have known Mr. Todenham 20 years—he was introduced into the case to swear to your writing—I have not received £1 a day—I have not large expectations—I have not told anyone so, nor that a better game was taking letters at 6d. or 1s. each—my memory is not failing me—I did not apply for a situation in Chancery Lane in 1898—I did not tell you I should have had it but for my disreputable appearance—I did not tell you I and my children were starving—you gave me 3s. in Holborn, and a dinner of two sausages, potatoes and bread, and I delivered a letter to Mr. Van Tromp—Todenham did not threaten me that unless he had a share he would tell that it was a concocted story—I asked Van Tromp to pay for the photographs—he said they were not worth it—I said they would be a guinea—the photographer sent in a bill for a guinea, not 15s.—I promised to get the money quickly; you were to have 5s.; I got nothing out of it—I was intimate with the photographer until he was not paid for the photographs—I have done private business—I have not been selling indecent photographs—I have no charge against me—I did not tell you what a good game it was—you and Mrs. Howard are members of the Conservative Party and the Primrose League—I did not know Todenham was anything but a reputable character; I always knew him as gentlemanly in manner.
Re-examined. I made a statement to the London and North-Western Railway on March 14th (Produced)—this is my writing and ray signature.
JAMES HENRY PEARSON . I am Chief 1 nspector of the London and North-Western Railway Company's police at Euston Station—I was present at the Law Courts on May 12th—I had taken the statements of witnesses—Howard v. The London and North-Western Railway Company was in the paper on the 11th, and followed a partheard case on the 12th, when it was called on, and judgment given for the defendants—after the judgment I went into the Castle public-house, in Portugal Street—I saw the prisoner in the saloon bar talking to somebody for 10 minutes—on June 20th he was arrested in my presence by Sergeant Collins—he was told he need not say anything—he said, "The accident has caused me to be double ruptured; I had only one before. Mr. Wanklin followed me downstairs, and told me he saw me fall; and a lady also informed me she saw me fall. Wanklin helped to pick me up, and he and the lady saw blood running down my neck, and advised me not to go by the train. I do not know the lady, I have not seen her since. I had an appointment in the City, and was anxious to keep it. I have only seen Wanklin once since the accident. He then told me he had been advised not to have anything to do wiih my case, or he would get into trouble, and I have been deserted by my friends. I had lost all my money and my reversion, which brought me in £40, upon which I relied to pay my rent, which is mortgaged lo pay Mr. Van Tromp's costs in the action wnich I hoped to win; but after having seen the papers, for my daughter's sake, I decided not to go into the witness-box. I have been the victim of a conspiracy in this case, because if Dr. Whitlock, Mr. Wanklin, and others had gone into the witness-box as against me, they would have been asked a question which would have startled everybody; but Dr. Whitlock was mistaken, as the only evidence he had to give was about his costs in the action"—he said that when he was picked up, blood was running down his neck, after he had fallen down at the bottom of the stairs.
Cross-examined. You were arrested on a warrant which had been applied for on the same day—you said you did not know of the warrant, or you would have surrendered directy—you took us over the house and everywhere we asked you.
HENRY ATKINS BABER, M.R.C S . I was entrusted by the London and North-Western Railway Company to visit the defendant, and on February 3rd visited him with Dr. Whitlock in the evening—he was in bed—he complained of a pain over hia left ear and in his back—he told me there was a hole at the bottom of the stairs, which, after walking down, he fell into, his heel caught, and he was struck on his head; that he took no notice at the time, but went on in the train, and a gentleman said that his head was bleeding; that he put his hand and felt blood trickling down his neck, and when he got to Broad Street he felt so ill that he had to take a cab home, and then he sent for Dr. Whitlock; at first he was able to walk about the room, but after a time he was confined to his bed—the chief trouble he complained of was that was not able to retain his water—on examination, he told me he had had a bump by the left ear, and a cut, of which I was unable to find the mark or scar, over the left ear—he complained of injury and tenderness on my touching the
temporal region—I also examined the spine—he complained of pain in the lumbar region, the small part of the back—I was unable to see bruises or any marks, and all the symptoms were perfectly negative.
Cross-examined. There was time when I saw you for marks to have healed—I was not aware of the action.
----TODENHAM. I am a commission agent at Kilburn—I have done work for the prisoner—I know his writing.
HENRY COLLINS (Detective Officer). On June 20th I arrested the prisoner on a warrant at his house, 72, Kilbum Lane, about 10.15 p.m.—I was with Inspector Pearson—after I read the warrant he said to his wife, "My dear, this is cruel, considering the way I was injured"—I took possession of a quantity of papers I found in the house, and conveyed him to the station, where he was detained.
Cross-examined. You said had you known the warrant was out you would have surrendered—there were three officers; we had been waiting: some hours for you.
CHARLES FRANCIS HOCKIN (Re-examined). After judgment on May 12th I received this letter in the prisoner's writing, dated May 23rd, and addressed to Mr. Mason, of the Solicitors' Department—(This suggested that the directors should grant him compensation owing to the painful circumstances in which he was placed.)
In his defence, the prisoner said that he did not go on with the case, as he heard that Counsel would refer to former conviction 30 years ago, but that he met with the accidenit, and had suffered terribly.
Witness for the Defence,
MARY SHEPHERD . I am the wife of Mr. Shepherd, of 86, Kilburn Lane, a signalman at Farringdon Street—I have known Mrs. Howard a good many years—on January 13th I met the prisoner with a bottle of medicine, coming from Dr. Whitlock's—I asked him what was the matter—he said he had had a very severe fall, which had shaken him very much, at Kensal Rise Station—he had also a lotion and a piece of linen—seeing he was very ill, I persuaded him to go home, and he said he was going straight to bed, as the doctor had ordered him—I wished him good night—I saw his wife in the morning.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment in the First Division, to date from first day of last Sessions.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 14th, 1899.
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
MR. PASSMORE Prosecuted.
JAMES KNOCKLEY . I live at 56, Hendon Street, Pimlico—I am a bottle-washer, and 16 years old—on Sunday, August 6th, I was in Elizabeth Street, Pimlico, near the Bricklayers' Arms—I saw Bradley strike the deceased, and then I saw Grant rush out and strike him with a knuckle-duster—it looked like a ring with a piece of stone in it—I saw
Grant take it from one of his pockets—the deceased fell—he did not rise again—he had been standing near Spring Gardens, in Elizabeth Street—he was not doing anything to the prisoner, she was just walking backwards and forwards, looking at the fighting, because patsy Grant, the prisoner's brother, had interfered with a barber and his wife—Patsy Grant had struck a girl named Kennedy, and the barber and his wife went to part them; when he had parted them Bod Grant rushed out of Spring Gardens and struck the barber and his wife in their faces—the deceased was looking on while this was being done—he was taken away by a stranger, and the prisoners ran opposite ways—I could not see very well, but they are the men; I knew them before.
Cross-examined by Grant. I am sure you struck the deceased with a knuckleduster—the deceased was standing on the pavement when you struck him, on the Spring Gardens side—I have seen you a good few times by yourself, but not with a particular associate of yours.
Cross-examined by Bradley. The deceased was on the pavement when you struck him—he was walking from the pavement into the road, and you knocked him into the road—it is a good broad road.
ALBERT SKINNER . I am an errand boy, of Roberts' Buildings, Ebury Square—I am 15 years old—I was with Rnockley in Elizabeth Street, about 10.30—I know Patsy Grant—I saw him fighting with a girl named Kennedy, near the Bricklayers' Arms—Bob Grant struck a barber in the face—the deceased was coming along the pavement, and Bradley struck him in the face, and he fell on the kerb—he got up again and walked into the road, when Bob Grant struck him in the face, which knocked him to the ground, and he did not get up again—when the prisoners saw that the deceased did not rise they went different ways—the deceased was not interfering with the prisoners—I picked the two prisoners out at the station; I have seen them before together—I did not notice that Grant had a ring on his hand.
Cross-examined by Grant. You were on the same side of the street as the Bricklayers' Arms—I have not seen you about there with a gang—I have seen you with your wife there—the deceased fell sideways on his face.
Cross-examined by Bradley. The deceased was on the pavement when you struck him.
WILLIAM GURNEY (365 B). On August 6th 1 was on duty in Elizabeth Street, Pimlico, outside the Bricklayers' Arms—I saw a crowd there, and the deceased lying on the ground, and resting on his arm—he was bleeding from his forehead and nose—I spoke to him; he made no reply—I took him to the station, where he was seen by the Divisional Surgeon—he did not speak at all; he never seemed to be conscious.
THOMAS NEVILLE . I am a medical practitioner, and Assisting Divisional Surgeon at Gerald Street—I saw the deceased on August 6th; he was unconscious—he showed signs of recent bleeding from the nose, and he had a wound over his right eye—he was not bleeding when I saw him—I sent him to St. George's Infirmary—he did not recover concionsness while I saw him.
brought in—I examined him—he was unconscious, and remained so until be died the same morning at 9.15—he had a wound over bis eyebrow, and was bleeding from his nose and mouth—I made a postmortem examination—he had a bruise over the right eye, and there was a wound 1 in. long over the inner side right of his eyebrow, and another wound about 3/4 in. long on the right side of the nose, which was bent towards the left side—the nasal bones were fractured—there had been gome bleeding from the nose and mouth; there were no outward signs of bruising on the body—on removing the skin on the scalp there was an effusion of blood in the tissues, corresponding to the wound over the right eyebrow down to the bone—there was also a fracture of the skull extending about 1 in., and another fracture at the base of the skull, which had ruptured some arteries, and had caused pressure on the brain, and on opening the skull there were about 4 oz. of clotted blood pressing on the brain—his general condition was healthy—in my opinion the cause of death was the fracture at the base of the skull, and the pressure on the brain—I cannot say if only one or more blows had been given, or if the fracture was caused by a blow or a fall—if it was a blow it must have been of considerable force—the blow on the face would be likely to cause the fracture of the skull—there is no evidence to show how the nasal bones were broken.
ALICE SKILTON . I am in the service of Mr. Finch, at 19, Warwick Street—Bradley worked there—he did not sleep there—on the morning of August 8th he said to me that he could not sleep for two nights—he said he had knocked a man down, and had hurt his own thumb—he then said another man knocked the man down, and he did not get up.
Cross-examined by Grant, He did not mention the name of the other man.
HENRY HALTHAN . I live at 4, Richmond Terrace, Teddington—I am a gardener, and brother to the deceased—he was a single man, aged 25—he was a horsekeeper—I last saw him on July 18th—he was employed at Pimlico—I have seen his body at the St. Greorge's Infirmary—when I saw him on July 18th he had had a slight illness, but was quite well when I saw him—I told the Coroner that he had been giddy, but that was five or six years ago.
CHARLES BARSDELL . I am a chimney sweep, of 29, Ecclesden Place—I was in the Bricklayers' Arms on August 8th—I heard quarrelling in the street, went outside, and saw the prisoners—I saw the deceased come out of the court, and I saw a man, I cannot say whom, strike him—I do not recognise either of the prisoners—the row was about some girl—I saw the deceased taken away unconscious.
CHARLES WAXTER (Detective Officer), I received information, and I went with Detective Chat to Warwick Street—I followed Bradley round into Wilton Road, and said to him, "We are police officers, and you have been pointed out to me as the man who struck a man first on Monday night; that man is now dead; you will have to go to the station, where you will be detained"—he said, "I was in Elizabeth Street; I did not
see any row, nor knew there had been one"—at the station he said, "I was in the Bricklayers', with a lot of men and women; I saw that there was a row over a girl, and afterwards a man came out with a straw hat on, and tried to separate them; then Bob Grant struck the man and woman, and then he rushed out and hit the deceased; then some little chap knocked him down. We all went down Spring Gardens, and we saw the man could not get up. I go with the Grants every Sunday"—I was with-Chat the same evening, and saw Grant at Lambeth—I said "We are police officers, and are going to take you to Gerald Street Police Station for causing the death of a man in Elizabeth Street"—he said, "I know nothing about it"—he then said, "I was with the click; I hit a barber and his wife because they hit me; it was another man who hit the deceased behind the ear and knocked him down; I went with the others through Spring Gardens; we were altogether"—when charged at the atation by the inspector they made no reply, or when the charge was read over to them—the width of the road is about the width of three vehicles—it is wood pavement—there is a good deal of light at the public-house, and a lamp opposite.
Cross-examined by Grant. You did not tell me that you went through Spring Gardens by yourself.
Cross-examined by bradley. You said you went with the Grants every Sunday.
CHARLES HENRY WALLIS . I am clerk to the Coroner at Chelsea—on August 10th I was at the inquest on the deceased—I took down the prisoners' statements—they were cautioned; they were not compelled to give evidence—Grant said, "I am carman, living at 35, Romney Street, Westminster. Going from the Royal Oak on Sunday night, August 6th, just after 11 at night, I met Bradley, the other prisoner. He says to me, 'They have taken a man away.' I said, 'What man?' and he replied, 'The man I struck, whom Bill Curley struck behind the ear.' I then went home. I did not see the blow struck, only by what he said; that is all I wish to say"—Bradley said, "I live at 50, Graham Street, Pimlico. I was outside the Bricks'—that is, the Bricklayers' Arms on Sunday night, August 6th, about 10.30 p.m., a quarrel arose over a girl named Kennedy. Harry Graham threw a beer can at her, and he then ran af ter her, and she went towards the public-house. A man came out of the public-house with a straw hat on. I heard afterwards it was the barber. He tried to separate them. Then Bob Grant hit the barber, and then walked over to the other side of the road with the crowd. Then I saw the man that was killed. He came out into the middle of the road. Bob Grant went out of the crowd, and struck the deceased man. Then some little chap struck him, and knocked him down. I then went into the public-house. Bob Grant was in there. We came out together, and came down to Ebury Street. He says to me, 'You go down there,' meaning Elizabeth Street, 'and I'll go round here,' meaning Ebury Street. I said, 'All right, good-night' That is all"—the prisoners signed those statements after they were read over.
—they went in at the side door—I stayed outside, and then went into the middle of the bar by myself—I was sober, and, to my knowledge, the prisoners were sober—I saw Patsy Grant, the prisoner's brother, strike a girl named Kennedy—then the barber interfered and parted them—I asked the barber what was the matter—he said he had been interfered with—I did not see the barber set upon—I walked a little distance with him up to Ebury Street—when 1 got there I saw a large crowd outside the public-house—I walked back to the Bricklayers' Arms, where I saw the deceased lying on the ground in the middle of the road—I waited there till I saw him taken away—I then went to the Bricklayers' Arms, and had a drink—going home through Elizabeth Street, I saw the two prisoners on the other side of the road—I went from there to a coffeestall, and then went home—I did not see a blow struck—the barber's shop is about 10 yards from the Bricklayers' Arms.
Cross-examined by Gran. I saw the first row with Kennedy; I did not see the second row.
EDWARD HOWARD ROWLAND . I am a hairdresser, of 27, Elizabeth Street—on August 6th I was with my wife in the Bricklayers' Arms; between 10 and 11 p.m. 1 heard a woman screaming "Murder!" outside the public-house; I went outside, and saw one of my customers hitting the woman—I think nis name is Patsy Grant—I tried to separate them, and was assaulted myself—I cannot say by whom, because it was done behind me—I saw the deceased lying in the road after I had been assaulted.
Cross-examined By Grant. My wife is not here.
Bradley's Defence: I did not hit the man; I did not make a statement to Robert Grant about hitting the man.
GUILTY .—GRANT— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. BRADLEY— Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, September 14th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
583. WILLIAM BLAKE (23) and JOHN ARNOLD (27) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a trolley, the property of Walter Allen and others; also a case of 450 gross of collar studs of Joseph Tharnaver; Blake having been convicted on October 19th, 1898, and Arnold on September 9th, 1896. Other convictions were proved against each prisoner . BLAKE— Six Months' Hard Labour ARNOLD— Twelve Months Hard Labour.
Three other convictions were proved against him.— Judgement Respited [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]. And
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, September 14th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
(590) THOMAS DEWSON (43) , to feloniously marrying Elizabeth Sarah Hay ward during the lifetime of his wife.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. Judgement Respited [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
FLORENCE ROSE GODDARD . I am barmaid at the Prince of Prussia, 126, Harford Street, Mile End Road—I know the prisoners as customers—on August 29th, between 11.15 and 11.20 p.m., I served them with two mild and bitters, two special Irish whiskies, and two cigars—I looked at the clock—the price was 10d.—James tendered a florin—I put it on the till, and gave him 1s. 2d. change—they paid for more drink, and one of them tendered another florin—the purchases were repeated six times—James passed four and Mills two florins—I put each florin on the till, being a small purchase—there were no other florins on the till—I had a suspicion of the second coin, but being customers, I did not think they would have done such a thing—they left the house, and came back in two or three minutes—they remained until the bouse closed—they had paid two florins before they went out—Mills gave the mistress 6d., which passed through the till—when the house closed I saw the prisoners leave—she took the till—she always clears it about 11.30—she called my attention to the coins—the master came and examined them—I gave a description of the men—the master went out, and came back with the two men—he told them the coins were bad—they denied passing them.
Cross-examined. There are four compartments—I serve all round the bar—the mistress said, "You have taken bad money; who have you taken it from?" and I replied, "It must be from the men in the comer"—the prisoners were the two men in the corner—I have had five or six years' experience—I have taken bad money before—I wondered why they passed so many florins—I do not change large money—when they came back Mills said, "What do you mean by saying I passed bad money?"—when I said ho passed a bad florin James said, "No, I have not"—the prisoners live close by—I noticed the time because the mistress cleared the till—I had seen the prisoners two months before—Mills is a horseclipper—I have often seen him in the house—there were about 20 in the bars that night, not all regular customers, at least 10 were strangers.
Re-examined. I have no doubt these coins came from the prisoners—they were a little the worse for drink; not very drunk—I served them six times—some sailors tendered a good 2S. piece, and afterwards 1s.—a third man was in the prisoners' company, and drank with them—he
remained about three-quarters of an hour—he paid for drinks—he was not the worse for drink—he went out before the others.
MARY ANN STRATH . I am manageress of the Prince of Prussia—I was in charge on August 29th—I know the prisoners as casual customers—I saw them about 11.20 in the saloon bar, sitting on the further end seat, drinking—I saw the barmaid serve them—I took the till just after 11, in accordance with my usual custom, when I fill up with sixpences—I took the till again at closing time—I found these bad florins on the left side of the till, because they were small purchases—I communicated with the bar maid, and afterwards showed them to my husband—when the prisoners came back, and my husband asked them if they had done such a thing, they said, "No"—they were not quite sober—they were not so drunk as not to know what they were doing.
Cross-examined. Between 11.30 and 12.30 we were not very busy—there were about 30 customers in the four bars—there were not many strangers, as ours is not a passing house; it is down a turning—I said to the barmaid, "Have you taken bad money? who have you taken it from?"—she said, "Bad money? It must be from those men in the corner"—the potman told my husband where Mills lived, and he took him round—when the prisoners came they denied passing the bad florins—there were no other florins on the till—there were two on the till taken from other parties when I cleared it at 11—these bad florins were not passed through the till, because the order was not suffcient.
ALEXANDER STRATH . I am manager of the Prince of Prussia public-house—when I came at 15 or 16 minutes to 1 my wife spoke to me, and I spoke to the barmaid—I saw that the coins were bad—the barmaid gave me a description—the potman showed me where James lived, and I waited for him about five minutes—I said, "You have been in our place to-night"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "My barmaid tells me you tendered four two-shilling pieces, all bad"—he said, "No, I Have not"—I said. "Your friend Mills tendered two"—when I found Mills he denied it, and said it was not his game—both acknowledged being in the house—I brought them both in front of the barmaid—she said that Mills gave two, and James four florins—both denied that—James took about 6s. from his pocket, and again denied it—I said, "I suppose I must say good night; of one thing I am satisfied, I have six bad coins, if that is any satisfaction"—I communicated with the police the following morning—he took them to Arbour Square Station, where the coins were produced—the barmaid had been in my service 12 months on June 9th.
Cross-examined. I understood the barmaid had a suspicion of one coin—I have seen Mills casually—he lives about four minutes' walk from the public-house.
Re-examined. James mentioned the Bank of Friendship, and that he met some friends in the street, and said, "Let's come down to Jack's and have a drink"—I heard them tell the detective that they came out of the Bank of Friendship about 12 p.m.
30th—Mills and James were mentioned—I kept observation—I arrested James on August 31st at 69, Shendy Street—I said, "I shall take you into custody for being concerned with a man in custody and a man not in custody in uttering counterfeit coin"—he said, "All right; if I had any bad money somebody must have put it in my pocket"—I took him to the station—he made no answer to the charge—I had a description of a third man from the prosecutor and the barmaid on the 30th—his name is Williams—he has been convicted of burglary and larceny from the person—he is a bad character.
FREDERICK STEVENS (Detective, H). I received information from the barmaid—on instructions from my superior officer I arrested Mills at 2 a.m. on August 31st, at 29, Victoria Buildings, Abbott Street—I said, "I believe your name is Mills?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am a police officer; I am going to arrest you on suspicion of being concerned with a man named James and another man, in uttering counterfeit coin"—he replied, "That is right; you mean the Prince of Prussia, at least they say so; I did not have any bad coins; I do not know what James had got"—I took him to the station—he made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. I knew the landlord had already been to see him.
Both prisoners, in their defences, denied uttering bad coin. NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
JAMES BROWN (City Policeman), I am a plain clones constable—on August 29th I was on duty in Fleet Street about 8 30 p.m—I saw Scott leave a fruiterer's shop, 111, Fleet Street—she was having an altercation with a salesman—she stopped several times—she was joined by Jones at the comer of Bouverie Street on the opposite side—they went round St. Clement Danes into Holywell Street, and to the corner of Newcastle Street, and into the White Lion public-house, staying 20 minutes—one or the other was continually coming out and looking—I kept observation, and followed them back through Holywell Street to Fleet Street, where Scott spoke to Jones and left her and entered Mr. Ash's shop—Jones crossed the road and stood waiting—I pointed her out to Spiller—Jones looked, ran away, and threw this coin (Produced) up a courtway—Scott was in the shop—I again spoke to Spiller and entered the shop—Scott was standing by the counter—she had just received a pennyworth of tablets from Mr. Ash, and hpd this crown-piece in her hand—I asked her what she had in her right hand—she said, "I do not know; do you?"—I took this crown-piece from her.
GEORGE SPILLER (194, City). Brown directed my attention to Jones, who was opposite Mr. Ash's confectioner's shop—she saw Brown leave me, and walked down Fleet Street away from me—I followed her—she threw something white along a passage—I said, "What have you thrown in the doorway?"—she said, "Nothing"—I said, "Come back, and we
will see what it is"—I took her back, and found this 5s. piece wrapped in newspaper—I said, "This is what you threw"—she made no answer—I took her to the Police-station—she was charged with uttering and posses-sion—she made no answer—she gave an address, and I went there—she was searched by the female searcher.
Jones's Defence: I met Scott in Fleet Street She told me a man gave her two 5s. pieces, and she gave me one to look at. I took it in my hand. She told me she had been to change one, and it was bad. I said, "What shall I do with it if it is bad." She said, "Yes, throw it away," and that is what I did. Then the policeman took me.
GUILTY .—Scott then Pleaded Guilty to a conviction of uttering counter-feit coin on February 6th 1899.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. JONES— Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT,—Friday, September I6th, 1899.
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
MR. BODKIN and MR. GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MR. BALL
CLARA MEARS . I am the wjfe of Nicholas Mears, of 2, Daistry Street, Hackney—the deceased was my daughter—she was 19 years old—she lived with me—she worked at a rubber factory—she assisted me with her wages—the prisoner was engaged to her—they were talking about getting married this year—on Thursday, July 6th, I saw the prisoner outside my house—he knocked at the door, and asked for my, daughter—she went out and spoke to him—I did, not hear what they said, but after talking about ten minutes I heard her say, "Do you know what you have done," placing her hand to her left breast——I did not hear what he said—I called her in then—my daughteir had said nothing to me about her breast—I looked at it that night, and found that an abscess was forming—on Saturday, July 8th, I was at home; the prisoner came there about 7 p.m.—my daughter was at home; she did not see the prisoner—he asked if she was conung; Out—I said no, she could not go out on account of his ill-usage, what he had done—he asked me if I would look over it, and let her go out with him at night—I said no, I would not—he said nobody else should have her then—I had said before that I wished to break off the engagement if he was going to use herill—he went away then—I did not see him again
that night—I was at home on the Sunday night; my daughter was with me—I saw the prisoner two or three yards from the door—he called her—she came indoors then, and went out to him in the street—I saw them standing in the street together—he asked for a spokeshave—I did not hear what they said—she came in for the spokeshave, and took it to him—I did not see her go out—I next saw her when she was brought in by a man named Barnes, four or five minutes afterwards—she was injured—a doctor was sent for, and a constable also came—I did not see the prisoner after she was brought in—she was taken to the infirmary—I visited her from time to time—she was never conscious when I saw her—I afterwards saw her dead body.
Cross-examined. My daughter had been engaged to the prisoner about 17 months—they had quarrels very often—I objected to the engagement on account of his illusage—my daughter was not with child—when I saw the prisoner on July 6th I did not say anything to him about their coming to live with me after their marriage—I did not say that I should not like them to be married unless they came to live with me—the marriage was not arranged to take place on August 6th, to my knowledge—I heard that they wanted to, but they had not the means—my daughter did not bring any blankets to my house—she brought some sheets and a quilt; they were bought for the marriage—I thought they belonged to her—I did not know that they belonged to the prisoner—I pledged them to pay for the doctor, and I sent the prisoner the pawntickets by my daughter's wish—I endeavoured to persuade her to break off the engagement—she did not complain about the injury to her breast till I heard her tell her young man—I did not know of it till then.
JAMES BARNES . I am a carman—on July 9th I was living at 9, Daintry Street, Hackney Wick—I was sitting outside on that day—there is a lamp there—I was talking to the prisoner—I only knew the deceased by sight—I saw her coming over towards where I and Preston were sitting—she was coming down Daintry Street from her house—she said to the prisoner, "Here you are,Fred; here is what you asked me for"—she handed him a brown paper parcel—he said, "All right"—the parcel fell on the ground—I do not know whether he took it or dropped it—she went to walk away in the direction of her house—he followed her, and said, "Eliza, is it to be like this?"—she said, "Yes"—she continued to walk along—he followed her—just before they got to the lamp I saw Preston take something from his right-hand pocket and strike Eliza Mears on her head from behind—she fell to the ground—I saw him hit her two or three times more on her head after she had fallen—I was too far away to see what he had in his hand—she did not move after she fell—I ran and picked her up; the prisoner ran away—he said, "You drove me to it; I will suffer all now"—the deceased was lying straight out on the ground, bleeding very much; she was insensible—I took her to her home—I kept the spokeshave, and took it into my house.
Cross-examined. I was outside the Victoria public-house with some other people on the Saturday night—the deceased and her mother came out afterwards—I did not see anything pass till I saw the prisoner stop the deceased—he wanted to kiss her—her mother said, "Come on home"—I did not see her mother do anything to her—she followed her mother
—I did not see the prisoner kiss her—I have not known the prisoner very long; on the last two or three nights he had spoken to me—he lodges next door to me—I do not know that he is a piano polisher—I did not hear them say anything after he had said, "Is it to be like this?" and she had answered, "Yes"—he struck her just before they got to the chapel gates—I had seen the prisoner with the deceased before—they seemed to be on friendly terms.
Re-examined. This (Produced) is the spokeshave—when I picked it up it was lying at about the spot where the girl came up and spoke to the prisoner—when she said, "Here you are, Fred," she did not throw the spokeshave at him; she handed it to him—she did not attempt to strike him.
SAMUEL CHANDLER . 1 live at 104, Chapman Boad, Hackney—I only know the prisoner by sight, as living opposite—I knew the deceased by sight—I knew that they used to walk out together—about 10 o'clock on July 9th I was standing at the corner of Daintry Street—I saw the girl coming across the road, and the prisoner following her about three yards behind—he caught her up—he had his hand by his side—I saw him fetch it round, and he hit the young woman once on the side of her head, and she fell to the ground—after she fell he hit her about three times on the head—I could not see what he had in his hand then, not until he threw it down—then I saw it was this hammer (Produced)—I ran over and picked it up, and put it in a piece of paper—I afterwards handed it to a policeman—later on I received a spokeshave from Barnes, which I also gave to the constable.
Cross-examined. I was about 20 yards away when this happened—I did not hear them say a word—I was watching them for about two minutes before—I did not see her strike the prisoner.
WILLIAM ANSELL (274 J), About 10.15 on July 9th I was called to 9, Daintry Street, where I saw the deceased—she was unconscious—Dr. Hunter was there—the last witness handed me this hammer and spoke-shave.
JAMES BARNES (Re-examined). I had been talking to the prisoner on the Saturday and Sunday—I had not heard him use any threats towards the deceased—the street was dark on this evening—the lamps were lit.
STEPHEN UNWIN . I am a labourer, of 105, Chapman Road, Hackney—Mr. Wright is my landlord, and I lodged in the same room as the prisoner for two or three months before this occurrence—I knew the deceased, and that he and she were keeping company—on the Thursday or Friday before this happened I had some conversation with the prisoner about his quarrels with his young woman—he said that Mrs. Mears had pawned some sheets and a quilt and he wanted them back—he reckoned ongetting married in about six weeks—I was in the prisoner's company on Saturday night, July 8th, from the afternoon up to about 7—I met him again about 10 in Daintry Street, outside the boys' mission room—he showed me a hammer—he said that if Eliza did not give way to him he would do her some injury—I had seen the hammer before in the wash-house—he had it in his hand when he showed it to me, but I do not know if it was up his sleeve or in his pocket—I asked him for it, and he gave it to me—he said it was a good job I was with him—I advised
him to do nothing of the kind—we then went home—I put the hammer in the wash-house—on Sunday, about 10.15, I was outside my door, and saw the prisoner sitting outside No. 5, Chapman Road; Barnes was with him—I saw the girl go up to him and ask him why he was watching her about—he said, "I am not watching you about at all"—he asked for his spokeshave—she went home, and fetched it—she walked away—he left her, and went into our house—I went upstairs, and heard him walk to the back—I heard him leave the house about five minutes after—I came downstairs, stopped by the door, and saw him go in the direction of the corner asain—I saw the young woman come up to him—she handed him the spokeshave—I could not see if it was wrapped up, or not—they both walked away—I heard a little jangling between them—I could not hear what was said—after they had walked a little distance I saw him strike her, and she fell to the ground, and I saw him strike her again after she fell—he then walked away, and I heard him say something about, "You drove me to this"—then he began to run—I saw Barnes pick the girl up and take her towards her home—I followed the prisoner—I saw him speaking to a constable named Baker—he said he believed he had done something to his young woman, and they both walked away together—he wanted the constable to take him to the station; he would not go back—the constable wanted him to go back to the house—he then ran away—I ran after him, and caught him up after about 300 or 400 yards—he asked me to see how Eliza was—I went back to 2, Daintry Street—I heard something, and went back to the prisoner—I told him she was in a dangerous condition—he said, "I am very sorry; I hope she dies"—we walked about for the rest of the night—he said he was going to give himself up in the morning—about 6 a.m. we found ourselves on Hackney Common—the prisoner went off to sleep—he asked me to let him know if I saw anybody coming along whom I knew, to let him know how his young woman was—he slept for about 10 minutes, and then a constable came up and took him into custody.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner three or four months—he had a spokeshave—I do not know if he had any other tools in his possession—he has no workshop—on July 6th he told me he was buying things for his marriage, and that Mrs. Mears had constantly quarrelled with him—when I was with him on the evening of the 8th he did not seem to be in an excited state—he was angry with his young woman, because he was afraid she was going to break oflf the engagement—on the evening of the 9th the deceased seemed angry with the prisoner—the street was not dark—there was a lamp at the corner—I cannot say what the prisoner struck the deceased with—when I told him that the deceased was in a dangerous condition, he did not say, "I am sorry for it; I shall be sorry if she dies"—he said as we were walking along, "I hope she dies; then I shall know the end of it."
RICHMOND WRIGHT . I live at 105, Chapman Boad, and am the landlord there—the prisoner lodged there for about three months before this happened—the last witness and the prisoner occupied the same room—this hammer is mine; it was kept in the wash-house on the ground floor at the back—anybody in the house could get it if they wanted to—I was
using it between two and five on the 8th, and on the 9th from about 10 to 12 midday—that was the last time I saw it—t he lodgers used the wash-house for cleaning boots and odd jobs.
Cross-examined. The lodgers could have used the hammer if they wanted to.
ERNEST BAKER (482 J). Soon after 10 p m. on July 9th I was on point duty in Gainsborough Road, from about half-a-mile to three-quarters from Daintry Street—the prisoner came up and said, "Baker, I have done it"—I knew him as Peter Preston—I walked with him—then he said, "F—you," and ran away—he would not wait for me to ask him what he had done—I saw the acting-sergeant, and we t to Daintry Street, and took the girl to the infirmary.
Cross-examined. I did not see Unwin there—the prisoner did not say, "I think I have done something wrong to my young woman, and want you to take me to the station"—I did not ask him to go back to the house—I could not get near him.
JAMES CUE (503 J). About 6 a.m. on Monday, July 10th, I saw the prisoner on Hackney Common—I had received instructions—I told him I should arrest him for attempting to murder his young woman, named Eliza Mears, by striking her on the head several times with a hammer last night—I cautioned him—he said, "Yes, I did it; I am very sorry for it; I would have sooner killed myself than her"—I took him to the station—after the charge was read over to him he said, "It was no intention of mine"—Unwin was with him when I saw him—on July 21st, after the girl's death, I charged the prisoner with murder, and he made no reply.
JOHN JOSEPH GORDON . I am Medical Superintendent at the Hackney Infirmary—on Sunday night, July 9th, the deceased was brought there in an unconscious condition—she was suffering from severe wounds on her head—I examined her, and treated her—she remained under my charge up to July 19th, when she died—she was more or less unconscious—I made a postmortem examination on the 20th—I found that her left breast was bruised, and that there was an abscess there, and a wound seveneighths of an inch long under the right ear, and just behind it another wound, one on the temple about 1 1/2 in. long, and just below it a smaller one—she had five wounds altogether—she must have received four blows, the other might have been caused by the fall—she had a fracture of the skull, which extended from the wound on the temple to the wound behind the ear—it was 4 in. long—the actual cause of death was due to the fracture of the skull—there was an abscess on the brain—the injuries might have been caused by this hammer—either of the three blows would have caused death—if the blows were given in the usual way by a right-handed man he must have stood behind her—she was a well-formed and healthy woman.
Cross-examined. Abscesses on the breasts are common complaints among women; they may arise from natural causes—the day I went to the Police-court the deceased seemed to rally, and 1 had hopes of her recovery—she had congestion of the lungs, but that had nothing to do with her death—I do not think any of the wounds were caused by the fall.
Re-examined. I found a bruise on the breast as well as an abscess, which was a sequence to the bruise.
GUILTY —Recommended to mercy by one of the JURORS.— DEATH .
NEW COURT.—Friday, September 15th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MORRIS Prosecuted, and MR. BURNEY Defended.
HENRY ABERDEEN I am a carman and contractor, of 2, Slater Street, Bethnal Green—on Monday, August 14th, at 3.30 p.m., I sent my carman to fetch some grapes and take them to Spitalfields Market—his name is Sammy the Jew—I waited till 5.30, and he did not come—I have not seen him since—I went to Spitalfields with a detective about 7.30, and saw the prisoner driving my van, but without the grapes—I asked him where the grapes were—he said, "Come to Jacob, in the Lane, and he will tell you"—I gave him in custody, and went with him and the constable to Petticoat Lane, and saw Jacob Simons—he said nothing to me—I said to the prisoner, "What have you done with them grapes?"—he would not tell me—he has never worked for me, but he has often asked me for a job—I bought the boxes of Mordecai, who knows the marks; I do not.
Cross-examined. Mordecai is not here—I have done cartage for the prisoner—when I stopped him he said that he had been delivering some open boxes of grapes—he did not tell me that Simons told him to take them to his stable; he said that Simons would tell me all about it—I did not go first to Simons' stall; I went to Petticoat Lane—I did not see him there, but in Wentworth Street—I found Simons about 8.30—I do not know whether the prisoner speaks English about as well as I do.
MICHAEL WOOD . I am a hawker, of Whitechapel—on Monday, August 14th, I met the prisoner, who is a fruit buyer—he asked me to buy some grapes—I said that I would go to his stable and see them—he went with me. and Simons asked him to buy some grapes—Simons went home, and brought two boxes of water melons—I work for Cohen, who is a fruit seller—I took them to Cohen's place, found nobody there, opened the stable door, and put them in—I did not find any grapes there—I went back to Simons, and got 14 boxes of grapes, took them to Cohen's stable, and found 20 boxes of grapes there—I do not know who took them there—that is a stable he pays rent for. and where he keeps truit—after Cohen and Simons were charged, I rushed to the station and said that the goods belonged to me—that was not true—I did that at somebody else's instigation.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was at the station when I rushed in—Simons told mo to say this when I was near Cohen's stable—he said that he left these 14 boxes for me to take home on a barrow—Simons is not here—he said that the boxes came from a shop belonging to him, and that Cohen had been there and taken away 20 boxes.
to the station, and reported his loss of a horse and van and a load of grapes from Monument Street—we went to Brick Lane about 8 o'clock, and I saw a white horse being driven by the prisoner—I asked him where the carman was—he said, "He has gone to have a drink, and said, 'If I do not come back in a few minutes you take the horse and van away'"—I asked him what he had done with the grapes—he said, "I took them to a stable, but I don't know where it is"—I told him he must go with me to the station—he was driving towards Spitalfields, not towards the prosecutor's house—going towards the Minories, he said that Mocher told him to take them to the stable; I asked him who Mocher was; he took me to a house, and said that Mocher lived there—I did not find him there—we went to Wentworth Street, and he said that Mocher was generally to be found there, looking after a stall—I left Detective Pearson there, and took Cohen to the station—he had not told me anything about the stable then—on the way to the station he said that he met Mocher in Brick Lane, who asked him to take them to a stable—when we had been there a few minutes Pearson brought Mocher in, and he said, "Yes, that is the man who told me to take the grapes to my stable"—it turned out to be his stable—I went there, and found 30 boxes of grapes, marked A.B. with a star, packed in a comer—I returned to the station with the grapes, and charged Simons and the prisoner—on the way to the Police-court, next morning, the prisoner said that the carman was in the van, and saw Harry Aberdeen, and jumped out of the van, and run away—he then said, "I will tell you no more."
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries; there is nothing against him, to my knowledge—I did not make a note of the conversation—he said, "I took them to a stable; I don't know where"—I may have said before the Magistrate, "He would not say where; he said, 'Mocher said he would give me 10s. to keep them for him; that was before I went to Simons'"—I might have said before the Magistrate, "I then asked him where Simons was"—if I did, it is probably right.
T he Prisoner stated on oath that he was a costermonger, and sold fruit from a barrow; that on Momday, August 15th, he met Morris Simons, who asked him to take 20 boxes of grapes to his place for a fewdays, as he had no room for them and that he would give him 10s. for his trouble; that he saw a carman whom he did not know at the corner of the street, outside Simons' place, who went with him to his stable, and there left the 20 boxes, which were put on one side, but not covered up; that Michael Wood had the key of the stable, as he had to receive 14 boxes of grapes which he had bought, and that the carman told him to take the horse and van round Spitalfields Market to give to Aberdeen; that the carman left saying he would be back in a Jew minutes, but did not return in an hour and that he then drove on and met Mr. Aberdeen.
MICHAEL WOOD (Re-examined). When I took the 14 boxes of grapes there I saw other boxes, but I cannot say what they were—I did not see any boxes covered up—there were some empty ones in one corner, and these 20 must have been there in another corner—it is quite untrue to say that the 20 were covered up with empty boxes,; nothing was covered up—I was round at the stable till Simons' chap told me they were charged, and told me to go to the station and say the goods belonged to me—when the
detectives came and found the 20 boxes I had happened to go round the corner to get something to eat.
LIPMAN ABRAHAMS . I live at Whitechapel—I have worked for the prisoner, selling his goods on his barrow—on Monday August 15th, I saw him in the morning, when I took out my barrow, and I saw Simons between 8 and 9 p.m., when he was pulling the 14 boxes of grapes round to the stable—he passed me, and asked for my governor—I said I had not seen him since the morning—he asked me for some money; I only had 6s. or 7s., and I said he could have that—he refused to take it.
WILLIAM PEARSON (Detective). The 14 boxes of grapes were open—they were spoiled goods—the 20 boxes were covered up with empty melon cases and grape boxes, and we had to shift them before we could see anything of them, and a gentleman from the saleroom identified them.
MICHAEL WOOD (Re-examined). I had a key of the stable that afternoon—when I first went it was locked—I took in two boxes of water melons, and did not lock the stable—when I took the 14 boxes the door was open—I locked the door after leaving the 14 boxes there—I had the key in my pocket all the evening, and gave it up on the following Tuesday.
The prisoner received a good character. NOT GUILTY .
595. WILLIAM WOOD (31) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a receipt for £18 18s. with intent to defraud; also to obtaining £18 18s. by false pretences.— To enter into his own Recognizances to come up for Judgment if called upon.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, Saturday, and Monday, September 15th, 16th and 18th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
596. JANE SUMPTER PLEADED GUILTY to soliciting for herself, she being a member of the Bethnal Green Board of Guardians, certain gifts and rewards, as to making a contract for the supply of fish.— She received a good character.— Judgment Respited.
597. FREDERICK SIDNEY WADDINGTON (40) , Having been entrusted as attorney by Mary Ann Wassall with £1,000, with directions in writing to apply it to a specific purpose, converting it to the use and benefit of himself and Cheeseman, and GEORGE EDWARD VINCENT CHEESEMAN (56) , aiding and abetting in the said fraud. Other Counts for similar charges with respect to £2,016 13s. 9d., £1,600, and other sums. Counts 9 to 12 charged both prisoners with, having been entrusted as attorneys by Elizabeth Jane Robinson and Arthur Campbell Moffatt with a cheque for £250 to apply for a certain purpose, converting the proceeds to their own use and benefit.
MESSRS. MUIR, LEYCESTER, and JAY Prosecuted; MESSRS. ELLIOTT and AGNEW Defended Cheeseman.
During the progress of the case the prisoners consented to the discharge of the JURY with regard to Counts 1 to 8, and stated that they were Guilty on Counts 9 to 12. GUILTY on Counts 9 to 12. There were other charges, and Waddington's personal deficiency in bankruptcy was stated to be £6,394, and the total misappropriations by the prisoners to be over £5,000.—WADDINGTON.— Six Years' Penal Servitude. CHEESEMAN.— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. H. G. CALTHROP Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended Michael McCarthy.
WILLIAM JOHN FERGUSON . I am a seaman—on August 11th I was paid off my ship £42 for 14 months—I met Michael McCarthy about 9.30 a.m. in the saloon bar of the Standard public-house—I met the other prisoners about an hour and ahalf afterwards—Michael talked with me, and I said, "Will you have a drink?"—he said, "Yes," and I treated him—then we went to the Brown Bear, about 50 yards away, where we had a drink—the two other prisoners came in, and Michael introduced them to me as his brothers—Jeremiah showed me some discharges as A.B.—we kept on boozing all day at my expense, going from one saloon to another till 12.20 at night—we were in the Princess Alice about midnight, where the governor wanted to take care o! my money—I had £16 8s., having sent £20 to the Board of Trade—I started out with £18 10s—I said to the landlord, "I can take care of my own money; I am not drunk"—he said, "You go outside the door, and I will see you on the top of the tramcar"—he had served me—I went out and got on the tram—the landlord refused to serve Jeremiah—the prisoners in a few seconds followed me on the tram—I refused to pay the fare, and the conductor said, "You will all have to get out"—I got out—I did not refuse to pay my own fare—I went along Dorset Street—the prisoners came up, and one said, "Give me some more money"—I had given them 4s. each, and I refused, when Jeremiah struck me in the jaw, and knocked me down—Michael caught hold of me by the throat, and held me down—Jeremiah took my purse out of my pocket, with every cent I had, and gave it to another, who ran away with it—they all ran away—I went to the corner of Dorset Street, where I saw a constable holding Jeremiah—he took him to the station—I charged him with being one of the men concerned in robbing me—I identified Michael at the Police-court, the following morning, from about nine or ten men—I am positive he is one of the men—I identified John the same morning—I had been sleeping at the Sailors' Home—I was sober in the morning—I drank lemonade and a dash of bitter during the day, not spirits.
Cross-examined by Jeremiah McCarthy, My ship was the Mary Ann, a Government cable boat, which had been laying a cable to the Cape—I
was paid off on the 10th—I did not say before the Magistrate that I did not meet you and John till 2 o'clock—Dorset Street is about half a mile from where I got on the tram—the tram took about 10 minutes—I got to Dorset Street about 12.15—if I have said that I met you and John at 2 o'clock, that is a mistake.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. We went from one public-house to another, and, with the exception of having dinner at some restaurant, we were in public-houses all day.
Cross-examined by John McCarthy. My wages were £4 10s. a month—the Mary Ann is a steamer belonging to Thompson and Co., which was chartered by the Government for the cable to the Cape.
WILLIAM ROBINSON (463 H). About 12.20 a.m. on August 12th I was on duty in Dorset Street, Commercial Street—I saw Jeremiah McCarthy and two other men about seven or eight yards in front of me, walking down the street and talking to the prosecutor—I followed for two or three minutes from the top of the street to nearly the bottom—I had suspicion, and got in a courtway—I heard Jeremiah say, "I want some money"—then, with his right hand, he gave the prosecutor a blow in the jaw, and he fell—one man was standing, and the other down with the prosecutor—they all ran away—I went after, and caught Jeremiah after a sharp run of about 20 yards, outside a public-house—the prosecutor came up—he seemed to be in very great pain, and I believe he is now an outpatient at the hospital—the prosecutor said, "He robbed me," pointing to Jeremiah—I took Jeremiah to the station, and he was charged—it was a most cruel assault—I know the prisoners by sight—I searched Jeremiah, and found these discharges, one of Jeremiah McCarthy and one of James Kelly.
Cross-examined by Jeremiah McCarthy. I saw your hand go into the prosecutor's pocket—you stopped suddenly when you saw a constable in front of you—I did not lose sight of you—there were women in the street you could have forced your way through.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. The Princess Alice is about 100 to 120 yards from Dorset Street—I have seen the prisoners previously together—I did not see the faces of the other men, but they were about the height of the prisoners.
CHARLES HAYSMAN . I am an assistant at the Britannia beer-house, Commercial Street—early on August 12th I was outside shutting up—I saw an altercation—I heard a man say, "I will give this man into custody for robbing me"—Jeremiah said, "No, I have not got your money"—the policeman said, "No, I do not suppose you have; you must have passed it to somebody else"—I know Michael.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I have not seen Michael in the neighbourhood for some time.
ROBERT TYSON (Detective, H). On August 12th, about 12 in the day, I took the prosecutor to the Thames Police-court, where he identified Michael, who had been taken on suspicion, from a number of others—I told him he would be charged with being concerned with Jeremiah McCarthy, and another one not in custody, with assaulting and robbing the prosecutor early that morning—he said, "That is got up for me"—I
took him to Worship Street, where he was charged—when the charge was read over to him he said, "This is news to me."
CHARLES SMITH (Detective, H). On the afternoon of August 12th I took John McCarthy—I told him I should take him into custody on suspicion of being concerned with Jeremiah McCarthy, already in custody, for robbery and assault in Dorest Street, Spitalfields, about 12 last night—he said, "I have not been in Dorest Street for the last six years"—I took him to Leman Street, where he was identified at once by the prosecutor from about eleven others—when charged he said, "I can prove I was at home at 9 o'clock at night"—when I was taking him back to the cell he said, "Will you do me the favour of going to the Princess Alice public-house, Commercial Street; perhaps you will find that man's money was left over the counter"—I went there.
Cross-examined by John McCarthy. When 1 arrested you I did not ask you how you were getting on.
WILLIAM JOHN FERGUSON (Re-examined). I have been in the Seamen's Hospital, and an out-patient, in consequence of the violence I received, since September 6th—my neck was lanced because it had got worse—the treatment has been successful.
Jeremiah, in his defence, stated that he was going home from the Cambridge Music Hall, and John and Michael denied being near the robbery Evidence for Michael McCarthy.
CHRISTOPHER JOHN SKINNER . I am a basketmaker, of 81, Cable Street—I heard of the charge against Michael on Saturday at 12 o'clock—I was in the Eagle public-house with him at 11.45 p.m. on August 11th—Haynes came in about five minutes afterwards, and treated me and Michael—we left about 12.10 together—we talked at my door for 20 minutes—Dorset Street is a little over a mile from the Eagle—at 12.30 Hayes bid me and Michael McCarthy good night—Michael went in, and I stood on the door-step—the barman at the Eagle called "Time" at 12.10—I afterwards heard Michael upstairs talking to his wife.
Cross-examined. I have never been convicted.
JOHN HAYES . I am a stevedore, of 61, James Street, Cannon Street Road—on Friday night, August 11th, I was coming through Wellclose Square, when I had done work, with Skinner and Michael McCarthy, about 11.50 p.m.—I looked at the clock—we had a drink in the Eagle public-house, where we stayed till 12.10—I paid for the drink—we stood outside for a little while, and then walked to Cable Street—at 12.30 Michael went indoors, and I left Skinner standing on the doorstep—on the Sunday I heard of Michael being taken into custody.
Cross-examined. I worked till 11.30 p.m. on August 11th—I stayed with my chums a little while—I was asked on Saturday night, a week afterwards, to give evidence—I do not know the other prisoners—I have never been convicted.
Evidence for John McCarthy.
has lived with me when not away at sea—he has been in the infirmary—he came in about 9 p.m.—I asked him to have a cup of tea, and he had it—he said he did not feel well, and laid on my bed alongside my child till morning—he never went out till 11 a.m.—I do charing.
Cross-examined. I came in about 7 p.m. from work—I gave evidence before the Magistrate.
WILLIAM ROBINSON (Re-examined). Inspector Brand took the charge—I have not seen him here—the Police-station in Commercial Street is about 800 yards from the place of arrest—the prosecntor walked there with me and Jeremiah—Jeremiah went quietly—I had no conversation on the way—the prosecutor had been drinking, but was not drunk—he gave an intelligent account of what took place—I heard him say of the other two men, "I know them."
GUILTY .—MICHAEL McCARTHY then Pleaded Guilty to a conviction of felony at the Thames Police-court on July 13th, 1895. There were three other convictions, and he has a portion of a former sentence to serve.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. JOHN McCARTHY Pleaded guilty to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in April, 1895. There were six other convictions against him,— Four Years' Penal Servitude. JEREMIAH McCARTHY, against whom five previous convictions were proved,— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT—Saturday, September 16th, 1899.
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
CHARLIE REGAN . On September 12th I lived at 45, Morant Street, Poplar—the prisoner was my landlady—I came home last Monday—I do not remember the time; I was drunk, and went to bed—I remember being in bed, and the prisoner's husband came and woke me up, and I heard somebody calling—I said, "What is the matter? Wait a moment; I will get up"—then I went downstairs, and started jangling with the prisoner and her husband—he asked me what I knew about his wife, if what she said was true—I do not know what I said to the woman—the husband said that I had been going to bed with his wife—I could not deny it—it had been going on for months—we were in the kitchen when the conversation took place—I must have said something bad to the woman—then I went upstairs to dress myself—the husband told me to clear out, and I was falling about my room, and all of a sudden I felt something in my face burning—the prisoner had followed me upstairs—I did not know what was in my face—they told me at the station—I went away to a doctor—I do not think I put the burning stuff in my face myself—I had not got any in my room—I went to the hospital—I can see a little out of my eye when I have
the bandage off it—my right eye does not hurt—my left eye hurts a very little now—they told me at the hospital bo go next Wednesday.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner, I was not in bed when this was thrown in my face.
JOHN STEVENS (100 K), About 1.30 on Tuesday morning the prosecutor came to the station where I was in charge, and, in consequence of what he said, I sent for Dr. O'Brien—I then went with the prosecutor and the prisoner's husband, who had come to the station in the meantime, to 45, Morant Street—at the house the husband handed me this cork (Produced)—it has got a slight stain on it, and smells of some chemical—I then returned to the station—the prisoner was not at the house; she had gone to the station in the meantime—I charged her with throwing corrosive fluid and causing grievous bodily harm to Charles Regan—the prosecutor had been drinking, but he was not drunk—the prisoner was not drunk—the protecutor was not so drunk as he appeared to make out before the Magistrate.
JAMES LOWREW (69 KR), At 1.45 last Tuesday morning I was outside 96, East India Dock Road; I was going to call a doctor—I was at the station when the prosecutor came in—I met the prisoner—she asked me if he was inside; I was then at the doctor's door—I said, "Who?"—she said, "The man with his eyes injured"—I said, "No; but a man is at the station with his eyes injured"—she said, "I, have done it; make it as light as you can for me"—I told her she would have to go to the station with me—she said, "The vagabond has taken liberties with me, when my with and was at nightwork"—on the way to the station she said, "I have had a premature birth by him; he is a thorough scoundrel; he told me he had another woman, and he did not want me now; that, set me mad, and I did not know what I was doing"—the husband is a pierman at Millwall Docks—he attends at tide time.
HENRY JOSEPH O'BRIEN . I am the Divisional Surgeon at 96, East India Bock Road—about 1.45 a.m. on Tuesday last I was called to see the prosecutor—his left eye was intensely inflamed, and burning internally, as if some corrosive fluid had been thrown into, it; the lids were very swollen; his shirt was wet, and it smelt like spirits of salty hydrochloric acid—it is very dangerous—the wound he had got was serious—I recommended him to go the hospital at once—I thought the eye was in danger—I have not examined it since—I saw this at the time; there is nothing on it now, but when I saw it before there was the same odour on it as on the shirt—spirits of salts are used for cleaning closets and pans—it can be bought.
Cross-examined. You were very low-spirited at the time—I attended you about a month before this for a very bad miscarriage.
By the COURT. She was in a very dangerous condition—I saw her eight or nine days before the fluid was thrown—she was low-spirited then, and very depressed—I think she is about 35 years old—I think she has one child living—I can examine the prosecutor now—the covering of his eye is still very inflamed—there is a discharge—the cornea is still very blurred—I cannot say from an examination like this whether there is any disease in the eye—he says he can see fairly well with the bad eye—if the inflammation gets well he will be all right.
The Prisone's Statement before the Magistrate: "I am very sorry for what I did—I did it in the height of passion—I had had a glass or two to drink, and he taunted me, and I ran downstairs and fetched the spirits of salts and threw them at him."
Prisoner's Defence: "I did not know what I was doing. Years ago I had a sunstroke, and when I take a glass of beer it seems to send me mad."
GUILTY .—Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. JENKINSON Prosecuted.
JAMES THOMPSON (78 KB). On July 26th I was in the West India Dock Road—I heard a scream—I ran across the road to see what was the matter, and I met the prisoner, and I said, "What is the matter?"—he said, "I give myself up"—I said, "What for?"—he made no reply—I took him to the station and handed him over to 702 K", and went to see what was the matter—I found the prosecutrix in the West India Dock Road—I took her to Dr. Hogan, who examined her, and ordered her to the hospital—the prisoner lives at 42, West India Lock Road—he is the prosecutrix's stepfather—her mother lives there too.
WILLIAM WARREN (702 K). On July 26th I was on duty at Lime-house Police-station when the prisoner came in—he said, "I give myself up"—I asked him what for—he made no reply—he went into the station—there he said, "I thought I should get hung; I do not care if I do"—he produced a revolver at the request of the sergeant.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say that your wife had said that she would get you hung, and that you supposed it would be so.
JOHN STEVENS (100 K). I was on duty at Limehouse Police-station when the prisoner came in on July 26—he handed me this revolver (Produced), and said, "Here it is; that is what I did it with. I found it under her pillow; she has threatened to put my light out"—the revolver was loaded in six chambers; one bullet had heen recently discharged.
ADA WIGGOTT . I live at 46, West India Dock Road—it is a tobacconist's—it was taken in my name—the prisoner is my stepfather—about 12 a.m. on July 26th I was sitting behind the counter—my head was resting on my left hand, turned towards the road, and I heard somebody creeping behind me—I turned my head, and I found that I was shot in the mouth—my mother's servant girl and I were drinking half-a-pint of stout just before I was shot, and the prisoner looked in and went away again—the girl went away, and then it was that I was shot—I cannot say who shot me, because it took my sight away at the time—when I could see I ran out into the street, and I saw the prisoner running up the station steps—a gentleman from the lodging-house took me to Dr. Hogan's, and from there I was sent to the London Hospital—I was not there half an hour before I was under chloroform, to undergo an operation—the prisoner did not say a word—the bullet went into my mouth; it loosened a tooth, it cut my tongue in half, and went into the back of my throat, from where it was extracted—the prisoner had not said anything to me before this—
I do not suppose he had spoken more than two words to me that week—he has threatened my life often—I was about to be married, and he said I should not have a husband; he would gnaw his inside out—he has been both sober and drunk when he has threatened me—I am married now—my mother lives in the honse—I had not got a revolver under ray pillow, nor had my mother, that I know of—I had not threatened to put his light out—I had not seen the revolver before, I did not know that he had one—I had never annoyed him—he and my mother have had quarrels, and I have tried to make peace—I am not the only child, there are three of us; two are my mother's, and one his—it is not true that I was talking to him, and the revolver went off.
Cross-examined. You did not come into the shop and say, "Ada, this is what your mother has threatened to blow my brains out with"; you did not say a word.
EDMUND SALT . I was House Surgeon at the London Hospital on July 25th, when the prosecutrix was admitted about 12.30—she had a bullet wound in her upper lip, which was bleeding extensively, and she was suffering from shock—we had her photographed, and found the bullet deep in her neck, from where we extracted it; it had knocked off a tooth, passed through her tongue, and lodged in the muscles of the spine, Just missing a large vessel in the neck; if it had not hit the tooth it would have gone into the back of the brain—she made a good recovery, and is all right now—the revolver must have been very near her; the powder was all round the bullethole.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that his wife and daughter had been annoying him for months; that his wife would not allow him to go into her room, and said she had other men; that he shared a room with a lodger; that things were thrown at him; that his wife said she would get him hung, and he had to leave the house; that she was talking money from a Southend man; that he saw a revolver in her room, and on the Wednesday he saw her drinking with the man; that he went up and got the revolver from her room, and I was talking to his daughter, saying, "This is what your mother has got to blow my b—brains out," and the revolver went off; and that he went to the station, and said, "I have shot the girl."
Witnesses for the Defence.
DANIEL MCLEAN . I live at 46, West India Dock Hoad, and am a mariner—I was sitting with your wife on this morning in the kitchen—she threw some potato peel at you—she did not say she would blow your brains out—I was not drinking whisky with her—I was drinking tea—I went down to Southend; it was an excursion party—my wife died in 1892—I know nothing about the revolver—I have seen you wrangling together, but I have never seen you hurt one another.
By the COURT. I have never seen any quarrel between the prisoner and his step-daughter.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that his wife would not let him occupy the same room as herself; that they kept a seamen's lodging-house, and that his step-daughter kept the tobacco shop by herself; that on the previous Sunday he had seen a revolver in his wife's bed, and on the day before the accident he liad been locked out of hit own house; that his wife had thrown
things at him, and had threatened to blow his brains out; that he was showing the revolver to his step-daughter to convince her of the way his wife was treating him, when it went off; that he never threatened his daughter; that it was untrue that he had ever said she would be minus her husband, and that the girl was saying something which she knew to be untrue; that he had been convicted three times, once at this Court for stabbing, and was sentenced to eight months, in the name of Wyatt, for stabbing this daughter and his wife. GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, September 16th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
601. ALBERT EDWARD WALLIS (30) PLEADED GUILTY to conspiring with William Dyke Tucker, not in custody, to defraud Thomas Matthews and others, their masters, and to falsification of accounts— Judgment Respited. And
MR. STEWART Prosecuted.
JOSEPH ABRAHAMS . I am a naturalist, of 191, St. George's Street, East—I had just left my house about noon on August 17th, when someone touched me on my shoulder, and I received a tremendous blow on my chest and throat, and the prisoners took my watch from me—there were five men there—they ran away, and I ran after them—the next day I identified the prisoner Alfred amongst others at the Police-station—I have suffered from my nerves since, and irritation of the blood and little white blisters in my eyes—I was 61 last June, and have lived for 44 years where I am living—my watch cost me £40 a few years ago—the roughs in my neighbourhood exercise a reign of terror by their depredations and violence.
WILLIAM TILLMAN . I am a oellarman, of 39, Prince's Street, St. George's—I saw the prisoners from my bedroom window at the time in question standing at the corner of Prince's Street—I saw William strike the prosecutor—I went down, and followed the prisoners—I caught William, and held him till a constable came—I kept him in sight—William struck the prosecutor twice.
Cross-examined by William Payne. I saw you and your brother standing at the corner of Prince's Street.
FREDERICK STEVENS (Detective, H). In consequence of a communication made to me on August 17th I searched for Alfred Payne, and, with Detective Beaven, I arrested him at 10.20 p.m.—he said, "All right; I suppose somebody has come copper," which means given information—he said, "I was in the job, but I didn't have the lot," meaning the watch and chain, "or I should have been in Dover now; we both know who the others are"—when the charge was read over he said, "Quite right; but
why don't you get the others? I am not going to suffer for the lot"—we arrested the others, but the prosecutor failed to identify them.
The Prisoner, William, in his defence, admitted the theft, but denied the violence, and said that the prosecutor was not struck at all as far as he knew.
GUILTY .—They then Pleaded Guilty to previous convictions; William Payne at this Court on September 13th, 1898; and Alfred Payne at the Thames Police-court, on November 13th, 1897; and other conviction were proved against them.
WILLIAM—Four Years' Penal Servitude and Twenty Strokes with the Cat. ALFRED— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat. The Court awarded £2 to the witness Tillman.
OLD COURT.—Monday and Tuesday, September 18th and 19th 1899.
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
CHARLES HENRY RAINER . I keep the White Swan, Fleet Street—I have bad an account with Messrs. Ehrman Bros., and from time to time I paid the prisoner sums of money in discharge of that account—the last sum I paid was £2 9s. 4d. in cash on May 25th—I took a receipt in the ordinary way from the prisoner—about the second or third week in July the prisoner came and said that he had had some dispute with the cashier nt the firm, and asked me if I would oblige him by giving him back the receipt for the money which I paid on May 25th, and he would return me the cash, which I did—he said he was going to leave London and work for the firm in Birmingham—I gave him the reotipt and took back the money.
Cross-examined. I have been in my present place of business 14 years; it was carried on by my father before that—to my knowledge, the prisoner received certain payments from, and had transactions with, my father, whom I succeeded last October—there was never any call for payment after accounts had been paid—I had made two previous payments to the prisoner—no claim has been made for those payments—I paid the prisoner £2 9s. 4d.—the account was for £2 128.—it may have been on July 11th that he came and repaid me—he repaid me £2 12s., because I explained to him that as the time for payment had gone past the firm would probably want me to pay them in full—I forwarded the money to the prosecutors about a week afterwards—they only took £2 98. 4d.—I do not know why that was—I was not entitled to pay only £2 9s. 4d.—I owe the difiference to the prisoner or to the firm—on the first occasion we had a drink together—Cohen paid for it—we did not have cigars—in addit on
to the difference between the £2 9s. 4d. and £2 12s., he is out of pocket the cost of the drink—it is the custom of travellers in the public-house line to pay for drinks; it is for the purpose of getting business—when Cohen came to me on July llth he did not say he had had a quarrel with the firm, he said with the cashier—he said someone else would probably be calling on me—he did not mention the collecting of the account, or anything about a man called Shipton—I do not remember him saying that he was going to take proceedings against the firm under his agreement.
CHARLES JAMES . I keep the Black Horse public-house, 215, Kings-land Road—I have an account with Messrs. Ehrman Bros., for the payment of which I was entitled to six months' credit—on December 5th, 1898, I gave an order amounting to 80s., but 1 was allowed 1s. 6d. off, which made it £3 18s. 6d.—it was due on June 5th—the prisoner was in the habit of coming to me for orders, and from time to time I paid him money on behalf of his masters—I paid him in cash the account which was due on June 5th, and he gave me a receipt for it—on December 31st, 1898, I gave him a second order, which worked out at £5 19s. 2d., which came due on J une 30th—I received this letter from the prosecutors—(Dated July ith, 1899. and requesting payment of overdue accounts, £10 12s. 2d.)—when I received that account I saw there was a claim against me for £3 18s. 6d. which I had already paid, and when the prisoner called I drew his attention to the fact—he said I was to take no notice of anything that had been nent in that way from the firm, as sometimes it was sent out by mistake; it was a kind of business matter, and that he had not really had sufficient time to pay it—he told me that on several occasions—I accepted that explanation—then there came up for discussion he £b 19s. 2d., which was owing on June 13th—I paid him £3 on account, which really left a balance of £2 15s. 6d., because they had not sent me some whisky, and I told Mr. Cohen so—he arave me a receipt for the £3, leaving the balance—I kept ray receipts in a clip hanging in the bar-parlour in a corner, and that was the place where I should put the receipt for the £3 18s. 6s. under ordinary circumstances, but I cannot take my oath as to whether I did or not—I put the receipt for the £3 there, I can swear to that, where it remained for several days—on July 18th the prisoner called again, and told me that Mr. Ehrman had appointed a collector, and that he should not call again to collect money, only to receive orders, and if I would give him my last receipt he would put everything in applepie order by the time the collector would call—I handed him the clip with the receipts on it, I think the receipts were all on it—I am certain that that one was—I put them on the table in the bar parlour—my son was there then—I was called into the bar—I afterwards went back to the bar parlour, and the prisoner was still there—when I handed the receipts to Mr. Cohen they were in folds, and he handed them back to me in folds, and said, "Mr. James, you will find everything nice by the time the collector calls upon you"—I put them into tho clips at the back of mothe prisoner had a drink, and then went away—on July 19th I received this circular from Messrs. Ehrman—(Stating that they had discharged the prisoner from their employ, and that he was no longer authorised to collect
accounts or solicit orders on their behalf; that another duly authorised representative would call on them who would receive payment of any accounts due; and that they enclosed statement of their account, and should be glad if the witness would notify the same.)—in consequence of that letter I went to iny receipt clip—I did not find the receipt for the £3 there; it was gone—I found this document in its place—(Read: "To wine, 18/7/'99, I O U £3—PHILIP COHEN")—I had never advanced £3 to the prisoner, or made him any loan—there was no discussion about a loan between us—there was no receipt for £3 18s. 6d., but I did not know whether there had been—I went to th" prosecutors the same day, and made a statement to Mr. Ehrman—on the 20th I got this letter, dated the 19th—(Read: "14, Albion Road, London, N. My Dear James,—I hall call and see you in a day or two. My firm have taken the liberty of discharging me without notice, and a law suit will follow. Please don't write to them to do any business with anyone who calls till I see you, when T will explain further.—Faithfully yours, PHILIP OHEN.")—in a day or two the prisoner called on me, but I declined to see him—I had left this I O U with the prosecutors—on July 28th I received this letter, signed "James W. Brown"—I saying that his client, Mr. Philip Cohen, had handed him £3, which he said he owed to the witness under an I O U given on July 18th, and asking for a receipt and for the return of the I O U)—I took notice of the cheque—I held it for a few days and then returned it—on January 2nd, 1899, I had paid the prisoner £4 6s. 8d., on December 29th, 1899, to wine, 6s. 8d., and June 27th £4—on March 18th I had paid him a further sum of £5, for which he gave me a receipt.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner quite two years, during which time he has done all the business between me and the prosecutors—I think I have been to their office once or twice myself, but, with those exceptions, he has done it all—I can only remember paying £3 18s. 6d. once—it was £4, but 1s. 6d. was allowed off—he always gave me receipts, and I always paid in cash—the only claims which have been made against me are the ones on the yellow papers which have come after the accounts have been paid—the firm have never found fault with me—I sometimes gave orders for brandy, which would amount to £4; sometimes more, and sometimes less—on January 2nd, 1899, I gave an order for two extra bottles of brandy which came to 6s. 8d., I cannot say if I paid that 6s. 8d. to Mr. Cohen—I paid the account in full, £4 6s. 8d.—I did not ask him as a favour not to charge the 6s. 8d., as it would be unfair—I got a claim for £4 6s. 8d.—if there is a receipt for it, I paid it in full—I was not entitled to about 4s. 6d. for bottles to be returned, I had returned a cask—I cannot say if I have ever returned any bottles, I never remember doing such a thing; I have the bottles now—I did not ask Messrs. Ehrman not to charge the 6s. 8d., but let it settle all claims—they did not carry forward a claim against me for 6s. 8d.—the prisoner gave me a receipt in the usual way for the £3 18s. 6d., having deducted 1s. 6d. from the £4—I suggest that the prisoner took the receipt for £3 18s. 6d., and tore it up in the presence of my son, not in my presence—I gave the lotter and the cheque from Mr. Cohen's solicitor to Mr. Ehrman—the £3 was paid by me about
July 9th—I cannot say if anyone was present when I paid it—it was in the first week in J uly—I do not remember that there was another gentleman present—I know a Mr. Bertie Jay, a commercial traveller—I have had dealings with him since this trouble began—he was present the day the I O U was left, but I cannot swear whether he was there the day that I paid the prisoner the £3—there was a yellow account showing the £3 18s. 6d.; that was when Mr. Jay was there—I asked Mr. Cohen to let the account' stand over for a day or two—he said, "Could you let me have a little loose cash," and I gave him £3—he did rot give me an I O U on that day for £3 in Mr. Jay's presence—he got £1 from me in the same way on a former occasion—he said he did not want to call at the office—he credited me with £1—he did not ask me for the loan of £1—he put it on the statement in pencil—I did not have the statement on July 18th; I never had one till the account came due—there were no new items on it then—he did not tear up the old receipt and the I O U, he having got a new statement—the small pieces of paper were not left on the table—I do not owe the prosecutors any money now, not till it becomes due—I may owe them about £23 over and above the £3 and the £3 18s. 6d.—I cannot exactly say the amount.
Re-examined. If £4 6s. 8d. appears on the receipt I paid £4 6s. 8d.—I always took receipts from the prisoner when I paid him money—I have some receipts on a file as well as on the clip—I have looked everywhere for the receipt for £3 18s. 6d.; I cannot find it.
WILLIAM JAMES . I am the son of Charles James—I remember the prisoner calling at my father's house in July—he came into the bar parlour, and said that he had called to put the receipts straight—my father brought some receipts and put them on the table—I was sitting at the table—my father gave the clip to the prisoner, and went into the bar, and we remained in the bar-parlour—I saw the prisoner tear some of the receipts out and put them into his pocket—my father returned and talked with him.
Cross-examined. The room is about 12 feet square—I was in there when the prisoner came in; it was about 2 p.m.—I did not interfere—I had nothing to do with the taking down of the receipts—I do Dot know what my father went into the bar for—I do not know how many receipt he gave the prisoner, I was not paying any particular attention to what was going—I cannot say whether the prisoner produced an account—he asked my father for the old statement of account—he did not say he would give a fresh I O U—the old account was not torn up; the receipts were—I do not remember the prisoner writing anything.
EDWARD THOMAS PYM . I am a licensed victualler, of the Crown Hotel, Harlesden—I had an account with Messrs. Ehrmau—the prisoner used to call on me—I made payments to him for the account due to Messrs. Ehrman—on July 6th I owed them £14 3s. 6d., and on that date the prisoner called, and I paid him by this cheque (Produced)—he gave me a receipt—on July 15th he called again, and said he had called to see me about the cheque that I had paid him on July 6th; that he had had a few words with his firm, and that they had behaved very badly towards him—he then said, "I have not paid your cheque in; here is the money; I want you to forward the cheque yourself"—I said, "I very much object to that,
as I do not wish to have any correspondence with the firm. I will make a suggestion to you, that I give you another cheque, and you forward it on yourself, and if the firm return the cheque you communicate with me at once"—he gave me the money, and I gave him a fresh cheque—then, at my request, he altered the date of the receipt which he had given me on July 6th.
Cross-examined. The prosecutors had never made a claim against me for £14 3s. 6d.—they have my cheque in payment—I have had 20 years' experience in the public-house business—if I give a traveller an order I always expect him to stand something—a "bit off" has nothing to do with the discount.
Re-examined. He did not give me any reason for not paying the cheque 10, except that his firm had behaved badly to him,
FREDINAND EHRMAN . I am senior partner in the firm of Ehrman Bros., wine merchants, of 43, Finsbury Square—before 1893 there was another firm, which was dissolved in 1896—the prisoner acted for that firm as traveller from 1893 to 1895—I was head of both firms—in April, 1898, I received an application from the prisoner, asking me to take him back into our service—that was followed by negotiations with him, which resulted in the agreement of April 21st, 1898—(This was between Ehrman, Senior, and Sons, of 43, Finsbury Square, and Philip Cohen, of 14, Albion Road, Stoke Newington, the traveller, stating that the traveller should keep proper books, and enter an account of all business transactions, and the names and addresses of all persona called upon by him on behalf of the firm; that whenever required, the said books, or copies of the said entries, should be transmitted to the firm; and that the traveller should not collect or receive payment from customers of the firm except when authorised by the firm, and in all cases in which he should receive payment on account of the firm he should daily transmit to them, without taking auything on account of his expenses, salary, or commission; and he should keep a list of the persons upon whom he called for the purpose of obtaining business for he firm, and a note of the result of his calls, and transmit the same daily to the firm, they paying him a minimum salary of £1 per month, and a further sum, to include travelling expenses, equal-to 17 1/2 per cent. on the net amount of executed orders for the firm obtained by him; all questions or of the rights of the parties to be referred to two arbitrators, and in case of their disagreement a third person be appointed as umpire, which should be deemed to be a submission to arbitration within the meaning of the Act of 1889.)—that being signed, the prisoner at once entered upon his duties as traveller—he forwarded us sums which he had collected, and the particulars of them in writing—the remittance sheets were in duplicate; he kept a copy—he never had any authority from us to endorse cheques in the name of the firm, or to retain any money beyond the day of its collection, if possible—the prisoner did not forward to us £4 6s. 8d. on January 5nd, 1899, from Mr. Charles James—on January 16th, 1899, he forwarded only £4 from Mr. Charles James, and in consequence the firm sent this written memorandum to the prisoner, which was returned from him with his reply on it—(Read: "Query re remittance James, Kingsland Road.—Please let us know why he paid £4 only, and left the item of June 22nd, 1898, unsettled." Reply: "I omitted to put
on statement the 6s. 8d.; will collect it next time I see him"—we never got that 6s. 8d.—he never accounted to us for £5 paid by Mr. James on March 18th, and on March 21st we sent him this memorandum, and he answered it in his own writing: "March 18th. Query: Did you call upon James, of Kingsland Road, yesterday, as arranged?" Reply: "I saw James last night; he asks me to let the account stand till after Easter. I shall without fail see him in a fortnight, and get his account. March is always a heavy month with publicans; they have to clear off all right" of rates, taxes, licences, etc, before quarter-day. James is all right"—that was accounted to us on April 14th by the prisoner—he did not account to us for £2 9s. 4d. on May 21st, received from Mr. Rainer; and he never has done so—he never accounted to U6 for the £3 18s. 6d. from Mr. Charles James, or for the £3 from the same person—he did not account to us for a cheque from Mr. Pym on July 6th, for £14. 3s. 6d.; he never has done so—this is the cheque (Produced)—it is crossed and endorsed by the prisoner—he was suspended on July 10th, 1899, after which he was not empowered to act for us in any way—we never hod any intention of sending him to Birmingham after that date—we suspended him by a written document on July 10th—we did not intend to start him as a canvasser and take away the collecting from him.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner since 1893, and all that time I looked upon him as a thoroughly respectable man—he had to collect accounts when the agreement was entered into—he was told he would have to do so, and he desired it—to get custom, travellers are put to a considerable expense by treating people—we do not arrange to give them 20s. or 25s. a day for that only—when the prisoner was in our employ before he had £3 10s. a week, and expenses at the discretion of the firm, and 2 1/2 per cent. commission, and at his suggestion it was altered to 17 1/2 per cent., to include everything—I do not think his expenses were 25s. a day—when the agreement was entered into his expenditure was not deducted, because he would not have to collect—he was not instructed to collect accounts, to save the expense of a traveller—he did not have a conversation with me about his expenses, and not being able to collect on account of the expenses he was put to—he did not say that when accounts were being paid he had to refund money by way of discount, or "a little bit back"—there is not such a custom—there is a custom of having a drink, but that is not in this account—I did not say that he could charge his discounts or allowances—he did not suggest that it would be much better for all parties to have a weekly account—I never said to him, "I have no ob jection to your collecting as long as you account for all moneys received," or that I had confidence in him, or that I would not expect a strict observance of Clause 5, or that he could deduct his commission from the accounts he received—he said his salary was £5 a week—he did not say that tie could not keep his family on that—he said he could do much more business if he had larger advances—he did not say that £7 was the very least he could do with—I gave him £6 as a trial—my fiim was running a wine called "The Golden Goblet"—I did not ask him to specially push that or any other wine—I did not tell him to call for that wine; I swear that—it was not arranged that he should
keep small accounts on hand to pay his expenses; he had no authority to do that—it was not arranged that he should be at liberty to sign cheques "per pro" with his own name; he had not done it before—when he signed the cheque for £3 14s. 6d. he was travelling in Ireland—it did not save any expense by cashing them there; the cheques are passed through our bank, like other cheques—I did not tell him be could use the firm's name so long as he put his own under it, so that if anything went wrong the cheque could be traced—I did not know that he was changing cheques every month—we had a customer named Cathies—in April last I knew that Cathies had paid the prisoner in cash, and it appeared to us that it was rather a large remittance to pay by cash, and we asked the prisoner if he received it by cash—he said he had—now for the first time I hear that he was paid by cheque—he told us that it was cashed—we have a customer named Mr. David Brown, of the Borough—there was a payment by him in the beginning of May—we sent in a claim on May 2nd for the account—he had already paid it to Cohen, and we had a communication from Brown, saying that he had settled with Cohen—I have no knowledge that he paid by cheque—on July 13th we wrote to Brown:" Dear Sirs,—Some time ago you wrote us that you had paid an account of ours by cheque to Mr. Cohen"—that was result of our investigations—we then had a report before us that Brown had stated that he had paid by cheque—the letter is not happily worded—we have a customer named Perry—a statement was sent to him—he said that he bad paid the money to Cohen—ue said nothing about a cheque—Cohen never had any difficulty in getting Ids weekly payments from us—we do not owe him any commission—his account is overdrawn to about £20 or £30—we do not owe him £33 16s. 4d.—we have a customer named Stanley, of the Strand—I do not recollect if we got an order from him for £8; very likely we did—he has been paid every commission—he has made a few fictitious claims—we do not owe him commission on £463 16s. at 17 1/2 per cent.—I have got his June account here—Smith's account, of Shaftesbury Avenue, is not here; it is under another traveller, it is not the prisoner's—he did not obtain that order—the order from Keen, of Carter Lane, for £70 was not accepted; under the agreement we are entitled to refuse orders—we did not refuse that in consequence of this case, or of his claim—I think the order of Hartley, of Green Lanes, wag refused on the ground that it would be a loss—I believe, in the case of Shaw, of Leadenhall Street, an order for £23, the prisoner agreed to take half commission and we credited him with it—the prisoner's turnover while he was with us was about £160 per month—we received a letter in March, giving his turnover—I am afraid that there are a great many defalcations besides the £3 and the £3 14a. 6d. on the prisoner's account—Cohen's successor collected Rainer's account—the prisoner collected £4 16s. from a man named Shipton, and only paid us £4 12s.—I believe it forms part of the indictment—I do not know that he spent 5s. in trying to sell the Golden Goblet, or that he actually spent 1s. 6d. on Shipton for our benefit—I suppose he spent the money for us as in other cases—we have a column ruled in our books for bona fide allowances, not fictitious ones—we did not put the 6s. 8d. of James's in that column, we say that the prisoner took that—the prisoner's books were
kept by a man named Fulton—the prisoner kept the manifold copy books—this is, unfortunately, not the first prosecution that we have launched against our travellers—I do not think that any traveller ever thought that he was rightly entitled to keep moneys—the case of Duckworth was very different to this; we did prosecute him—we did not reduce Cohen's commission by half—we said we could not accept orders for certain lowpriced wines at losing prices—he has started an action against us since these proceedings—we have had a similar case to this—I would rather not mention names—the case was dismissed.
Re-examined. I did not know that the prisoner had endorsed a cheque till July 10th.
WILLIAM REID (Police Sergeant, N). On August 3rd, at 3 p.m., the prisoner was given into my custody—he said, "It is a question of accounts"—I took him to the station, where he was charged—he said, "Those moneys have been paid in; they have those moneys."
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that his written agreement with his employers was afterwards verbally altered; that he was entitled to use money received by him for allowances and expenses; that the cheques he cashed were endorsed with his name under that of the firm; and that every item was accounted for by him to them.
Evidence for the Defence.
BERME JAY . I am a commercial traveller in cigars, of 9, Kilburn Road—I know Cohen and Messrs. Ehrman Bros.—Cohen introduced me the first week in July to Mr. James as a likely purchaser of cigars—at a future date, it was on July 3rd, 4th or 5th, Cohen presented a statement to Mr. James—James said he could not meet the account by payment, and Cohen asked if he had any loose money on him—James said he could let him have £3, and gave him £3, and Cohen wrote at the bottom of the statement an I O U—I could see that the statement was Messrs. Ehrman's for £9 odd.
Cross-examined. I was not at the Police-court—I was first spoken to about this matter some time this month, by Cohen's solicitor—I went to his office—I received an intimation from Mr. Cohen—I did not know what I was going there for—Cohen said he wanted me to go with him—I accompanied him to the office—we had no discussion on the way—I first knew the object of the visit when we arrived there—a paper was put in my hands by one of the clerks as to what had transpired in Mr. James's house—it was already written—I was asked if it was true—I cannot tell you in whose writing it was—I do not know Cohen's writing—I struck out two lines which I was not positive about—I was subpoenaed—James, Cohen and I were present in the bar—we did not go into the parlour—Cohen wrote the memorandum on the counter—I cannot take my oath that it was in pencil, but I am almost sure—I saw an I O U written at the foot of the statement—I took it to be a private loan, and not a payment on account for Cohen's employers; not because Cohen said, "Have you any loose money?" but because he wrote at the foot of the statement an I O U—I was leaning on Cohen's shoulder, and could see the letters written, "I O U £3"—I am almost positive it was in pencil, but it may have been in ink—it is not my habit to look over; it was my
inquisitiveness—I knew the matter was of no importance, and that Cohen would not object to my looking over his shoulder.
Re-examined. I have no doubt I saw the £3 pass between James and Cohen—it may have been August 21st—I called on Cohen's solicitor, Mr. Brown, but I have not a good memory for dates.
JAMES HENRY PERRY . I keep the Rose and Crown, Ilford—I was a customer of Ehrman Bros.—I paid Mr. Cohen by cheque, the only account I paid bim, about January 1st—I had an account sent from Ehrman Bros, in March—I wrote to them, stating that I had paid Mr. Cohen by cheque when I gave him the next order—I had an acknowledgment of my letter, which I cannot find—I have been in business some years—some firms allow discount, but it is usual for travellers to spend money in the house when they receive payment of an account—Cohen stood a bottle of Golden Goblet champagne, a matter of 46. or 5s., a wine supplied by Ehrman Bros.
DAVID BROWN . I am a licensed victualler—I was a customer of Ehrman Bros, through their traveller, Mr. Cohen—I paid an account of £6 to Cohen on May 1st by cheque—I have my cheques returned from my banker—I have not the cheque—I subsequently got an account from Ehrman, claiming the £6—I wrote back a few days afterwards, saying that I had paid the account to Mr. Cohen—I believe I said, "by cheque," I am not sure—I subsequently received the letter of July 13th from the prosecutors, commencing, "Some time ago you wrote to say you bad paid an account of ours by cheque."
Cross-examined. On July 14th Cohen called upon me, or about that time—I gave him the letter.
GEORGE MOLE SHIPTON . I paid Cohen for goods supplied by Ehrman Bros.—he spent money in the house on each of the three occasions—the amounts paid were £4 16s., £3, and £3 31s.—on one occasion he paid for Golden Goblet.
NOT GUILTY , but the JURY considered that the prisoner had committed grave irregularities. There were seven other indictments for felony, and one for misdemeanour, upon which no evidence was offered.
NEW COURT.—Monday, September 18th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of an indecent assault .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
(For the case of Charles Bruder, tried this day, see Essex Cases.)
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 19th, 1899.
Before Mr. Recorder.
JOHN CHANDLER . I am a labourer, of 4, Whittaker Street, Pimlico—on August 14th, at 11.30, I was with two lads, friends of mine, at the corner of Stamford Street, and Jewell came up with several other men and knocked my hat off, and fired a pistol at me—the other lads were all behind him—they are called Pimlico lads—I had had a quarrel with one of them—I knew Jewe.l before, but had not had any words with him—I saw his face, and saw him fire on the day before this, Sunday, the 13th—he lifted a revolver at me.
Cross-examined by Jewell. I have been charged with assault once; it was for hitting a lad with a belt—I cut his head open—I got two mouths—a witness named Underwood was called on my behalf; I do not know whether he had been convicted—he was not sent to prison; he did not get any punishment.
By the COURT. The lad I had the row with was named Head—he is a friend of the prisoners—that was not the assault I got two months for—he was at Westminster Police-court, and we had a fight—I knew he was a friend of Jewell's.
JOHN UNDERWOOD . I am a plasterer; I know the prisoners by sight only—on August 14th I was with another witness, and saw the prisoners—Jewell knocked Chandler's hat off; he took no notice, and then Jewell took a pistol out and fired at him—I saw the two prisoners on a 'bus on the Sunday before this.
Cross-examined by Rye. I have never been convicted of assault.
Cross-examined by Jewell. I was not convicted and bound over.
By the COURT. On the night in question I was nut with three or four other men, only with Harper—I was not with Chandler, but I was talking to him, and Harper and Goddard were there—I was ta king to Chandler at the time the prisoners came up—it is true that Harper and Goddard were with me—I was with ihem ten minutes before and at the time—I have not been up for assault, only for being disorderly.
By the Prisoner Jewell. Underwood and I and another lad were all charged together with being disorderly; nothing more—we were not charged with street fighting.
FREDERICK HARPER . I live at 2, Schofield Cottages, Fulham—on the night of August 14th I was in Kemp Road with Chandier, Goddard and another, and saw the two prisoners with reveral others—the prisoners went behind Chandler and knocked his hat off and fired—he said, "I am shot in the leg," and the other frisoner fired—on the Sunday before this I saw them on top of a 'bus, and they said, "Come up here, and we will blow your brains out"—Jewell had a revolver, and Rye a pistol.
By the COURT. I, Underwood, Chandler, and Goddard are all friends—Chandler had had a row before this—he used to be with these boys, and they said they would blow his brains out.
Cross-examined by Bye. I never had a catapult—I have seen one, but not in Chandler's hands or in Underwood's hands.
Cross-examined by Jewell. I did not shoot a girl's eye out with a catapult, nor was I charged with it—I got three years for stealing iron, but I was innocent.
small wound the size of a pea in his right leg—I could not find the bullet—I did not try the Röntgen rays—it has not caused him any inconvenience at present.
CHARLES CROTCHETT (Policeman, C). I arrested Rye—he said, "I did not shoot, I had no pistol; the pistols were thrown away," and at the station he said, "I admit pointing the pistol at him on Sunday night, Hat I did not fire; my pistol was thrown into the river; the cartridges we bought, and paid 8d. for 100"—I was present when Jewell was charged—he said, "All right."
Rye, in his defence, stated that Jewell fired twice at Chandler, and shot him in the leg; that he (Rye) had no pistol that nigt, and the one he had on the Sunday night he gave to a lad to throw into the Thames.
Jewell, in his defence, stated that he was serving six months' Hard labour for another offence; that he was not present at the shooting, but they fired upon him because he bought a pistol eight months ago, but that he sold it six months ago.
GUILTY .—They then Pleaded Guilty to previous convictions at Clerkenwell Rye on February 24th, 1899, and Jewell on September 2nd, 1898. Several other convictions were proved against them, and the Police stated that they were the associates of a gang of thieves. RYE— Three Months' Hard Labour. JEWELL— Nine Months' Hard Labour part of which is to run concurrently with his former sentence.
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, September 19th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BODKIN and BIRON Prosecuted, and MESSRS. WARBURTON and KENT Defended Croager.
GEORGE ERIC HAVELOCK . I am a solicitor, of 10, City Road—in May last my letters were addressed to 9, Trinity Street, Borough, which I had previously left, doing my business at home, at Hampstead, while seeking another office—I knew Barrett in 1895, and have met him occasionally since—I first knew him as clerk to Mr. Holloway, solicitor, who does not now hold a certificate, though on the rolls—I met Croager opposite this Court while the Wolfenden case was going on in April or May last—Barrett was a witness—I did not see Croager again until on this case at the Police-court—Holloway was a friend of mine, and when I could rot attend at Holloway Prison he went for me, and was associated with me in business—he made appointments for me, and I met Barrel t and Child outside 12 and 13, Arundel Place, Haymarket—we went iuto a restaurant, and I had a conversation with Barrett—Holloway came in—Barrett proposed being my clerrk at, I think, 30s. a week; I to have the use of the
office in Arundel Place as a branch. and he to do all the work—I think he mentioned some club business he thought he could get for me—he mentioned Fisher, and led me to believe that he knew his friends, and could get hold of his defence—I said if he could get it in the ordinary professional way, well and good—I said I would consider these matters and let him know—I was led to believe that it was Child's office—I think he was an auctioneer and surveyor—I did not know the name of Croager then, or that Barrett knew him—Barrett mentioned an action beetween himself and Kirklewood for illegal distress, and asked me to act as his solicitor simply as a friend—I agreed, and we went into the office in Arundel Place—he then filled up this notice of change of solicitors (Produced), and I signed it and added the 8 to "defendant"—the address for service is "12 and 13, Arundel Place, Haymarket, S.W., dated May 26th, 1899.—Yours etc., G. ERIC HAVE-LOCK"—I think it is filled up by Barrett—I gave that address because the address for service has to be within 3 miles of the central entrance of the Royal Courts of Justice—I had no knowledge that Barrett and Croager were visiting Fisher in prison—that was May 26th, and I had no further communication with Barrett till ho wrote me on Juno 6th to Hampstead: "Dear Mr. Havelock,—I should have written you before, but mislaid your address," etc.; "I have done nothing further with regard to Fisher's defence; as your representative I have seen him in Holloway.—A. BARRETT"—I replied immediately to 12 and 13, Arundel Place and I believe, put my address—the letter was not returned through the post—I think I first referred to his putting up my name at Arundel Place, and asked him to immediately remove it—I then said that, neither directly nor indirectly, had he any authority from me to go to Holloway, or to act in any way for me—I received no answer—about that time I received these papers from the Governor of Holloway Prison, which were sent for me to Trinity Street (Produced)—the following day I went to Holloway—I was shown these other papers by a warder—they purport to be signed by me, but are not, nor by my authority—I went to the Director of Public Prosecutions at once, and saw Mr. Angus Lewis.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. My first meeting with Barrett was not at a public-house, but at Scott's Restaurant, opposite Arundel Place—I did not know why I was sent for—Holloway is not my clerk—he has been to Holloway Prison by my authority, and one clerk besides—Holloway is not a touting clerk—I did not give Barrett's proposals much consideration—I did not take a copy of my letter to Barrett, and so swore at the Police-court—I was glad to escape the meshes of Barrett—I have had several offices—I have had to remove through illness—there have not been complaints made of the way I have behaved in those offices, nor did Mr. Paul Taylor refer to me at Southwark Police-court—I had the painful duty of reporting Mr. Young, of Dorking, to the Incorporated Law Society—he made an ex parte statement to the Magistrate about me in which there was no truth—Holloway was never refused admittance to Holloway Prison—I sent him up here yesterday on the trial of Wolfenden—I have the retainer here (Produced)—I ceased to act for him—I can give you the names of the clerks I have had since I have been in business from 1888.
Cross-examined by Barrett, I was not anxious to see you, or to have
your acquaintance—I did not seriously entertain your offer—I was extremely annoyed at your impertinence in putting my name up—I cannot rive a specific reason for not taking action about it earlier—I did not wish my name to be associated with yours, for the sake of my professional reputation—if you press me 1 may give you a reason you will not care for—I had heard something against you before the Governor wrote to me—I did not write to you until I received your letter—I have been in the City Road since June 12th—I do not think I should have given you an order to see Fisher if you had asked me—Holloway said he found you strictly honest during the time you were his clerk; I think, he said honourable, too.
Barrett. I say I had Mr. Havelock's implied authority to sign the document, and I did so without any intention to defraud or deceive.
Witness. I saw you in Mr. Holloway's office recently—you broached the subject about introducing business—there was no arrangement or definite proposition between us—you made no proposition till May 26th—you suggested a division of profits—I may have said if you introduced business I would give you something—you made some absurd proposition about the office costing you nothing—it was Child's office—I made no such proposition—I told you I would consider your proposals—I never wrote you a letter appointing you my clerk at £100 a year, nor was I to do so as a blind to the public—there was nothing said as to where my name was to be placed—something was said about a good place to get headed paper if I accepted your proposals, which I considered adversely from the moment of leaving you.
By the COURT. Those letters are, as a fact, written by Child.
(The depositions taken at the Police-court were then read.) HENRY FISHER, I am undergoing 12 months' imprisonment at Worm-wood Scrubbs for receiving electrical appliances, knowing them to be stolen—I was tried at the Sessions, and defended by Mr. Abinger, a barrister—I had premises at Dean Street, Soho, where I carried on business as an electrical engineer—I know Croager—his son was with me to learn the trade—I did not know Barrett—I was arrested on May 1st, and brought up at Marlborough Street Police-court, and eventually committed for trial—while I was under remand Croager visited me at Holloway as a friend—he also came from time to time to the Police-court, and took notes for me without charge—I did not know him as a solicitor's clerk—there was no suggestion made at the Police-court against Croager's son, that 1 know of—he was working for me—while under remand I was introduced by Croager to Barrett—I only saw him for a few minutes—I signed this paper (Produced)—I did not know it was a power of attorney—it is witnessed by A. Barrett—I did not see him sign it—I agreed to give Croager certain things to do for me in case I was convicted—I was detained at Holloway—Mr. Abinger had acted for me in a civil action, and I instructed him in this matter—on May 30th I got this letter-card (No. 8) from Croager: "32, Langham Road, West Green, May 31st, 1899. Dear Sir,—My friend, Mr. Barrett, representing Mr. G. E. Havelock, solicitor, 12 and 13, Arundel Place, Haymarket," etc. (Signed) "J. H. Croager"—the next day, June 1st, a warder brought me in this paper, which I signed: "I, Albert Barrett, of 12 and 13, Arundel Place, Hay-market,
request permission to see, on professional business, the prisoner Henry Fisher,—GEORGE E. HAVELOCK, Solicitor. June 1st, 1899. To the above-mentioned prisoner: Do you wish to be visited by this solicitor? Yes' (Signed "Henry Fisher" and counter signed by John Rogers, acting for the Governor)—Barrett was then shown into the visiting room, and we had a conversation—he took out some notes, and said, "These are what Croager gave me, but I don't think they are much good," and I did not trouble to read them—he said, "Have you got your statement ready?"—I said, "No; in fact, I have placed the matter in the hands of Mr. Abinger"—he said. "Oh; then there is nothing for me to do"—I said, "Well, you can call on some people in Red Lion Street," mentioning their names; people I wished to be called as witnesses—he seemed disappointed, because there was no business to be done, and went away—I did not give him instructions to act for me—I understood from Croager that "Havelock" was simply a name made use of to get admission—I heard nothing of Mr. Havelock from Barrett—the next day Croager came—a warder brought me this paper, which I signed: "J, Thomas Henry Croager, of 32, Langham Road, request permission to see, on professional business, the prisoner, Henry Fisher.—G. E. HAVELOCK, Solicitor. June 2nd, 1899"—I knew "Croager, and signed the answer, "Yes," asking that he might see me—he saw me in the waiting-room—he brought me a copy of that supposed agreement, that I signed—I did not read it—he told me he had obtained some £5 or £6 of my brother, to which he had added some other moneys, making up £10, and had opened an account at the Birkbeck Bank in the joint names of himself and my brother—I said I would write to my brother—he said nothing about Mr. Havelock then—I did not instruct Croager to represent me as a solicitor's clerk—I was still in commnnication with Mr. Abinger.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. Croager's son had been with me some time—I had seen Croager four or five times, and he took notes for me at the Police-court four times, I think—I did not give him a power of attorney on May 9th—that was mentioned a fortnight or three weeks after—I do not remember Croager or a Mr. Barham suggesting witnesses on my behalf—I saw a letter with Kemp's name on it—I never knew him—I did not instruct a solicitor, but went straight to Counsel—Croager asked me to sign a power of attorney—I refused to do so, and some time after I wrote, saying I should be willing to sign some agreement.
CHRISTOPHER PICKERING . I am principal warder and gatekeeper at Holloway Prison—solicitors and their clerks pass through there to see prisoners—they have to fill up this paper in my office; this notice hangs up: "Solicitors will be admitted during office hours, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m—solicitors' clerks are not permitted to see prisoners professionally unless they produce a written authority from their principals, stating the name of the prisoner to be visited, on each occasion"—solicitors would fill up the form, and their clerks would, in addition, produce a written authority from their employers—they would then be passed on to another warder having charge of the visiting-room—a prisoner on remand in the prison may see one outside visitor a day in presence of a warder, and his legal adviser at any time, between 10 and 5, alone—on June 1st Barrett came
and handed me this letter, and I gave him this form, which he filled up—he was then passed on to Warder Stone—the next day Croager came and handed in this letter, and filled us this form—in consequence of something I heard I said, "There was a man, Barrett, called here yesterday; I know Mr. Havelock very well, and Holloway Mr. Havelock's clerk; are you Mr. Havelock's clerk?"—he said, "Yes, Holloway belongs to our firm, but he is only a tout"—I handed him to the other warder, and passed the papers through—I spoke to Warder Brown on the matter.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I always considered Holloway to be Mr. Havelock's clerk.
Cross-examined by Barrett. I cannot say how many prisoners Mr. Havelock has visited this year—there are considerably over 800 in the prison.
WILLIAM ELLIOTT STONE . I am a warder at Holloway—I was in attendance on visitors on June 1st—Warder Pickering passes them through—I fetch the prisoner, and show him into the waiting-room, and this document is passed through with him or before, and an authority from the solicitor if it is his clerk:—Barrett was passed through to me on June 1st—he brought this paper, and what purported to be an authority from Mr. Havelock—I knew the name—something struck me about the signature, and I looked on my file, and compared it with Mr. Havelock's and Holloway's—there was a great difference—I said, "One of the two must be a forgery," showing one I took from the file—he said, "It is quite right"; that he had come from Mr. Havelock—then I told him the address was different; "Mr. Havelock's address is Prince's Street, and this is 12 and 13, Arundel Place"—he said, "-That is right; Mr. Havelock has shifted his office"—I took them to the chief warder, and compared the two, but the one that Barrett brought really seemed the most businesslike, and we could not tell at that time which was the right signature, and it was allowed—it had a printed heading—I told Fisher he wanted to see him, and Fisher signed the paper, and he was shown in—15 minutes are allowed to an ordinary visitor—there is no limit to a professional visitor between the office hours—a warder is then in sight, but not in hearing.
GEORGE BROWN . I am a warder at Hoiloway—I was on duty on June 2nd, attending to solicitors and their clerks—Croager was let through on these documents, Nos. 3 and 4, which I received from Pickering—I took him to the solicitors' boxes—I drew his attention to the difference in the signatures, and said it was not the signature that I knew of Mr. Havelock's—he said it was signed by Mr. Havelock—I asked him if he would draw Mr. Havelock's attention to it when he got back—he aid that he would—I then saw the chief warder, and drew his attention to it—from something he said to me, I went back to Croager, taking Fisher with me—I told him he need not take any further notice, while I apologised to him for troubling him—I siid the matter was threshed out the day before, before the Governor; that it was a misunderstanding between the chief warder and mygelf as to something else.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. Instead of being written in ink,. it was in pencil.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate: Barrett says: "I acted
on the honest belief that I was authorised to use Mr. Havelock's name for this purpose. I had no intention to defraud either Mr. Havelock or anybody else." Croager says 'I am an innocent agent of the letter that I understood was signed by Mr. Havelock."
Barrett, in his defence, stated that he had an agreement with Havelock that he (Barrett) should pay the office expenses and share the profits with Havelock, he (Barrett) having the sole control, but acting as clerk; and that he gave Croager authority to go and see Fisher; that he honestly believed he had Mr. Havclock's authority to use his name, and led Croager to believe, that the authority was signed by Mr. Havelock.
Croager stated that he believed he was acting on a bona fide authority.
GUILTY .—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY.— One Month's Imprisonment each in the Second Division.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 20th, 1899.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ROUTH Prosecuted, and MESSRS. BURNIE and STEWART Defended.
FREDERICK WHITE . I live at Golden Green, Hendon—I am manager at Milton's, the horse-jobbers of Piccadilly—my duties are to look after the horses at the farm at Hendon—on the night of August 2nd, 1898, there were 24 horses in one enclosure—I left che field at 5 80—I used to go and count them night and morning—it was not possible for them to stray from that Held, because before I turned them into the field 1 had a triple row of barbed wire put round the field—the gate was locked—there was a chain round the gate and post, and padlocked—there was only one gate; I locked it as I came out—I went into the field at 7.30 on the 3rd—six horses were gone, and the ones missing were a, chestnut gelding, a brown-bay gelding, a bay gelding, and three others—I know the price they were valued at—I did not have the buying of them—they were all in good condition—the chestnut was five years old; the brown-bay is an aged horse, and the other was six years old—I should say the three were worth about £200—I saw them again last August—I saw the chestnut in July at Mr. Haylock's, in the Old Kent Road, a laundryman, and the brown on August 3rd or 4th at Mr. Burridge's, King's Head Hotel, Diss, Norfolk, and the bay at Mr. Kingston's, at East Barham, in Norfolk—Burridge returned his horse when he heard that it was stolen—the horses were in poor condition, and one of them had had his tail cut—when I went to the gate of the field on August 3rd, 1898, I found the lock all right, but the nails over the hinges had been knocked out, so that the gate could be lifted off the hinges—I found the wire round the hedge as it was before; the only place where the horses could have been got out was through the gate.
Cross-examined. The bay was suffering from side-bone, not ring bone—I value it at £50—side-bone are bones not quite the size of a brazil nut growing at the side of the coronet—it depends upon the size of the side-bones whether they produce a club-foot—that was not why it was turned
out—he came in for rest—ring-bone is the same as side-bone—I do not think the dark brown hore was more than 17 years old—I do not know if Mr. Milton had had him 11 years—I knew him for five years—he was past mark of mouth then—he was sound in other respects—the chestnut was not lame—the aged horse ought to have fetched £50—his height was 16.2—the chestnut ought to fetch close on £100—he was a good aminal; he was turned out to make room for other young horses in the London stables—he had been down about six weeks; he and his match—I have heard that Mr. Baldwin bought these three horses and another for £55—I do not know that Burridge brought the aged horse for £19.
Re-examined. I am only manager at the farm; I have been at the horse business all my life.
WILLIAM MATHEW MILTON . I am a jobmaster, of 6, Park Lane, Piccadilly—I have a farm at Hendon, and keep horses there—I had a chestnut, a dark brown, and a bay there on August 2nd, 1898—the chestnut. No. 3808, was purchased on January 1st, 1898, for £88—we identify it from a description we have in the books—I have not seen that horse again—the dark brown or bay, No. 1060, we purchased on August 6th, 1898, and gave £55 for it—the bay gelding we purchased on March 26th, 1898, for £131 5s.; her height was 15.2 1/2—there was a pair of them—that price was for one only—we purchased the pair back from a customer who had to go abroad—the chestnut had not deteriorated—if hewas sold at Tattersall's, it would all depend when he was sold as to what price he would fetch; a horse sold at the end of the season would not fetch so much as if he were sold in the early part of the season; we ought to get what we gave for it—I do not know what he would fetch at a place like Diss; he was an aged horse; I think he was nearly 15 years old; but he was valuable to us because he was a good working horse—if we had bought the bay as a single horse we should have paid about £100 for it—the chestnut was down at the farm from about the middle of May—I do not think it was lame—I do not manage the horses at the farm—it might have had a cold—I have not seen any of the three horses since.
Cross-examined. We have between 300 and 400 horses—I said before the Magistrate that I might identify the old job horse, but I did not know the others—I might not know why they were sent to the farm—some horses we have, have been out on the job, and we send them down to rest them—I do not know that the bay may have been suffering from ring-bone, but I do not think so—being lame and having ring-bone would make a difference in its selling, value.
ROBERT BALDWIN . I lived at the Court House, Diss, Norfolk, and am a dealer and farmer—on August 5th, 1898,1 bought, I think, four horses from the prisoner in Diss Market on the stones I gave £55 for the four—amongst them was a chestnut gelding, a bay gelding, and a brown—they have been identified since—I cannot say if the fourth horse was a nag or a cart horse—I have seen a good many since—I had had a transaction with the prisoner before, and there was a balance due to me of £31—I gave him this cheque for £24 (Produced)—the horses were in a very bad condition and worn, not fit to sell—none of them looked as if they had been at grass for a month or six weeks—about a week or a fortnight afterwards I sold the chestnut to Mr. Kedge, a chemist, of Diss, for £19—the bay
I sold to Mr. Burridge for £20, and the brown I sold at an odd sale for 15 guineas.
Cross-examined. All the horses were exposed quite regularly in the open market—I improved the chestnut before I sold it—if a horse was worked in London in the season it might quite suddenly throw off ring-bone.
EDWARD KITCHEN (Detective S). I went to the prisoner's residence at Fairlop Mews, Oak Tree Road, St. John's Wood, on August 5th—I saw him outside—I was with Detective Chandler—I said, "We are police-officers, and are making some inquiries in respect to some horses that were sold by you in August or September last year to a Mr. Baldwin, of Diss"—he said, "I do pot remember Mr. Baldwin"—then he said, "Oh, yes, I do; I have had many transactions with him; I have sold horses both for and to him"—I explained the four horses to him, and at first he could not remember them, but afterwards he said, "I remember it now; I had a telegram from a man who signed himself 'G. Wilson,' advising me of the arrival of four horses at Diss. I met the horses, and sold them to Mr. Baldwin at Diss Market for £55. I do not know G. Wilson, or where to find him"—I told him I did not consider his explanation satisfactory, and I should take him to the station pending further inquiries—I asked him if he had any papers in respect to the matter—we went into his stables and he brought down a file of papers, and amongst them was this telegram (Produced), reported to have come from G. Wilson, advising him of the arrival of the horses—he also produced from the file this receipt for£50, showing that he had paid for the horses; also this consigninent-note, showing that the horses were sent from Bishopsgate Street on the 4th and arrived at Diss on the 5th—on Sunday morning, the 6th, the prisoner sent word from the cells at the Police-station that he wished to see me—I had him brought up, and he made this statement, after I had cautioned him—(this stated that he had received the telegram advising him of the arrival of the horses, which he sold for £55; that he paid £50 on August 10th to ttoo men giving the names of G. Wood and G. Wilson; that he had had several transactions with them before, and that he believed that one of them had been locked up for horse stealing.)
Cross-examined. The prisoner has since said that if he saw the men he should know them—he did not tell me, or say in my presence, that he had dealt with the horses as genuine property.
JAMES CHANDLER (Detective Officery, N). I went with Kitchen on August 5th to the prisoner's residence—we charged him with receiving six horses—on the 6th he made a statement to me—when he was charged, he said, "I have not had six horses; I admit I had four horses sent to me on that date, and I bought them as genuine property"—he said that Mr. Hunter, a dealer, knew the men.
HERBERT HUNTER . I live at 8, Lion Place, Maida Hill—I deal in cabs and horses—the prisoner told me that he had bought four horses for which he was about to pay £50—that was early in August, 1898—I saw him pay some money to some men—I daresay I should know them if I
saw them—I asked the prisoner if he knew the men—he said he had seen them in the market—the men refused to take his cheque, and he came into my neighbourhood to cash the cheque—I do not know if he went to the bank to do it—I did not introduce him to the men—I have written to him on a good many occasions—I have never consigned any horses to him—I did not introduce a man named Wilson or Wood to him—I do not know them—the money was openly paid in a private bar of a public-house.
Cross-examined. I have not seen the men since I saw them at the public-house, to my knowledge—I knew the prisoner's address at Diss—I never saw the men till I saw them in the public-house.
HERBERT GRUNDEN . I live at 8, Poland Road—I am a stableman employed by Mr. Milton—I was at Aldridge's on August 17th—I saw a chestnut gelding, which I recognised as one of the horses stolen on August 3rd, 1898—it was sold—I do not know what it fetched—it was sold to Mr. Haylook—I gave information to Mr. Milton.
Cross-examined. When I came to try the chestnut afterwards I found it was lame; if I had known that I should have given a great deal less for it—I was communicated with by the detective, or I should have sent it back.
ROBERT SCOTT YOUNG . I am manager of the London and Provincial Bank, Sydenham—the prisoner opened an account with us at the Edgware Road branch on September 3rd, 1898, and it was closed on February 3rd, 1899.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that he received the horses thinking them to be genuine business; that he did not know they were stolen; that dealers often sold horses without any previous arrangements; and that the telegram was the first he knew of them. NOT GUILTY .
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted, and MR. STEWART Defended.
ANTHONY KILCOIN . I am a scene shifter, of 11, Chichester Rents, Chancery Lane—on August 22nd, between 4 and 4.30 p.m., Mr. Johnson was treating me in a public-house in Drury Lane, and the prisoner Lacey said, "Don't treat him; he is in work"—Johnson said, "I should have enough to do if I had to treat everybody who asked for drink," and went into the next bar—Lacey said, "I know you," and knocked me down in the bar by a blow on my ear—I got outside, and saw two gentlemen who I knew in the theatrical profession, and opened a cab door for them—they gave me a shilling, and Lacey snatched it out of my hand—I followed him across the road, and he struck me on the back of my neck and wounded me—I laid on the pavement unconscious for 10minutes—I came to, but could not find a policeman—Lacey was there—I asked him what he did it
for, and he knocked me down again—Murphy was in the company—I do not know whether they were sober; I was.
Cross-examined. I got something which I think was a shilling—the knocking down was after the incident of the drink.
WILLIAM CROSSTON (Police Sergeant, E). On the morning of August 29th, a week afterwards, Kilcoin pointed out Lacey to me, and said, "You robbed me of 1s., and knocked me down, and kicked me brutally on Tuesday last, and I have been ill ever since"—he showed me one of his legs; it was bruised and swollen for 20 or 24 inches, and his head and elbow were bruised—I told Lacey that he would be charged—her said, "I expected this; I thought you were coming for me last night"—he was in the public part of the Police-court—I said to Kilcoin, "Why did not you prefer this charge before?"—he said, "I was too ill, and I was afraid of my life."
Cross-examined. That was the first time I saw Kilcoin—I had not heard of this from Mrs. McCarthy, or either of the two men.
SARAH MCCARTHY . I am the wife of Charles McCarthy, of 8, London Road, Southwark—I was in Russell Street, Drury Lane, about 4 or 4.30, and saw a lady and gentleman get into a four-wheeled cab, and Kilcoin at the cab door—I did not know him before—the gentleman gave him something which I suppose was money, and the two prisoners walked from the public-house, and Lacey snatched something from Kilcoin's hand, and gave it to Murphy—Kilcoin followed, and said something—Murphy struck him, and he fell, and then he kicked him—he was unconscious 10 minutes, and Lacey returned, and was going to fight Kilcoin—I said, "Why don't you let the man alone? you have got his money"—he said, "Mind your own business"—I saw them again every day—I knew them by sight perfectly well, as my mother lives in Drury Lane.
Cross-examined. My brother-in-law, Daniel McCarthy, was convicted of an assault on the prisoner Lacey on the 26th—that was four days afterwards—there had been no previous disputes between them—they did not know one another—I was close to the cab.
A. KILCOIN. (Re-examined). I know the two gentlemen by sight, but do not know their names—I have not been interviewed—it was two gentlemen, not a gentleman and lady.
HENRY JACOBS . I am a porter, of 43, Russell Street—I was looking out at my window between 4 and 5 on this afternoon, which is opposite the Constitution public-house, and saw two gentlemen and a lady hailing a cab—Kilcoin opened the door, and one gentleman and the lady got in, an I the other gentleman walked on; the one in the cab gave Kilcoin some money, and the prisoner Lacey took it out of his hand and handed it to Murphy, and walked across the road—Kilcoin went after him and Murphy hit him to the ground, and then they both kicked him, he laid on the ground 10 minutes insensible, and then got up—Mrs. McCarthy said to Lacey, "You have got the old man's money; why don't you let him alone?"
Cross-examined. Mrs. McCarthy is my sister—the gentleman who did not get into the cab was not there when the violence occurred—the assault took place after the cab went away—there were people passing—
there was not another man standing within a few feet—it was after this that Daniel McCarthy assaulted Lacey's wife, not three days before.
JOHN JOHNSON . I am a carpenter, of 64, Long Acre—on August 22nd I was in Drury Lane with Kilcoin—we went into the Constitution, and when we came out he went to a cab to open the door—I did not see a lady and gentleman get in, because my back was turned—I saw the prisoners—the little one got hold of my coat and said, "Why don't you buy us beer, and not treat people like him? He is in work"—ilcoin was a yard behind me after opening the door—I went into the Constitution—I did not see what took place—Kilcoin was not on the ground while I was there; that was after—when I came out of the public-house I saw him knocked down by the little man and kicked by the big man on his legs—I cannot say how long he lay there, because I went away—I had an appointment—it was a four-wheeled cab.
Cross-examined. I am no relative of any of the parties—there was only one cab—I saw a lady and two gentlemen—after the cab had gone Murphy asked me for some beer—that is rather a rough corner, and I went away because I had an appointment to keep, and they would only have gone on to me, because there were too many of them—I did not know McCarthy or Jacobs before, but Kilcoin has done a day's work for me.
By the COURT. I saw him two days afterwards; he had his head bandaged up, and a lump on his neck, and a lump on his leg.
JASPER JACOBS . I am a porter, of 43, Russell Street, Covent Garden, and am Mrs. McCarthy's brother—I was outside the Constitution public-house, and saw two gentlemen and a lady—Kilcoin opened the door of a four-wheeled cab for them, and one gentleman and a lady got in—the prisoner Murphy took something from Kilcoin's hand, and walked towards the public-house—Kilcoin followed him, and Murphy struck him, and Lacey made a running kick at him several times about the body as he lay on the pavement—he lay there for 10 minutes, and my sister said, "Why don't you leave him alone? you have got his money; you ought to be satisfied"—he used very filthy language.
Cross-examined. I live with my brother, and often see Mrs. McCarthy—we have never talked this matter over—I did not run for a policeman or a doctor; I stood for 10 minutes looking at him on the ground—if I had interfered these men would have done the same to me, but they had left then.
FREDERICK ALBERT HAWKINS (Policeman, E). I arrested Murphy in Court on the 29th; he was there on another matter—Kilcoin, Mrs. McCarthy and Johnson identified him—I told him he would be charged, with Lacey, with robbery and assault—on the way to the station he said, "If I go in for this I will have f—Lacey."
Cross-examined. I do not know the date of the assault on Mrs. Lacey.
Murphy, in his defence, stated that he opened the door of the cab, and the lady got in, and one of the gentlemen gave him 2d., and that nothing was given to anyone else; that Kilcoin was looking on, and said, "What did you go to the door for? and Murphy said, "Have not I as much right to go to a four-wheeled cab as you?" and they had a fight and fell together; and that he was injured as much as kilcoin.
Lacey, in his defence, stated that one of the gentlemen gave Murphy 2d., but gave nothing to Kilcoin, who made no complaint about money being taken from him; that the dispute was because Murphy got the 2d., which Kilcoin thought he was entitled to; and that he, Lacey, was taken four days afterwards at the Police-court, where he was as a witness for his sister; and that the evidence given by Crosston was false. He was then questioned about his antecedents, and admitted several convictions, and a sentence of five years' penal servitude.
GUILTY .—They then PLEADED GUILTY to former convictions at Clerkenwell. Lacey on January 4th, 1898; and Mnrphy on March 23rd, 1891. 23 convictions were proved against Lacey, and 19 against Murphy,— Seven Years, Penal Servitude each.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. STRWART Prosecuted.
ERNEST MILLER . I am 14 years old—on August 9th, about 8 p.m., I was standing at the comer of the White Swan, Walthamstow, next door to Mr. Drawater's pawnbroker's shop—a lot of clothes were outside, tied on chairs—I saw the prisoner cut the rope and trot off with one of the cloths—he was with another man—I ran in the shop and told Mr. Drawater—the prisoner dropped the cloth—I followed him down Wood Street, and a policeman caught him—the prisoner gave the goods to the other man, who gave them back to the prisoner.
JAMES EDMUND DRAWATER . I am a pawnbroker, of 88, Wood Street, Walthamstow—Miller told me something, and I ran after the prisoner and said, "This is my property"—eight sheets and a tablecloth were outside the door—I went with Miller, and saw Cressey with the goods—he was hurrying to get away—I saw Cressey and another man drop the goods—I heard Cressey say, "Drop them, Bill, and run," or something to that effect—I've known Cressey by sight for years—I tried to get him back to my shop—I sent the shop boy for a policeman and gave him into custody—he was charged with stealing the goods—they were securely fastened—I found the string cut.
Cross-examined. You both had goods and ran in different directions—I talked to you outside the shop to detain you till a policeman came—I heard you say something about a pony, but you had not time to put a pony away, if it existed—you had no opportunity to get away—I do not know the other man.
Re-examined. The men were 80 yards off when I first saw them—this is my property.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that the other man offered him the things for sale, but, knowing he was a dishonest character, he declined to
buy; that he had plenty of opportunity to get away if he had been guilty as he put a pony up and went hack to the prosecutor; but that he was innocent, and got his living selling fruit and, fish.
Evidence for the Defence.
BEATRICE WHITE . I live at 46, Lee Road, Walthamstow, with my father and mother—my father works with brick carts—I know Cressey—on August 9th I was coming out of the sweet-stuff shop next to Mr. Drawater's—I saw a man cut the string and then ask Cressey to buy the goods—Cressey said, "No, the man is after you"; and he ran and dropped the things—Mr. Drawater picked them up—he then sent for Cressey who went into the shop and said, "Wait a minute; I am going to see to the pony"—then he went away and came back; then the policeman came.
Cross-examined. I am getting on for 12 years old—I am no relation to the prisoner—I was outside the barber's shop, opposite—no one has spoken to me about this—I was not called before the Magistrate—I remember a good many things; I always keep them in my mind—I do not remember what day of the week it was—I remember it was August 9th, because my birthday is August 28th, and it was a good while before my birthday.
GEORGE AYRES . I am no relation to White—I live at 11, Woodlands Road, Walthamstow—on August 9th I saw a man cut the string and take the goods away—he asked the prisoner to buy them—the prisoner said, "No," and he ran round the Lee Eoad and dropped them—the prisoner was standing against the side post—I give evidence because a boy was trying to take a stick from me—father said I could come if mother would let me—the other man was a stranger—the prisoner is a costermonger.
Cross-examined. My grandmother first spoke to me about giving evidence—she told me to say the truth—the prisoner never moved—he has a pony—he went to look after it—he went round Eyre Road after the pawnbroker came back to his shop—I saw the policeman.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
613. MARTHA COLLINS (19) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Stephen Deller and stealing a brooch and other articles and 29s.; also to stealing a watch and chain, the property of Eleanor Izatt; also to stealing two watches and a chain and 7d. in money, the property of William Scease, her master.— Nine months' Hard Labour.
MR. FINCH Prosecuted.
constable five weeks—on July 1st I met the prisoner in Canning Town; he said, "I have done three months for you, and I will do six for you again," referring to my having given him in custody last May, and appearing against him, and he told some men to spot me; that means to stop my nark—between 9.30 and 10 o'clock somebody heaved a heavy stone and hit me on my back; I turned round and saw 14 or 15 youths, and recognised the prisoner—he hit me with a stick or bludgeon with a big head to it, and knocked me down; I asked him who heaved the stone and he said, "This is the fellow who got me three months; I have got your nark; I have done three months for you, and will do it again," using the same expression as he had used in May—I saw Thomas Connor—I cannot say whether he held me down, but the prisoner took 9s. 6d. from my pocket and kicked me on my ribs eight or nine times—they ran away; I got up and followed them to Cranford Street—I went to Dr. Dillon that evening, who bandaged ray head—I got a summons, but could not find the prisoner, and a warrant was taken out; I met him on July 13th, and he said, "You ought to have your body bandaged up as well as your head"—I went to the hospital, and was unable to work for seven weeks—this happened close against the Ship public-house in Victoria Dock Road.
ALBERT WILLIAM CLIFTON (Dock Constable 290). I have been stationed at the Royal Albert Dock five years—on May 7th the prosecutor pointed out the prisoner to me, and a man named Connor, and I took them both in custody; the prisoner called out to the crowd to "spot" Ward and on the way to the station he said to Ward," You wait till I come out; we will put your—lights out, and kick your—guts out"—the blow was on the side of my head it bled, and my handkerchief was saturated.
MICHAEL DILLON , L.R.C.S. I live at 2, Adamson Road, Custom House—on July 6th I saw Ward; he had a wound on the side of his head and the skull was depressed—I cannot say that the injury will not be permanent.
The Prisoner, statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent of the charge; I have two witness, but they are not here now."
The Prisoner, in his de fence, stated that he was in Endell Street on July ith till 11 p.m., and that Ward had been charged with stealing a watch, and he told him so. He called Ann Driscoll and Catherine Turner, who both stated that they knew nothing about July 4th.
ANN JOY . My husband is a gas stoker, of 35, Military Road—on July 4th, about five minutes to 9 o'clock, the prisoner, who is my brother, told me that he had been looking out for a ship all day—I remember the date because he was locked up; he left me at 8.55, and T did not see him again that night.
Cross-examined. I do not know the Ship, but Mrs. Driscoll's house is a quarter of an hour's walk off.
Company on July 4th—it is not true that I had been charged with stealing a watch, nor did the prisoner say anything about it to me.
GUILTY . He then Pleaded Guilty to a conviction at Stratford on May 2nd, 1899. Another conviction of larceny from the Docks was proved against him, and the Police stated that he was the associate of a gang of thieves,— Nine Months Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted. NOT GUILTY .
MR. MORGAN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM THOMAS DUGAN . I am 13 years of age and live at 12, Roberts Road, Abbey Lane, Stratford—on August 27th I was with two boys on the towing path of the short wall, which runs into the Thames—chemical works are emptied into the river there—the prisoner came along with a young woman; the girl made some remark;—I did not say anything first—the prisoner got over the fence and came to me—we were throwing scones at a piece of wood on the water—I called out, "Bump the oar"—the prisoner took me by the wrist and threw me into the water—I crawled out on my hands and knees.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I called out "Bump the oar" when you were 20 yards from me.
The JURY here stopped the case. NOT GUILTY .
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted, and MR. LEVER Defended.
JAMES JOHN HOWARD HOOPER . I am a clerk, of 176, Victoria Dock Road, Canning Town, and the prisoner lives at 184—I married one of his sisters, and an unmarried sister, Francesca Bruder, lives at my house; a third sister married Mr. Penny, and the prisoner lives with them at 184—there had been some quarrels between me and the prisoner—on July 15th, about 9.45, I left my house with a Mr. Ellis, and walked to the corner of the road about 150 yards—as we passed the door of No. 184 I saw the prisoner and Penny perfectly plainly, standing in the porch, and a stranger standing outside—I did not speak to them; we passed on to the comer of the road, and then returned and saw them in the same position—as we passed two women came along in the opposite direction, and we went into the road to let them pass; as we did so I was struck on the left side of my face, the side nearest the carriage way—I did not see how the injury occurred—I lost consciousness, and when I recovered I was in my house—my arm was injured—I was attended by Dr. Hutchings, and am still—I had to remain in bed a fortnight—I have not been able to do any work since.
Cross-examined. There are shops in the road, but not where I was struck—the nearest light was about two doors from No. 184—they are
consecutive numbers—I cannot say whether there is a lamp in the door-way—when I was looking at the men, facing the door, Bruder was on the left and Penny on the right and the stranger on the outside of the pillar, leaning against it outside—there is only one pillar—the other two were leaning on it side by side—the pillar is in the centre of the porch-way, not in the doorway; it was on my left—as we passed along the stranger was between us and the two men—Bruder was the first man I passed—there is a little fore-court in front of the house, and trees in front of some of the houses, but not in front of 173—it was hot weather, and several people were standing outside their doors—there are no shops there, but there is a fair amount of traffic—I did not take particular notice of my brother-in-law's clothes, or any other pare of him—Mrs. Lardner was one of the women who passed.
Re-examined. She was brought here by the police, not by me.
By the COURT. At the time of the blow the two women had not actually got past, and the person who dealt me the blow would have to go in front of or behind them to give me the blow—they were actually in the act of passing—a person could come from the porch and get to my left side.
JOHN ELLIS . I am a ship's steward, and live in Mr. Hooper's house—I knew the prisoner before July 15th, and knew his voice—on July 15th, about 10 p.m., I passed No. 184 with Mr. Hooper, and saw the prisoner and two other men just outside the porch—I did not notice where Perry was, and I should not have noticed Bruder only Mr. Hooper said, "There is Charlie"—nothing passed as we went up, but on our return in five or ten minutes, before I got to No. 184, I noticed the prisoner and two other men standing there—we took no more notice than before—I saw two women coming along the pavement in the opposite direction, and we both got off the pavement to let them pass, and the prisoner hit Mr. Hooper twice with a stick and then kicked him.
By the COURT. I saw him strike, and I saw him push—I cannot say which hand he had the stick in—I was walking on Mr. Hooper's left side—we were abreast—the ladies had no sooner passed us than I found him down—it was done so quickly that I cannot say how anybody could come from the porch and strike Hooper on his left side—Hooper had had a glass of beer, but he was perfectly sober, and so was I—I cannot say how the prisoner could come round the women and strike Hooper on his left side; the first thing that called my attention was hearing the blow—when I saw the stick it was in Bruder's hand—he rushed into the house and closed the door.
By MR. METCALFE. There was more than one blow with the stick—while Hooper was on the ground Bruder kicked him, and said, "That is for what you did to my sister last night"—I recognised his voice—Hooper was left lying in the road; he was assisted up and carried to his own house—I walked with him—he was dazed, and bleeding from his head.
Cross-examined. I had plenty of time to recognise the man, and I said to Hooper, "If they say anything to you, don't say anything"—I saw him make a rush from the door; the two women had then barely passed—Mrs. Sadler was one of them—if I had had time to protect
Hooper I should have done so, but it was done so suddenly that I had not time—Bruder was in his shirt sleeves; I cannot say whether he had a hat on—I assisted in helping Hooper up.
By the COURT. I recognise a lady I see here as one of the two women; she asked someone to strike a light—I did not speak to her, but she was down on the pavement—Webb struck a light and carried him into the house on his shoulder—I looked both at the man on the ground and the man who was kicking—I am a seafaring man, but have not been on a voyage for the last six months.
J. J. HOOPER (Re-examined). I had been assaulted by Mrs. Penny—I defended myself, but she was not hurt at all.
Cross-examined. The lamp is about 60 feet from No. 184—I did not see Mrs. Lardner there—she did not assist me in turning him over, nor did any woman—someone struck a match, but I cannot say whether it was a man or a woman.
LOUISA LARDNER . I am a widow—I live at 220, Victoria Dock Road—on July 15th I was going to the butcher's—it was after 9 o'clock, and I was home again before 10—I saw the prisoner, Mr. Perry, and a young man whom I do not know standing outside No. 184—the prisoner was in his shirt sleeves, and had a cap on—I returned in about a quarter of an hour or 20 minutes, and saw a man lying in the gutter, and heard a door close by, slam—I asked somebody to strike a light to see who the man was—he was found to be in a bad state, and we carried him.
Cross-examined. It may have been 9.5 or 9.30; I did not take out my watch—I left home after 9—I was first asked to give evidence about a fortnight ago—the sergeant asked me if I was there, and I said, "Yes"—I think his brother had a velvet jacket on.
By the COURT. They often go about in their shirt sleeves in July.
FRANGESCA BRUDER . I am the prisoner's sister, and live with Mrs. Bruder four doors off, at 176—on July 15th at 9.30 I was outside the door—that is about eight doors from No. 184—there was light enough for me to see No. 184, and I saw my brother and Sidney come out, and another man whom I do not know—I did not see the assault committed; I saw my brother-in-law pass by, and I went indoors, and did not remain till he came back—I heard of the assault on Mr. Hooper ten minutes afterwards, and vent and knocked at the door—my sister opened the window—I had a constable with me, and she spoke to me—I did not see him again that night—I fetched a doctor.
Cross-examined. When Hooper passed Perry was at the back and Bruder at the front, not side by side—I was standing just outside the porch, near the railings, and if Bruder had been inside the porch I should not have been able to see him.
ROBERT WILLIAM HUMPHREYS . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 143, Victoria Dock Road—on the evening of July 15th I was called to attend Mr. Hooper at 156, Victoria Dock Road—he was lying on a sofa, with a lacerated wound over his right eye, going down to the bone; he had several contusions of the scalp, and over his right eye
and left cheek bone, severe contusions on his upper right arm, and on his ribs—I dressed his wounds, and had him put to bed—the wounds on his ribs and on his upper arm could he caused by kicks—they were all absolutely recent injuries, and done about the same time—none of them were injuries of the day before, but I had dressed his finger the day before for a bite—he is still under my care, and it will be some months before he can return to work through the injury to his arm and shoulder joint.
By the COURT. He had been brutally assaulted—I believe the injury to his eyebrow was caused by the fall—if he was struck on his left side he would fall on his right.
WILLIAM LEONARD (Detective Sergeant). On July 17th, at 12.15, I arrested the prisoner at 184, Victoria Dock Road—I said, "You will be charged with unlawfully and maliciously assaulting James Hooper, and striking him on his head and kicking him about the body on July 15th"—he said, "I can prove I was somewhere else at the time; this has been got up for me"—at the station he said, "What time do you say it was?"—I said, "About 10 p.m."—he said, "I was at Plaistow at the time"—there is a lamp immediately between the two houses, and each house is 12 ft. by 20 ft.—the lamp is about 12 yards from each house—from the doorstep to the doorway is three feet, and from the doorstep to the footway 9 ft. 4 in.; the porch over the door is exactly 3 ft.—the porch would conceal anyone standing inside it, but if they got outside the porch they could be seen.
Cross-examined. I collected the evidence in this case—I was at the Police-court when the alibi was set up, and heard Mrs. Barker examined—she mentioned the landlord or landlady of the Black Lion—she said, "My master and his wife were both in the bar"—I made inquiries, and they were in and out of the bar.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was at his door with Penny at 7 o'clock, and they went to Mr. Chapman's, who was cleaning his horses, and stopped there till just 9 o'clock, and left when Chapman was paid and got shaved, and then went to Plaistow with him to Mr. Lovell, a butcher, opposite the Black Lion; that they left at 9.35, and stood outside 10 minutes, looking at Mr. Lovell serving customers, and asked him to have a tonic, and went into the Blaek Lion at 10 o'clock: but Mr. Lovell did not follow them; that Miss Parsons served them, and at shutttng-up time they went back to Mr. Lovell's and wished him good night, and then went and had some eels, and went straight home at 12 o'clock; that he was not in his porch at 10 o'clock, and whoever said that he was committed perjury, or made a mistake, as Plaistow was three miles from Canning Town.
Evidence for the Defence.
FREDERICK STEPNEY . I am a carman, of 16, Lambeth Road, Custom House—on Saturday evening, July 15th, I was cleaning horses at a Stable in Philip Street, Custom House, and at 7 o'clock the prisoner came—I left off at 8.30, and we stood at the corner talking, waiting for the others to bo paid, and then I went and got shaved—Bruder came in while I was being shaved, and we went to Mr. Lovell's, in High Street, Plaistow—we got there about 9.40, and stayed outside, looking at Mr. Lovell serving meat—we called out to him to come and have a drink—he
said, "All right; you go across," and we went into the Black Lion at 10.5, and the barmaid served us with drink—we stood talking, and went across and asked Mr. Lovell to come across and have a drink, and after wards we stood talking to Lovell outside, and we went into bis shop and left soon after 11, and went to a supperbar and bad some eels, and then went home about 12—he could not have been in Victoria Dock Road at 10 o'clock.
Cross-examined. I am not an intimate friend of his—I see him once a fortnight, and it takes about five minutes by train to go from the Custom House to Canning Town—you cannot go from Canning Town to Plaistow by train—you would have to change into a 'bus—if you made haste you could get there in 20 minutes—you cannot get nearer than the Abbey Arms by railway; the tram would take you a quarter of an hour; by tram you could get there easily in 20 minutes—Mr. Lovell saw us before 10.10—we got there at 20 minutes to 10—it would not have been 10.20—Idid not hear of the assault that night—I know that it was about 9 when I went to the barber's shop—I saw Bruder on Sunday night with his young lady, and he told me that the police had been after him—we all went round to see Mr. Lovell on the Monday, but not to see the barmaid—I never asked her questions—I did not hear Bruder give evidence before the Magistrate—as far as I know, I do not recollect asking Mrs. Barker if she remembered us two being there on Saturday night—I went into the Black Lion to see her on the Monday, and I went on Sunday as well, not to see her, but to buy a dog—on the Monday Mr. Lovell asked her if she remembered serving us.
ROBERT LOVELL . I live at 10A, High Street, Plaistow—on Saturday night, July 15th, I was in my shop attending to my business, and Bruder and Stepney came about 9.40—they stood there some minutes, and asked me to go across the road and have some drink, but I did not go—about 10.30 Stepney came across and spoke to me, and went back to the Lion—they both came back about 11.15, and I did not see them again that night.
Cross-examined. I spoke to them both—I knew Bruder well through business transactions—it is not true that the first time I saw him that night was 10.20; it was 20 minutes to 10—the second time I saw him it was 10.30—I did not see them on the Sunday night—they did not both tell me on the Monday that the assault was stated to have taken place at 10 p.m. on Saturday, but if it is on this paper I did, and it is true—the prisoner told me that the assault had been committed at 10 o'clock—Stepney and I went to the Black Lion, and put questions to Miss Barker—I said, "Do you recollect serving us on Saturday?"—she said. "Yes"—I said, "What time?"—she said 10 o'clock, and next morning she asked me what I wanted to know for, and I said that Mr. Bruder was charged with doing something.
By the COURT. I also said, "I saw the time by my watch. I looked at my watch, it would take 45 minutes to walk from my place to his."
FRANK WHEAL . 1 am a carman, of 39, Stanley Street, Plaistow—on Saturday night, July 15th, I was in Mr. Lovell's shop at a quarter to 10, and saw the prisoner, who I did not know before, standing outside with another young man, talking to Mr. Lovell—I went from there to the
Black Lion, and saw the prisoner there—I was there till shutting up time—I then went back to Mr. Lovell's, and saw the prisoner there.
Cross-examined. The times are not guesses on my part—I had done my work at 9.30, and got my money, and went to Mr. Lovell's—I saw Mr. Stepney; I knew them both by sight, but they were both strangers—I was first asked what time it was on the Monday—I did not know what the questions were being put to me for.
F. STEPNEY (Re-examined). The prisoner does not ride a bicycle, that I am aware of, but I do not know him well enough to say—he was not on a bicycle that night; he was walking—I never saw him riding one.
ELIZABETH BARKER . I am barmaid at the Black Lion, Plaistow, opposite Mr. Lovell's shop—I have supper there on Saturdays, and on Saturday, September 15th, I had supper at 9.40, and came down from 10 to 10.5, and saw the prisoner and Stepney in the bar—I served them with beer, and they remained in the same bar till just before closingtime, 11 o'clock.
By the COURT. They were the first customers I served after I came down; it was then from five minutes to a quarter-past 10.
ALFRED PENNY . I was not called at the Police-court; my wife was—I work at A. W, Robinson and Co.'s, engineers—on Saturday, July 15th, I finished work at 1 o'clock, and laid down after dinner till 5 o'clock, and about 7 o'clock I went out and saw the prisoner—I was talking to him at the street door, and then went to the Custom House to see my mother, and came back at 8 or 8.15, and read the evening paper—it is not true that I was standing outside No. 184 with Bruder at 10 o'clock—I never saw him till very late, and I told him the police had been after him.
Cross-examined. I was sitting in my room reading till 11 o'clock, except going into the other room to see my wife—about 10.30 there was a rush to my house, and I said, "Good God! what is the matter?" and the police came in and searched my house for Mr. Bruder, but could not find him—I did not hear the door slam before that—I had not been standing outside, and I did not go in and slam the door—the prisoner lives in the house; he is my lodger—I let the police in, and took a light, and took them right through—when I was talking to the prisoner at 7 o'clock no one else was with me.
ELIZABETH PENNY . I am the wife of the last witness—we live at 184, Victoria Dock Road—I am the prisoner's sister and Hooper's sister-in-law—on July 15th, at 7 o'clock, I saw the prisoner just going out—he had nothing in his hands—he has not a bicycle, nor did I see him with one that day—I did not see him again till he came in at 11.45; he then went to bed—my husband left at the same time; he was not standing at the door at 9.30 or at 10 o'clock—Bruder was not at the door at 10 o'clock.
Cross-examined. I do not know who the people were, standing in our doorway; people very often stand in the f orch, and I have to ask my brother-in-law or my husband to order them off—I did not know when the police came that there had been an assault—I was in a state of great alarm, half fainting, when the second lot of police came—that was not because I knew that my brother had been engaged in an assault—he has
ridden a bicycle—he rode to Plaistow last week on one belonging to a neighbour.
ROBERT STAGE . I am a carman—I was not called at the Police-court—on Saturday evening, July 15th, I came out of the Black Lion at 10 minutes to 10, and saw Mr. Lovell and the prisoner—he was a stranger to me, but I had seen him with Stepney before—I went to the Eyre Arms, and did not see him again.
Cross-examined. I was not asked to go before the Magistrate—I had left work at 5 o'clock, and it took me 10 minutes to walk home—I was chaffing Mr. Lovell—I pledge my oath that it was 10 minutes to 10.
NOT GUILTY .
621. CHARLES TUCKER (16) and RICHARD JOHNSON (15) , to stealing 11 tame pigeons, the property of Charles Dean; Tucker having been convicted on February 10th, 1899, at West Ham, and Johnson on June 3rd, 1898, at the same place. TUCKER— Six Months' Hard Labour. JOHNSON— Twelve Strokes with the Birch. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]And
(622) EDWARD ROBERT BELDON (23) , to stealing a Post-office savings bank book, the property of James Wyatt ; also to forging and uttering orders for £1 and £6; also to stealing a watch and chain, the property of Elizabeth Hodson . A conviction of larceny at Southend was proved against him— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and DR. O'CONNOR Defended.
After the commencement of the case the COURT considered thai there was not sufficient evidence to show how the deceased came by her injury.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON and MR. HALL Prosecuted.
ESTHER AMELIA HODSON . On February 10th I gave birth to a child, which was named Evelyn Constance—shortly afterwards I saw an advertisement in Dalton's Advertiser, in consequence of which I wrote a letter, addressed to the prisoner, at 31, Furnival Street, Holborn, and in reply I received this letter from Amy McNeil Douglas—(This stated that the writer would like to take the witnesses child for life; that she only wanted £6 and a start in clothes for it, audit would have a good home, and be no further trouble to anyone; that she was a widow with children of her own, and a small income sufficient to keep her and the child and another little one; that she wanted to know as soon as possible, as she had severed other letters to answer, and was moving shortly find would like to take the baby with her)—I called at the prisoner's on Sunday, but she was out, and she wrote to me again—
(Saying that the writer would call and see the witness on Wednesday, as she was moving on the Friday)—I also received this telegram from her, saying that she would call at 8 o'clock; and shortly after receiving it the prisoner called, and I arranged that she should take my child—she asked for the £6 down, but I could not do it, so I paid £4 down, and was to pay the other £2 within the next month—I gave her £5 5s. altogether—this was on April 1st—I paid her two 10s. and one 5s.—when I paid the £4 I got this receipt (Produced)—the two letters are in the same writing as the receipt—on April 6th the prisoner called again, and took the child away—she said she wanted the £6 to buy a cot and a bassinette—I gave her a good stock of long clothes—the child was very healthy; it was nearly three months old—I had been feeding it from the bottle—I received receipts from the prisoner for my payments—(Read: "19, Cromer Road, Wood Street, Walthamstow. I received your 10s., and that leaves 30s. to pay. Shall be glad to receive the other money, as soon as possible, etc.—A DOUGLAS "; "19, Cromer Road, Wood Street, Walthamstow. I received 10s., and that leaves £1 to pay, etc.—A. DOUGLAS ")—the next I heard from her was when I had a letter from her after she received the 5s.—I did not keep that—she said the money ought to have been paid—it was a very short letter—the next I heard was that the child was dead—a police-sergeant came, and told me—I gave up the child altogether—provided I paid the money within the month, I was to see it once, and once only.
ELLEN ROBERTS . I am the wife of Joseph Roberts, of the Poplars, Manor Park—I am an inspector, under the Infant Life Protection Act, for the West Ham District—on April 28th I went to 19, Cromer Road, Walthamstow, where I saw the prisoner and seven children—the seventh child was dead—three of them, she said, were her own—one was a little girl of seven, another a boy of four, and a baby in arms—the other children were infants—I asked her why she did not register—she said she had hardly completed her moving from the City—the four children not her own were William McDonald, Evelyn Hodson, Winifred Keen and Adelaide Welling—I produced forms for registering, which I left with her, and forms for three children were sent on to me by post (Produced) these are for Adelaide Welling, Evelyn Hodson the one for Hodson came on afterwards—the third form is for William James McDonald and Winifred Keen, two children on one form—when she sent in the forms the name of Hodson was not included—we wrote to Guildhall, and then I saw her, and asked her why she had not given me that baby in—she then informed me that it was the baby that she had had a lump sum for, and that she did not consider that she ought to register again for that—she then sent in the form—I went over the house—the front parlour was very clean, but there was a scarcity of furniture—the front bedroom had one large bed in it and an old sofa, which was used as a bed—I complained about the filth of the bedding; it was very dirty; the sofa was soiled—she said that her bedding had not arrived—in the back bedroom there were two mattresses, with a piece of blanket on each mattress, and they were soiled—I went seven times within a month—I found a slight improvement; instead of the children lying on the floor downstairs, she had boxes with something
soft on them; I think it was straw—I did not see any more furniture—I complained on every visit, and the last time I called she told me she was going to Chingford—I communicated with the Board of Guardians at Chingford on June 3rd, when it went out of my district—I considered the children small and delicate, and I thought that Keen might become paralysed—I think it was Keen—they appeared well fed.
SAMUEL WILKS . I am an inspector, under the Infant Protection Act—on June 15th I received a communication from the West Ham Union, and in consequence I went to 16, Ainsley Road, Chingford, where I found the prisoner with three nurse children, and three she said were her own, and that their names were Catherine, aged seven years; Cyril, seven months; and Herbert, nine months—the others were Winifred Keen, four months; William McDonald, three months; and Evelyn Hodson, three mouths—I examined the nurse children; they all appeared to be very emaciated, and also very ill—I told her I was not at all satisfied with their condition, and I requested Dr. Priddie to attend, which he did the next morning—I next called on June 26th, and found the children in the same condition—the prisoner said on both occasions that they had been suffering from diarrhoea—on July 21st I called again, as I was not satisfied—I found the eldest child in the same condition, but Winifred Keen looked a little better—in consequence of a telegram which I received I called again on August 10th—I found that McDonald and Hodson were dead, and that Keen was still in a very emaciated condition—I removed her that evening to Epping Infirmary—she was weighed in my presence, she weighed 10 lb. 8 oz.—I told the prisoner I should remove it, as I was not satisfied with its state, and she said, "Yery well"—when I saw the children they were tolerably clean—I considered that there was enough bedding, and it was clean—I reported to the Guardians on June 16th, and again a fortnight later—I questioned the prisoner about the children, and she declared that three of them were hers, and I took her. word for it.
RACHEL BERRY . I am the wife of Samuel Berry, of 15, Ainsley Road, Chingford—I remember the prisoner coming to live next door—I do not know the exact date—she had five children with her then, including the eldest, aged seven—she said they were all her children, the two youngest being twins—I saw them all at times—I saw the two eldest playing in the garden, and the three youngest were generally out on a large egg chest in the afternoons—the eldest of these she said was Winifred, 18 months old; the other she called Willie, and the third Bertie, I think—Willie looked clean, but the prisoner held an umbrella Over the others, so that I could not see their faces—I cannot say how she fed Willie—on August 5th she took our top floor, and when she moved in she showed me a little baby, which she said was three months old, and that she was minding it for a friend who was in the hospital—she said its name was Connie—I had never seen it before—I did not know she had it—from August 5th to the 10th I did not see much of the children—the two elder ones played in the garden, and on Monday, August 7th, she came down, and I said, "Why don't you bring them down, as you did next door?"—she said, "Well, they all seem unwell with diarrhoea and sicknese"—at 7.30 a.m. on August 8th she knocked at my door and asked my husband
to go upstairs—she did not say what for—I followed him up into the front room, and the prisoner said, "Little Willie Is dead," and I saw the child lying on two pillows—my husband asked what doctor she had had—she said, "Dr. Beresford," and my husband went for him—I did not know about the death of Connie—I did not see the one whose mother was in the hospital—I only saw it once.
ELIZABETH SAND . I am the wife of Arthur Sand, and lived at 16, Ainsley Road, Chingford Row—we occupied the top floor there, and left on August 6th—the prisoner was in the same house with five children—she told me that the twins were six months old, and Winifred was 18 months old—I never saw Connie—the ones that I did see seemed well cared for.
RICHARD ROWE (Police Inspector). On August 10th I called at the prisoner's house at Chingford—I saw the child Hodson and Winifred Emma Keen in the back room, lying on some bedding on the floor-Hodson was dead—the bedding was very dirty—Keen was removed to the workhouse, and an inquest was held on Hodson.
JOHN FRANCIS PRIDDIE . I am a registered medical practitioner, at Ching-ford—on August 11th I made a postmortem examination on the body of Evelyn Constance Hodson—I had seen her on June 6th, and at thesame time I saw McDonald and Keen—I examined them for the inspector—I found Hodson emaciated, under the average for her size—she was clean, in fact, she was in a bath, being washed by the prisoner, who said she fed her on milk and water in equal parts—although she was thin, I did not consider her suffering from starvation—I cannot say that she was neglected—the prisoner appeared anxious to do what I recommended her to do in the way of feeding—I saw Hodson again two days afterwards, and the other two were suffering from diarrhoea—I did not see her again till the 11th, when I made a postmortem examination—her weight was 5 lb. 4oz.—the average weight of a child of three months is 9 lb 3 oz.—this child was six months then, and it should have been 12 lb. 4 oz.—the external appearances were emaciaton, no superficial fat, a bed sore on both hips and sacrum, which were mostly due to not having been kept sufficiently clean; the brain was healthy, the left lung was slightly congested, the right lung normal, intestines were pale and attenuated, distended with gas; the stomach contained about a teaspoonful of fluid, spleen normal; there was no disease—I should say the child died of improper and insufficient feeding, lasting, I should say, for weeks; it was slow, whatever it was—the distinction between improper food and insufficient food is a fine one—I found no traces of recent diarrhcea.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not recollect your telling me that Hodson suffered from great sickness; you said that Keen did.
Re-examined. There was no disease in Hodson.
ANNIE MCDONALD . I am a domestic servant, and am the mother of a child born on December 14th, 1898, named William James McDonald—about two months after its birth I saw this advertisement in Dalton's Advertiser (Produced), in consequence of which I called at 3, Fumival Street, Holborn, about the early part of March, and saw the prisoner—she said she wished to take a baby to be a companion to her little girl, and that she only had one little girl—I asked her if she would take mine, and she
said yes—I said I would give her 6s., a week for it—this took place in the front room—she said she was going down into the country—a week later I took the child to her, and about a fortnight after that I went down to 19, Cromer Road, Walthamstow, and saw my child—when I gave the child to the prisoner it was not in very good health—I had given it the breast—when I saw it at Walthamstow it had improved—I saw it once a fortnight up to the week before it died—the last time I saw it, about August 1st, I noticed it looked very ill—I spoke to the prisoner about its condition, and she said it had got convulsions, and that she had seen a doctor about it, she did not say which doctor—I gave her 4s. extra to pay for the doctor—I got several letters from her—I sent her her money by postal orders—after I saw the child on August 1st, I heard that it was dead by telegram signed by the prisoner; I think that was on August 8th—I went to Chingford about August 11 th—I saw the prisoner—she said there was to be an inquest on my baby—I went to it—when I saw the child on August 1st I noniced that there was a brown mark on its forehead—I spoke to the prisoner about it—she said it was a birth-mark, and that it had always had it—it had not had it really—I had only seen her little girl there, a child of about seven—she never told me that she had any other children in the house—I continued to pay her her money, so she lost by the child's death—I gave some clothes with the child.
FRANCIS BERSFORD . I am a medical practitioner, at Wood Street, Walthamstow—the prisoner called at my surgery on April 27th with a child—I do not know if it was the one as to which there was postmortem examination—she said she wanted medicine for diarrhoea; I gave her some—she did not say what child it was for—it is down in my book as Mrs. Douglas's child—she did not say it was a nurse child—she came again on May 1st and May 9th, when I supplied her with some similar medicine—the next I heard of her was when I was called in on August 8th, between 8 and 9 a.m., to 15, Ainsley Road—I saw Willie McDonald lying on two pillows dead—he had been dead several hours—she said that he had died during the night—she asked me if I could give her a certificate—I said, "No"—I looked at the body, but made no particular examination then, but on the 11th I made a postmortem examination—the weight was 7 lb.; the average weight of a child of that age is 14 lb. 4 oz.—it was extremely emaciated—it was eight months old—it was commencing decomposition on the chest and abdomen—all the organs were healthy; bed sores on the hip and sacrum—the stomach contained about two teaspoonfuls of curdled milk—there was not the slightest trace of fat; the intestines were very pale and thin, and distended with gas—the cause of death was improper and insufficient feeding—there were no traces of diarrhoea—I did not see the back room—the bed sores were of old standing, sad were due to neglect—she paid me for the medicine—I cannot remember how much.
MARY ANN KEEN . I am the mother of the child, Winifred Emma Keen—she was bom on April 23rd, 1898—for the first 11 months after its birth it was at home with me, and about a fortnight before last Easter I was introduced to the prisoner—I made arrangements with her to take the child at 5s. a week, and handed it over to her—it seemed fairly well then; I had been feeding it from the battle—the prisoner was living at
Furnival Street then—after I gave the child over to the prisoner I went to see it every week, and afterwards at Walthamstow and Chingford—it seemed to be getting on well—I only saw it once at Walthamstow and once at Chingford—I went to Chingford on July 1st—I got this letter from the prisoner—(stating that she was at Chingford; that she and the children were much better, and that a doctor was attending Winifred—I thought that a doctor was attending my child—on August 11th I received this letter from the prisoner—(stating that the child was not so well, but would soon be all right again)—the child had been dead 24 hours when I received that letter—I never saw any other children at her house—I never knew she had any except her own little girl—she wrote to me from Wathamstow for 6d. a week extra for the doctor, which I gave her—when I received the letter of August 11th I thought my child was well.
CHARLES HURFORD . I am a medical practitioner at Epping, and medical officer for the Union—on the morning of August 11th, about 2 a.m., I was called to the Epping Workhouse, where I saw Emma Keen—she seemed to be in a state of collapse—she was 14 months old, I believe—I saw her later on the same day—she was alive then, but there was no impreovement, and she died on the 12th—I made a post-mortem on the 14th—there were three bruises on the back of the head, but not connected, in my opinion, with death—the body was much emaciated—I opened the skull, and found that the brain had no disease—the lower parts of the lungs were congested—the heart was healthy—the liver was rather large—the kidneys and spleen were healthy—there was someting in the stomach, but the child had been fed at the workhouse—it weighed 10 Ib. 8 oz.; the average weight is over 18 1b.—I think the cause of death was an improper or imperfect quantity or quality of food—there were no traces of diarchoes.—I think the improper feeding had continued for some weeks.
FLORENCE PLUMB . I am the wife of John Harold Plumb, of 43, Wardour Street, Fulham—I am a friend of Mrs. Ada Welling—I knew the child, Adelaide Marjory Welling—it was born on October 3rd, 1898—after its birth it was in the charge of a Mrs. Sarus—I went with the mother to the defendant's house at Furnival Street—I cannot say the date—it was after Christmas—the child was taken straight from Mrs. Sarus's to the prisoner—I was not present at the interview between the prisoner and the child's mother—I was present when the child was given to the prisoner—it was arranged that the prisoner should take the child for 5s. a week—it was a fine, healthy child—it had plenty of good clothing; enough to last it 12 months—in May I went to the prisoner's house at Walthamstow—I saw the prisoner, and asked to see the child—she brought it down to me—it was very thin and poor, and very badly clad—two days later I took it away, and took it back to Mrs. Sarus—I asked the prisoner for the child's clothes; she said some of them were at the wash, and some, which had not been worn, she had pawned—I asked her for the pawn-tickets, and she gave me them.
SUSAN SARUS . I am the wife of Henry George Sarus—on Novermber 9th, 1898, I received the child, Adelaide Marjory Welling, and I took charge of her till March—when she went to the prisoner's she was a strong, healthy child—I received it back on May 14th—it was very ill and very
dirty—it had on a red dress, and was wrapped up in a shawl—I did not get any more clothes from the prisoner—I weighed it when it came back—it weighed 10 lb. out of its clothes; it weighs 19 1/2 lb. now—it has recovered now—it took its food very ravenously—I only recognised it by a birth-mark.
ADA WELLING . I am the mother of Adelaide Marjory Welling—she was born on October 3rd, 1898—I left her first of all with Mrs. Saras, and in February last I took her to the prisoner's, at 31, Furnival Street—I saw her before I took the child—she asked mé to leave a lump sum down, when she would take the child for good—I think she said £2—I said, "No; certainly not"—I wished the child to have a weekly payment, and I would see it as often as I could—she eventually took the child for 5s. a week—when I left the child with her it was in a healthy condition, and quite clean—I saw the child on August 12th—after the prisoner had gone to Walthamstow I saw something in the paper, and in consequence I sent and had the child removed—I never saw it there—it is strong and healthy now—I sent it with good clothes, and I sent some clothes after it was there.
FRANCIS EDWARD BRUMLEY . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 206, Green Street, Upton Park—on May 15th I examined a baby brought by Mrs. Sarus—it was suffering from diarrhoea, and was considerably wasted—it had symptoms of improper feeding—I saw it on two or three occasions; it improved very rapidly.
WILLIAM REID (Sergeant). On August 12th, about 3 p.m., I went to 15, Ainsley Road, Chingford, where I saw the prisoner—I told her I should take her into custody for wilfully illtreating and neglecting Winifred Emma Keen—she said, "I had it three or four months; it is in the same condition as when I received it; it was 13 months when I received it at 31, Fumival Street, and brought it to Walthamstow, and from there to here. I took it to Walthamstow Hospital; I have been, feeding it on cow's milk and sop. I received ds. a week from the mother; it has been sick when it takes its food. I have three others here now, aged three, seven and nine months. The officer moved the child away because it was queer. I was going away from here; I could not stand it, three children dying in four days; it was a kind of. fever which took them off. I was going to send them off at the end of the summer"—I found the children, aged seven and four, in the back room, where I found three small beds on the floor, and a quantity of bedding in a dirty condition, and two bottles of medicine—I showed them to her—she said, "They are the bottles I have been looking for a long while; they are what Dr. Beresford gave me for the child"—in the front room there was a bedstead, a quantity of dirty clothing on the floor, at the head of the bed, and under the window—there was an offensive smell in the room—there was a baby lying on the bed, which appeared very queer; the body was swarming with flies and vermin—she said the child's name was Herbert Douglas—I took the prisoner to Chingford Station—she said to me there, "I may as well tell the truth; the baby is not my child"; that was Herbert; "I have had it since it was eight days old; I gave it my name; I had £6 with it; I do not know where to find the mother; the boy is not my child, either; I had him about a month after I had the
baby; his name is Cyril Barrett; I have to write to Dr. W'lks, at Norwood; the father brought it to me; I had £12 with that child; the father paid; I have not had anything since. He is not registered."
The prisoner gave me this certificate in respect to Herbert Douglas, and I got this register of birth.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I am not guilty of neglecting the children, or starving them."
The Prisoner, in her defence, said that she was not unkind to the children, and that they never knew what it was to want food; that she had no idea that they were so ill, or she would have called in a doctor; and that she was very inexperienced, never having had anything to do with children.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
JOHN THOMAS SEWEL . I live at 73, Elm Street, Plumstead, and am the deceased's brother—she was the licensee of the Royal Oak public-house, Plumstead, where she lived with the prisoner—her health was good up to May—they would have been married 11 years on the 2nd of this month had she lived—there were two children, born dead—on Sunday, June 4th, she made a complaint to me, and showed me some bruises on her arms and legs—I went to her place on J une 7th—I found her in a state of collapse—my wife put her to bed and stayed with her till she died, on the 12th—I did not see the prisoner on the 7th.
Cross-examined. The Royal Oak was my sister's property, left to her by my mother—I am now a workman in Woolwich Arsenal—I was in the habit of frequently visiting the Royal Oak—Dr. Clarke was ray sister's regular medical attendant—he attended her every week in consequence of the prisoner's ill treatment—she did not drink, to my knowledge—I did not know that Dr. Clarke attended her for drink—I said to the Magistrate: "I told the Coroner that she was in ill-health about two months ago with a cold," and also "I noticed that she was failing"—she could not get much to eat, because she was not allowed—I do not know that Dr. Clarke was attending her for pleurisy in March—after her death I kept the public-house open; I am not doing so still—the prisoner was not there.
Re-examined. I was the executor after her death; she had very good health until about two months ago, when I noticed she was failing.
EDITH MOOR . I am single, and lived at the Royal Oak, Plumstead; I entered the deceased's service as general servant on December 1st, 1898—Mr. and Mrs. Fludger lived there, with two nephews, little boys—the prisoner had been drinking heavily since March—on June 4th, between 6 and 6 p.m., the deceased went upstairs to dress—the prisoner was down-stairs in the bar-parlour—I saw my mistress go upstairs, and I went up
after her to dress—about 10 minutes afterwards I heard her scream, "Help! help!"—I went into her room, and saw the prisoner kneeling on her chest—she was lying across the bed partly dressed; he was squeezing her hands—I palled him off, and pushed him down on to the floor—I picked up my mistress—she said, "Edith, he has hurt my chest where he knelt on it"—he qarled up his nose and said, "Ah!" at her—I asked him to go downstairs—he was dressed; he seemed to be very drunk, very stupid—I went upstairs again then, and the last witness came in—my mistress came down afterwards—she complained of her side being painful—she said to the prisoner, "Alfred, you have hurt my side when you knelt on it"—he said, "You have been boozing "—on June 5th I heard my mistress scream—I went into the room, and saw the prisoner squeezing her round the waist and holding her wrist—I asked him what he was doing—he said, "I did not intend to hurt her, Edith; I was only going to kiss her"—she said, "No, he was not, Edith; he was trying to squeeze the breath out of my body"—she constantly complained about the pain in her side—on the Tuesday she said to me, "My side is so bad, I must have somebody to see it"; and on the Wednesday Dr. Bryson came—he attended her up to her death, on the 12th.
Gross-examined. My bedroom and my mistress's bedroom are on the same floor, about five yards away—on June 4th I heard no loud noises or quarrelling—the deceased sometimes called the prisoner "Alf"—they lived as man and wife—on the Sunday my mistress had her bodice off—there was no other man in the house—I told him to go downstairs, and he went—I did not say before the Magistrate or the Coroner that he was trying to squeeze the breath out of her body—I said so at Plumstead Station—I have not seen the deceased drunk—I did not know that a doctor was attending her for drink—Dr. Clarke never attended her while I was there—I have seen him there—he has attended the prisoner—the deceased and the prisoner had their meals together when the prisoner was not drunk—they did not dine togather on the Sunday or on Monday—the prisoner would not let her get anything;—he said if anything was got into the house to eat he would give it to the dogs—he was in the bar the greater part of Monday—people can get out of the house by the private door—the butcher was about twenty yards away.
Re-examined. I only saw one bruise on the deceased's arm on June 4th—my master had punched her three weeks before—he treated her very cruelly when he was in drink—when he was not drunk he hardly spoke to her—he used to use foul language to her, and every time he went near her he would push her, or give her a slap.
By the COURT. I was called in about 7 a.m. on the Monday—the prisoner was dressed then—on the Sunday he had his coat on, but no waistcoat.
EBENEZER BRYSON . I am a registered medical practitioner, of Herbert Road, Plumstead—on July 7th I was called into the Royal Oak—I saw the deceased in the room behind the bar—she was up and dressed—the pnsoner was in the same room Iying on the couch—he was in a state of drunken stupor—the deceased complained of pain in her right side—I examined her, and found a bruise on her right side, about six inches
square; it was recent—she complained of pain in breathing—she placed her hand over her breast, and said that that was where the pain was—I found indications of pleurisy there—her temperature was normal—I should say that the pleurisy was just commencing—I sent her to bed immediately—the prisoner was then asleep—when he awoke I found he was suffering from delirium tremens—I should say it was a maniacal delirium, going on for a long time—it was the first time I had seen him, and it was hard to judge—I had him removed to the infirmary—the woman's temperature increased, and she died on the 12th—I made a postmortem examination—I found a bruise on the right side, also bruises on the forearm—the body was fairly well nourished—on opening the thorax I discovered a few ounces of blood in the right pleural cavity, of a seiopleural character, with flakes of lymph in it—the parts of the pleura over the side of the external bruise felt rough to the touch; it was the result of pleurisy—the cause of death was pneumonia and pericarditis—I attribute the pleurisy to the violence.
Cross-examined. I had never seen the woman before—there were several bruises on the right forearm, from the elbow to the wrist—they were not old bruises; not given so long ago as three months or three weeks—the pain in her breast was from the lower margin of the seventh rib right down to the margin of the last—there was no albumen in the kidneys—they were not the kidneys of a person addicted to drink—I took her temperature about 10 a.m. on the Wednesday, and again at 3; then it was 99.5—it was a rise from the morning—I have had a good number of cases of pleurisy and pneumonia—external bruising is a very uncommon cause of pleurisy; I have never seen a case of it—pericarditis is an inflammation of the serus membrane enclosing the heart—you can get pleurisy from rheumatic fever; pericarditis can be produced by rheumatism—I think the external bruise caused pleurisy, and the pleurisy caused pneumonia—I cannot say that I have ever known pleurisy causing pneumonia; the pneumonia caused pleurisy—the whole of the right lung was in a state of solidification; with the exception of a small part of the apex—I have never in my experience known such extensive solidification of a lung by an external injury—I think the appearance of the right lung would be the same both in idiopathic pneumonia and traumatic pneumonia—I said before that I had never seen crepitation of the lung arise from pleurisy caused by external injury—it is a rare thing to find that the lung has been perforated—I noticed in my post-mortem that the colour of the liver was red—the ribs were not affected—if she had been a drunkard it would have pre-disposed her to illness of any sort—I do not think that a drunken woman would be more likely to be affected by pneumonia than a drunken man—by the evidence of the postmortem I should say that she was in a good state of health—some people bruise much easier than others, especially women; this bruise was at first much discoloured, not afterwards.
Re-examined. If she had been a habitual drunkard I should not have found the kidneys as I did—they would have been enlarged or contracted—the only pleurisy I saw signs of was recent—the ribs of a person of that age would not bend like those of a younger woman—the knee of a man would not get between the ribs—if the pressure was done by the ribs, it
must have pressed the ribs in, but not to a breaking point—the external pressing might have been done without breaking the ribs—she had two nurses.
ARTHUR PEARSON LUFF , M D., F.R.C.P. I have read the Coroner's depositions in this case, and I was present at one of the hearings before the Magistrate—I think the undoubted cause of death was traumatic pleurisy, following upon and caused by injury—following upon the pleurisy was pneumonia and pericarditis—the fact that the deceased's temperature was normal on the 7th and increased during the day points to pneumonia, and not pleurisy—I think the pleurisy probably started earlier.
Cross-examined. I form my opinion on what I have heard in Court and from the Coroner's depositions—I have had a good deal of experience in these matters.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I was too fond of my wife to injure her in any way."
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he did not kneel on his wife; that when the servant came into the room he was going to have connection with his wife, which she did not resent, and that the only violence he used was to squeeze her.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOHN CLARKE . I am a medical practitioner, of Woolwich, and for about eight and a-half years I have attended the Fludgers—I attended the deceased on March 28th for pleurisy on the right side—it was just about the place that Dr. Bryson has described now—I had attended her for pleurisy about six years before this; I cannot remember which side—I had attended her for several attacks of influenza and laringitis, and in her confinements—she has been intemperate for the last four years, especially the last two—I have attended her for stomach and kidney and bladder troubles, and two or three times for rheumatic pains about her body—I have heard her accuse her husband of causing certain bruises—he denied it, and said she fell when in liquor—she was predisposed to pneumonia—she was a wellnourished woman—I noticed the last time I attended her that she was failing—I cannot call her a drunkard, but she was continually nipping spirits.
Cross-examined. I noticed that she was not in such a good condition in March—it might be due to ill-treatment—I never saw her husband ill-treat her—the bruises were just as likely to be caused by her falling as by his treatmeat—I remember seeing a wound on her forehead—I have never seen him strike her—this is my signature: "January 29th, 1897. I certify that I have over and over again, and for the last time yesterday, January 28th, 1897, seen wounds, bruises, and marks, which were caused by her husband. I have heard him threaten her life. I have known them six years, and it has been one long story of abuse."
By the COURT. That is true, in one sense—the deceased and her friends were continually asking me to send him to the asylum—I had refused to send him away, because it was only drink—I was more impressed then by what she and her friends said to me—when they asked me so pointedly I asked myself, "Why are they doing these things?" and I began to look particularly into her actions, and I then found that she drank a great deal more than I had realised before—at the time I wrote that certificate
I believed it—I took what the deceased said to be true—I still say that it was dangerous for her to live with him, on account of his drinking habits.
By the JURY. I cannot say now what I was paid for that certificate; it went into the ordinary year's bill.
Re-examined. The licence of the house was originally in the name of the husband, and in consequence of his habits the Justices transferred it to his wife—the deceased has asked me to poison her husband several times.
ROBERT EDWIN WILLIAMS , B.M., M.R.C.S., and L.R.C.P. I have seen plenty of pneumonia, but never traumatic pneumonia—in my opinion, this was the ordinary pneumonia, complicated by pericarditis—there was no evidence of pleurisy before the Wednesday.
Cross-examined. It could not be traumatic—at first there would be a rigor, and there is no evidence of that—in idiopaihic pneumonia the chances are that there would be some shivering, but it might pass unnoticed—I shou'd not have expected a greater rise of temperature than there was; pneumonia is a very variable disease—there is no difficulty in breathing in idiopathic pneumonia—I should not expect to find a cough—frequently there is a cough, but by no means necessarily—the pain on the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday was caused by pressure, but that does not necessitate pleurisy—you get plenty of pain without pleurisy—I do not wish to infer that there is no such thing as traumatic pneumonia—it is always local to the injury; it does not cause death.
Evidence in Reply.
DR. LUFF (Re-examined). I think the original injury to the long caused the pneumonia—my experience of idiopathic pneumonia is that there is difficulty of breathing; a sudden rise of temperature, and a considerable amount of cough.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
ELIZA WALLING . I keep an oil shop at 83, Baker Street, Borough—on July 5th I served Haines with some glue, price 5d.—he gave me a crown piece—it resisted marking; and I gave it to my boy, who went out and brought it back—the prisoner went away—I sent for a policeman, who brought Haines back—he gave me the change back, and said, "I wish you had given me this before."
Cross-examined by Haines. I think counterfeit coins, as a rule, will mark slates—a good coin would scratch a slate.
they said it was bad, and I took it back to my mistress, but did not give it to her—I gave it to the constable, without losing sight of it—I saw the prisoner in the street, and pointed him out to the constable.
WALTER MIDDLETON (319 M). Freshwater pointed out the prisoner to me, and I charged him—he said, "Was it a good one?"—I said, "No; you must come back to the shop"—he went back, and said he was very sorry—he was taken before a Magistrate and discharged—this is the coin.
ELIZABETH CROXSON . I live at 7, Duke Street, Stamford Street—I let my top floor front room to Haines at 4s. 6d. a week—he stayed a week and a day—Wickings came two or three times a week, and stopped a long time—he stopped there on some nights, and I raised the rent to 6s. a week, and the police came the next day—he had a key of the street door, but the room door was not locked.
DAVID COX (Detective Sergeant), On July 20th, about 12.15 in the day, I went with two other oflicers to this house—we found the front door open, and on entering saw Haines coming downstairs—he went down to the basement, followed by Sergeant Williamson—I went upstairs and saw Wickingssitting on the bed, finishing a counterfeit coin with a file—I found several counterfeit coins under the bed, and these two moulds on the hearthstone charged with melted metal as they now are—there was a very large coal fire in the room—I saw on the bed nine counterfeit crowns and 16 half-crowns, some finished and some unfinished—Sergeant Williamson brought Haines up, and I told him he would be charged, with Wickings, with manufacturing counterfeit coin, and being in possession of implements for the purpose—he replied, "I think it is time you had a holiday; who has done this for me?"—at the station Haines said, "I deny it in toto; I knew the things were being made, but I was not doing it"
ELIAS BOWER (Detective Officer). I went with Cox to this top floor, and saw coins, and a ladle on the fire, and 17 half-crowns, another ladle, a metal spoon and fork, copper wire, lamp black, silver-sand, and acid, which were all handed to Mr. Webster—I found nearly the whole of them in a cupboard.
WILLIAM WILLIAMSON (Detective Sergeant). I went to this house and saw Haines coming downstairs—I followed him to the back yard, told him I was a police-officer, and took him for making false coin—he said, "I have only been here a week; I should like to know who put me away"—he suggested that Cox should take a holiday, and said "I knew the things were being made, but I had nothing to do with them."
Haines, in his defence, stated that Wickings was a lodger, who stated that he was making experiments, but that he (Haines) had nothing to do with them, and never looked into the cupboard; and that he got his living by selling flowers.
HAINES— GUILTY —He had been twice sentenced to five years' penal servitude for uttering counterfeit coin. WICKINGS had also been convicted of uttering counterfeit coin, and was stated to he the associate of convicted coiners.— Five Years each in Penal Servitude.
MR. LESTER Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH SWEETING . I am the wife of Henry Sweeting, of 133, Peckham Rye—we have retired from business, and own house property in the neighbourhood—my husband employs a secretary to look after a part, and attends to the rest himself—on August 3rd the prisoner came and asked for my husband—I said he was not in, but I did not think he would be gone long—he said he called for an account for Mr. Hayes—Hayes served my husband with building materials for several years—he went away—he came again on August 5th about 12, and asked for Mr. Sweeting—I said, "He has gone down Rye Lane to Mr. Garnett's, a tenant of ours, if you like to go down and meet him you can"—I had nothing to do with the paying of accounts—he said he had come from Mr. Walker, an iron-monger not far from our house—I asked him what the account was for, and he said for corrugated iron—I said he had better call again—he turned round and said, "Is there anyone else in the house?"—I said, "Yes; the cook is downstairs"—he went away—he came back about a quarter of an hour after with this piece of paper (Produced), and said that Mr. Sweeting had sent it—I said, "This is not Mr. Sweeting's writing"—he said that it was, and that Mr. Sweeting wrote it on the back of his pocket-book—I said, "Come inside"—I paid him the £4 3s., and he went away—he signed this paper (Produced): "Please pay Mrs. Walker's lad £4 3s. for the iron and steel. W. S."—my husband's name is Henry—the receipt is signed, "J. Jude"—I have not the least doubt of the prisoner—when my husband came home he gave information to the police—I next saw the prisoner at Lambeth Police-court in custody—he was placed with several others, and I picked him out—the detective did not tell me who to pick out.
HENRY SWEETING . This paper is not in my writing—I never gave it to the prisoner, or authorised him to go and collect the account from my wife—I did not owe Mr. Walker anything—Mr. Smallbone was with me on the Rye when I saw the prisoner running towards me from my house—as he came up he took a long stride into the road—I remember him as having worked for one of my tenants, Mr. Lawrence—I recognised him, and went home.
ALFRED SMALLBONE . I am an ironmonger, of 56, Peckham Rye—on August 5th I was walking with Mr. Sweeting on the Rye towards his house—I saw the prisoner running past us—I knew him by coming into my place, and working for a Mr. Lawrence, a tenant of Mr. Sweeting's—when I heard of the robbery I gave a description of the prisoner to the police, having seen him again on the Rye.
FREDERICK BROWN (Police Sergeant, P). I arrested the prisoner on August 12th at Peckham Rye, in Mr. Lawrence's yard, where he was at work—I told him I should arrest him for stealing £4 3s. from Mr. Sweeting's, at 133, Peckham Rye, last Saturday—he said, "You will have to prove it; I do not know where I was last Saturday"—I took him to the station, and placed him amongst nine or ten men similar in appearance, and Mr. and Mrs. Sweeting at once identified him, without hesitation—he said, "I shall have to put up with it."
Witnesses for the Defence.
ERNEST HARDING . I work for Herbert Fitch—I went with the prisoner to Erith a week before Bank Holiday—we were looking for work on Saturday—I was with him at Erith till 9 o'clock at night—we were there about five days—I applied to the Calendar Cable Works—the prisoner's brother told me to go there.
Cross-examined. I live at Peekham—I do not know where Mr. Sweeting lives—the prisoner was with me, and slept with me at his brother's, William Vaughan—we went to the Calendar Cable Works every day to look for work—it took us two or three minutes—we walked about the rest of the day—I left him just before 8 a.m—we went towards the Thames, and got back to dinner about 12—Mrs. Vaughan was as dinner with us, not her husband—we went out about 3 o'clock for a stroll and a drink—we did not go up to London during the five days—we had tea about 6.30—the prisoner's brother was home to tea, and Mrs. Vaughan—we left Erith together about 9 p.m., and I parted from the prisoner soon after midnight on Saturday—I do not know anything about this pawn-ticket (Produced)—I never went by the name of John Harding—it is for a bull-nosed plane—I have not heard of it—I do not know that there was a robbery at Lawrence's; I was at the Police-court—I do not know Bowles, 259 L; I did not hear him give evidence—I do not know him; I do not know that the prisoner has accused me of stealing other things at Lawrence's.
EMILY VAUGHAN . I am the prisoner's sister-in-law—he came to my husband's place the Friday before Bank Holiday, and stayed till Saturday night, between 8.30 and 9—he went out with my husband to see if he could get work, and came back to dinner and tea, and went out again with my husband.
Cross-examined. Harding was stopping at my place—they went out together—the prisoner went by the name of Reuben Vaughan—I cannot account for his giving the name of Robert Williams—they had a stroll round on Tuesday—my husband did not go with them—they returned about 5.30 to tea; they did not come in to dinner that day—I did not ask them where they had been—we have two rooms, but I made room for them—I do not know Harding—they did not pay me anything; they stopped for a week without giving any reason—my husband had a letter from the prisoner while in prison on this charge—he read this part of it to me: "You know where I was the week before the holidays."
WILLIAM VAUGHAN . I am the prisoner's brother, and lived at Erith in August—he came down on Saturday, August 1st—I am a machine hand at the Calendar Cable Factory—I get away at meal times—I am almost sure the prisoner came in to dinner on Saturday; my wife would know better than I—he did not go to London, that I know of—it takes three-quarters of an hour by the workmen's train—(Letter read: "Dear Brother,—Just a few lines to let you know where I am, and how I am getting on. I am in Holloway Gaol, remanded until Saturday, August 19 th. I hope you will come up on Saturday to Kennington Lane, and bring a few with you. I am charged with stealing £4 3s. from someone on the Rye, Peckham, on August 5th. You know where I was from the 1st to the 5th. I hope you and Emily will come up, etc.—R. WILLIAMS."
Cross-examined. When I got that letter I remembered that it was the week before Bank Holiday that my brother was with me—I was out at work all day—I only saw him at meal times—I said in my evidence at the Police-court on August 19th, "It was last Saturday he left rne; I am sure of that"—I got mixed as to dates.
GUILTY .lle then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Greenwich on February 22nd, 1895, and other convictions were proved against him,— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
MR. CONDY Prosecuted.
GEORGE BECKE . I am a carman, of 5, Indsleigh Road, Brixton—on the night between August 3rd and 4th I was outside the Black Horse, and saw some men outside—one of them asked me for a match—I said that I had not got one—I received a blow on my head, and know no more—I had 68. in my waistcoat pocket; it was not taken.
Cross-examined by Collins. I did not shove up against you—I did not strike Hagan, nor did we both fall together—I do not know which one struck me; you were all standing together—I was not drunk; I had only just put my horse up.
By the COURT. I recognise the prisoners as the men who were standing there together.
Cross-examined by Lane. I did not say that I was the best man in Brixton.
Lane. I am the jnan who asked you for a match; you know that perfectly well.
CHARLES HAWKINS (Detective W). Early on August 4th I was in Brixton Road, and saw all the prisoners—I knew Lane and Hagan by sight—I lost sight of them, and saw them again at 11.45 outside the Black Horse—I was then with two constables—Collins was there, and Barnett, whom I know as Regan—we hid ourselves in different doorways, and saw Becke meet the prisoners—Hagan put her arms round his neck and Barrett up with his fist and knocked him into the road, and Lane went with a running kick and kicked him on his left side—Collins then went with a running kick, and kicked him here, and then knelt down and felt in his pockets while the woman was watching—I gave a signal, and she called out, "Here comes Mr. f—Hawkins!"—one of the others said, "We have not got anything"—Llewellyn got Collins against a wall and cut his head—the others went quietly to the station—Barnett said, "Give me a chance; I will go quietly. I have not stolen anything;" and at the station he said, "You know it is all wrong"—Hagan said, "You know I was not there"—Collins pointed to me and said, "Can I charge that man with assaulting me?"
Cross-examined by Collins. I mean to say that I saw you in the Atlantic Road with these prisoners.
Cross-examined by Lane. We interfered as soon as we conld; it was all done in less than a minute.
Re-examined. Becke was sober, but he seemed dazed from the attack—he had a wound at the back of his head, and his nose was cut open, and the following morning he was all over blood, and complained of his side.
THOMAS LLEWELLYN (66 W). I was on duty in Brixton Road on August 4th at 12.30 or 12.40—I had seen the prisoners all close together at 11 o'clock—I knew Lane by sight; the others were strangers—I concealed myself, and saw Becke walking along—Hagan put her arms round his neck, and at the same time Barnett struck him a violent blow on his face, and knocked him down in the road, and Lane and Barnett put their hands in his pockets, while Collins held him down—I saw Lane kick him violently—I afterwards arrested Hagan—she said, "I was not there."
Cross-examined by Collins. I saw you hold him down by his throat in the road—I had a struggle with you; you threw me on the ground—we had a violent struggle, and you had a mark on your head at the station.
Cross-examined by Barnett. I saw you strike him in the face straight from the shoulder.
Cross-examined by Lane. You had your hand in his pocket and pulled it out.
BENJAMIN ELLERTON (595 W). On the night between August 3rd and 4th I was on duty in Brixton Road with Hawkins and Llewellyn, and saw the four prisoners in Atlantic Road—we were watching them—I did not know them—I hid myself in a doorway, and about 12.40 Becke came along, and Hagan put her arms round his neck and Barnett hit him a violent blow in the face and knocked him in the roadway, and Collins held him while the others rifled his pockets—when I pulled Lane off he had his hand in Beckes pocket—Hagan said, "It is all up, boys."
Cross-examined by Collins. I saw you knock him on his head, and saw Barnett scrike him on his face—there are two kerbs; they are about a foot high.
NORMAN DAVIS . I am a surgeon, of 410, Brixton Road—I examined Becke a week after the assault; Dr. Knight had examined him before—I found an injury to the bridge of his nose, which was caused by a blow.
Collins, in his defence, stated-that the prosecutor was drunk and struck him, and they rolled on the pavement together, and the constable took him, and that he did not know the other prisoners, and did not see Hagan there.
Barnett's Defence: The prosecutor was coming along drunk, and he struck first; the detectives came up, and they have framed all this up. I had 7s. in my pocket, which they have got at the station no.
Lane's Defence: The prosecutor was coming along staggering; I asked him for a match, and he struck me twice on my chest. I closed with him, and we both tell in the road, but I never put my hand in his pocket. I struck him in selfdefence.
Hagan's Defence: I met these two men, and the prosecutor came up and struck Lane, who scruck him back; I never spoke to the man. It was a fair fight between the two men.
GUILTY —Lane and Hagan then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions
Lane on May 16th, 1895, and Hagan on February 18th, 1896. A number of other convictions were proved against Lane, Collins and Barnett.
COLLINS and HAGAN— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each. BARNETT— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. LANE— Four Years Penal Servitude.
MR. CORSER Prosecuted.
THOMAS GOSBEE . I am a mason, of Bermondsey—on August 1st I was in the Fountain public-house, St. George's Road, alone—the prisoner and two men came in, and asked whether I would treat them—I said, "Yes, you can have a drink"—I had had a glass, but I knew what I was doing—I said, "Good night; I am going home"—they ran after me, and said, "You are not going like that," and threw me on my back, and took a leather purse and £3—the prisoner got me by the throat—I knew him well—three of them attacked me—they also took three keys—I went to the station and reported it—they sent a constable with me, and we saw the prisoner against the Obelisk—I said, "That is one of them," and the constable took him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I left the house by myself at 12.15 or 12.20, and you ran after me—I was not refused to be served—I did not go to the Gibraltar—you knew where I lived, but you did nob come to my house that night.
THOMAS BUCKLEY (358 L). On August 1st I was at the station when Gosbee came in and complained—I went with him to the London Road—he pointed out the prisoner, and I arrested him—on the way to the station he said, "How much did you lose? You are quite right, officer; you have done your duty."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent; I never had a penny of it."
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Newington on December 10th, 1895, and five other convictions were proved against him. Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
MR. MATHEWS and MR. GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
Easter I came up from Southampton without him, and went to stay with a cousin of mine—on May 8th the prisoner came to London, and we went to Mr. Frederick Francis Tilling's, at 46, Great Bland Street—he is a widower—he has five children, and I was to look after them—the prisoner was supposed to look for employment, and help to support me—I think he got some employment—he did not give me any money—we got on fairly well together, only he was of such a jealous disposition; always quarrelling with me—on July 11th he took a razor and threatened me—before that he slapped my face when we were all sitting in Mr. Tilling's kitchen—we had been out together, and we all went into a public-house and had two glasses of beer each—my husband was using some vulgar expressions—I did not take any notice of them—they were said of me to Mr. Newton, a friend—I was talking to the manager of the Bull; the prisoner said if I did not come away he would pick my inside out—then he and Mr. Tilling and I went home; then he slapped my face—this was about 12.30 p.m.—when he slapped my face Mr. Tilling said, "What did you do that for?" and the prisoner took out this razor (Produced)—Mr. Tilling went towards him to stop him from coming to me—the prisoner said he bought it to do for me—he said to Tilling, "You know I don't shave myself; I bought this on purpose to do for her and myself too"—there was a struggle between the prisoner and Mr. lilling, and the razor was taken away from the prisoner—Mr. Tilling's son helped—I ran out into the street, and remained out till 3 a.m., when two policemen brought me home wet through—the same day, the 11th, I applied for a summons against my husband at the Police-court; the hearing was for the following Tuesday—as I was leaving the Court I met my husband—he asked roe if I had taken out a summons or a warrant; I said a summons—he said I should regret it—I did not go home till 9 p.m.; I slept at home that night—the prisoner and I were friendly enough that night—the next day the prisoner was packing up—he said he was going away to stay with some strangers, as be might get on better with them, and that he had taken a room—in the evening he had a little to drink, and he got abusive, and I would not have him in my room that night—he slept in the parlour—we all had dinner together next day at 1 o'clock—after dinner my husband wrote two letters—he asked me for his brother's address in Germany, and I gave it to him—the other letter was to my sister in Croydon, Miss Alice White, and another to the Coroner—he then said that he was going out to post them, and he went out—he returned, and said he was going to finish packing, and he went into the bedroom, came out, and asked me to take the contents out of a black box—I did it for him—I had taken some of our wedding presents out of the box, and he said he would smash the lot up—he had had some drink; he was not drunk—he wanted to take a white quilt which was on the bed—I said he should not, as it did not belong to him—I said I wished that Mr. Tilling had not gone out to work, as the prisoner never grumbled when he was in the house—I sat down in a chair near the window, he came towards me, put his right hand on. my shoulder, and closed the window with his left, and reached over me—then he took a hammer and gave me a bang on the top of my head—it was on the chest of drawers, he had brought it in from the kitchen just before I unpacked
the box—the hammer was in his right hand—it was a heavy blow—this is it (Produced)—then he drew me towards the bed, where there was a box, and drew out this white-handled razor (Produced)—he dropped the hammer, knocked my mouth, and put some rags in it to prevent me screaming—he went to put the razor against my throat—I put my left hand up to snatch it, and he cut my third finger across—I said he was a, wicked fellow to do it—he said he meant to kill me right out, and then do for himself afterwards; that he would stop and finish it; there would be much more for me to go through—he put the razor in his pocket—then he went into the kitchen, and I went along to get some water to put my finger in—he took the razor out twice, and said he would do it—I prayed him not to—I asked him to leave me—he said he would if I had him back again on Saturday—I said I would if he would go away—he asked me not to prosecute him, as he would get five years if I did—I said I would forgive him if he would leave me—I would not say anything about it, as I was so frightened of him—Mr. Tilling's son came up—he is 11 or 12, I think—he knocked at the door and asked for me—my husband answered him—he said I was round at the Virginia public-house—I was in the room-after a little while the boy came back, and said I was not at the public-house—then I told him to go downstairs for a little while—the prisoner was getting ready to go out, and he asked me to give him half an hour to get away—then he went out—I went in a cab to Guy's Hospital—I was bleeding from my throat, my head, and my fingers—I was in the hospital from the Thursday to the Sunday.
Cross-examined. There had been no quarrelling between me and my husband on the Thursday morning, not since the Monday night—the prisoner always had his food on the last two days—he gave me 6d. for his dinner—he did not have to give me money for his food all the time I was acting as housekeeper—when my fingers were cut my husband wiped them—he did not bathe my throat—he was frightened at what he had done—when he went away he went to my sister, and told her to go to me—she came to the hospital—one of my husband's boxes had a black covering, which was loose in places—he did not repair it by knocking in some nails while I was in t he room—he took the hammer into the room before I went in—the kitchen is on the same floor as the bedroom—he was not in the bedroom as long as 10 minutes before he called me in—I swore before the Magistrate that nothing improper had taken place between me and Tilling—there is another door in my room which leads into Tilling's bedroom, but it is always locked, and there is a chest of drawers and a chair against it, and his two sons and the baby sleep in the same room—I came to London some weeks before May 8th—I wrote to my husband, saying that I had obtained a situation as a housekeeper, and that he need not come up to me for 12 or 18 months—I did not tell him the name of the man I was going to—he knew Mr. Tilling—I did not mention his name, because I did not wish to—during the first three weeks I was sleeping at a room I had taken at Dover Street—when I went home in the evenings Mr. Tilling usually saw me home, and occasionally kissed me, not always—after I wrote to my husband, saying that I had got a situation, he telegraphed, asking if he
should come up; I told him to come up—I had been down to Southampton in the meantime—I showed the telegram to Tilling, and it was arranged that he and I should go to meet my husband in the van—we did not meet him—it was 9 or 10 at night when we got home—my husband came up just as we got home—I was wearing a keeperring when my husband came up—it had belonged to Mr. Tilling's late wife—it was in the bedroom, and I asked him if I could wear it—he said, "Yes," and I wore it—I do not know when his wife died; I did not know her—my husband did not complain that I was too familiar with Tilling—he was always jealous; he had no cause to be; he has been so ever since I have been married to him—when I married him I did not conceal from him that I was in the family way—I have not had a child since we have been married—I had a child 11 months before I was married; the prisoner knew of it when he married me—he had 11 months to consider whether he would have me or not—when we were in the Bull I was talking to the manager, and I heard my husband say, "Now look at her"—my husband was always looking at my under-clothing—I heard him tell Tilling that I was his (Tilling's) housekeeper, and not his companion, and that he objected to my going in the van—I only went in the van once without my husband, and then I took the baby—my husband has nsked me to leave Tilling's—I said I would if he could get a place—I did not say that it would take all Bamum and Bailey's Show to move me from that house—my husband did not say that my being with Tilling was making his life a hell upon earth—I have not done so—I have always done my best for him—my husband slept on the sofa one night when he was the worse for drink, but he came in early in the morning—he did not then accuse me of adultery with Tilling—I have been married nine years—he was not jealous of anybody at Southampton—he was jealous of the young men lodgers I had—he said I waited on them too much—I had a lodger named Wills—he was with us two years and nine months—my child was the child of somebody else—I have lost the use of two fingers, and I feel my head bad occasionally.
Re-examined. I was never improperly familiar with Jack Wills, the Custom House officer—I kept a lodging-house at Southampton—when I came to London at Easter my husband was away from me—I was not supported by my husband while I was in. London—when I wrote to him I said he could return to me if he would be a different man; he got into so much trouble at Southampton in regard to drink and his habits—if he kept away from the drink he was a didierent man—I had lost my home, and I found a home at Mr. Tilling's—I looked after the children, and got my keep in return, but no wages—he was not in a position to pay me—there was a boy of 11 or 12, a baby of three, and a boy of 17 or 18.
By the COURT. My child is dead now.
By the JURY. My husband first threatened to break the china with the hammer, and then hit me.
FREDERICK FRANCIS TILLING . I live at 46, Great Bland Street, and am a widower—my wife died last October, and I have three children living with me—on May 8th the prisoner and his wife came to live at my house—the woman was to act as housekeeper—it was a temporary affair; we were supposed to take a house between us; we were going away—there
was no arragement as to money then—I found the money for the house-keeping—the prisoner did not make any complaint in regard to my conduct—he was on friendly terms with me, and that lasted till July 10th—on that evening I was in the Black Bull public-house with the prisoner and his wife—we went home together, when a quarrel arose between the prisoner and his wife—he struck her, because she was talking with the manager of the public-house—he struck her on the side of the face with the back of his hand—I asked him what it was for—he did not tell me—I stepped between them and pushed him back—he then drew a black-handled razor from his breast pocket, and said "You know I do not shave myself," and speaking to his wife, he said, "I bought this to cut your throat, and my own too"—I asked him to give me the razor, or to put it away—he did not do so, and I seized his left arm—we had a struggle, and he fell face downwards on the floor, I on his back—he gave me the razor, on the terms that I should give it back to him in the morning—I broke it up with this hammer in his presence—I left the hammer in the scullery—he said, "You are a fool to break that; I was going to take it back, and get my money for it in the morning"—I told him that need not trouble him; I would give him the money for it—while we were struggling his wife ran out in the street—he tried to go after her, but I stopped him, and then we both went quietly downstairs, and there were two policemen, whom my son had fetched—Mrs. Steinhauser was brought back again, and one of the policemen advised her to apply to a Magistrate in the morning—we went back upstairs again, and retired for the night—it is a flat—next day, Tuesday, I gave the prisoner the 1s. for the razor—he asked me for it—he said, "Let me have the money for the razor, and I will clear out"—the razor was really 10d.; I gave him 1s., and told him to keep the change, and have a drink and behave himself—on the Wednesday I went home as usual about 10.30 a.m., and found them quarrelling in the kitchen—the prisoner said he did not know how many times I had had intercourse with his wile—I was disgusted with him, and went downstairs into the street—I saw him again in the evening—he did not make any accusation against me then—on the 13th I went home again at the same time in the morning, and met the prisoner outside—we both went in together; I went out again—they were quiet then—he did not say any more about leaving—that was the last I saw of him or his wife till after the occurrence—I have not had improper relations with Mrs. Steinhauser.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Steinhauser came in April, and her husband on May 8th—I had known them about three years when my wife was alive—I do not know that the prosecutrix wrote to her husband, saying that she had become housekeeper to a man, without giving his name—I do not know why my name should be kept from him—she is my housekeeper now—I am not in employment now—I was a traveller at Odells—I earned £2 per week and commission—I drove about in my van—they have dismissed me through this affair—I was about a good deal with Mrs. Steinhauser before her husband came to town—I used to see her home nearly every night—when I lost my wife I went to my cousin's, Mr. Oakes, and Mrs. Steinhauser was there, and I saw her home—I have kissed her—I thought there was nothing wrong in that—she frequently
came to meet me when I was out with my van, and both the husband and wife have been out to meet me—she has only met me twice without her husband's knowledge—she has gone home with me in the van four or five times, it would be a lie to say she had only been twice—her husband objected once; he told me he did not like it, and I said it should not happen again—he told me she was my housekeeper, and not my companion—I took that as a complaint only against his wife—when he complained of her riding in the van she said she should go if she liked—he slapped her on her face, because he was jealous of the manager of the Bull—I had introduced her to the manager as Mrs. Ferguson, but that was only a joke—I introduced her in the presence of her husband—the publican did not say, "Why, I thought she was going to marry you, you scoundrel"—the manager of the Bull knew them both—I do not remember the prisoner saying, "That shows how my wife has been going on"—I was not speaking to her there at all—there was a Mr. Newton there—the prisoner did not draw Mr. Newton's attention to the manner in which his wife was going on.
FREDERICK EDWARD WALKER , M.R.C.S. I am House Surgeon at Guy's Hospital—I was there at about 5.45 on July 13th, when the prosecutrix was brought in—she had a superficial cut about 7 in. long near the angle of her jaw and the bend of her neck—the left centre tooth was loose, and there had been some blood—the under surfaces of the first, second and third fingers of her left hand were cut just opposite the third joint—there was a jagged scalp-wound 1 1/2 in. long on the right side of her head—the wounds on her left hand and throat could have been caused by a razor—the blood was from the gums—the" tooth could have been loosened by placing rags in the mouth for the purpose of stopping screaming—the jagged wound could have been caused by the hammer, and would have re-quired considerable force—that was the worst wound, because it was impossible to tell at that time whether she had sustained a fracture of the skull.
Cross-examined. If the instrument was sharp there need not have been much force used on the fingers.
ALICE MAUD MAY WHITE . I am the prosecutrix's sister—on July 13th I was living at Croydon—I am single—about 7 p.m. I received this letter from the prisoner—(This stated that he enclosed two pawn-tickets, and left all that he and his wife had in Tilling's house to her)—the prisoner arrived shortly afterwards—I asked him what he wanted; he said he wished to see me—I told him to come outside; I asked him what he had been doing—he told me he had had a few words with my sister, and had struck her with a hammer, and had attempted to cut her throat with a razor; that she had put her hand up, and got her fingers cut, and that she might possibly lose the use of her three fingers—he asked me to go and see her; he said they had quarrelled about a blanket—he asked me not to give him away—I afterwards visited the prisoner and his wife—I went there every Sunday while they were at Tilling's house—they seemed to get on fairly well together; sometimes they would quarrel.
Cross-examined. He was very jealous of her; he was jealous of Mr. Tilling—he told me that'he did not think they were going on properly together—he once showed me some of his wife's under-clothing—he said
he took them from the bedroom; that he had had a scuffle with her, as she did not want him to take them—I had introduced Mrs. Steinhanser to Tilling—I left her to settle the business herself—it was said that at that time Mr. Tilling was courting me, but he had never said anything to me about that.
Re-examined. He was always jealous of his wife—he told me that he thought she and Tilling were acting improperly, about a fortnight after be came to London.
WILLIAM TEPT (Inspector, M). At 8 p.m. on July 13th I went to 46, Great Bland Street—I found the bedroom in great disorder, and a lot of blood about—I went to the hospital, and, after seeing Mrs. Steinhauser, I went to the Horse Shoe, in Newington Causeway, where I saw the prisoner at 10.30—I was in plain clothes—I said I was a police inspector and should arrest him for attempting to murder his wife—he paid, "What?"—I repeated the words, and he said, "Yes; that is all right"—he said nothing at the station—I found a white-handled razor in his pocket—there was blood on the blade and the handle—I also found a letter in his pocket, addressed to the Coroner or chief Constable, Southwark Division, S.E, and a loose sheet of paper with his name and address upon it—(The letter stated that the cause of all this was that his wife had committed adultery with Frederick Tilling; that he used to see her home every night in Dover Street, and that instead of her being Tilling's house-keeper, she was his mistress; that he had conclusive traces of it, and that she had said so; that she refused to go out with him (the prisoner) unless Tilling went too; that she had told him to go away or to sea; that when he accured Tilling of being unduly intimate with her he ran out of the house without answering; that she said he was daft, and called him, names; that he got mad, and said he would do for her, but had no more intention of doing so then of flying)—I also found these rags.
Cross-examined. I did not notice any loose tacks on the washing stand in the room—the black box was there—I did not notice that the cover was half-loose.
GUILTY of wounding with intent to do grievous bodily harm . Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY. Two other convictions were proved against him.— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PROBYN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM KEMP . About 1.30 on July 22nd I saw the prisoner in the Duke of Clarence, St. George's Circus—I called him outside, and said, "I am a police officer, and I am going to take you into custody for striking a man outside the Prince Albert public-house yesterday, who has since died, He said, "I am very sorry; I only struck him once, and he fell on the back of his head; it is an old grievance, and I am very sorry indeed; I never intended to hurt him that much"—I took him to the station and charged him—he was placed among about ten other
persons, and was identified by two witnesses as the man who struck the blow—I charged him—he made no reply.
EMILY JANE MAUNDER . I live at 1, Belvedere Buildings, South-wark Bridge Road—I am the widow of the deceased, who was 27 years old—on July 22nd I saw him at my house in the morning; he was in very good health—I next saw him at 11 o'clock, when he was lying on his back on the pavement in the South wark Bridge Road—on May 20th he had been knocked down by a cab, and went to the hospital, where he stayed between a month and six weeks—he had concussion of the brain—he was a potman—before the accident he was a strung man, and when he came out of the hospital he was in fairly good health.
MARY ANN ALTAM . I live at Crampton Street, and am a barmaid at the Duke of Clarence—I have lived with the prisoner as his wife for two and a half years—on July 21st, about 11 a.m., I was serving in the bar—the deceased was in the saloon bar—the prisoner came in and had a few words with the deceased; theii they went outside together—the prisoner pushed the deceased on one side, and he went into the corner, but they parted friends—the prisoner did not make any complaint to me about the deceased being in the bar—he pointed to the deceased and said, "Do you see who is here?"—I said, "Yes; it'is a public building, and I oannot help it"—that was befoie they had any words—I did not hear the prisoner say anything to the deceased about his having seen me before—the deceased seemed dizzy—I do not know if it was the blow, or whether he had been drinking—he did noo seem to know what he was saying.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not speak to you; I had not a. chance.
CHARLES SAGE . I am a painter, of 5, Kinn Street, New Cross—on this day I was working on the Britannia public-house, Southwark Bridge Road—I saw the prisoner and the deceased quarrelling at the corner of the street—the prisoner wanted to know, "Yes or no"—he wanted an answer from the deceased—I did not hear the deceased reply—then the prisoner struck the deceased in the mouth—he fell off the kerb on to the crossing, on the back of his head—it was a blow from the shoulder—the deceased was not prepared to fight—as soon as he was struck he threw his hands up and fell on the back of his head—the prisoner ran away, and I ran after him—I did not catch him—I was about 12 yards from where the quarrel was going on—the deceased was tab en to the station—I went to the station on the Saturday; this was on the Friday, and I identified the prisoner—I am quite certain that he is the man—when I got back to the deceased he was almost gone; you could haidly see him breathe; but I do not think the prisoner meant to kill him.
JAMES W ILLIAM SMITH . I am a painter, of 95, Blake's Road, Peckham—on this day I was working at the Britannia, and saw the prisoner and the deceased quarrelling—I heard the prisoner say, "Yes or no"—I did not ear the deceased say anything—the prisoner struck him in the mouth—the deceased fell down, and the prisoner ran away—it looked like a heavy blow—I went to the assistance of the deceased—he was lying in the road unconscious—he had hit his head on the roadway or the kerb—I never saw him conscious again.
comer of Southwark Bridge Road—I saw the deceased there, lying on the footway, surrounded by a crowd—he was bleeding from his mouth—I got an ambulance and took him to the hospital.
RUSSELL HENRY SWAN . I am House Surgeon at Guy's Hospital—I saw the deceased after his admission on July 21st—he was unconscious, and bleeding from his mouth—he had a small cut on the upper lip, a fracture of the left jaw, and a large bruise on the back of his head—after he had been in hospital some little time he showed signs of haemorrhage of the brain—we trepanned him about 2 o'clock—we found a good deal of haemorrhage inside the brain—we removed as much blood as we could, and sent him back to bed again, but he died the same day at 7.40—I made a postmortem examination—I found a quantity of blood in the interior of the brain, inside and outside the membranes—there was a fracture on the left side of the skull, and one on the right side—the jaw was fractured, and he had a cut lip—there was an extensive laceration on the right side of the brain, with a good deal of haemorrhage going on—death was due to the injuries of the brain and the fracture of the skull—I do not think that his having had concussion of the brain would have affected him in any way—his skull was thinner than is usual.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that, the deceased asked him to go round the corner; that he (the prisoner) sxid to him, "Are not you ashamed of yourself, doing what you are doing?" and that the deceased hit him; that they then went round the corner by the Britannia, and the prisoner said, "Yes or no, which is it to be?" and the deceased spoke very low; he struck the deceased, and some painters came up, and he ran away; and that he had no intention of doing him any harm.
The Prisoner received a good character.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
JOHN BUTTEN . I live at 10, Garfield House, Walworth, and am a skin dresser—the prisoner is my wife—we have been married 14 years next Christmas—on August 19th I was indoors with my wife—she wanted some more drink—I thought we had both had enough, and I de lined to give her any more money—there was a bottle of fluid on the table, and she threw it over my face and chest; it burned through my clothes—I have had an operation for my throat—my wife ran out—I then noticed a bottle on the table uncorked; I took it to the Police-station—I drenched myself with water—I do not know for what purpose the fluid was on the table—some two years before I brought home some taroil to destroy beetles.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was not the worse for drink—I said my dinner was not fit to eat—I did not call you any bad names.
ARTHUR NEIL (Sergeant, L). The morning after this outrage I arrested the prisoner—I told her she would be charged with throwing corrosive fluid over her husband—she said, "Yes; 1 did it on the impulse of the moment; we had some words; I said I could not put up with that any more"—at the station she said, "I own up to it; I got some stuff at Gillet's, and put it into a bottle"—she said, "This is the bottle; it had
some oil of tar in it, which my husband brought home to kill black-beetles."
KENNETH HARRY DOUGLAS . I live at 129, Cambell Road—between I and 2 on the morning after this outrage I saw the prosecutor—I found his clothes were corroded, that he had some bums on the right side of the face and neck, and under his vest and shirt there was a large bum, right through his clothes—I have examined the bottle and some of its contents—from that, and from the condition of his clothes, I find it was sulphuric acid, not carbolic: carbolic would burn the skin, but it would subside after a few days; it would not go through the clothes, or leave a red stain, like sulphuric does—water would dilute the acid—I fail to see what one would want sulphuric acid for, carbolic would be very natural—it would be natural for the prosecutor to have an operation—the glands would swell, and would have to be cut—sulphuric is never used for drains; it would eat away all the iron.
JOHN BUTTEN (Re-examined). We lost a child a little time ago—it was supposed to be through diphtheria—the prisoner has purchased carbolic for the drains, but not in this bottle—we have got a proper bottle at home for carbolic—they use sulphuric acid in my trade—my wife has threatened to blind me several times with vitriol—I have never said I would drive her into a lunatic asylum.
MARY BUTTEN . I am 13 years old—on this night I saw my mother with a bottle; it was standing on the coal-box—I do not know where it came from—I saw my mother go out with a black one—I know the bottle she keeps for carbolic acid—she went out just before this happened.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You went out about 9.30, and came back about 10.30—I have seen father go on at you sometimes.
ARTHUR NEIL (Re-examined by the JURY). I went to Gillet's—they know the woman, but on that night they never sold her anything—they sell carbolic acid, but it is not of a burning nature, and on this night they had got none—I made other inquiries, but could not trace anyone who sold such stuff to her.
The Prisoner's Defence; I did not intend to do him any harm. It was the first thing that came my hand; I had had a drop of drink; it was not because he had refused me any drink.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. MUIR and BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
HARRIETT MILLS . I live at 11, Boundary Lane, Walworth, with my husband, Stephen Jesse Mills—the prisoner had lived there about three months, occupying a kitchen and. a front room, with his wife and two children, one Margaret Florence, about tive years old, and Ada Louisa, two and a half years old—I did not hear the prisoner come home on Sunday, July 16th, but I heard him get up in the morning—he apparently slept there alone on that night—I heard him come in about 11.30 on the I7th, and then he went out again—his wife had not come home—I did not see the prisoner there at all on the 18th—on Tuesday Mrs.
Ward came with the youngest child, and stayed there the Tuesday night—she went out in the afternoon, and took the child with her—she came back on the 19th, Wednesday—the prisoner came back between 3 and 3.30 on the Wednesday afternoon, while the wife was out—that night they all remained at home—I did not see the prisoner go out on the Thursday morning—I remember he came home about 12 o'clock in the day—his wife was there—the prisoner brought the two chlidren with him; they had been playing outside—his wife was washing in the washhome, which is just outside my kitchen—I spoke to her—she went upstairs, and I remember she came down again, and then went up a second time—she came down about 12.45, and then went out—I heard the youngest child crying after her mother—the child came out on to the landing—I did not see it—then I heard the eldest child cry, "Don't, daddy," which was repeated—I stood and listened for a moment, and hear J them continue to say, "Don't, daddy"—I called out, "What is the matter, Mr. Ward?"—there was no answer—as I called out they seemed to run from the front room; the father seemed to be chasing the children or child—I heard the children crying still. "Don't, daddy"—I ran upstairs and looked into the front room—I saw the prisoner kneeling in front of the oldest child, with his left arm round her shoulders, blood pouring from his chin—the child was resting by the side of her little bed—there was a large pool of blood on the floor—I could not see the youngest child, owing to the position of the father and the other child—they were between me and the youngest child—I said, "What have you done, Mr. Ward?"—he turned and spoke, but I could not hear what he said—I went and fetched a constable—I went back into the room before the constable arrived, and then I saw the youngest child—she was lying it the oldest one's feet—she was lying with her feet towards the window, on the floor—I could not see what her state was—the prisoner was lying on the left side of the children, all on the floor—I saw a white-bandled knife lying at the feet of the eldest child (Produced)—it was open, and covered with blood—while the prisoner and his wife were at Boundary Lane I noticed that she nagged him—I do not know what it was about.
Cross-examined. I cannot say if there was any blood coming from the child's throat when I went into the room—I think there was blood—the child was in a stooping position—the prisoner had always treated his children kindly, to my knowledge; he appeared to be very fond of them—I did not see enough of him to say that he was sometimes oppressed—they were my lodgers—I think the prisoner had had some drink on the Monday night—I do not know that for some days he had been drinking.
JOHN EKE (165 L). About 12.50 on July 20th I was called to 11, Boundary Lane by Mrs. Mills—I went into the top front room, and saw two children lying apparently dead—the prisoner lay on the left of them—the smallest child had its head twisted towards the prisoner's right shoulder—I pulled its head back to see if it was dead—I then called to the crowd outside to get more police assistance, and also an ambulance and a doctor—I then said to Ward, "What is the matter?"—he said, "I have done it, and I want to die as well; I did it with that penknife that lies at my feet I think they are both dead, and I wish I was as well"—I picked up the penknife, and put it on the chair; it was smothered in blood, and the
place was all saturated with blood—then Sergeant Langtree came in—we waited for Dr. Oldfield—Ward was sent to Guy's Hospital.
Cross-examined. Ward was not drunk at that time; he was conscious.
CHARLES LANGTREE (30 L). I went to 11, Boundary Lane, on July 20tb, and saw Eke and the prisoner and the children—I said, "What is this?" and the prisoner replied, "I done it; I have been driven to it"—I said, "Are those your children?"—he said, "They are supposed to be mine."
Cross-examined. He was lying On the ground then—there was a little blood oozing from him, not pouring—I should think he had bled a considerable amount—there was a lot of blood on the floor beside him—he did not speak in a fainting condition; he did not speak as if there was anything the matter with him—I took him to the hospital—he walked down the stairs with my assistance.
FREDERICK OLDFIELD . I am a surgeon, of 174, Boyson Road, Walworth—about 1 o'clock on July 20th I was called to 11, Boundary Lane, and I went to the top front room, where I saw the prisoner's children, dead, and the prisoner lying on his side—he was suffering from a wound on the side of the neck—I was shown this knife—the wounds could have been caused with it—it was wet with blood then—I afterwards held a postmortem examination on the body of the eldest child, Margaret Florence—the cause of death was suffocation from haemorrhage from the wound in the neck—I did not have any conversation with the prisoner—he was sober—the wounds upon Margaret were inflicted with considerable force.
RUSSEL HENRY SWAN . I am House Surgeon at Guy's Hospital—the prisoner was admitted on the afternoon of July 20th—I saw him immediately on his arrival—he was collapsed, conscious, but exhausted, suffering from shock—he had a wound on the right side of his neck about 1 1/2 in. long, penetrating the skin, and partially dividing the muscles—we found it necessary to administer chloroform—we told him we were going to do so—we have to ask permission to administer ansesthetics—he could understand what I said to him, and when I told him so he said, "Finish it off"—he wanted the chloroform to end his life—as far as I can remember? he said, "Let the chloroform finish me"—he was quite sober—he remained in the hospital till the 31st, when he was removed by the police—he was under my care all the time—he was quite rational—he was sullen—he did not say anything unless you asked him a question—he understood what was said.
Cross-examined. I think a great deal of force must have been used to inflict the wound on his own neck—I think that there had been a considerable loss of blood—he seemed quite depressed; he did not say much—I cannot say if his depression had existed before—I do not think I could say what the condition of his mind was—there have been cases where a man has been raving, and after the crisis has talked clearly.
ALICE REID . I am the wife of Samuel Reid, and live at 56, Exmouth Street, Clerkenwell—the prisoner's wife is my sister—I remember the marriage—they had two children—the eldest, Margaret, was born about a month or six weeks after the marriage—I saw a good deal of the prisoner and his wife until they went over the water; that was about
three years ago—they went first of all to the Russells—I remember that a man named Olliffe called on me on July 16th—he had been away some nine years—I knew him before he joined the army—I did not recognise him at first as my old friend—my husband and I went with Olliffe to a public-house near Boundary Lane, for the purpose of seeing my sister and her husband—I left Olliffe and my husband in the public-house while I went and told my sister—I saw my sister—the prisoner was there—I said, "Sam is round the corner with a friend"—Sam is my husband—I went with my sister and the prisoner to the public-house where my husband and Olliffe were—we did not tell them who Olliffe was—he was introduced to my sister as a friend, to see if she would recognise him—my husband called him Thompson, and I called him Ben, as his name was Benjamin—we then all went back to our house—Mrs. Ward found out who Olliffe was when I called him Ben—the two children, Margaret and Louisa, went to our house t oo—Ollifife made a great fuss of them, and so he did of mine; he is very fond of children—Olliffe had walked out with my sister before he went to India—I think the prisoner knew that—at Clerkenwell Olliffe said to the prisoner, "Your wife is an old sweetheart of mine"—he said that about 10 p.m.—up to that time the prisoner and the rest of us had been enjoying ourselves, but after that the prisoner turned dreadfully angry—he asked my sister if she was going home, and he asked Olliffe if the child was his—he said, "No, God forbid! if she was I would give £10 for her"—she was very pretty—he said it could nob be his, as he had been away 80 long—he pulled his papers out, and showed the prisoner the date he left—the prisoner tried to persuade my sister to go home—he then went out for about half an hour, and then came back and demanded a drink; we offered him a glass of ale, and he would not have it—he then asked his wife if she was going home again—she said, "No; why don't you stay and be sociable?"—he was going to strike my sister, because she would not go but I stopped him, and he went out—my sister and the two children stayed with me over the Monday night—on Tuesday afternoon my sister and the youngest child went home—Margaret stayed, with me until Wednesday evening, and then my sister fetched her home—that is the last I saw of them alive—I went to see the prisoner on the Friday in the hospital—he said, "If she had come home on the Sunday night it would never have happened"—I was there about three-quarters of an hour—I went with my sister, and she had some conversation with him, but I could not hear what they were saying—the prisoner seemed rather strange on the Friday—he seemed rather funny about his eyes—he spoke pretty sensibly.
Cross-examined. I had not seen much of the prisoner during the two or three months previous—on this day at the hospital he did not complain of pains in his head—my sister said that he had complained about pains in his head, and had been very strange for a long time—she told me that since the crime—I did not know much of his family—my sister told me that his mother had committed suicide—that was since the crime—she also told me that his grandmother died in a lunatic asylum—on the Sunday night when Olliffe was present, the prisoner seemed very much upset when he found that Olliffe was an old sweetheart of his wife—there was really
nothing to upset him in any way—my sister conducted herself properly in the presence of the prisoner with Olliffe—I thought the prisoner's conduct very strange—when he returned, after having been out for three-quarters of an hour, he looked awfully angry.
WILLIAM BLACKMORE . I live at 25, Sedgemore Place, Peckham, and am a bricklayer—before July last I knew the prisoner for about three years, and at times he worked on the same job as I did—on July 16th he made an appointment with me for the next evening; he did not keep it—I saw him on the Monday at dinner-time on the job where I was working at Shaftesbury Avenue—he was at work on a different job—he said he had not kept the appointment with me because his wife's relatives had come down, and they went upto Glerkenwell to his wife's sister—he told me that there was a soldier there who was a former sweetheart of his wife—he said that she was messing about with him, and he asked her to come home, and she refused—he seemed strange in his manner—he seemed worried and upset—he did not exactly seem to know what he was doing—he said he could not stand it any longer, and that he was going away into the country—I told him I would leave work and go with him—he said, "Let it go till tomorrow morning;" that would be Tuesday—he came home with me and had some tea, and then went up to his elder brother's house—he was out; we saw his brother's wife, and he introduced her to me as his second mother—he said to her that he could not stand it any longer, and that he was going away—he did not say what "it" was—then we went back to Boundary Lane—his wife was not there—next morning I met him between 7 and 8 o'clock, and we went down to Chadwell Heath—we got some work at 1 o'clock, and we worked till 3—I was in his company the rest of the evening—we slept in a field that night—we went in the afternoon to Romford, and we stayed there till about 9 o'clock, and we took a train to Chadwell Heath, when it was too late to get lodgings, and as we knew of a hay field we slept there—next day we drew our money and came up to town—I left him in Southampton Street, Camberwell—he said he was going home to sell all his lot up, meaning his furniture—he was sober all the time he was with me—I did not see him again.
Cross-examined. He was depressed and worried while he was with me—he never uttered any threats—I never heard him utter any threats against his wife or children—he was very fond of his children; he always had them out with him on Sundays—while in the country with me he talked of them in affectionate tones—I know the wife—I have never seen her with the children.
FREDERICK COLLARD . I live at 13, Wingfield Street, Peckham, and am a bricklayer—the prisoner has worked with me on several jobs—I saw him on Saturday, July 15th—he was peculiar then—I saw him on July 20th at 8.30 a.m., at Goose Green, where I was at work—I introduced him to the foreman and got him a job—I asked him why he had left his own job; he said, "all through his b—old woman again, the same as I have left others through her." I know that he has left others.—he started work and I lent him some tools—at 11 o'clock he brought the tools back and said, "I have finished, I cannot work no longer," I asked him why;
he said "I am going to drown myself; goodbye Fred"—he said he was going to get out of it—he went away, and T remained at my work.
Cross-examined. I thought his conduct exceedingly strange—I have known him fouryears—I have known him to be a kind-hearted and affectionate father—I have seen him with his children—you would not see him without them on Sunday—he was a very nice young fellow.
ARTHUR NEIL (Sergent, L). About 11.30 on July 31st I saw the prisoner at Guy's Hospital—I told him he would be charged with murdering his children, Margaret Florence and Ada Ix)uisa—I cautioned him that anything he might say might be used in evidence against him—he nodded his head—he was taken to the station and charged—he was perfectly rational, and understood what was said to him.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries about the prisoner—his mother committed suicide by drowning—that was because she received a School board summons—the verdict was "Suicide while temporarily insane"—his grandmother died in a lunatic asylum of senile decay—she was 79 years old—she was taken from the workhouse to the asylum—that was his mother's mother.
Re-examined. She was only at the asylum a very short time—the prisoner was always a respectable, peaceable, and hard-working man.
JAMES SCOTT . I am Medical Officer of Health at Holloway Prison—I have had the prisoner under my observation since August 22nd—I have seen him daily, and conversed with him with a view of ascertaining the state of his mind—I have had considerable experience in cases of mental delusion and insanity—I consider the prisoner has been sane from August 22nd—I spoke to him about the crime—he appeared to realise his position.
Cross-examined. When people are removed from the infirmary to the asylum they are lunatics as a rule—a person is not put into an asylum simply because they are suffering from old age—senile demention is what is called dotage—the prisoner was depressed—it is true to say, "This unhappy life" (that was the nagging on the part of his wife) "lasting for years would be likely to have an effect on the prisoner, more especially as his family history with regard to sanity is not a very good one"—I have observed no signs of insanity.
By MR. HUTION. The prisoner was not more depressed than he should be if he realised his position—I cannot see any facts to show me that he did not know the nature of the crime.
Further examined. There have been cases where insane people almost immediately after a crime appear to be perfectly rational.
GUILTY — DEATH .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, OCTOBER 23RD, 1899.