CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FOURTH SESSION, HELD FEBRUARY 8TH, 1904.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
MESSRS. BARNETT AND BUCKLER,
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the King's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, February 8th, 1904, and following days.
Before the Right Hon. SIR JAMES THOMPSON RITCHIE , Bart., LORD MAYOR of the City of London: the Hon. Sir WALTER PHILLIMORE . Knight, one of (ho Justices of His Majesty's High Court; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart, M.A., LL. D., F.S.A., Sir WALTER WILKIN , K.C.M.G., Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORRRST FULTON, Knight, K.C., Recorder of the said City; JOHN POUND , Esq., Sir GEO. WYATT TRUSCOTT , Knight., THOMAS BOOK CROSBY, Esq., M.D., and W. MURRAY GUTHRIK. Esq., M.P., other of the Aldermen of the said City; FREDKRICK ALRERT BOSANQUET. Esq., K.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; and JAMES ALEXANDER RENTOIL, Esq., K.C., M.P., LL. D., Deputy Judge of the City of London Court, His Majesty's Justices of Over and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
RITCHIE, MAYOR. FOURTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that the prisoners have been previously in custody—two star (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, February 8th, 1904.
Before Mr. Recorder.
183. ROBERT GEORGE BUSHNELL (19) and JOHN HENRY CHRISTMAS (18) PLEADED GUILTY to doing damage, to a pane of glass to the value of £10, belonging to John Worth; also to doing damage to another pane of glass, the property of Harrington's, Limited. Eleven previous convictions were proved against Bushnell, and three against Christmas.
BUSHNELL— Fifteen months' hard labour.
CHRISTMAS Twelve months' hard labour.
184. JAMES CLARKE (43), JOHN BROWN (28), and CHARLES SMITH (25) , to stealing a scarf pin, the property of Samuel Marsh, from his person, Clarke having been convicted of felony at Clorkenwell Sessions on May 7th, 1901, as John Thomas, and Brown at Clerkenwoll Sessions on October 1st, 1901, as George Williams. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] five other convictions were proved against Clarke, who was stated to be an associate of a dangerous gang of thieves, and two against Brown.
CLARKE— Five years' penal servitude.
BROWN— Eighteen months' hard labour.
SMITH— Nine months' hard labour.
185. CHARLES WALLS (30) , to stealing fourteen post letters, the property of the Postmaster General; also to stealing a post letter containing two Post Office orders for 5s. each, the property of the Postmaster General, he being employed under the Post Office. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Six months' hard labour. —
186. NORA MCKENZIE (31) , to forging and uttering a receipt for £3, with intent to defraud; also to forging and uttering an authority for the payment of £3,", with intent to defraud; also to stealing a Post Office Savings Bank deposit book, the property of the Postmaster General; also to unlawfully and fraudulently obtaining from Isabella Thorns 2s., from Bertha Brassard 10s., and from Marianne Masters 20s., with intent to defraud. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Ten previous convictions were proved against her. Three years' penal servitude.—
187. HARRY WOODWARD (39) . to stealing a post letter containing a postal order for 21s., the property of the Postmaster General he being employed under the Post Office. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Nine months' hard labour. —
188. BERTIE JAMES STICKLAND (16) , to forging and uttering a cheque for £21, with intent to defraud; also to stealing while servant to Henry Letts, three £10 notes, his property. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Judgment respited in order to see if he could be sent out of the country. —
BUGDEN PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. LATHAM Prosecuted.
ALFRED JAMES BROWS . I am a clerk to the Gandy Belt Manufacturing Company, of 97, Queen Victoria Street—on January 1st Brotherton came to me with an order from D. B. Hook, of Upper Thames Street, for 60 feet of 2—Inch belting, 60 feet of 2 1/2—Inch, and 60 feet of 3—Inch—I supplied him with the 2—Inch and 3—Inch; we had not the 2 1/2—Inch in stock—D. B. Hook are customers of ours—he signed the order as having received the goods in the name of W. Kempson—I am sure he is the man—I sent him round to our works at 219, Upper Thames Street, for the rest of the goods—I next saw him about a fortnight afterwards at Bridewell Police Station—when he called upon me he was with me for about five minutes—I looked at our books and saw that we had supplied D. B. Hook before—I believed this to be a genuine order.
By the COURT. I picked Brotherton out from nine or ten others at the station.
WILLIAM EDWARD SPRINGHAM . I am a warehouseman to the Gandy Belt Manufacturing Company—I am at their warehouse at 219, Upper Thames Street—on January 1st Brotherton came with an order slip, which we call a "tab," from our office—I tried afterwards to pick him out, but failed—I have a slight recognition of him now—I gave him 60 feet of 2—Inch and 60 feet of 3—Inch belting—I did not take any receipt, as I kept this slip, which was my warrant for the delivery.
HENRY PRINCE . I am a salesman to Ridley, Whitley & Co., linoleum and leather cloth manufacturers, of 46, Newgate Street—on January 7th Brotherton came with this order, marked E—he signed it in the name of Jackson and took away three rolls of American cloth—the order purports to come from D. B. Hook, 177, Upper Thames Street—we have a customer D. B. Hook, of 155, Upper Thames Street—on January 8th he brought this order, marked G, for three pieces of American cloth, which I let him have—the order purported to come from the same people—on January 11th he came again with an order purporting to come from Mr. Hook, in consequence of which I let him have six pieces of American cloth—he signed for each of the goods—for two lots he signed "J. Jackson and once "G. Jackson"—when I let him have the goods I believed we were executing orders for D. B. Hook—I have no doubt that Brotherton is the man to whom I supplied the goods.
THOMAS FREDERICK EDWARDS . I am manager and secretary to C. J. Edwards & Son, leather driving belt manufacturers, of 32 and 34, Great Sutton Street, Clerkenwell—on January 12th Brotherton brought this order to the warehouse, purporting to come from D. B. Hook, 177, Upper Thames Street—I had some conversation with him, and in conesquence of that I gave him into custody—before doing so I communicated with the Gandy Belt Company—the prisoner said he was sent by somebody else.
CHARLES MATTHIAS FIELD . I am manager to D. B. Hook, 155, Upper Thames Street—we are India-rubber and leather cloth manufacturers—our firm has existed in Mr. Hook's name for twenty-six years, and we have been at 155 for over fifteen years—I know Upper Thames Street well—there is no other firm of our name there—No. 177 is in the occupation of a coffee house keeper, a baker, and a blacksmith—nobody there sells waterproof coats or belting, or anything of that kind—we sell all those things—this billhead is nothing like ours—none of these orders were given by my firm—we sometimes buy an article from Ridley, Whitley, but the purchases would not come to 5s. in fifteen years—I do not know Brotherton.
GEORGE NEW (234 G.) On January 12th, about 11 a.m., I was called to Messrs. Edwards & Son, Great Sutton Street, Clerkenwell—in consequence of what Mr. Edwards said to me in Brotherton's presence, I told him I should take him to the station—he said, "You will have to get the other man"—I took him to Cloak Lane Police Station and then to Bridewell.
By the COURT. Since then we have arrested the other man.
JOHN OTTAWAY (Detective Inspector, City). On January 12th I saw Brotherton at Bridewell Station—after he had been identified by Brown I told him I was a police officer, and that he would be charged with obtaining a quantity of goods from the Gandy Belt Company on January 1st by means of the order which I produced—he said, "I know nothing about it; the order was given to me this morning by a man I have been living with in Barnsbury Street"—he was then charged—I found a slip of paper on him with "D. B. Hook, Upper Thames Street," written on it—in this pocket book I find "Ridley, Whitley, Newgate Street, and Cheapside, £4 12s.," and in another part of the book there is "G. Jackson, to-morrow"—in consequence of what he said I went to a lodging house in Barnsbury Street, where about a fortnight afterwards I found Bugden, who said that Brotherton was innocent—I showed Brotherton the receipts—he denied taking the order signed "Kempson;" the others he admitted taking.
Brotherton's defence: When I was living in Barnsbury Street the other prisoner asked me to take a letter for him. I said. "All right." He told me to wait for it. I took it and waited for the answer;. I did not know what it was. I am innocent.
GUILTY . One previous conviction was proved against Brotherton for on indecent assault, and two against Bugden. BROTHERTON— Six months' hard labour. BUGDEX— Twelve months' hard labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, February 8th, 1904.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
192. THOMAS SMITH (26) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously uttering counterfeit coin; the said THOMAS SMITH and ARTHUR POWIS (25) to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin, Smith**† having been convicted at this Court in January, 1900, of feloniously uttering. SMITH— Three years' penal servitude. POWIS*— Twelve months' hard labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ARTHUR TRITTON (Detective Sergeant.) I am stationed at Wood Green—on January 7th I was with Detective Alright in St. Michael's Terrace, Wood Green—I saw the prisoner examining something bright wrapped in paper, under a street lamp—I kept him under observation—he walked by St. Michael's Terrace, and along by the Railway Tavern, where Alright arrested him—on the way to Wood Green Police Station he struck me in my mouth and became violent—he was charged at the station—he gave his address as 2, Broadway, Wood Green—I searched the house.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You threw your arm round and struck me in my mouth, and Alright drew his truncheon.
FRANCIS ALRIGHT (Detective Y.) I am stationed at Southgate—on January 7th I was with Tritton in St. Michael's Terrace—from what we saw we followed the prisoner and told him we were police officers and should take him into custody on suspicion of possessing and uttering counterfeit coin—on taking him to the station he became very violent and struck Sergeant Tritton on his face—I told him if he did not desist I should use my truncheon on him—on searching him at the station in his hip pocket I found these eleven counterfeit florins wrapped in a piece of paper, so as to prevent their rubbing—I said to him, "I believe these coins to be counterfeit"—he said, "Yes, they are; I could take you to the man I got them from"—I found 6d. and 1d. good money loose in his trousers pocket—I marked the coins in his presence—I afterwards went with Tritton to his house.
Cross-examined. I said if you liked to give me information you could do so—you said you would think it over—you made a statement to Inspector Morley.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am an Inspector of coin to H. M. Mint—these eleven coins are counterfeit and of the same mould—they are wrapped up in the usual way with counterfeit coiners, in a long strip of paper, so that each coin is separated, so as to preserve them from rubbing.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "No, I have not anything
to say, but that I did not know they were counterfeit coins that I was carrying at the time that I was carrying at the time I was apprehended."
Prisoner's defence: I did not know they were counterfeit at the time. I do not wish you to believe that I did not know that I was carrying something of a very shaky nature, but I did not know I was carrying counterfeit coins. I got them from a man who promised me some jewellery. I had not had them in my possession a few minutes, and had no opportunity of looking in the parcel until I got to the lamp post.
GUILTY . The police stated that the prisoner had given serviceable information. Six months' hard labour.
TURNER PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
JOHANNA FRANCISCOE JASPER . I am the wife of William Jasper, of 41, Greyhound Road, Tottenham—on December 1st I let two rooms on the first floor to Mr. Cooper, who is the prisoner Turner—he moved in on December 3rd with the prisoner Lizzie Gray as his wife, but I did not see him till December 14th, though he came on the Saturday—he told me Turner was Lizzie Gray's brother—Mrs. Cooper paid the rent, 4s. 6d. a week.
JAMES MORLEY (Detective Inspector.) I am stationed at Kentish Town—in consequence of information received I went with Detective Sergeant Liddle and Detective Tritton to 41, Greyhound Road, Tottenham on Saturday, January 16th, about 11 a.m.—the landlady, the last witness, admitted us—Lizzie Gray was at the foot of the stairs—I asked for her name—I think she said "Cooper"—I said, "What is your husband?"—she said, "A general dealer"—I said, "Is he in?"—she said, "No, he is out"—I said, "We are police officers; I am looking for a man whose wife has got a red face; you have got one, and I want to go up stairs"—we went to the first floor back, where I saw Turner and William Gray—I knew Turner was the man I was searching for, and I said to him, "Are you in the habit of visiting the Greyhound and the Black Boy public house?"—I said that they must consider themselves in custody—I said to Turner, "Turn out your pockets"—he took out of his pocket two florins, 6d. and 1/2 d., good money—I then said to William Gray, "Turn out your pockets"—from his right trousers pocket he turned out a paper bag containing thirty-seven counterfeit shillings and threw them on the table—Turner said, "He is innocent; I gave them to him as I heard you coming up the stairs, and she knows nothing about it"—I searched the room—in a goblet on the top of the shelf on the mantelpiece I found these counterfeit shillings loose—in various parts of the room I found this ladle, two files, three rolls of copper wire, a bottle containing acid, a bottle containing oil, a paper bag containing plaster of Paris, another bag, a saucer containing silver, a quantity of brass filings and fused metal taken from the ladle, and this lamp black and zinc—the furniture consisted of a table, two chairs, and an orange
box turned upside down—they were taken to Wood Green Station and formally charged with having these coins in their possession—I asked their names at the station—the woman pave "Lizzie Gray" and the young man "William Gray"—Turner said, "All I have to say the lady knows nothing about it."
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: Lizzie Gray: "I do not want to say anything." William Gray says: "I had never seen anything like that before. I have seen brooches and chains done, and did not know the other things were in the place till Saturday morning."
Lizzie Gray's defence: Turner asked me to look after his place, and I went to live with him, but knew nothing about the coins; he told me he was a general dealer.
GUILTY. Lizzie and William Gray recommended to mercy by the Jury, believing them to be the dupes of Turner.
TURNER**†, against whom several convictions were proved— Five years' penal servitude.
WILLIAM GRAY— Four months' hard labour.
LIZZIE GRAY— To enter into recognisances.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted; MR. ROOTH Defended.
SARAH WATTS . I am a barmaid at the Liverpool Street Railway Station refreshment room—on January 8th, about 8.30 p.m., I served the prisoner with a small lemonade, price 2d.—she tendered this florin, which I bent, as I noticed it was smooth and shiny—I returned it to her—I said, "This is a bad one; I want another"—she gave me this second florin—I called in Young, the waiter, and said, "This is the second coin I have had; what shall I do about it?"—he said to the prisoner, "You will have to come and see the manageress"—I stopped in the bar.
Cross-examined. The prisoner did not appear to have had too much to drink—we were very busy in the bar—both coins are of the same year, 1901.
HENRY YOUNG . I am a waiter at the Liverpool Street Railway Station—on January 8th Miss Watts called me and said, "She has come here with two bad 2s. pieces"—I took her with me and gave her in charge of Inspector Rayment—she dropped one of these coins outside the refreshment room door—I picked it up—both are bent—I received the other coin from Watts and handed it to Inspector Gosse.
Cross-examined. She dropped the coin from some part of her dress—I was taking her by her left elbow.
I was on duty at Liverpool Street Railway Station on January 8th—I was sent for to the tea room, where I saw Young, Watts, and the prisoner—Watts said that the prisoner had presented two counterfeit coins—on handling this coin I found it was bad—Young said she had dropped one coin—both were produced in the tea room—I said to the prisoner, "I am a police officer; you have heard what the waiter and barmaid have said; what have you to say?"—she said, "I did not know that I had this money, but I know where I pot it from with some other change"—I said. "Where did you receive the change? If you like I will go with you to the place"—she replied, "Oh, I do not know where the place is"—I said, "Well, what are you doing at the station?"—she replied, "Oh, what a fuss about nothing!"—I told her she would have to accompany me to the police office—these coins were handed to me, and I took her there—in Gosse's presence, in the railway police office, she said she tendered a half crown.
Cross-examined. The prisoner did not appear to be confused—my impression at first was that she had been drinking—she smelt slightly—she had no half crown—I did not tell her she would be searched.
WILLIAM GOSSE (Police Inspector, Liverpool Street Railway Station.) The prisoner was brought before me on January 8th—she was sober—these two florins were handed to me—I handed the prisoner over to the City Police—I asked her where she-got them from—she made no reply—I also asked her what she was doing in the station—she said she was waiting for a friend from Leyton—I asked her where her friend lived at Leyton—she said she did not know.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate the same as I have said here—I do not know why it was not all taken down—the clerk said I should not be required—the prisoner might have been drinking, but she had no appearance of it—she appeared as she is now, only she had her hat on.
JOHN COLMAN (994, City.) I was called to the Liverpool Street Railway Police Office, which is near the Bishopsgate Street Police Station—in the street the officials handed the prisoner over to me saying, "This woman has been trying to pass counterfeit coin"—I said, "I will go inside with you"—she was taken into the station and charged with uttering coin, knowing it to be bad—she said. "I had no other money but half a crown"—I received these coins from Gosse—the prisoner was handed over to the female searcher.
Cross-examined. She did not appear to have been drinking.
ADA SAWYER . I am female searcher at the Minories Police Station—I found on the prisoner 13s. in a pocket tied round her waist with two pieces of tape and fastened under her skirt—there were nine shillings, four sixpences, a threepenny bit. and 1s. 9d. in coppers—I found some sticky stuff and an empty purse in her ordinary skirt pocket.
Cross-examined. I have found pockets in the hem of the skirt, but rarely—I call the stuff I found not soap, but a greasy substance—I cannot say from memory how the skirt divided.
Re-examined. She has the same things on now.
HENRY BOARD (City Police.) The prisoner gave her address as 311. Albany Road, Camberwell—from inquiries I find that she took a room there on April 16th, that she never occupied it more than one night, but she has paid the rent.
Cross-examined. She described herself as a nurse.
Re-examined. She was asked where she was engaged, but what she answered I cannot say.
Cross-examined. They are of the same year—it does not always follow that a coin of the same year is of the same mint.
The prisoner, in her defence on oath, said that she had been drinking, and the money found on her was the change of a sovereign which she had obtained from a public house she had called at; and that she went to the Liverpool Street Railway Station to meet a friend from Leyton who allowed her £1 a week since he had brought her from America. She received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, February 9th, 1904.
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
MR. MATHEWS, MR. A. GILL, and MR. SYMMONS Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON and MR. CURTIS BENNETT Defended.
MAUD TOMLINSON . I am single, and live at 46, Gibraltar Walk, with my mother, on the first floor—the prisoner and his wife and two little boys lived in the two front rooms on the same floor—they had been there for five weeks—they paid 4s. 6d. a week—they were 11s. in arrear—the prisoner had been out of work for a fortnight—on January 20th I was at home in the evening—about 7 p.m. I heard two knocks at the door—I heard the prisoner's door open, and I heard the eldest boy say, "Daddy I will open the door"—the prisoner said, "No, Jimmy, you go inside; I will go"—he went down to open the door—I heard someone go back into the room with him—I heard no more until the police came.
Cross-examined. I have only known them for five weeks—during that time the prisoner has been very sober, and, as far as I know, a kind and affectionate father—I only saw him with the deceased once, and he then spoke to him very kind.
WALTER YOUNG . I am a metal polisher, of 28. Baldwin Street, St. Luke's—I have known the prisoner for five or six years—I know his brother William tolerably well—on January 20th, about 7.50 p.m., I was in the Red Lion: the prisoner came and looked in at the door—he went away—I went to the door and seeing him going away, called after him. "Jim"—he came back and said. "You have the advantage of me"—I said. "All right. Jim; I know Bill"—I asked him if he was
looking for his brother—he said, "If you see my brother, tell him I have done a thing to-night which perhaps you might read in the papers to-morrow; good night"—he went away: he looked strange—he was white, and his lips were trembling or quivering—he seemed in a bit of a flurry.
CORNELIUS GARNER (Police Inspector.) On January 20th, at 8.30 p.m., I was at Hoxton Police Station—the prisoner came in and said, "I have some very sad news to tell you. I have murdered my two children at 49, Gibraltar Walk. I am sorry, but I have not got any work; I hope they are dead. I have strangled them and stabbed them in the neck with a knife. You will find what I say is true; here is the key of the door; my wife is out"—he handed the key to Sergeant Hodson, whom I sent to id, Gibraltar Walk—I followed him, and saw in the first floor front room the bodies of two boys, aged about four and six—they were lying in a bath on some clothes—both were fully dressed; their necks and faces were covered with blood—there was also a pool of blood near the fireplace—the bodies were warm—Dr. Griffiths arrived—I found this piece of iron (Produced), in the fireplace; I found no blood upon it—the prisoner was very cool and quiet—the room was very clean, nothing was disturbed—the children were very clean and well clad—I found a piece of bread in the cupboard.
Cross-examined. As far as I could see, the children were well nourished.
RANDALL HODSON (Police Sergeant.) I was present when the prisoner came to Hoxton Police Station on January 20th—I went to 49. Gibraltar Walk, with the key which the prisoner produced—I entered the first floor front room—I saw a large pool of blood about a yard from the door—Garner joined me—adjoining the pool of blood was a pail three parts full of blood and water—at the end of the room, between the bedstead and the table, was a zinc bath containing the bodies of two children—their heads were lying at the bottom of the bath, and their legs were hanging over the side—I lifted them into the bath and put them into a sitting position, and found there was a cord tightly tied round each neck—there was a stab in both of their necks, and this knife (Produced) was lying by the side of the bath—this is the cord (Produced).
FREDERICK WENSLEY (Detective Sergeant H.) On January 21st, about 10 a.m., I conveyed the prisoner from Commercial Street Station to Worship Street Police Court in a cab—on the way he pointed to six men standing at the corner of Curtain Road, and said, "You see those six men standing over there; they are all our chaps waiting for a job. If you go a little higher up you will see another thirty. Women don't understand it. If you don't get work they say you don't try. I have got a good wife so far. She don't get drunk, but it is her jaw that has brought me to this."
THOMAS DIVALL (Detective Inspector.) On January 21st, shortly after 10 a.m., I was at Commercial Street Police Station—I saw the prisoner and said, "I will charge you with the wilful murder of your two children. George Henry Curry, aged four years, and Walter William Curry, aged six years, at' 49, Gibraltar Walk, on the 20th inst.—the
charge was read over, and he said, "It is quite right, Sir; it is right. It is a bad thing to say, but I am glad they are dead. I started it, and I am glad that it is finished, and perhaps my wife will be sorry at the finish."
WILLIAM CURRY . I live at (3, Castin Place, St. Luke's—the prisoner is my brother—he is forty-three years old—he was a French polisher—he last had regular employment about nine months ago; since then he has had casual work—he applied at Atkins's, where I worked, but could not get any work—he has been married for about seven years—he had only these two children—he was very devoted to them—I used to visit him from time to time—he had rheumatic fever about twelve years ago, and epileptic fits—I have seen him in about six fits—he would struggle, his tongue would get twice its usual size and go black—he would not be able to speak plainly for perhaps a couple of days—I have not seen him in a fit for eighteen years—in August last he went to Shoreditch Infirmary, because he took oxalic acid in a public bar—I visited him at the infirmary; I believe he had three or four fits while he was there—I was told they were epileptic fits—he was in the infirmary for about three weeks when he took his discharge—in January he was without money—he did not ask me to lend him money, but I gave him some, as I could see how he was situated—on January 12th, as I was going back to work after dinner, I saw him—he crossed over the road and said, "Bill, have you got 2s.?"—I said. "What do you want it for?"—he said, "I am going away on the road in the provinces to find employment. If I stop here she will drive me mad"—he was speaking of his wife—"I went out last night; I got her 1s.; she said, Who gave you this? That old cow, the widow downstairs, have you been with her?"—I said, "Here, Jim, here is 1s.; that is all I have got; go and get something to eat"—he said, "No, I won't take the 1s.; I will come back to-night, what time do you leave off work?"—I said, "7.30"—I saw him in the evening—I said, "Boy, come up the road; here is the 2s."—he said, "No, I have had a bit of luck; I won't have the 2s. now: I have been to Mr. Mason down the road, and he has told me he will give me a start in the morning"—I said, When you get your money will you go away?"—he said, "Yes"—I said. "For God's sake go"—he said. "Here is my address"—I said, "I will assist you if I can by sending you more money"—when he went in the morning Mr. Mason was disappointed with his work, so could not start the prisoner—I have not seen him since—he and his wife lived on bad terms through her—wherever they lived, she accused him of having something to do with the females in the house—she has caused one man and wife to be parted—the prisoner's wife has not said anything to him in my presence about work, but I have heard her abuse him—he belonged to the French Polishers' Trades Union—when he came to me on January 12th I said, "Can't you sign on for out of work pay?'—he said, "No, my name is erased"—his name had been struck off because he could not pay his contributions—he looked agitated and white.
Cross-examined. His wife followed him about from shop to shop—that was not when he was trying to get work—she also did so before they were
married—they had to leave house after house because of her accusations—her following him about seemed to prey on his mind—I thought he was not quite right in his mind when he came from the infirmary—that is why I pressed him to go away; I thought the change would do him good—he was very fond of his children—he appeared to be proud of them, and of my children, and he was very kind to strange children in the street—while he was working he fed and clothed his children as well as he could—I said I would look after his children if he would go into the provinces.
EVERETT NORTOX . I am the medical superintendent at the Shoreditch Infirmary—the prisoner came under my charge on August 12th, suffering from oxalic acid poisoning—he remained under my charge until August 24th—at first he suffered from the effects of the poison, then he complained of headache—on the morning of the 17th he had two epileptic seizures; one of them was severe—he showed no signs of insanity—he left on his own accord on the 24th—he bit his tongue in the second seizure—that is a very common thing in epilepsy.
Cross-examined. After he had the fits he was put under special observation—I had every opportunity of seeing his disposition and the state of his mind—I should not be surprised at a man who is constantly worried having his mind affected—an epileptic would be more likely to be affected by worry than a man in an ordinary condition—privation through want of work and means would be likely to affect him.
By the COURT. It would affect an epileptic subject more than other people—I do not think I should be right in saying that it would produce epilepsy—they would not conduce to it unless combined with alcoholism.
JAMES SCOTT . I am medical officer at Brixton Prison, where the prisoner was received on January 21st, and where I have kept him under observation since—I have informed myself of his personal history—I have had almost daily conversations with him while under my observation—I consider he has been insane and suffering from melancholia—in my opinion he was insane on January 20th, and not in a condition to know the nature and quality of his acts—the epilepsy which he has suffered from is a strong factor in the formation of my opinion.
By the COURT. Everybody who has epilepsy is not insane, but it generally affects their minds—I base the melancholia upon his demeanour, and his unnatural calmness twenty-four hours after the committal of the crime—I think the excessive ferocity shown had some bearing upon it.
Cross-examined. Being extremely calm and cool immediately after the act is a peculiar trait in a man in such circumstances—from the conversations I had with him he appeared to be fond of his children.
HEWITT OLIVER . I am divisional surgeon of police, of 2, Kingsland Road—I was called to this house in Gibraltar Walk about 10 o'clock on January 20th—I found these two children lying on the bed—they were naked and quite dead—I found marks as of a cord round the necks and some punctured wounds in the necks—I formed the opinion that they had been dead about two hours—on the 22nd I made a post-mortem examination—in both instances the tied cords had produced strangulation
that was alone enough to kill them—in each case the larger vessels in the necks had been severed, probably by this knife—it had blood upon it—there were sufficient injuries in each case to cause death—I found injuries on both heads, consistent with their being inflicted with this iron bar—they were not by themselves sufficient to be mortal—I think the strangling was first, but the wounds were caused before the children were quite dead.
GUILTY, but insane at the time, so as not talk' responsible jar his actions. To be' detained during His Majesty's pleasure.
MR. MATHEWS, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MATHEWS and MR. SYMMOXS Prosecuted.
GEORGE JACORSON . I live at 44, Digby Road, Homorton, and am a messenger—about 10 p.m. on January 7th I was in Honton Street, saying good night to a friend, when a bundle came down in front of me—to my surprise, I saw it was a baby—I picked it up and took it to Dr. Simpson, and gave information to the police—when the baby fell I was standing on the footpath, about 1s. in. from the railings—there is an area there—the child had cleared that and fell on my left, just in front, between me and the kerb—I did not hear anybody up stairs shouting.
PHILIP BENJAMIN STRONG . I live at 208, Hoxton Street—I go to school—I am eight years old—the prisoner is my mother—I live with her and my father—there was a baby eighteen months old—I remember one evening being sent out for some fish—I do not remember the time—when I came back with it mother and father were not happy at all; they were sitting quiet then—they were not quarrelling—they quarrelled before I went out for the fish—I had some of the fish, but father told me to throw it into the fire, because he was drunk—when I came in with the fish father said the baby was not his, but belonged to the Washington—he said that to mother—he said I was not to give the baby any fish—this happened in the room we live in—there are two windows—mother was sitting by the fire, not near a window—both of them were closed—after father said that I was not to give the baby any fish, mother opened the window, and then got hold of the baby and held it out, and then the baby was gone—I do not know if it was thrown out or not—it must have struggled—when mother opened the window the baby was playing on the floor—after the baby had dropped mother said, "I threw it out"—I said before the Magistrate that she said, "Now I have thrown her out," and that is right—after she said that she ran down stairs—I looked out of the window and saw the baby being carried away by two men—my father ran downstairs also—he did not take any notice of mother—he went after the baby—I shut the window and covered up my fish and potatoes, and ran down stairs—a policeman and a gentleman
went up to our room—I went after them—when I got up to the room mother was there—I told the policeman and the gentleman the same as I have told you—mother heard mo say that; then she went away with the policeman—she has always been very kind to mo and the baby—she was a sober woman—some time before this my father got some groceries and (Id. for nothing, by a ticket—he would not give mother the groceries unless she paid him for them—he spent the money in beer—mother wears glasses: she is short-sighted—father is often drunk, and then we were short of food—I am not living with him now—I am living with Mrs. Turner, at 13, Elmsfield Road, Finchley.
By the COURT. I am sure that the window was closed, and that mother opened it.
RACHEL ABERDEE . I am single, and live at 228, Hoxton Road, in a room next to the Strongs, on the second floor, which is the top one—on the evening of January 7th the prisoner was in my room, and about 8.30 p.m. I heard Mr. Strong come in—when they were in their room, I could hear them rowing—I did not take any notice of what they were saying—the prisoner came back into my room—I noticed the baby in the passage, and I took it into my room and gave it something to eat—the prisoner then took it back to her room—I then heard Philip Strong call out, "I will call my sister"—after that the prisoner again came to my room, and said, "I have done it"—I said, "What have you done?"—she said, "I have thrown Cissie out of the window, all through him"—I have known her for some time, and she is a very temperate, quiet, hard-working woman—she never know what it was to get drunk—I have often seen her with the baby—about 8 o'clock she was saying how she loved the child—it is within my knowledge that she and the children have been kept very short of food—the husband is a lamplighter—I have seen him drunk when I know the prisoner and the children were short of food—I have heard him say that the children did not belong to him, and he has mentioned the names of those they did belong to—they have had six, but only two are alive.
By the COURT. As far as I have seen, the prisoner is a decent, modest woman, and well conducted—I have known her for six months.
GEORGE SARGEANT (222 G.) I was on duty on the night of January 7th in Hoxton Street—I went to Dr. Simpson's surgery at 176, Hoxton Street, where I found the child, who I afterwards ascertained was named Sarah Strong, aged about eighteen months, being attended by the doctor—I then went to 208, Hoxton Street, and saw the prisoner—I made this note at that time—I asked her how she could account for the child having fallen out of the window—she said, "I do not know; ask its father"—Philip was in the room and said, "Mother and father had been quarrelling about some fish. Mother threw the baby out of the window"—I told the prisoner I should take her to the station—she said, "It is all right; I do not care; I shall be better off away from him"—I took her to the station.
JAMES PEPPER (Inspector G.) On January 7th. about 11 p.m., I went to Dr. Simpson's surgery at 176. Hoxton Road, where I saw the dead body of this child—I had it taken away, and then went to the station and
found the prisoner detained—I told her the child was dead, which she did not then know; then I told her she would be charged with its murder, and cautioned her about saying anything—she made no reply—I went to her house—the height of the window from the pavement is, roughly, about 30 ft.—both windows look into the street—there is an area under the window which comes out about 3 ft. from the front of the house—there are railings round the area—from the railings to the kerb is about 5 ft.—the window was pointed out to me—there was no catch on it—it only wanted throwing up to open it.
By the COURT. Only one window was pointed out to me—the prisoner was quite a stranger.
CHARLES SIMPSON , M.R.C.S. I practise at 176, Hoxton Street—on January 7th, about 10 p.m., a little girl was brought to me—she was alive—I examined her and found a bruise on the outside of the left orbit, some bruises on the left of the nose, and some small scratches on the knee—they were all consistent with the child having fallen from a height to the pavement—she collapsed and died shortly afterwards—two days after I made a post mortem examination—the cause of death was bleeding from a rupture in the liver, which was consistent with a fall—she was clean and very well nourished, well developed, and every appearance of having been very well looked after.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "My husband aggravated me so by saying the child was not his, and it belonged to the Washington public house, and the children were never his. I merely intended to frighten him by saying this. I opened the window, and the child, being a strong child, struggled and slipped. My husband has never been kind to me since we were married ten years ago."
Prisoner's defence: I got up and leant forward in this way, and the child slipped, leaning out forwards; that is how the child got out of my hand; my feet were right off the ground. I lifted it out in this way.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the great provocation of her husband. She received an excellent character from the police. Discharged on her own recognisances.
MR. GEANTHAM Prosecuted, and MR. MORRIS Defended.
EDITH WILLIAMS . I am the prisoner's wife—we have been married for sixteen years—we have lived happily on the whole, but we have had trouble now and again—in September we went to live at Mr. Horsley's house—he had lost his wife shortly before that—we went there with the idea of helping him and my looking after the children—in January, I think, Horsley said to my husband, "It is nearly time you got something to do"—I do not remember what reply my husband made—he has been out of work a lot at different times—he said he had to see a gentleman on the Monday about starting work—after the conversation we all three
went out to do some shopping together—we generally had our meals together—on the Sunday my husband and myself were together as usual—there was no unpleasantness between Horsley and my husband on that day—on Monday, January 4th, about 7.30 a.m., my husband got up and went to the kitchen—I think he was gone for about three minutes—he returned and got into bed for about ten minutes—I do not know why he went to the kitchen—Horsley had knocked at our door and asked for the door key, and my husband got up and gave it to him—that was not the time that he went to the kitchen—after he had been there he lay in bed for about ten minutes, and then turned round to me and asked me to give him a kiss—I said, "I am not going to; I am going to get up"—it was an unusual remark for him to make—he said, "Then it is you and me"—I did not know what he meant—he often used to say it—as I was rising in bed he pushed me back, and I felt myself cut twice;—I struggled, and I was cut again on the throat—I got hold of what I thought was a knife with my hand to save my throat—I had twelve cuts on my left hand and one on my right—I was cut with a razor—I did not then know whose it was—I screamed, but no one came to my assistance—I got away at last and went and locked myself in the front room, which is Horsley's sitting room—he was away at work then—I went into Horsley's little daughter's room and told her to call the next door neighbour—later on the police came and Dr. Cook, who attended to my wounds—I was taken to the Willesden Cottage Infirmary, where I remained eight days—we had had no quarrel on the Monday morning—these signatures on these letters (Produced), found on my husband, are in his writing—I did not say to him that he would not have many hours under the roof, or anything like it—Horsley was not specially fond of me or I of him—he did not try to usurp my husband's place—my husband never seemed jealous, and I had never given him cause to be so.
Cross-examined. During part of our married life my husband has been away in China, in the Navy—he returned in 1901—he was invalided home, and was in hospital on his return—he was working in the electric light works at Willesden Green up to Christmas Eve—I went to Horsley's with my husband to keep house—we were to live there rent free for my looking after the children—there were two girls and a boy—one girl is four, one about 11, and the boy about 16—my husband had been out of work from Christmas Eve until January 4th—I know Arthur Hanwell—I do not remember going out in Kilburn with him and Horsley on New Year's Eve—I was not in their company from 4 p.m. to 9 p.m. drinking in the Crown—my husband did not come for me there—Horsley, Hanwell and I did not go home drunk on that night—Horsley did not come home drunk about 5 p.m. on Saturday afternoon; he was not drunk on that night—he told my husband it was nearly time he got something to do, and my husband said he had got to see a man on Monday morning—he did not say to Horsley, "You know as much about my wife as I do"—I am not given to habits of intemperance;—on the Monday morning, about 7.30 or 8, Horsley knocked at our bedroom door and asked for the street door key—my husband had it in his pocket—after giving Horsley the
key he returned to bed—I did not say to him that he had not many hours under the roof—when he came back from the kitchen he stayed in bed for ten minutes before he asked me to kiss him—he did not find me once in the kitchen with Horsley's legs across my knees—I do not remember my husband going out on New Year's night to fetch beers at Horsley's request—when he was out I did not go to my bedroom, and he did not find me almost without any clothes in bed, with Horsley lying by my side—I was not drunk on that night—when Horsley came home on the Friday night, at five o'clock, he did not ask my husband to murder him, or say he knew as much about me as he did—he did not open his waistcoat—I did not hear him tell my husband that he would have to clear out on Monday, or that he, Horsley, would put my husband out, and that he, Horsley, was going to look after me and keep me—I have never been in the habit of frequenting public houses with Horsley or other men—I have no children.
CECIL COOK . I am divisional surgeon of police—I was called to see the prisoner and Mrs. Williams—she was sitting up in bed in a room by herself—she had two small, slight skin cuts in her neck, and one in the upper part of her breast, several cuts on her left hand, and one on her right—I suggested that she should go to the infirmary, as she did not appear to be sufficiently injured to go to the local hospital—I think I saw her again last Thursday week at Harlesden Police Court—her wounds were all healed up, but I found she could not close the two middle fingers of her left hand—there was evidently some injury to the nerves or tendons—she complained of being upset and feeling weak from the shock—she said that she had loss of memory—I attribute that to the affair on January 4th—the wounds were quite consistent with being caused by this razor—the prisoner had tried to cut his throat—he was in his bed and was very seriously wounded—he had a deep wound across his neck—I put on a temporary dressing and sent him to the hospital—he was under my care there until he was discharged.
Cross-examined. His injuries were very serious indeed—his wife's wounds were quite trivial except for the one which appears to be left on her hand—I do not think she lost very much blood.
By the COURT. I have not examined her since last Thursday week; I will do so now.
FREDERICK HORSLEY . I am a plasterer, of 109, Deacon Road, Willesden Green—the prisoner and his wife have been residing with me since the latter end of September—they came to look after the children—my wife died in August—I have known the prisoner and his wife for five or six years—the arrangement between the prisoner and I was that his wife should come, and I was to be her brother—I said we could not take one flat, being two families—he said, "Let her be your sister, and the children call me 'uncle' and her 'aunt"—under that arrangement we took the flat, and no one knew that we were not sister and brother until the morning of the occurrence—I paid the rent, and that was to be the allowance for Mrs. Williams to keep my children going—on the Monday morning I got
up at 6.15 to go to work—I went up to the prisoner's room to ask for the key—it was usual for Mrs. Williams to keep the key, as there was only one—the prisoner gave it to me, and I went out—I returned at 9 a.m.—I met my daughter at the door, which was open, to my surprise—I see two spots of blood in the passage—she said, "Uncle has cut auntie's throat"—I said, "Where are they?"—she said, "In my room"—I went and see her with her throat cut, and then ran for the police—there were four rooms in the flat; we had a bedroom, and they had one—I did not see the prisoner that morning—on the Saturday before, I went home about 3.30—I sat down; I give Mrs. Williams what money I had got, that being the usual way—I asked the prisoner to go and get a bottle of ale, which is our habitual thing to have on Saturday afternoons—he would not go—I went out and brought some home—he has been and got it on previous Saturdays—we sat there a few minutes, and then I said, "Are you going to work next week, Jim?"—he said, "I have got to see the man at 9 o'clock on Monday morning"—I said, "It is nearly time you did, too"—one word brought on another—I cannot remember what they were, but at last he said, "You should know as much about my wife as I do"—I said, "That being the case, and if you think that, you had better pack up and go, and take your wife with you"—he had never made such expressions to me about his wife before—when I said he had better go he said, "I will go"—that was the last word he said on the subject—I went out with them on Saturday evening—on Sunday we were all comfortable, and were talking about the Japanese War—I never heard him talk so much as he did on the Sunday—when he said I should know as much about his wife as he did, his wife was there, and I think she heard it—I did not hear her say anything—on Sunday night we went to bed, in the ordinary course, about 11 o'clock—I heard no wrangling between husband and wife that night or on Monday morning—if there had been any I should have heard it—you can hear the people talking next door—this razor (Produced) is mine; I kept it on the top shelf of the dresser in the kitchen—I used it twice a week, and always put it back again—there is no truth in the suggestion that I have made any overtures to or behaved improperly with his wife—I see no cause for what he has done—I have done the best I could for him, and have kept him when he was out of work.
Cross-examined. I took his wife to Kilburn—we did not go home intoxicated—he did not complain to me—I did not strike him and give him a black eye—on New Year's Eve I was with Hanwell, coming home from work, when we met Mrs. Williams—the prisoner found me with her in the Crown—it was not at 9.30 p.m., I think it was about 7 p.m.—I had got home about 4.50, and had my tea—I went out to get a drink—my little girl brought a bottle back to the public house, and said, "Auntie is outside"—I said, "Is your uncle there? Ask them in"—she said, "No, only auntie is there"—I do not remember being in the Crown on Thursday night, drinking with Hanwell and Mrs. Williams—I do not remember going home with her—I do not remember the prisoner going out to fetch some beer—when he came back he did not find me lying on the bed with Mrs.
Williams in her night clothes——I never had my logs over her knees, in the kitchen or anywhere else—I cannot remember if Hanwell was with me when I went home and gave Mrs. Williams my money on Saturday—I was not drunk then—I have only been the worse for drink once since I have been there, and that was on Boxing night, and Mrs. Williams and the prisoner wore with me—when I got home on the Saturday I asked the prisoner to go and fetch some beer, as was usual—he refused to go—I went out; I do not think Hanwoll was with me—when I came back I did not call Mrs. Williams "my darling" in the prisoner's presence—I did not say to him, "Jim, I will tell you the truth now at last, that I know as much about your wife as you do"—I did not open my waistcoat and ask him to murder me—he did not say he would not do such a thing—we all went shopping on Saturday afternoon at Church End. Willesden Green—nothing unusual happened on Sunday—the prisoner had only done five weeks' work while he was with me—I did not tell him on the Sunday that he would have to clear out on Monday, or I would put him out, or that I was going to look after his wife and keep her—on the Saturday I told him he had got to go and take his wife with him—I deny that I have misconducted myself with her—he has not complained to me—one day he came home, and she said she wanted to go and do some shopping—she said, "Jim, will you come?"—he said, "No, I am tired"—she said, "Do you mind Fred going?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Do you mind my going?"—he said, "No, I don't care if you go or not"—he had a black eye because he hit his head against the coal cellar door.
Re-examined. There was no reason why I should ask him to murder me.
MICHAEL EGAN (543 X.) On January 4th I was called to 109. Deacon Road, where the prisoner and his wife were—he had a bad gash across his throat—I found this razor on the left side of the bed on the floor—the prisoner said, "This is all through that man Horsley; he said he knew as much about my wife as I did"—he handed me some letters and a newspaper cutting (Produced) in a bundle—I went into another room and saw Mrs. Williams in bed, with a wound in her throat. (One letter dated December 11th, 1902, from the prisoner to his aunt, asked her to come and take away his father's photo and that of his ship, as he could not stand it any longer for another to come between him and his wife after sixteen years; that he sent his kindest lore to all and said that the pa per cutting showed who was the cause of his crime. Another letter to his brother, stated that if he heard anything about the prisoner he was not to upset himself, but take it in good part, as it was for the best in the end; that he sent his kindest lore to all, and that if his brother heard of any work the prisoner would be glad to know of it. And another letter to his brother, dated December 13th, 1908). said that if there was a with trouble between him and his wife he did not want to upset his brother about it: that if he heard anything about him (the prisoner) he was to come and claim his things, as he and his wife had made up their minds not to stand it very much longer, and that he did not intend to part with her alter sixteen years married life and for another to come between them.)
Hospital and saw the prisoner—I was in uniform—as soon as I entered the hospital he said, I am glad you have come; I wish to make a statement"—I said, "Why do you wish to make a statement? Is it in fear of death that you do so?"—he said. "Yes"—I supplied him with the paper and pencil which he asked for, and he wrote this statement in my presence (Read:) "January 4th. 1904. I, James Williams, wish to make a statement with regard to attempting to cut my wife's throat, also my own. The trouble was caused by one Fred Horsley, plasterer, of 109, Deacon Road. I was sitting in the kitchen when he came in the worse for drink; he wanted me to go and fetch beer for him. but I would not; he called my wife his darling; he said he knew as much about my wife as I did. He then asked me to murder him. I said I could not do such a thing. He said I should have to go on Monday, and he was going to look after my wife as his and keep her. I was worried out of my mind. If my wife cares to speak the truth she can substantiate this. * We had had rows before. He gave me a black eye about taking my wife to Kilburn and bringing her home intoxicated."
DR. COOK (Re-examined.) I have now examined the prosecutrix. I think her hand is improving: she can bend the ring finger better than she could when I saw her ten days ago—it is not right yet—I think it might be put right by a surgical operation, but I doubt if it will without that—the middle and ring fingers are affected; she cannot make a proper fist.
——POLLARD (Detective Inspector.) On January 28th I went to the Willesden Cottage Hospital and saw the prisoner—I told him I was a police officer, and should arrest him for attempting to cut his wife's throat on the morning of the 4th at 109. Deacon Road—he made no reply—on the way to the station he said it was all through Horsley, who had taunted him that he knew as much about his wife as he knew himself, and that they had lived very happily for sixteen years until this man came on the scene—when the charge was read over to him he made no reply.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that he teas invalided from the Nacy in 1901, having served in China: that in November, 1903, his wife and Horsley came home together drunk: that he complained to Horsley, who blacked his eye: that on New Year's Eve he found them in the Crown with Hanwell: that they afterwards came home drunk: that on the Saturday Horsley called his (the prisoners) wife his darling, and then told the prisoner that he knew as much about his wife as he (the prisoner) did, and that if he (the prisoner) was a man he would shoot him (Horsley): that on the Sunday Horsley told him he had better clear out. and that if he saw him in (he house on Monday evening there would be murder and that he was going to have his wife and look after her: that on Monday morning he got back to bed after giving Horsley the latchkey: that his wife said, "You have not got much longer to be under the, roof: that he asked her to give him a kiss, which she refused to do, and that he could not remember what happened afterwards: that he knew where Horsley's razor was: that he had been down stairs to get a drink for his wife, and brought the razor back with him: and that what he meant when he wrote to his wife was that he was going right away.
GUILTY on the second Count Four years penal servitude.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, February 9th, 1904.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. JENKINS Prosecuted.
CAROLINE MAUD HENSHAW . I am the wife of Arthur Henshaw, of 14, Gatefield Road, Sheffield—on November 28th I arrived at St. Pancras from Sheffield in the afternoon, having with me a dress basket and umbrella, which I left in the waiting room on a chair while I went to the ladies' retiring room—two women were in the waiting room—on my return I missed my basket and umbrella—the women were gone—in my basket I had clothing of my own and of my boy's, and a box of jewellery—I value my property at £30—the value of this ring is 7s. and this gold watch £4—the watch and necklace and other property produced were in the bag.
SARAH ANN TINGAY . I live at 15, Granston Avenue, London Fields—the prisoner has lodged with me ten weeks—I saw this necklace and pawn tickets the Monday after Christmas in her box—one is for a gold watch pawned with Barker.
Prisoners defence: I bought the things and the tickets of a friend, but did not know they were stolen, and would try to get them back if I had the tickets.
She then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell on November 4th, 1902. Twenty months' hard labour.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, February 9th, 1904.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
ALBERT COHEN . I am an ironmonger, of Cowcross Street, City—on January 22nd I was in my shop when the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of brads, and tendered in payment what appeared to be a half crown—I saw it was bad, and said, "Do you know this is a bad half
crown?"—he said, "No; are you sure?"—I said, "Quite sure; it is a very bad one"—he aid, "Give it me; here is a penny," tendering one—I said, "Ah, that does it; now I am sure that you knew it was a bad one, because you had a penny, although you gave me this bad half crown"—he made a grab at it, but I held it firm—he said, "You have got your penny; give me the b——money back"—at that moment I recognised him as a man who had previously given me a bad half crown—I think I said something to him about it, but am not sure—about November 5th a coin was tendered me for an article worth 4d., and I afterwards found it was bad—I carefully preserved it—I sent for a policeman, and the prisoner rushed into the street—I ran after him with the policeman—he was caught and brought back into the shop—I said to the constable in the prisoner's presence, "I am certain this is the man that gave me this bad half crown"(The first one), "and I charge him with it"—he said he would own that the last one was bad, and that he brought it to me, but denied all previous knowledge of it.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. On the first occasion I did not find out that it was bad for an hour afterwards—it is not the fact that when I discovered the bad half crown I also discovered other bad ones in the till.
HALLMAN GARDINER (194 G.) On January 22nd I was on duty in Cowcross Street—I heard a police whistle blown, and saw the prisoner running—I overtook him in Peter's Lane—the prosecutor came up and said, "This man has tendered me a bad half crown"—I took the prisoner back to the prosecutor's shop—I searched him there, and found three halfpence and a latchkey—he said, "This is not a police station," and abused the prosecutor—he was charged, and replied, "All right"—when formally charged he replied, "I admit to-day, bat not the one four months ago, not knowing it was bad."
Cross-examined. I did not hear the prosecutor say before the Magistrate that he had on the former occasion found two or three other bad half crowns in the till at the same time.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "It was the change from half a sovereign I get the night before."
The prisoner, in his defence, said that if he had been a professional bad money passer, an ironmonger's shop would have been the last place to get rid of it, and that when the prosecutor said he would call a policeman and lock him up, he got frightened and ran away.
GUILTY on the Second Count. Four months' hard labour.
MR. MACKAY Prosecuted, and MR. THOMPSON Defended.
EMILY PRIZEMAN . I carry on business with my mother us a laundress, and live in High Street, Poplar—the prisoner lives in the neighbourhood—in August last we had a young woman named Polly Vincent living with us—she was a laundress—on August 22nd the prisoner came to my mother's shop in the evening—my sister Jenny was there, and Polly Vincent—he began talking to Polly Vincent, who was his sweetheart—he used obscene language—he picked up a bunch of grapes—I said to him, "Put them down, Johnny"—he put them down, used obscene language again, and I told him to walk outside—he did not take much heed of that, but started talking again—I said to him, "I'm surprised at you, Johnmy, for saying what you have just said"—I did not think he was a chap of that kind—he used more obscene language to his young woman and me, so I said. "Outside, Johnny; don't you never talk to me again; I have got my character to study"—he said to hi' young woman, "I'll do for you"—I said, "No, you won't, Johnny: clear out of it"—he said, "I'll do for you, too"—I replied, "Oh. yes"—I did not think he meant any harm, I picked up a glossing iron—his young woman said, "I don't want no more to do with you"—I took no more notice then, but went on ironing—the prisoner picked up a flat iron, and, I suppose, threw it at me—it hit me on the side of my head—I recollect nothing else—I still feel the effect of the wound.
Cross-examined. I cannot do any work—the prisoner used to call at our house and stand at the door and chat to all of us—I had no quarrel with him—my sister never walked out with him—I never called him a "dirty Irish b——," or any words like it—he smacked Polly Vincent's face—I was not quarrelling with him as well as Polly Vincent, and did not lift up the iron for the purpose of attacking him—he did not come and hold my hand and struggle with me—I did not fall, and the iron did not fall out of my hand on to my head.
Re-examined. The prisoner threw the iron at me—it was not the iron I had in ray hand.
JENNY DENCH . I am the last witness's sister—I was at her house about 9 p.m. on August 22nd—the prisoner was there—he was using obscene language to Polly Vincent—he picked up a bunch of grapes, and my sister told him to put them down—he again used obscene language to Polly Vincent—she said to him. "Look here, Johnny, I don't want no more to do with you"—he used further obscene language, and then picked up an iron and aimed it, it seemed, at Polly Vincent, who was behind my sister—it hit my sister on the side of her head—she bled very much, and we took her to a doctor—the prisoner ran away.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner for a good many years, he living in the neighbourhood—we were always friendly—I never walked out with him—I have known Polly Vincent about nine months—the prisoner used to call round and see her by the door—I saw him aim the iron—I worked at this laundry as well as my sister—she is not able to work now—she did not use bad language towards him—he had been drinking.
By the COURT. My sister was about three feet from the prisoner.
FRANK CORNER . I am a medical practitioner, at 152, East India Dock Road—on August 22nd Emily Prizeman was brought to me between 9.30 and 10—she was suffering from a wound on the left side of her head, which exposed a compound depressed fracture of the skull—the bone was fractured and driven in—it was a very serious injury—she was trepanned the next day, and several fragments removed—I attended her every day all through September and part of October—if this iron were thrown with violence it would flatten the head; it is stamped "7 lbs."—if there were a struggle, and in the struggle she had been holding an iron similar to this, and the iron fell on her head, it would not do the injury she suffered from.
Cross-examined. There are three angles to this iron, and they are fairly sharp—her skull was fractured just as if you had taken a hammer and hit a piece of ice; it drove in part of it, and sent fractures in all directions, something like a star—if in a struggle an iron fell on the head edgewise, I think it might cause a similar injury, but not to the extent that was done—she has an average thickness of cranium.
Re-examined. The injuries I saw were consistent with force being used in the throwing, and with the weight of the iron falling.
By the COURT. The prosecutrix is a damaged woman—we had to remove part of the bone to save her life—I should call it a very dangerous wound—it is a wonder she was not killed—she is not able to work to any extent; she might do some light work.
RICHARD WEDDEON (Defective K.) I arrested the prisoner on the 8s. "Othenic" at the Royal Albert Docks on January 26th—I read the warrant to him—he replied, "Is the girl all right? I must have been drunk when I did it"—he made no reply when charged.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, stated that he went to the house to see Polly Vincent; that he had had too much to drink, and in consequence there was a quarrel; that he went round the counter to smack her because she was jeering at him, and Mrs. Prizeman got in front of her with a flat iron held up in her hand, which burnt her hand, causing her to drop it, thereby occasioning the wound.
Evidence for the Defence.
POLLY VINCENT . I have been keeping company with the prisoner—I have lived for some time with the Prizemans—I remember the prisoner coming into the shop in August—I had a few words with him because he would not take me out—Mrs. Prizeman told me to dare him, which I did—the prisoner said, "I'll smack you in the mouth"—I took no notice, but Mrs. Prizeman turned round and said, "No, you won't"—he never touched me—Mrs. Prizeman turned round and said, "I'll watch you don't hit her"—with that he put his hand across the counter to hit me. when Mrs. Prizeman picked up a flat iron—I went to get out of the way, and stood at the back of her, and she fell over my foot, and the iron bounced on her head.
Cross-examined by MR. MACKAY. Mrs. Prizeman was finishing a shirt
and was waiting for a small glossing iron—the prisoner was not violent at times, and I do not know why the prosecutrix imagined he would be violent on this particular occasion—the prisoner did not run away.
Re-examined. An iron in a laundry has to be heavy, and although it may be too cold for the purpose of ironing the shirt, it may be hot enough to burn the hand.
By MR. MACKAY. This letter is my writing, and sent to Mrs. Prizeman—I mean by the expression in it, "Don't think I will back out of John Tye when he is caught," that they wanted me to false swear his life away—I did not keep out of the way of the police.
By MR. THOMPSON. I was threatened if I gave evidence here.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I reserve my defence."
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding under great provocation. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury. Two summary convictions were proved against him. Twelve months' hard labour.
MR. WOODCOCK Prosecuted, and MR. COHEN Defended.
JOHN TRACEY . I am a cabinet maker, of 10, Bevington Street, Hoxton—on January 9th, about 10 p.m., I was turning out of Brick Lane into Flower and Dean Street, off the Whitechapel Road, with Elizabeth Collins—as I was walking along an arm was put round my neck, my head thrown back, and a knee put in my back—my head was thrown back, and I felt a finger and thumb on my throat—I struggled, and heard a voice above me, which was the prisoner's, say, "Out him"—he released his hold; I caught him by the coat and saw his face—he wrenched himself away from me and ran away.
Cross-examined. I had had three or four glasses of ale that evening—I am almost certain the voice that said "Out him" was the prisoner's—it was the voice above me, and it was the same voice of the prisoner that I heard at the Police Court.
Re-examined. I had not had too much to drink.
ELIZABETH COLLINS . I live in Holloway Road, and am a charwoman—on January 9th, about 10 p.m., I was walking with the last witness when three men came up, and one put his arms round the prosecutor and threw him down—one gave me a punch on my mouth—one said, "It's all right, Miss; you shall have your coin"—I said, "I don't want my coin; let the man alone"—I called out "Police!" and they ran away—the prisoner is one of the men that struck the prosecutor—I saw his face—I have no doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined. I was with the prosecutor all the evening—we had ale at several public houses.
JAMES MAY (28 H.R.) On January 9th. about 10 p.m., I was in Commercial Street, and saw the prisoner running, with a large crowd after him—I ran across the road to stop him—I caught him—he said, "All right, I'm done"—the prosecutor came up—when charged he said nothing—I took him to the Police Station—he said nothing there.
Cross-examined. I believe the prisoner said when I caught him, "I'm done"—he never said, "I'm pumped out."
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell on May 13th, 1902. Four other convictions were proved against him. Twelve months' hard labour and fifteen strokes with a birch rod.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
207. WILLIAM HENRY CLIMPSON** (40) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing an overcoat and other goods, the property of Rudolf Klahra, and to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £6, having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell on February 7th, 1901, in the name of William Climpson. Three other convictions were proved against him. Five years' penal servitude. —
208. HORACE ARTHUR HARE (20) , to fraudulently converting to his own use £2 19s. received by him on account of Bernard Alexis Bernard. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Three month' hard labour.—
209. GEORGE PERROTT (26) and CHARLES RAMERS (27) , to breaking into the warehouse of Alfred Howlett, and stealing a barrel of herrings, his property, RAMERS** having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell on May 7th, 1901— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Six month' hard labour.
PERROTT— Two months' hard labour.— And
MR. DUNN Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended Porter, and MR. CURTIS BENNETT Defended Collins.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, February 9th, 1904.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
MR. RODERICK Prosecuted and the evidence was interpreted.
——SHARP (230, City) produced and proved a plan of 31, Fleet Lane, which is also 31, Dean's Court.
RUTH HEALD . I keep a general shop at 31, Fleet Lane—there is a storeroom there—the shop is in front, leading into Dean's Court—I left at 4.30 on January 24th, leaving the catch of the window securely fastened—I came on the 24th, and found the police there—I found this knife (Produced) up the chimney—I had never seen it before.
is communication between the shop and the first floor—about 9.50 p.m. on January 23rd I heard a very unusual noise in the court—I went down the few stairs to the street door and into the court—I saw the window of 31 open—it was at once shut with a bang in my face—I immediately drew out my police whistle and blew it—the police came up, and I saw the prisoners brought out—I saw no property disturbed or out of place in the least—neither of these instruments (Produced) belong to me.
Cross-examined by Beaujean. The window was open when I came down.
GEORGE PORTON (City Police Sergeant.) On the night of January 23rd I was near Dean's Court about 9.50, and heard a police whistle blown—I ran down Dean's Court, where I found the window of No. 31 wide open—I climbed through and found the prisoners standing by the fireplace—I questioned them, and Beaujean said, "A woman brought us here and told us to get in"—they were taken to the station, and charged—Beaujean repeated the statement he made before—I went back to 31, Fleet Lane and found this tack opener and master key (Produced)—a witness found the knife—I examined the window and compared the marks with the shape of the knife, which corresponded—there was a mark on the window corresponding to the back of the knife—the key opens all the doors, which merely have a catch.
HUBERT HINE (Detective Sergeant, City.) On January 25th I searched the premises with Inspector Crouch—I found this key on the floor—I call it a master key—later on I made a further search, and found this jemmy (Produced) standing on end as far as I could reach up the chimney—it had a thin coating of soot on it, from which I gathered that it had been there two or three days.
Giuseppe, in his defence on oath, said that he and Beaujean were going for a walk, and a lady stopped them; that Beaujean said, "I will go with her"; that he (Guiseppe) said, "I shan't come, I have no money"; that Beaujean said, "I will pay for you"; that the woman took them to Dean Street, and opening the window, said, "Come along, get in"; that they got in; that he gave her a shilling, and she went away; and that they started laughing, which was the noise.
G. PORTON (Re-examined.) Guiseppe refused to give me an address.
Beaujean, in his defence on oath, said that he was drunk; that he remembered going through the window, and knew what he was doing; and that a woman opened the window and then went away.
GUILTY . Several convictions were proved against GUISEPPE— Eighteen months' hard labour.
BEAUJEAX— Six months' hard labour.
MR. DUCKWORTH Prosecuted.
LEONARD RANDALL . I am a musician and music teacher, of 38, Fitzroy Street—on Friday, January 29th, I was in the Euston Road—about 6.30 a.m. I saw the prisoners—I was drunk, and cannot remember—I had an
overcoat and a pair of gloves—one of the prisoners snatched them from me—I fell down.
ROBERT GOLDING (43 E.R.) On January 29th I was in the Euston Road—I watched the prisoners from about 6.30, when I stood in a shop doorway—one of them caught Randall's arm—they went into a public house—I shifted my position to a paper shop—the prisoners came back with the prosecutor and crossed the road—they saw me looking, and walked away with the prosecutor, saying, "Come on, governor," and kept looking round—when they found I had gone they turned into Seymour Street—I followed closely, and saw the three standing on the kerb—Fitzgerald left and went by the enclosure in Euston Square, and came back—the prosecutor tried to get away—Fitzgerald went after the prosecutor, who gave him some coin—Burke dropped a bag and struck the prosecutor a blow on his head, snatching his coat over his shoulder, and at the same time Fitzgerald struck him a blow in the ribs and knocked him down—I blew my whistle and ran after Burke—a navvy knocked him down, but he gained his feet and ran towards me—I made a grab at him, and missed him. but another man caught him—I arrested Burke—the other man was brought in shortly afterwards by a constable—at the station when charged Burke said it was a lie.
WILLIAM WARD . I live at 107, Drummond Street—I am an assistant at the Victoria Hotel, King's Cross—on January 29th I was in Seymour Street, and saw Burke running and carrying a coat—I saw a navvy throw him down—Burke regained his feet and ran towards me and a constable—the constable made a grab at him, but missed him, and told me to hold him, which I did—he was taken to the station.
WILLIAM WELTON (42 E.R.) On January 29th I assisted Golding in Seymour Street—I saw him struggling with Burke—Fitzgerald was running away—I chased him through several streets, and ultimately arrested him between Drummond Street and Goldberg Street, Euston Square—I said to Fitzgerald, "What are you running for?"—he said, "Two of my pals were having a row off the corner of Seymour Street, and I did not want to be mixed up with it, so I ran away"—when charged he said, "It is a lie."
Burke's statement before the Magistrate: "At 4.30 a.m. this morning I was outside the Victoria when the prosecutor came up to us. He took us to several coffee stalls: we went about till the pubs opened. We went into several, the last one being the Rising Sun. The prosecutor talked about wrestling. I offered to wrestle with him. As to any felonious intent to steal his coat, I had none. The constable is giving an exaggerated "idea of what he saw."
Fitzgerald, in his defence on oath, repeated this statement, and added that Randall had told him that he had been with a young woman.
Burke, in his defence, said that his story was exactly the same as Fitzgerald's.
L. RANDALL (Re-examined.) I had not been with any young woman that night, nor did I say that I had.
FITZGERALD then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on July 22nd, 1902, in the name of Henry Smith— Six months' hard labour. BURKE— Three months' hard labour. "
MR. MORRIS Prosecuted.
LUCY VARING . I am a dressmaker, and the wife of George Varing, of 15, Store Street—I occupy the front bedroom on the first floor—the room has French windows opening outwards—I went to bed on Thursday, December 29th, about midnight—I locked the window and put the shutters against it, but never put the iron bar up—about 5 a.m. I heard a noise, and saw the prisoner come through the window—he assaulted me—I went up stairs after I had struggled with him—a lamp was broken after I had gone—when I came back into the room it was smashed on the floor, and some chairs were broken.
HENRY STACEY (283 D) On December 30th, about 5 a.m., I heard cries of "Police!" and "Murder!" from 15, Store Street—as I passed by I was hit on the head by a chair, then I saw the prisoner's head looking through the window—I asked him to come outside—he came on the balcony—I asked him why he did that—he said, "All right, governor"—he climbed off the balcony into the footway—he was suffering from the effects of drink—he said, "All right, I do not mind now if I get ten years; I have had my revenge," and added something about some girl or woman some months back who had put him away—that she had caused him to be imprisoned I took to be his meaning—I had passed about fifteen minutes before, but did not notice whether the balcony window was open.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he was drunk, which was the only thing against him when in the Army service, and that he went after a girl who had "put him away" but that he had no intention to steal.
NOT GUILTY .
He had previously PLEADED GUILTY to the assault see page 306), and the police stated that he was sentenced at Bow Street to three months' imprisonment for larceny . Six weeks' hard labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, February 10th, 1904.
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
MR. HUTTON, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. OLIVER Prosecuted.
The Grand Jury having returned no True Bill, the prosecution offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MUIR and MR. B. B. MURPHY Prosecuted; MR. WATT and MR. ARNOLD Defended.
CHARLES LEITH . I am a porter and shop assistant to Charles Vaughan, gunsmith, of 39, Strand—about 4 p.m. on Saturday, January 2nd, the prisoner came to our shop and bought this revolver and a box of fifty cartridges (Produced)—he paid 10s. for the revolver and 3s. for the cartridges—he said he was going to Argentina, and asked if the revolver was strong enough—I asked him if he had a licence, and he produced this one—it is an ordinary 10s. gun licence to John Colman, Rowton House, Fieldgate Street, granted on January 2nd.
Cross-examined. He did not say he was going to Tasmania, he said Argentina—he did not say when he was going—there was nothing in the conversation to make me remember it.
AGNES DAVEY . I have known the prisoner for three or four months—I have seen him frequently during that time, and slept with him twice before we went to 5, Artichoke Hill—I had made him no promise with regard to living with him, and he had not asked me to do so—I went with other men while I knew him—I do not know if he knew that—he never said anything to me about it—on Saturday, January 2nd, I did not see him, but he left a letter at the George for me on the Monday afternoon—I got it that night—I saw him at 1.30 p.m. on Sunday—I was just coming out of where I live—we had a drink, and then I left him—this is the letter I received from him (Read) "Dear Agg,—It is all right. When I went down stairs that woman was not in, so I went out, and did not like coming back again, as you did not wish me to do so. I will be up at the George at 6.30 to-night, and again at eight. I hope you will get this, so as to be able to meet me for your money. P.S.—I suppose you will be vexed. Did you think I had sloped off on purpose?"—I had slept with him on the Sunday night at 5, Artichoke Hill and he had left me without giving me any money—after getting that letter I met him in the George, and we went to 5, Artichoke Hill to sleep there—we got there between twelve and one at night—I knocked at the door twice—the deceased came out—I said, "Have you got a bed for two nights?'—she said, "Yes"—we went into the front parlour—the deceased was there by herself——she said to the prisoner. "Are you going to treat us before you go to bed?"—he said, "Yes; what have you got in the house?"—she said, "I have got a nice drop of whisky"—he said, "Go and fetch it"—she went and got a big bottle and poured some whisky into a small bottle, and we drank it—she said again, "Are you going to treat us again before you go to bed?"—he said, "Yes," so she poured some more whisky into the small bottle—before we went to bed we had two quarterns of whisky between the three of us—before we went to bed at 3 a.m. the prisoner had his senses, and did not seem to be so very drunk—he paid the deceased 2s. 6d. for the bed and 2s. for the whisky—when we were going to bed he took a revolver out of his pocket and placed it on the corner of the table—we did not say anything about it—about 10 a.m., when the prisoner and me was in bed, the deceased fetched up a cup of tea—she said, "Ain't you going to treat us?"—the prisoner said, "Yes, go and get me a quartern of whisky," and he gave her 6d., and 2d.
—she went and fetched it—he took it from her and drank the whole of it; then she went down stairs and came back again and knocked at the door, and said, "Aggie, do you want soap and towel and comb?."—I said "Yes," so she went down stairs and fetched it—she came back and said, "The man is mad"—nothing had happened to make her say that—he said, "Get away;" then he sent for another quartern of whisky—I thought he gave her 1s.—when she came back he said, "How much does a quartern of whisky cost?"—I said, "Sixpence or eightpence"—he said, "She has fetched me back fourpence"—I said, "What did you give her?"—he said, Sixpence and half a sovereign"—I said to her. "Go and fetch the change back"—she was just against the door, and said, "Wait a minute; 'Gusta' has gone for the change"—that was Augustus Gunther—she went down stairs, and came back with two half crowns and two two shilling pieces, and gave them into his hand—he poured some of the whisky into a glass and said, "Drink a glass, Aggie"—I said, "I don't care for it the first thing in the morning," so he poured it all into the glass and drank it—I reckon altogether he had five or six quarterns of whisky in the house—he had three or four quarterns after we woke up in the morning—he got me round the neck and said, "Drink and wish Jack luck"—I said. "Don't be so silly; dress yourself and come out with me"—he said, "Come and lie on the bed a little while"—I said I did not wish to—I got up and dressed, and went out into the yard to the w.c.—I went back into the front parlour—there were three women there, no men—I was sitting on the sofa—the prisoner called out, "Where is Aggie?"—I said, "Here I am"—he came into the parlour—he had his shirt and trousers on, but no boots—he said, "Come up stairs"—I said, "Go on; you go up"—he went up stairs; I went as far as the top of the stairs—he kept getting me round the neck, so I left him—he had the revolver in his shirt pocket then—before that I had last seen it on the Monday night on the table—it was there when I went down stairs to speak to the three wome—before I went to the w.c. I said. "Ain't you going to give me no money? You gave me none last night"—he went over to his pocket and gave me £1 9s.—he gave me two shillings, two half crowns, one two shilling piece, and a sovereign—I saw that he had four other sovereigns in his hand then—I said, "Be careful of your money; look after it"—I did not see him put the revolver into his pocket.
Cross-examined. About two years ago I lived at 5, Artichoke Hill for about four months—I am an unfortunate, and I was so then—when I was at Artichoke Hill two years ago it was kept by Martha Powell and Mr. Gunther—he lives at No. 6 now—I believe Martha Powell lives at No. 3 now—I do not know if she sleeps there now; she did before this occurred—the prisoner knew what I was, and that. I made my living by getting money from men—he paid me when he went with me, barring on the Monday morning, but he made it up next day—on the Monday night we left the George at twelve midnight—it closed at 12.30—we went straight to Artichoke Hill—we went to the George about 8 p.m.—the prisoner only drank whisky there; I do not know how much, but I
know it was rather a lot—he kept on drinking and calling for more—when we lift the public house he had a quartern of whisky in his pocket—he pot that from another public house—he was drinking small glasses of whisky—I do not know what he paid for them—we were in the public bar in Commercial Road—it was the ordinary kind of whisky—he was a bit drunk when we got to Artichoke Hill, but he spoke sensibly enough—he was able to walk—when I used to live at Artichoke Hill Martha Powell and Mr. Gunther slept in the front parlour there—there is no other room on the ground floor that I know of, except the kitchen—there is no bed in the kitchen that I am aware of—Martha Powell was not in the parlour when we were asked to go in; there was no one there before we went to bed except the deceased—she brought two quarterns of whisky before we went to bed and three or four next morning—the prisoner drank the stuff he brought from the public house in the morning, in bed before the deceased came up with the tea—I did not have any of it—the deceased knocked at the door and said, "Open the door"—I said, "What do you want?"—she said, "I have a cup of tea"—I came on retching after the drink overnight, so I said to the prisoner, "You drink the tea"—I did not drink it; I did not care for it—there was only one cup—the prisoner had half of it, and the rest was left—I suppose it was brought up for me—it was then that the deceased asked the prisoner if he was going to treat her—I did not have any of the three or four quarterns of whisky in the morning—the prisoner poured a little drop into the glass, and the deceased drank it—the prisoner did not seem stupid or insensible that morning—he answered when I spoke to him—he did not seem as if he had lost his senses—in addition to what the deceased brought him, he drank what he had brought from the public house—that was before I got out of bed—when I went down stairs I saw the deceased, Martha Powell, and a young Jewish lady who is a lodger—when I came back from the yard Powell was hitting the deceased—I stopped her and said, "What are you hitting her for?"—she said, "She is doing me blind out of my money"—I understood the deceased was being accused of taking Powell's money—I do not know if it was about the prisoner's money—I do not know if any other women were sleeping in the house that night.
By the COURT. There is another room at the back on that floor, and another floor above—there was nobody in the room at the back that I am aware of—there is only one room up stairs, where Elsie Mattes was sleeping—I saw her in the morning when I went into the yard—I had no arrangement to meet the prisoner again that morning when I left him—I only go to the George about 6 p.m., and never in the daytime—he would know where to find me—he did not know where I lived—I have no fixed place to live in, and no home.
MARTHA POWELL . I am the wife of Mr. Powell, a coxswain—I have not seen him for eight years—I have been the tenant of 5 Artichoke Hill for eight years—the deceased lived with me for just upon four years, then she left and then lived with me again for three years—she slept on a sofa in my bedroom down stairs—I know Davey; at one time she lived with me—
I did not see her on Sunday January 3rd, or on Monday, January 1th—she slept, in mv house—on the Sunday night, but I did not know it. and I did no! know until Tuesday morning that she had slept there on. Monday night—no money was paid to me on Monday night in respect to her sleeping there on Tuesday. January 5th. about 10 a.m., I was in the front room down stairs with the deceased—Davey came in by herself and spoke to me—between 10.30 and 11 the prisoner came in—Davey and the deceased were there then—the prisoner had on his trousers and shirt, but no coat or shoes—he said, "Agnes, come up stairs"—she said, "All right, wait a minute; I am only speaking to the Missus"—he said again, "Come up stairs; I want you"—she said, "All right"—I said, Go up stairs if the man wants you"—she went up stairs, and the prisoner followed her—I heard someone go out of the house, and I then saw Davey pass the window—two or three minutes afterwards the prisoner came down stairs again and into the room—he seemed to be dressed as he was before—he had no coat on—only me and the deceased were in the room then—the prisoner said, "Where is Agnes?"—I said, "I do not know"—he kept repeating, "Fetch Agnes, go and fetch Agnes"—I said, "Agnes told you she wanted to go to the infirmary"—when she was in the room she had said she wanted to go to the infirmary to see some sick person; I think it was a child—when I told the prisoner what Davey had said he said several times, "Oh, no, fetch her'"—I said, Hulda, go and see if you can see her"—she was out for about five minutes—when she came back the prisoner was still there—the deceased said, "I cannot see her nowhere"—in this side of the prisoner's shirt I see a revolver sticking out—it was like this one (Produced)—I said, "You have got a revolver"—he took it out of his pocket and said, "That won't do you no harm, but if you don't fetch Aggie I will blow my b——brains out"—I did not think he was drunk—he looked excited—he spoke clearly—I did not answer him—he put the revolver back in his pocket—he did not say anything then—he remained in the room for a couple of seconds, then he went up stairs—he was up there two or three minutes—he came down—he had no coat on—only me and the deceased were in the room—the prisoner said, "Go and fetch Aggie, go and see if you can find Aggie"—the deceased said, "Go up stairs and dress yourself"—he stood for a couple of minutes and then went up stairs—shortly afterwards he came into the room—he had his long overcoat on, with the collar turned up, and a cap on—I was sitting on a chair on one side of the fireplace, and the deceased was on the other side—the prisoner came directly towards us—he stood alongside the deceased and said, "Go and fetch Aggie"—he put his hand into his side pocket and went like that (Pointing), and said, "Go and fetch Aggie"—at the same time he shot at the deceased twice—I heard two shots—I jumped up. And at the second shot the deceased fell into the fireplace—I caught hold of the prisoner—I was between the sofa and the table—I struggled with him and held him by his coat—he said, "Fetch Aggie, fetch Aggie"—I said, "I will fetch Aggie;" then I heard something and felt something hot on me; then he shot again, but I do not know if that caught me; I felt the something hot down the back of my neck, and I felt blood down my
neck—I do not know if I had a wound there—I was crying out, "Help, help, murder!"—the door opened, and I see young Gunther come in—I said, in English. "He has shot me and killed Hulda"—I see Gunther rush towards the prisoner and hold him—I fell down—I do not know what happened to me—I was afterwards taken to the London Hospital, where I believe I stayed a fortnight.
By the COURT. He did not point the revolver at me before I went to him.
Cross-examined. I have been in this country for twenty years—I come from Russia—when Davey lived at 5, Artichoke Hill, some time ago, Gunther did not live there with me—he never lived with me—he lived in the same street—the house was kept as a brothel, as it is now—it has been a brothel for about four years—before that I let it out to tenants—I pay the rent—I do not pay no rates—the deceased was my servant—the money which she took from people who came there she put in a drawer, and if she wanted to buy something she took it—I gave her no wage—I do not know that she has been convicted twenty or thirty times for drunkenness and as a disorderly prostitute—I know she was locked up for drunkenness once or twice—when the prisoner and Davey came from the George at 1 a.m. on the 5th, I was in bed in my bedroom down stairs—there is only one room there—I did not see them in that room—if they were in bed they must have gone up stairs—they did not stay in my room for two hours drinking whisky with the deceased—the only other room down stairs is a small kitchen, and to get there you must go through my bed sitting-room—if they had been in my room I should have been sure to wake up, and they must have seen me—I was not in No. 6—I do not sleep there with Gunther—I was not charged with him for keeping No. 5 as a brothel—the first time that I knew the prisoner and Davey were in the house on Tuesday, was between 10.30 and 11 a.m., when Davey came down stairs—I do not keep whisky in the house for sale or to drink—I did not know that the deceased kept it—if she had I should have known it—there was a bottle in the house which had been given to me as a Christmas box by the landlord—I do not know where the deceased had put it—we had nearly drunk it up—I do not know if any was left—that was the only whisky in the house—on Tuesday morning the deceased and I had a few words because she said I had no business to get out of bed, because I have always been in bed very near—we have never quarrelled about money—I did not strike her—I have never done so—I may have pushed her—I never saw any of the prisone's money—I do not know if it was in the drawer—I did not know that the deceased had got any from the prisoner—I heard no conversation about it—the only thing the prisoner complained of was that he could not find Aggie—the deceased did not say anything to make him angry: the only thing she said was, "Go up stairs and dress yourself"—he seemed quite sober—he looked excited—he did not seern dazed or stupid—he seemed to know what he was doing—when he said to the deceased, "Go and find Aggie," he pointed the revolver straight at her head—he was close to her—while I was holding him he tried to point the revolver at my head, but I was always able to
keep it down—when I called, young Ganther came in—that was the first time I had seen him that morning—I had not called him to do something to the dog—Mattes was not in the room while Davey was there—when the prisoner came down stairs I did not see any money in his hand—he never spoke about money—I did not see any other man in the room that morning until young Gunther came in.
ALBERT HANDLEY (Detective Sergeant H.) About 2 p.m. on January 5th I went to Rowton House, Whitechapel, and searched locker No. 541—I found this box of cartridges (Produced), some of which I compared with some found on the prisoner—they correspond—I found two letters one registered—neither of them were open—I returned to the police station and showed the things to the prisoner telling him where I had found them—he said, "I bought the cartridges in the Strand, near the Law Courts, last Saturday, also the revolver; I gave 10s. for the revolver and 3s. for the cartridges. I was on Tower Bridge yesterday; I meant to throw them over into the river, also the licence"—I showed him the registered letter—he opened it in my presence—it contained four £3 notes and two postal orders for £1 each—there was no letter in it—the other letter he opened; it was from his mother (Read:) "New Delaval, January 4th. My dear Son,—Received your letter all right. I was more than surprised when I read your letter I had no idea you were keeping company with any young woman where you are living well Jack what you tell me about her she is not worth a single thought be thankful that you have seen through her in time it would have been a good deal worse if you had been married to her console yourself that you have escaped such a low creature take no notice of her whatever for heaven's sake don't get into any trouble over such a creature there are plenty of decent girls don't let such a one as she is try to spoil your life live it down like a man treat her with contempt do nothing that will ever cause you to regret such as her will only rejoice to know that they can make you suffer that's what I would not let her do it is a pity that any man should for so forget himself do anything wrong to let a woman be the means of him getting two years I hope you will show her you can forget her better than that put her out of your thoughts at once there are plenty of better women to be got she has proved herself to be a low bad girl living with a man not married be glad she showed her true colours in time don't think that I don't feel for you in this I do for I have passed through I was only a young woman you are a man that makes a. great difference there are lads around here have been that just the same they have never bothered themselves about it so Jack, just do the same if it had been an upright good girl you might have felt it keenly not as it is I must ask you again to forget all about her do nothing wrong bad treatment generally in time falls on their own heads follow the old saying let her lay as she grows as I am writing I have just received the telegram it send your money at once it will be sent as soon as Dick gets in be careful Jack for your own sake and mine from your loving mother Ann Colman the first post leaves to-night at 8.30 to-night may God bless you, my son from Mother."
Cross-examined. He did not say anything about his intention of going abroad—he did not mention Tasmania or the Argentine to me.
ELSIE MATTES . I used to live at 5, Artichoke Hill—I am a cigarette maker—I occupied the top floor—I knew the deceased for a fortnight, and also Mrs. Powell—on January 5th I heard voices of a man and woman in the front room underneath me, which is the first floor—there are only two floors to the house—I did not know the voices—I had been asleep before I heard them, and I went to sleep afterwards—I next heard a noise like a revolver being fired—there were three or four shots—I did not take any notice of them—I had not been down stairs before on that morning—I do not know Davey—when I heard the shots I also heard screaming—I went down stairs—the room was full of people, and the policemen were in there—when I heard the shots I was dressing—I had been up perhaps an hour—I was doing my house work—no man had been in my room that night.
By the COURT. I have had men in my room before.
Cross-examined. I had not been down stairs before I heard the shots—I did not see anything of a quarrel between the deceased and Mrs. Powell—I have been in this country for nearly six years—I come from Germany.
AUGUSTUS GUNTHER . I am a French polisher, of 6, Artichoke Hill—on January 5th, about 11 a.m., I was outside my door—I heard screams coming from No. 5—I went into the front room on the ground floor—I saw Martha Powell lying on the floor, and the deceased lying in the fireplace—the prisoner was standing against the fireplace: he had a revolver in his hand, pointing to the ground—Powell did not say anything to me—I struck the prisoner—he fell on a chair—I held him and called for assistance—my father came in—I heard Powell say, "He has killed her and shot me"—the prisoner did not say anything to that—I sent for a constable—two came finally—before the prisoner went away we shook hands and said good bye—the constable had him, and he said, "Shake hands and say good bye"—he did not shake hands with anybody else.
Cross-examined. I work at my own shop at 25, St. George's Street—I was home for breakfast at this time—I had not been at work that morning; I was the night before—I generally go to work at 8 a.m.—I had been in No. 5 that morning to chain the dog up—the deceased had asked me to do so—she had not asked me to go for any change—I have lived in No. 6 for about eighteen months—my father never lived in No. 5 with Mrs. Powell—I have never lived there—Mrs. Powell does not sleep in No. 6—she had not been in there on Monday night—I did not see her on Tuesday before she was shot—the prisoner did not struggle while I was holding him—he tried to point the revolver at me—I had not much difficulty in preventing him from doing so—he looked more excited than drunk—he seemed* a bit stupid—I cannot suggest why he asked to shake hands with me.
Re-examined. There is only a foot between my door and the front door of No. 5—I did not hear any shots or anything before I heard the screams—as soon as I heard the screams I went in—I did not see any man coming out of No. 5 before I went in—I could not have failed to have seen them if any
had come out, but I was only outside for about two minutes—the only man in the house when I went in was the prisoner.
HERMANN GUNTHER . I live at 6, Artichoke Hill—I was at home on the morning of January 5th—my son went outside, and in about two minutes I heard a cry of "Murder, father, murder!"—I went into No. 5—the door was open—I saw my son struggling with the prisoner in the corner on a chair, and two women lying on the ground, one in the fireplace and one on the right of the door—I got, hold of the prisoner by his wrist and told my son to get the revolver away—he took it away and we sent for a constable—I had not been in the house before that morning—before the police came the prisoner said, Let me get up"—I said. "No, I shant"—when the police had him he would not go without shaking hands, so I shook hands with him.
Cross-examined. I have known the deceased for fifteen years—she insured her life, and the policy was assigned to me—I know Davey by sight—I do not remember her living at 5. Artichoke Hill—I live at No. 6—I have never lived at No. 5—I know Martha Powell—I was charged for keeping No. 5 as a brothel—she was not charged; she was not in the case at all—No. 6 is not a brothel—women have gone into No. 5, but I cannot exactly say what it is—I am not often in there: the last time was a couple of months ago—I do not let any rooms in No. 6—my children live with me—I have no wife.
Re-examined. There were no men in there when I got in No. 5 except the prisoner, my son and myself.
LILY ROHLEN . I am a polisher, of 7, Artichoke Hill—on Tuesday, January 5th, I was cleaning my doorstep—I heard a noise like an explosion of a gas engine—I heard cries of Murder! and Police!—then I heard another report—I went towards No. 5, where the noise came from—when I got to the door I saw a young chap standing by the room door—I went inside the house, and saw Mrs. Powell kneeling in front of the table—blood was running down her side—the deceased was lying her left side in front of the fender—Mr. Gunther was holding the prisoner by the collar and tie—I went for the police.
By the COURT. I found in the house old Mr. Gunther, young Mr. Gunther, the two women, and the prisoner, nobody else.
Cross-examined. I knew the people in No. 5 as neighbours—I had not been in there before that morning—I do not know the last time I was in there—I had not been in the place for months that I know of—the prisoner was rather red in the face and a bit excited—he did not say anything—I did not stay long enough to know if he was dazed or stupid—I cannot say if he was drunk.
Re-examined. My doorstep is on the same line as No. 3—I had been cleaning it for three or four minutes before the explosion—I had seen no men, except the Gunthers, enter or leave No. 5.
HARRY THURLOW (231 H.) On Tuesday. January 3th, about 10.15 a.m., I went with Dunn to.5, Artichoke Hill—we went into the front room on the ground floor—I saw Powell lying on the floor bleeding from wound on the left of her neck and the deceased bleeding from her face—
Powell said, He shot me," meaning the prisoner, who was being held by two men—we arrested him, and took the women to the London Hospital.
Cross-examined. I did not hear the prisoner say anything—he had been drinking heavily I should say, but he was not drunk—he seemed greatly excited.
JOHN DUNN (332 H.) On the morning of January 5th I went with Thurlow to 5, Artichoke Hill—I was handed this revolver by Augustus Gunther—we arrested the prisoner in the house—he did not say anything then, but on the way to the station he said, "I have been a d————d fool, I know; I done it: I cannot think what made me do it. She has done me down for £5 10s."—he was sober, but he had evidently been drinking heavily—he was charged at the station.
Cross-examined. He did not say anything in the house—I was in the house three or four minutes before we went to the station.
FREDERICK WEXSLEY (Detective Sergeant H.) I was at Leman Street Police Station when the prisoner was brought there on January 5th, about 11 a.m.—he had evidently been drinking, but I should not say he was drunk—I said to him, "What is your name, occupation, age, and address?"—this note was taken at the time—he replied, "John Colman, 42; I have been to sea, and I have been in the Durham Light Infantry nine and a half years; but I have been doing nothing for the last six months, only acting the b——fool. I only fired two shots. Aggie ran away and left me there. I found she was living with another man. I took her to 5, Artichoke Hill. We slept there. We had been there for the last two nights. When we got up this morning we had some whisky. She went down stairs, and when I went down I found she had gone"—this revolver was brought to the station—I examined it—I found there were four spent cartridges and one loaded one in it—it has five chambers—on searching the prisoner I found five other cartridges similar to those in the revolver, also a bed ticket at Rowton House, a gun licence taken out on January 2nd, and this postcard (Read) addressed, "Mr. R. Rutherford, 45, South Road, New Delaval. North. In the event of anything occurring to me, send that money there is in my pocket, probably about £4 or £5, to the address on the post card, John Colman"—I found on him ninepence in bronze—on seeing that he said, "I had a £5 note; someone has been through me"—he paused, and then said, "No; they have done me for £4 or £5 in gold. I did not know that"—I went to 5, Artichoke Hill, and examined the room on the ground floor—there did not appear to have been a struggle—there was a quantity of blood in the fireplace and some on the bed—I found threepence in bronze on the floor, close to the fireplace—I searched the whole house for money, but failed to find any—all the rooms were empty, with the exception of where Mattes lived—I did not search that room—I found the prisoner's cap: it had a few spots of blood on it—I took it back to the station—the prisoner said, "That is mine; there are some spots of blood on it. I thought I had been knocked about"—I saw him again about midday—I was passing through the charge room—the prisoner saw me and said,
"I want to speak to you, Aggie has played with me; she promised to live with me, but I found she has lived with other men. When I went down stairs Aggie had gone. I spoke to the two women. They gave me some cheek, and told me to go out. and began acting the fool. I had a good drop of drink, and shot the both of them"—he gave me a description of Davey, which enabled me to find her—on January 6th the prisoner sent for me—he said, "I want to send a letter to my mother"—I said I did not think there was any objection but he must understand we should read the contents—he said. "That does not matter in the least"—I supplied him with pen, ink. and paper, and he wrote to his mother—this is the letter—I kept the original and sent a copy (Read:) "London. My dear Mother,—How shall I begin, and what shall I say? You will, of course, have heard of this awful affair. I got away with bad company, mother, and went with a woman on Monday night. I remember having a little whisky yesterday morning with water. I came down stairs feeling very queer and dizzy in my head. The girl had left the house, so two other women told me. They got me into a room down stairs and set about me at once. Mother, I had a revolver on me, which I bought for the purpose of taking to Tasmania. Heavens help me, you can guess the remainder. I have a dim remembrance of some men being there, also; the strangest part of it, mother, my money was taken from me. I had it in my possession when I came down stairs. The woman I was with got nothing; but she knew I had a few pounds on me. Could she have told the others to put something in the drink to stupefy me, and then take this money? I must say it has the appearance of it. So see, mother, I don't even know those two poor women. If only they had let me go away quietly. Mother, think as little of it as possible. Don't take it too much to heart. It isn't as if I had intended doing it. I shall, of course, write again. God bless you, dear, and again don't let it affect you too much. Give my love to them all.—Your loving son, Jack"—he had not said anything about any men being there—he had not the appearance of a man who had been drugged—I was not present when Powell was searched at the hospital—I heard of some property being found on her—it was not given up—that which was found on the deceased was given to the Coroner's officer—I saw the prisoner write this letter—the writing on this postcard is the same.
Cross-examined. I have made some inquiries about the prisoner; Divall has made others—I have heard a good report of him—as far as I know, there is nothing against him—I have been in this locality for some years—some of the houses are brothels—when the prisoner was brought in I noticed that he had a slight mark over his left eye, but I thought it was of old standing a day or two's standing, at all events—he had the appearance of a man who had been drinking heavily—he gave a very reasonable account of all that had transpired.
THOMAS DIVALL (Detective Inspector II.) I saw the prisoner at Leman Street Police Station about 7.30 p.m. on January 5th—I said. I am a police officer, and I will charge you with the wilful murder of Hulda Poppie and the attempted murder of Martha Powell at 5, Artichoke Hill,
St. George's—In-the-East. this morning—he said, "I thought there was something wrong, but no one would tell me about it. Is there anything known about the men? There was some men. Somebody must have taken the money from me, as when I got here I had only a few coppers, and I ought to have had £4 or £5"—I read the charge to him—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries about him—I have been furnished with information as to where he has been, and I have had inquiries made by the police in Northumberland—there is nothing known against him—he and his people are respectable—I know Artichoke Hill very well—it is a very low locality—I cannot say that there are a number of foreign brothels there—we prosecute when we get the chance—I think the deceased has been convicted ten or twenty times for being drunk and disorderly—I saw the prisoner about 1 p.m. on January 5th—he had been drinking, but he was perfectly rational and very clear in his speech and movements.
Re-examined. The deceased was only charged with dishonesty once, and immediately discharged.
THOMAS JONES , M.R.C.S. I am divisional surgeon of police—on January 5th I went to Leman Street Police Station at 2 p.m.—I examined the prisoner—he appeared to be in an ill and excited states—he was perfectly rational, and his movements were steady—he had two longitudinal scratches above his right eye—he had a mark on his right cheek—it was not quite a bruise, but a little more than a flushing, and he had a cut on the inner side of his upper lip, about the centre—those injuries were recent—the teeth corresponding to the cut on the lip were not loosened and the gums were not inflamed or injured—he had no appearance of having been drugged, or having had any heavy blow.
Cross-examined. I only judge of the prisoner's condition at the time I examined him—he was then perfectly sober and rational, but he had been drinking—a man in a fit of drunkenness, or disorder of mind occasioned by drunkenness, who had killed a human being, would not realise it so quickly as a man who was not drunk—if a man drank a bottle of bad whisky in the course of a few hours the chances are that he would be drunk, and probably insensibly drunk—I could not form any opinion of how much the prisoner had drunk—I had no evidence of his having been drugged—he might have been drugged within six or eight hours from the time I saw him, but it all depends on what kind of drug it was, and how much was administered—you can get good whisky in the East End—if a man drank a pint of the cheap whisky which is sold in a low class of public house the chances are that he would be helplessly drunk very soon—it depends on the individual as to whether his mind would go before his bodily powers; it is supposed that persons who have been abroad and have been attacked by malaria are more easily affected by alcoholism; drink has the effect of bringing on an attack of epilepsy in epileptic subjects, but the prisoner had no epileptic seizure; it is a very different question as to when a fit passes away; in this case there was no evidence of
epilepsy; I cannot say what state the prisoner was in live or six hours before I saw him.
MOSES THOMAS WILLIAMS . I am a Bachelor of Medicine and house surgeon at the London Hospital—the deceased was brought there by the police about 11.23 a.m. on January 5th—when I saw her she was syncoped: her head and face were more or less covered with blood; her breathing was stertorous, her pulse was 48, and she was unconscious—she never recovered—I made a post-mortem examination next day, and found the cause of death to be two gun shot wounds in the brain; I found two bullets in her head; the two wounds were within an inch of each other on the left side of the face near the ear—I thought the shot was fired close to the head, because the edges of the wounds were inverted, and all round them the flesh was blackened—death was due to hemorrhage and shock due to the bullet wounds—one of the bullets was battered about so that you cannot recognise it, but the other seems to fit this empty case—this live cartridge may be the same size, but I would not like to swear to it—I also attended Powell—she was quite conscious, and answered all questions rationally—she was suffering from shock, and had two wounds—one was a small wound behind the right ear; the edges were slightly inverted; the other was larger, about 1 inch or 1 1/2 inches behind the anterior one, the edges being everted, showing that the bullet had gone in at one wound and come out of the other: it had not struck the bone it had just gone through the muscles—I should think the wound was inflicted at close quarters—there was no other wound—I do not know anything about the women being searched.
F. WENSLEY (Re-examined.) I made inquiries respecting the money found; I think 1s. 3 1/2 d. was found on the deceased; I believe 2d. or 3d. any was found on Powell.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I do not wish to make any statement in this Court. I call no witnesses."
The prisoner in his defence on oath, said that when he was a boy he had a sunstroke and when serving in the Army in India he was in hospital three times with malaria; that he was invalided in May, 1902; that he was making arrangements to go to Tasmania, as he suffered from ague; that he had had two epileptic fits; that he met Davey while waiting to go to Tasmania; that he bought the revolver because he was going abroad; that he and Davey went to 3, Artichoke Hill on January 4th; that the deceased let them in and took them to a room down stairs: that he did not see anybody else there; that he was drunk; that he had some whisky, but he did not know how much: that he went to bed with Davey, and in the morning had more whisky, after which he seemed to become greatly dazed and stupefied; that when he was dressed he went down stairs; that he did not remember putting the revolver into his pocket, or having it with him then; that some women said that Davey had gone out. and asked him to go into the room; that there was a scuffle; that he had a hazy idea of men and women being there, and of being struck; that he remembered having the revolver in his hand and of shouting out and firing it, but he did not remember firing at the deceased; that when he went to the house he had £3 10s.; that he did not remember giving Davey 29s.; that he had his
money in his pocket just before going down stairs; that he did not remember struggling with the Gunthers; that he remembered being in the street with the constable, but not of making a statement to him or to anyone at the station, that he did not intend to fire at anyone; that when he wrote the postcard he did not intend doing anything to himself, but was not feeling very well, and though he might have another epileptic fit; and that his explanation of the women being shot was that he had been knocked down by some men in the room, and when he jumped up he fired at anyone.
GUILTY. He received a good character from the police. The Jury recommended him to mercy on account of his good character and the circumstances under which the crime was committed. Fifteen years' penal servitude.
NEW COURT—Wednesday, February 10th, 1904.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HENDERSON Prosecuted.
GEORGE HENRY PLUMB . I am a fishmonger, of 3. High Road, Kilburn—on January 12th I was at the Horn of Plenty, Spitalfields, about 9 o'clock—the prisoners and another man followed me in—when I came out Landon hit me on my mouth, while they cut out my pockets, Landon fastening my arms and putting his knee on my chest—I lost £3, a sovereign in gold and the rest in silver—I next saw the prisoners at Worship Street on the 21st and identified them.
Cross-examined by Bowen. I was refused to be served because I was in bad company—two young women met me there first.
LILY HEWSON . I am the wife of the landlord of the Horn of Plenty—the prisoners and another man came with the prosecutor into the bar—I refused to serve them because I knew the prisoners—as they went out at one door I went out at another—I saw Landon knock the prosecutor down; the other two stood over him—I ran for assistance—I saw two policemen, and gave information—I identified the prisoners on the Monday at Commercial Street Police Station—one is known as Treacle, and the other one as Wally—they have been customers for about ten months.
Cross-examined by Bowen. My husband and I know what happened on two previous occasions—I did not want you in the house.
WILLIAM BROGDEN (Detective Sergeant H.) I was on duty in Commercial Street on Saturday, January 16th, at 9.30, with Sergeant Dessent; we saw the prisoners, and went the reverse way and apprehended them—I said to Landon," Treacle, I want you: I want to take you into custody for robbing a man on the night of the 12th in Dorset Street"—he said, "It is a funny thing; if anything happens you always pull me in for it; I know nothing about it"—Bowen said, "I know nothing about it; I stood at the corner of Dorset Street, and a man asked me to have a drink at the Horn of Plenty, but they refused to serve us, and I came out and went down the street"—Hewson identified them.
arrested Bowen—I told him he would be taken into custody for robbery on the 12th of last month—he said. "What job do you say it is?"—I explained it to him. and he said, "All right, I have got a very good idea who has done this for us."
London's defence: I was not there. I got penal servitude for it once, and have never done it since.
Bouen's defence: The prosecutor and three others I took to be his friends took me and Landon for a drink but they were refused to be served; I next saw the prosecutor' standing at the corner of a court and heard a scuffle; he said. There's a row. "but Landon said Don't go up there, or else you will get in for it," and the robbers, whoever they were, let the man go. but I know nothing about it.
They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, LANDON** at this Court in May. 1898. in the name of William Wood— Six years' penal servitude: and BOWEN** at Clerkenwell in October, 1901— Five years' penal servitude.
MYSON PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and Mr. De Michele defended Lewis.
ANNIE MARIA GOSSE . I live at a religious house called "The House of the Sacred Passion," near Hastings—I sent the postal orders produced in a letter addressed to Messrs. Shoolbred. Tottenham Court Road, on August 21st or 22nd, in payment of an account of £1 13s.—I gave the letter to Miss Wellington to post.
Cross-examined. I can identify the orders—two are for 2s. and one for 1s.—I bought one—they were not filled up—I bought one for 5s.—anybody could fill in the name.
Cross-examined. I knew it contained postal orders.
HENRY CHARLES MEECH . I am overseer at the Western District Post Office—the prisoner Myson has been employed there as a postman since 1901—a letter posted at Hastings on August 21st, about twelve would reach our office probably a little after 3 p.m. in time for the 6 p.m. delivery—Myson was on duty there on August 21st and 22nd about that time, and would have access to the letters—he would not deliver at Shoolbred's—the postmen sort their own letters—I know his writing—the signatures F Row to these orders for 20s. and two for 5 s. are in his writing.
Cross-examined. Postal orders are sometimes made out in blank, when any name appearing in two places will ensure payment.
JOHN DRURY PHILIPS . I am a clerk in the Secretary's Department of the General Post Office—on January 5th Myson, after I cautioned him, made a statement to me, in consequence of which I sent for Lewis, a mechanical engineer who lives at the same address—he came.
Cross-examined. A note was taken at the time of what he said—I told him who I was, and that I was enquiring into lost letters passing through the Western District Office—I said, "I am going to ask you questions; you need not answer unless you like," and that what he said would be taken down, and might be used as evidence against him—a constable was sent to request him to come to the Post Office—Richard Walter Davis is a messenger and not a policeman—I think both Davis and Alexander went for him—Alexander is a constable attached to the Post Office—my instructions were given to him to request Lewis to come to the Post Office—the substance of my words were, "Go and find Lewis, either at 102, Hampshire Street, Kentish Town, or at some place where he is at work, and ask him to come to the Post Office" or "request him to come to the Post Office"—Alexander was in plain clothes—I sent those men for Lewis at once after Myson had made his statement, which I took down, I think, in Alexander's presence, but I am sure Davis was present—when Lewis came I did not show him the postal orders till I had cautioned him—I only said that I was inquiring into lost letters passing through the Western District Office, and that a statement had been made by Myson—I did not tell him that Myson had confessed—I said I wished to invite his explanation—I said, "I shall take your answers in writing, and they may be used in evidence against you."
MR. DE MICHALE here submitted that Lewis's statement, not being free and voluntary, was not admissible in evidence, according to decisions in Reg. v. Gavin, 15 Cox, p. 656; Reg. v. Male, 17 Cox, p. 689; and Reg. v. Thompson, 1893, 2 Q. B. Division, p. 12. The Recorder held that the statement did not come within those decisions, and was admissible.
By MR. BIRON. I said to Lewis, "What is your name?"—he replied, "Albert Lewis"—I said, "I am enquiring into losses of letters, and certain statements have been made to me by postman Myson, and I am going to invite your explanation"—I cautioned him—I said, "I am going to ask you certain questions that you need not answer unless you like, hut anything you say will be taken down in writing, and will probably be used in evidence against you"—I then said, ""Have you negotiated postal orders on behalf of your brother-in-law, Myson?"—he replied, "Yes"—I said, "Did you negotiate the cheque for £40 produced?"—I showed him the cheque—he replied, "Yes, I received it from Myson, and wrote the endorsement' S. Gardner & Co.' on the back"—it is payable to S. Gardner & Co.—I said, "Did you present the cheque at the bank yourself?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Who did?"—he said, "I could not tell you now, I do not know, I gave it to someone to negotiate, I cannot tell who"—I said, "Did you receive the money from the person to whom you gave the cheque to present?"—he said. "I did"—I said, "What did this person receive from you for his services?"—he said, "I do not care to say"—I said, "Did you
know they were postal orders that Myson had stolen?"—Myson had identified a large number of postal orders as being those he had stolen—I showed Lewis about 200 out of which he selected eight three and said, "These are mine" among them were Nos. 4, 5 and 6. two were for 2s. and one for 1s.—these sixty-seven orders were among the eighty-three—they are made out in the names of Lincoln and Bennett and twenty or thirty various other names—not more than ten were the names originally written—the others were fictitious—after Lewis had made his statement I gave him into custody—if the explanation had been satisfactory I should not have done so—I read both statements in the presence of the prisoners.
Cross-examined. I ask questions of a person likely to be given into custody if the circumstances warrant—I have heard what Sir Albert de Rutzen said at Bow Street about doing so—I do as I am instructed—my idea was to know whether a third person was in it—I knew the name "Gardner & Co" on the cheque was a forgery—Myson had told me about it—I read the statements at the close of the whole proceedings—at that time Myson had not been given into custody—the prisoners made no reply after the statements had been read.
ALFRED GEORGE ALEXANDER (Police-Constable, G.P.O.) On January 5th, in consequence of Mr. Philips speaking to me. I went to Hampshire Street, Kentish Town in plain clothes, with Detective Walker—I told Lewis I was a police officer attached to the Post Office, and asked him to come with me to the Post Office to sec Mr. Philips—he said, "All right—he came willingly—I took him in a cab, which I paid for—I was present at the interview with Mr. Philips—I said nothing—when the interview was over he was given into custody—I took the prisoners to the police station where they were charged—they made no reply.
Cross-examined. I was sent by Mr. Philips to see Bert Lewis—I found him working with his brother in an engineering shop—I have heard nothing against his character—I said, "Is your name Bert?"—he said, "Yes"—I said. "My name is Alexander, and I am a police officer attached to the General Post Office: I want you to accompany me to the Post Office to see Mr. Philips"—if he had not come I should have taken him to the police station—I had a warrant—he knew I was a police officer—I said to Mr. Philips. "This is Bert." and to Lewis. "This is Mr. Philips"—Mr. Philips sat on one side the table and Lewis on the other—I was near the corner—I said nothing after the introduction—not a word more than the introduction was said till after the caution—I am positive of that—Mr. Philips made notes at the time—there was no interrogation till after the caution—the caution was similar to that used in a police court—the investigation lasted between two and three hours—I was present to arrest Myson—I arrested him—he was questioned by Mr. Philips after being cautioned—Mr. Philips took down his statement—he admitted stealing the cheque and getting some body else to cash it. Mr. Byron here put in the prisoner's statements. Mr. de Michele having requested that Myson's statement should be read:—"What is your name? Albert Edward Myson (cautioned). Where did you obtain the four postal orders produced
to you. 3/6, E/39 581406, 6s. G/19 14650, 1s. 6d. B 69, 258106, 20s. O/88 003526? I stole them out of letters on Saturday last, 2nd Jan. I burned the letters. Have you been stealing letters for some time past, if so. for how long? Since May, 1902. Have you negotiated all the stolen orders yourself, or has anyone assisted you? My brother-in-law has assisted me. What is his name Bert Lewis, he lives at 102, Gainsford Street, Kentish Town. Do you remember stealing a letter addressed to S. Gardner & Co., 1. Clifford Street, Saville Row, London, W., containing the £40 cheque produced to you? Yes, I do. The endorsement upon the back is in the handwriting of Bert Lewis; I would not have anything to do with it. Have you given other cheques to Lewis, i.e., cheques taken from letters? Two or three; Lewis negotiated them. I should like to say that my brother-in-law first induced me to steal. Did you on the 20th May, 1903, steal the registered letter to which the "tab" produced refers, and did you sign the tab "G. Clarke?" "Yes, I changed the bank notes, somewhere near Charing Cross. What have you to say with regard to the letter addressed D. H. Evans, and which was found in your uniform trousers pocket? It contains a postal order 13/68 882312, 1s. 6d. and five stamps. I stole it. Were postal orders O/68 839388,20s., and C/75 005226, 2s., stolen from a letter and negotiated by you? They were contained in a letter stolen by me. I negotiated the 20s. order and Lewis the 2s. order. Was postal order G/66 408801, 4s., stolen from a letter and negotiated by you? Yes. Were postal orders A/88 677811, 1s., and O/63 753609. 2s., stolen from a letter and negotiated by you? Yes. Were postal orders 323783, 1s. 6d., and K/48 133435, 7s. 6d., stolen from a letter and negotiated by you? Yes. "Lewis's statement: "What is your name? Albert Lewis. Have you negotiated postal orders on behalf of your brother-in-law Myson, using names other than your own? Yes. Did you negotiate the cheque for £40 produced? Yes; I received it from Myson, and wrote the endorsement S. Gardner & Co.' on the back. Did you present the cheque at the bank yourself? No. Who did? Couldn't tell you now. I don't know. I gave it to someone to negotiate, but cannot tell who. Did you receive the money from the person to whom you gave the cheque to present? I did. What did this person receive from you for his services? I don't care to say. Were part proceeds of the cheque two £5 notes, and did you buy the postal orders produced with the respective notes? Yes. Did you know that the cheque and the postal orders which Myson used to hand to you were stolen? Yes."
By MR. DE MICHELE. I have heard Myson's statement read—the note is substantially correct—I heard Myson questioned—Lewis was brought to me that morning about twelve by Davis, who is employed by the Post Office as assistant to the police to keep under observation suspected persons—he saw Myson change the orders—directly after Myson's examination I was directed to bring Lewis—I got a messenger to go with me at once—I had—Myson's statement in my mind—I did not tell Lewis that Myson had made a statement; nor that he had been to the Post Office; nor that he was charged with stealing postal orders—I gave him no information as to what
Myson had done—I hoard his admissions—I warned him—I merely requested him to accompany me to the Post Office—if he had refused to come I should have arrested him on suspicion. and taken him to the nearest police station—I never interrogate a man.
ALBERT KDWARD MYSON (the prisoner.) I have been employed by the Post Office as a postman since 1900—I was twenty-two last October—at the time of this offence I received 21s. 6d. a week wages—I was living at 102, Gainsford Street, Kentish Town—the prisoner Lewis is my brother-in-law, he married the sister of my wife—we both lodged at 102, Gainsford Street—I have pleaded guilty to stealing the six postal orders the subject of this inquiry—I recognise the writing on Nos. 4,5 and 6 as Lewis's—the writing on the other three orders is mine—I got them from a letter—I gave thorn to Lewis to cash—he said, "Give them to me, I will pass them"—he knew where I got them from—he told me to steal them—I stole the letters—I gave the orders to him—we shared half each—this had been going on for eighteen months with a six months' interval—I did not hand the. cheque for £40 to Lewis, I handed the letter—I saw it after it was opened—I saw the cheque afterwards—I had none of the money—I thought the cheque was burnt—nobody told me so—I do not understand cheques—the signatures on these postal orders are Lewis's—I recognised the writing when I gave my statement to Mr. Philips—I divided the money with Lewis—I came to steal letters from the Post Office by an accident: I went to deliver a large halfpenny circular in which the flap is tucked in the envelope; I noticed the end of a letter sticking out: I threw it in my sack, but when I had finished my delivery (I was living with Lewis) I threw my sack on the bottom bed rail, where I always hung it, and Lewis happened to go by it and it fell out or he pulled it out; he took the letter and said. "Where did you get this from?" I said, "Oh, it is only a letter. I will take it. back to the Post Office in the morning"—he said, "Does the Post Office know you have got it?" I said. "Of course they do not"; he said. Why don't you keep it and see if there is anything in it"—there was a postal order in it—when opened the letters that did not contain anything I fastened up and sent back—I stole letters and opened them afterwards.
Cross-examined. I was married on March 3rd and Lewis on March 17th, 1903—I have always been friendly with Lewis—I do not know of any orders cashed by him since August—I know nothing against his character—I was born on October 18th. 1881—I can prove that by Somerset House—Lewis is older than I am—he has been working with his father as an engineer—the proceeds were spent on the necessaries of life—I had only 13s. 6d. a week on starting, and worked from (6 a.m. till 10 p.m.—poverty and Lewis tempted me—when I had 18s. a week I had to pay 3s. a week riding expenses—these are signed by Lewis and these by me (Separating the orders into two bundles)—the signature "F. Row" I tilled in myself—some are imaginary names—I have known Lewis ten or eleven years; about twelve years—I never lived with him at Gainsford Street—I took rooms with him after we were married.
LEWIS, in his defence on oath said that he cashed orders for Myson,
some in his father's business, believing in Mysons honesty and not knowing they were stolen, and paid him for them.
He received a good character.
GUILTY . Eighteen months hard labour.
MYSON— Twelve months hard labour.
THIRD COURT—Wednesday and Thursday, February 10th and 11th, 1904.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
220. FREDERICK HOTINE (43) , Being entrusted with the sums of £10 by George William Sanders, £50 by Ernest Barley, £20 by Frederick William Madams, and other sums from other persons, fraudulently converting them to his own use and benefit; Other counts, for obtaining the like sums by false pretences; Other counts for obtaining credit for the said amounts, he being an undischarged bankrupt.
MR. C. MATHEWS and MR. A. GILL Prosecuted.
(During the opening speech the Common Serjeant said he considered that the facts stated by Counsel did not disclose any offences under the Larceny Act of 1901, as alleged in the first sixteen counts. Mr. Mathews contended that the money was handed to the prisoner to keep in safe custody. The Common Serjeant considered that the prisoner could do what he liked with it, and that it was a mere debt, and refused to allow that part of the case to go to the Jury. Mr. Mathews then proceeded upon the bankruptcy counts.)
GEORGE INGLIS BOYLE . I am a messenger at the Bankruptcy Court, London—I produce the file relating to the bankruptcy of Frederick M. Hotine, No. 310, of 1895—the receiving order was made on January 21st, 1898, and the adjudication was on April 1st, 1898—according to the statemeat of affairs the gross liabilities were £1,008 3s.; the assets £1,189 3s.—there is no record on the file of any dividend having been paid—on March 26th, 1898, there was an order that the bankruptcy should be consolidated with the bankruptcy of John Roberts—the joint liabilities expected to rank are stated at £6,001 18s. 6d., and the assets £1,633 19s. 9d., showing a deficiency of £4347 18s. 9d.—there is no record of the prisoner's discharge—I produce another rile relating to a second bankruptcy of the prisoner—the petition is dated 12th May, 1900, the adjudication September 7th—on the statement of affairs, filed on July 12th, the liabilities are shown as £706 13s. 3d.; assets nil—he has not been discharged.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I cannot say whether your first bankruptcy was due to your having been a partner in John Roberts & Co.
ERNEST BARLEY . I am an off-license holder, of 33, Senior Street, Harrow Road—on December 1st, 1902, I advertised in the Daily Telegraph f or employment—I received on December 3rd a post card—in consequence called on a Mr. Dennis, Lonsdale Chambers, Chancery Lane, and had an interview—in consequence of that, I went the next day to 18, Feather-stone Buildings, Holborn, and saw the prisoner—I told him that Mr. Denuis had said there was a vacant post in the publishing department at £2 10s.—in my advertisement I had offered security of £40 or £50—I Mentioned that to the prisoner, and he said he would accept it—he made
an appointment for the next day—I went, and he said he wanted a man in the publishing department of Billiards Illustrated; that the position would be a remunerative one, and I should have money passing through my hands, which was why he wanted the security—I arranged to start work on the 6th, and went to Featherstone Buildings and saw the prisoner; he asked me if I had got the money—I said "No."—he asked me if I could get it that morning—I said, "I'll try"—I went home and borrowed £50 from my mother and came back with it—I deposited the £30 with the prisoner in ten £3 notes—he gave me this promissory note (Produced.)—he told me nothing about his bankruptcy—I did not know of it—nothing else was said as to what was to be done with my money beyond what I have said—I went to work on December 8th and stayed till March. 1903—I had no work to do of any consequence—I received my first week's wages—after that I did not receive them regularly—I asked him from time to time for money—I got altogether in the three months £6 10s.—my wages amounted to about £32—he said he was unable to pay; he had no money—on March 6th he said he had no further need of my services—my agreement with him was for three months—I asked for the return of my money—he said it would be forthcoming in time: he was not in a position to pay then—while I was there several others were employed—they could not get their wages either—I went to see the prisoner after I left his employ to see about my money—I saw fresh people there, and said to the prisoner that before he took any fresh hands he ought to have paid us old ones—he made no reply—about 9s. or 10s., passed through my hands in the three months I was there—I have never received my £30 back—in addition there is £26 wages due to me.
Cross-examined. You told me that Billiards Illustrated was a new venture—you said it was a safe going concern—I had charge of a stock of pamphlets in addition to Billiards Illustrated as well as show cards—it is quite true that men were required to distribute the cards, papers and pamphlets to newsagents, leaving them on sale or return—I certainly thought when you took my money you would carry out your agreement with me, or else I should not have put it down—I am only here as a witness on subpoena—I am confident you did not tell me that you wore involved in the Roberts bankruptcy—it was, however spoken of by everybody.
Re-examined. I think I called at the office last in December.
By the COURT. I heard from somebody that the prisoner had become bankrupt or was involved in some bankruptcy—it was, I dare say, three or four weeks after I parted with my money—I never spoke to him about it.
FREDRICK WILLIAM MADAMS . I am a commercial traveller—on April 1st. 1903 I saw an advertisement in the Daily Chronicle, and the same day wrote to the address given therein. 10. High Holborn—in reply I received a telegram—in consequence of that I went to 18. Feather-stone Buildings, on April 2nd. and saw the prisoner there—he told me he wanted a representative for his hook called Billiards Illustrated, as he was taking it out of the publisher's hands, Wellstead & Sons. 17. Adam Street, Strand, and running it himself—my wages were to be 30s. a week,
and he wanted £20 security—he asked £30 at first, and I told him I only had £20, and he said that would do—he wanted it for honesty and sobriety against my collecting accounts—I told him I had no experience, and he said I should soon pick it up—he told me there was a good profit on the publication—I asked him for a reference—he referred me to Wellstead's—I paid him a £20 note, and he gave me this receipt—the next day I saw Wellstead's manager, and in consequence of what he told me I went to see the prisoner to get my money back—he told me it was no use taking any notice of what I was told, "as long as you get your money right every week, what does it matter?"—in consequence of that statement, I started work on April 4th—I had to call at book stalls, inquiring whether they had Billiards Illustrated; if not I was to leave 6d. and tell them to order it, leaving different names at each book stall—on April 10th I gave notice to leave, and told the prisoner I should want the £20 back—he said, "If you stop on till next week I will refund £13 back, as I think you are a good man, and I think you will do me a bit of good"—I stayed on—I received my wages for two clear weeks—I called on the prisoner on April 20th, the end of the nest week, with regard to the £15—he said he had just paid all the money he had to a printer, but if I would wait till Monday he would get it for me then—I got nothing on the Monday—I stayed on with the prisoner until August, 1903, when he was taken away to Wormwood Serubbs for debt—during July I was in the habit of calling at the office, and saw a number of men outside—I told the prisoner he was taking other men on and treating them in the same way he treated me, and he said, "If you go away I will pay you up; let me get their money, and I will pay you"—he also told me not to mention a word to them about the business, or what I had been doing—he said if I did not, he would pay me—I spoke to the men, and told the prisoner that I had told them that he had swindled mo out of money, and with that they went away—in July a man named O'Donoghue was taken on as manager—when that happened I asked the prisoner if he had any money for me—he said, "Yes, there is £10; now go away and keep your tongue quiet as perhaps you will stop fellows coming here"—I said, "Do you want a receipt for it?"—he said, "You can give me a receipt when I pay you the other, which you will have to wait for; if you get it you will be lucky"—I called on him later for the balance of my money—he said he had only 2s., and could not pay me out of that—I did not know that he was an undischarged bankrupt, and he never told me so—if I had known it I would not have handed my £20 over.
Cross-examined. When you were telling me about Billiards Illustrated you said there was a good profit on it: you told me to go to Wellstead's—you gave mo £2 for ordering the books at the book stalls, which I have not accounted for—I am sure I told you of my conversations with the men who came to the office—I had more pity for the men than to think of my £20.
Re-examined. I left the £2 I had from the prisoner, at different book stalls.
JOSEPH PATRICK O'DONOGHUE . I live at 30, Grosvenor Road. Chiswick, and am an accountant—I saw an advertisement on July 6th, 1903, for a clerk who could invest £150; salary £3 a week and excellent prospects—I communicated with the address mentioned, and received an answer—I called at 18, Featherstone Buildings, and there saw the prisoner—he described the business and the paper that was being brought out, and also an agreement between himself and Messrs. Cooper, of Birmingham—he offered me a situation as managing clerk at £3 a week, and I was to invest £150 in the business at 6 per cent.—I considered the matter for a week, and made inquiries about Messrs. Cooper, and decided to invest the money—an agreement was drawn up on July 13th, and I handed him the £150 in bank notes—he did not inform me that he was an undischarged bankrupt, and I did not know it—I left oft going to the office about the middle of October—there was no money to be got—I had two weeks' salary—I gave him notice to refund my £150—I received no answer, nor any part of the money, nor anything further of wages.
Cross-examined. I was engaged as manager under you—you fully disclosed your agreement with Cooper's; there was no secrecy about it—I knew of your relations with them practically all the way through—I remember the prospectus of the Billiard Player Syndicate, Limited—you were not the promoter of it—I applied for the secretaryship under your instructions, and was engaged—you said, "When I get the £300 in cash from the company I will be able to pay you out, and if you get the secretaryship of the syndicate, you can apply for the qualifying shares of secretaryship with the £150 that I will pay you, but Mr. Carter must not know that I had the money from you"—I cannot say whether, if it had gone through, it would have been very successful—I ventured my money in with you—I called on you weekly to see if I could get any money out of you right up to December—I have not initiated any charge against you; I am only here as a witness—you did not tell me when I was engaged that you were involved in the Roberts bankruptcy—six weeks afterwards I heard of it.
Re-examined. The Billiard Player Syndicate was registered, but never went to allotment—Mr. Carter was the managing director of Cooper's.
The prisoner in his defence on oath, stated that he had served as an officer in the Australian Army; that in 1875 he enlisted in the Home Army, and during has career occupied the position of warrant officer in the Army Pay Department; that in 1896 he entered into partnership as billiard table manufacturers with John Roberts, who became bankrupt, and that he became involved in the bankruptcy; that he did not want to obtain his discharge until he could pay his creditors in full: that his second bankruptcy was due to having guaranteed debts; that he disclosed sufficiently to Barley and O'Donoghue that he was an undischarged bankrupt; that he did not remember making any disclosure to Madams, as the amount was under £20, and that he absolutely contradicted the conversation of April 10th deposed to by Madams.
GUILTY . The police stated that the prisoner was looked upon by them as order right service One year and ten months' hard labour.
MR. JENKINS and MR. BIRCHAM Prosecuted, and MR. RODERICK Defended.
RICHARD HEYWARD . On December 22nd I had a number of women picking sprouts in my field in Hospital Lane, Harlington, near Slough—I sent for the sprouts next morning, and missed fifteen sacks—the sprouts had been put into sacks by the women—I found on the field, wheel marks of a small cart, also these two potato bags (Produced), which do not belong to me—they had evidently fallen out of the cart—"Beesley" is the name on them—a few days afterwards Detective Sergeant Crutchett spoke to me; I went to the police station at Harlington and identified fifteen bags as those which had contained my Brussels sprouts—five or six had my name on them, and the others were plain—I have not sold any Brussels sprouts in sacks this season.
Cross-examined. We do not sell sprouts in sacks; they are gathered in sacks, taken home, hand picked, and placed in baskets ready for market—I say these sacks never leave my possession, and do not go to other people—my sacks do not all bear my name—some sacks go to other people—if in other people's hands it would not necessarily mean that they had been stolen; but the Brussels sprout sacks do not get about to other people—the value of the goods taken was about £6 10s. or £7—I saw the tracks of a wheel in the field, I never saw a cart—I do not know the width between the wheels.
Re-examined. Sprouts go to Covent Garden in baskets like this—they do not go in bags at all.
MARIA LACEY . I work for Mr. Heyward—on December 22nd I picked twenty-seven bags and sacks of Brussels sprouts—they were left ready to be taken away—I can identify the sacks as belonging to my employer—I left them in the field that night.
THOMAS OVEN . I am a fruiterer and greengrocer at Isleworth—on December 23rd, between 9 and 10 a.m., the prisoner, who serves the same round as I do, came to me and said, "How are you of for Brussels sprouts?"—I said, "Well, I don't know"—he said, "I have got some, cost £3 10s. a load"; that is 3s. 6d. a bag; "if you like to have a couple of bags you can have two at what they cost"—I said I would—I took them and paid 7s. for the two; that was on the Wednesday—on the Thursday he came round again—I said to him, "If you've got a couple more bags of those sprouts, I can do with them"—he said, "Yes, you can have two"—he fetched me two on the Thursday night with his pony and cart, which I paid him for—I said to him, "Well, you had better take a little profit for your trouble of going to London and getting them"—he said, "That will be all right; if that will satisfy you it will satisfy me"—he said, "Whatever you do, don't lose the bags, because there is 6d. apiece charged on them"—he told me he bought fifteen bushels that cost £3 10s., and it was more than he wanted for his own trade—on the Monday after Christmas I took some potato bags back to Mr. Peters, of Kew Bridge, and amongst them by mistake two bags
belonging to Mr. Heyward, of Harlington—the bags I had from the prisoner were marked "R. Heyward."
Cross-examined. I have regular customers and cover almost the same ground as the prisoner—6d. is charged for the sack, and if you do not return it you lose your 6d.—you could not use those sacks again; there is a law to prevent it—the prisoner had an ordinary tradesman's cart with yellow wheels: I should not call it a coster's barrow—he is no friend of mine.
Re-examined. And no enemy of mine.
CHARLES CRUTCHETT (Detective Sergeant.) On December '51st I searched the prisoner's premises at Angel Yard, Brentford End—I found a quantity of sacks some containing a few Brussels sprouts, a bushel basket with R. Hey ward on. and a number of other sacks—Mrs. Lacey and Mr. Heyward identified the sacks as those which had been used in the field to pack Brussels—on January 5th I saw Oven at North Street, Isleworth, where he lives—I received two sacks from him—Mr. Heyward's name was on them.
Cross-examined. When I arrested the prisoner he was not much upset—he did not tell me his wife was very ill—he was not then charged—I arrested him on the 30th on another charge—it is one of the cases now before the Court.
ERNEST TICKELL . I am a warehouseman in the employ of the Southwestern Railway at Kew Bridge—on December 21st two trucks consigned to Mr. Welch arrived at Kew Bridge—there were 100 sacks of potatoes in each truck—the sacks had a red D on them.
WILLIAM WRIGHT . I am a carman in the service of Mr. Welch, potato salesman at Brentford Market—on December 21st I went to Kew Bridge Station to unload some potatoes belonging to my master—there were two trucks, 100 bags in each truck—I unloaded seventy-five out of one truck and eighty-five out of the other leaving forty—I had not time to unload more that day—on December 22nd, about 10 a.m., I went to unload the rest—I found six in one truck and one in the other: thirty-four are missing—I identify this bag as one of them; I have seen others—they are exactly similar to those belonging to Mr. Welch.
Cross-examined. I said at the Police Court that if you bought potatoes you would get them in a sack similar to this one, but I did not mean similarly marked—you have to leave 6d. on the sack, which you get back on its return.
FREDERICK MELLISH . I am a salesman to Mr. Welch at Brentford Market—on December 21st I sold potatoes for him: they were part of a consignment that had come to Kew Bridge—there were two trucks of them—thirty-four sacks would be worth. I believe, £8 12s. 6d.; that is the price we paid—I have been shown by the police twenty-one empty sacks—I identify them as being similar to what we had taken out of our trucks—I saw them at Angel Yard and Brentford Police Station.
Cross-examined. Potatoes are sold in sacks—we charge (id. for each sack, which is returnable—other people get possession of our sacks other than those who purchase them.
CHARLES CRUTCHETT (Re-examined.) I went on December 30th to the stable yard of the Angel, Brentford, occupied by the prisoner—I found twelve full bags of potatoes—a number of them were marked with a red "D"—I also found a number of empty sacks—I arrested the prisoner, but on a different charge to this.
JOSEPH PHILLIPS . I am a porter at North Drive Station, Spalding, Lines—on December 2nd I loaded 100 bags of potatoes into one truck and 100 into another consigned to Mr. Beesley, of Kew Bridge—Beesley's name was on them.
Cross-examined. I do not know how they are sold, nor anything bout the bags.
DAVID ALLNUTT . I am a salesman in the employ of Mr. Beesley, potato salesman at Brentford Market—on December 10th I unloaded at Kew Bridge potatoes consigned to Mr. Beesley—I found ninety-three bags in one truck and sixty-two in another—they had a sheet and straw over them, and it looked as if someone had been there—the bags were marked "Beesley & Co. Brentford Market"—Sergeant Crutchett showed me some bags; this is one—it has on "Bessley &Co., Brentford Market"—I went to Angel Inn, Brentford, on January 2nd, and found seventeen empty bags and one full one—I identify them as belonging to Beesley & Co.—the value of the potatoes and bags was £12 7s. 6d.—I have never sold potatoes to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. We sell potatoes in marked bags, for which bags we charge 6d., returnable.
CHARLES CRUTCHETT (Re-examined.) On December 30th I searched the prisoner's premises and found twelve sacks of potatoes and a number of empty bags, some of them with the name of "Beesley, Brentford Market," with a large red "B" thereon—I did not count them at the time, but on January 2nd there were seventeen empty bags and one full of potatoes—I charged the prisoner on January 4th at the Uxbridge Petty Sessions with stealing thirty-four bags of potatoes—he replied, "I bought them at B. 's."
Cross-examined. The charge that he was arrested on has not been mentioned here during the time I have been here—this is one of the charges in the calendar.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, staled that he admitted having sacks of sprouts on his premises, but that he bought them at Covent Garden Market on December 22nd; that he bought half a ton of "Beesley Brockland potatoes" in ten sacks, and that all the bags found on his premises were his own, on which he had paid the duty of 6d. each, and that those marked "D" were bought from a man who was known by the nickname of "D"
GUILTY on the Second Count.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Guildhall, Westminster, on April 13th, 1901, in the name of James Wilson. Two other convictions were proved against him, and the police
stated that they found other articles on Ins premises believed to have been stolen. Four years' penal servitude.
MR. RODERICK Prosecuted.
FREDERICK ROBERT SURRY . I am a schoolmaster, of 18, Church Crescent, South Hackney—I had about 30,000 or 60.000 postage stamps—on Thursday evening, January (5th, they were scattered about on different chairs and places in the front drawing room—I saw that the house was properly closed up—the next day I came down about 8.30—I went into the kitchen and found several things had been taken from the front room and brought into the kitchen; knives, forks and clothing, done up in separate parcels, and all the stamps gone—the back door and scullery window were open—I have got back 6,000 or 7,000 of the stamps, which are here—they are all mine.
Cross-examined by Edwards. At the police station I was shown an envelope with six stamps in it—I could have identified those without seeing the others—one of them has a mount on the back of a particular colour which I use.
By the COURT. A good many are mounted on sheets, which have my writing on them.
FREDERICK FOX (Chief Inspector.) On January 8th, about 3.10 p.m., I was in Brick Lane and saw the two prisoners coming along towards High Street, Whitechapel, side by side—they seemed to be talking—Taylor had a brown paper parcel under his arm—I spoke to two sergeants with me, and we crossed the street at the same time that they did. and all came close together—the prisoners seemed to recognise me, and one darted one way and the other another—Taylor threw the parcel he was carrying into the gutter—Sergeant Brown caught him, and Wildey caught Edwards—they both struggled violently—they were taken to the police station in two separate cabs—I and Brown went with Taylor—I said to Taylor," you were in possession of a brown paper parcel; if you like you can tell me what was in it, but you are not bound to do so"—he said, "Bread and meat'"—at the station, after Edwards got there, I said something similar to him, that he might tell me if he liked what was in it—he said, "I was not carrying it. he was carrying it," meaning Taylor—the parcel was opened, and these stamps and books were taken out, which Mr. Surry has proved are his—I was still at my desk in charge of the stamps when Detective Wildey turned round to me and said, "I have found these five stamps in my prisoner's pocket"—that was Edwards', who said, "Yes, you put them there"—I saw a piece of newspaper at his feet and asked where it came from—Wilder said, "I took it out of his inside coat pocket—Edwards said, "That's right"—I unfolded the paper, and this stamp fell out—the prosecutor came in and said where the robbery was committed and when, and then the prisoner said they were in the Artillery Tavern, Gun Street, Whitechapel, at the time.
Cross-examined by Edwards. I saw Wilder 'searching you—he was standing between you and me—I did not see what he found.
Cross-examined by Taylor. A man tried to pick up the parcel in the cutter, but I got it first—I did not arrest him, as I had enough to do at the time, and I could not prove he knew it was stolen—there was a crowd there.
EDWARD WILDEY (Detective Officer.) I was in Brick Lane, Whitechapel, with Chief Inspector Fox—I arrested Edwards—Taylor threw away a parcel—I searched Edwards at the station, and in his overcoat inside breast pocket I found a newspaper which I threw on the floor—I then found these three stamps—I also found two stamps in his right hand overcoat outside pocket—I said to Inspector Fox, "I've found five stamps in this man's pocket"—the newspaper was opened, and a stamp fell out—Edwards said, "I am done now"—he also said that I had placed the stamps in his pocket.
Cross-examined by Edwards. You made the statement when I had taken the two stamps from one pocket and the others from the other.
By MR. RODERICK. He repeated the statement before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined by Taylor. Edwards was a very short distance from you when I arrested him—you threw the parcel away as soon as you saw Inspector Fox come up.
EDNA STREET . I live at 5, The Facade, Stroud Green Road, Finsbury Park, and keep a shop where I exhibit stamps, which I sell on commission—on January 8th, about 2.45 p.m., a man, who was Edwards, came and asked me if I bought foreign stamps—I said I did not buy them myself, but if he would leave them I would show them to a dealer, and he would buy them—he said he had only five or six with him, which he put on my table—I should not be able to identify them—I asked him how many he had—he said 5,000 or 6,000—I asked him what he wanted, so that I might tell the dealer—he said he did not understand them; he had had them given to him—I identified Edwards at the police station—there were nine or ten men with him.
Cross-examined by Edwards. I said at first that I was not sure you were the man, but I did not leave the station yard saying that I was not sure.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: Edwards says: "I was in a public house playing whist from 1 o'clock to 3.40. I came out and went and had some tea; then it was about 4.10. I went up Brick Lane. Taylor asked me to have a drink. I went into a public house with him. When I came out I was arrested." Taylor says: "I was with Edwards in a public house. We went in about 1 o'clock. I went out with him and had tea. I missed him for about a quarter of an hour. We then went and had a drink. I left him in the bar and went to another man, who said, "Take this over to Wildermouth lodging house for me. "He gave Die a parcel. I asked what it was. He said,' It is only some meat and toke for supper.' I went out. and Edwards followed me. I was arrested
and knocked over, and dropped the parcel in the mud. I did not throw it. I did not struggle, and there was no attempt at rescue. Nobody attempted to pick up the parcel."
JAMES JOHNSON . I live at 11, Dorset Street, Spitalfields, and am a gutter merchant—I know Edwards—I was with him on January 8th in the Artillery public house from about 2 to 3.30—he then came with me and a friend, Robinson, to whore we live, and had a cup of tea with me—he stayed half an hour—he left about four—Taylor came with us, had tea, and went away with Edwards—that was the last I saw of them.
Cross-examined. I made a statement to two gentlemen who came round to my house on Saturday—Robinson was present—when I was in the public house the landlord was not there, nor the barman—it was a foggy day; the barman might have been cleaning windows—we were playing at cards with our own cards.
The prisoner Edwards. I was in this man's company, playing cards with a cribbage board.
JOSEPH ROBINSON . I am a newsvendor—I saw both the prisoners on January 8th in the Artillery at 2 o'clock—we were playing at cards there from 2 to 3.30—I left them outside 11. Dorset Street with Johnson to go and have tea—I did not have tea—I went in for my overcoat and went out selling papers.
By Taylor. I saw the barman standing on the counter—he was not serving till I jumped up and called for a drink.
Cross-examined. I was not at the police court—me, the two prisoners and the other witness formed the whist party—the landlord was not present only the barman—I do not know whether he saw us playing; we were in the corner—this is the first time I have mentioned that Taylor was present—I made a statement to two gentlemen last Saturday, which was taken down in writing.
Taylor, in his defence on oath, stated that he came out from having a drink about 1 o'clock, and met Edwards, and asked him to have a drink; that they walked towards the Artillery public house, and on the way met Johnson and Robinson: that they all had a drink, and played at cards till 3.40, when he jumped up. saying, "I'm off "; that they walked towards a lodging house, went in and had tea, the three of them, and then came out; that he met a man who said to him, "Run these over to Wilbennouth lodging house"; that he said to him, "What are they?" and he replied, It is only some grub, some bread and meat, that he went to walk there, and Edwards followed him, and they were both arrested; and that was how he came by the stamps.
Evidence in reply
JOSEPH COOK . I am barman at the Artillery Arms, Gun Street, Spitalrields—on Friday, January 8th. I was in charge of the house from noon to 4.30—I know Taylor by sight—the prisoners were not there playing at cards during that time—I was not cleaning windows; I never do—the landlord was not there—I do not know Edwards.
Cross-examined by Edwards. I did not sec you in the house that day with throe other men.
Cross-examined by Taylor. I am sure I did not serve drink all round on that Friday afternoon—I may have been cleaning the cabinet at the back—I clean the brass work on Wednesdays and Saturdays—I was interviewed by two of the police, who told me to come up on Monday—they said that you had said I was cleaning windows—they also said that you were playing at nap.
Edwards, in his defence, slated that he met Taylor about 1 o'clock; that he was going down Dorset Street and met the other two men; that they went into Brick Lane, where the detectives pounced upon them; that they were taken to the station and the parcel opened; that the police had invented the statements they had made, to corroborate Wildey's statement, and that the witnesses he had called had proved that he was in their company.
They then PLEADED GUILTY to convictions of felony; Edwards at Clerkenwell on June 1st, 1897, in the name of James Smith, and Taylor at Worship Street on August 23th, 1902, in the name of James Alien. Eight other convictions were proved against Edwards, and three against Taylor. EDWARDS— Ten years' penal servitude. TAYLOR— Five years' penal servitude.
223. REUBEN BRIDGEN PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining £3 by false pretences from Richard Allen, with intent to defraud; also to forging and uttering a request for the delivery of goods, having been convicted of felony at Guildhall on August 17th, 1901. Three other convictions were proved against him. Three years' penal servitude.
OLD COURT—Thursday and Friday, February 11th and 12th, 1904.
Before Mr. Justice Phillimore.
224. WALTER THEODORE FELDON . who had PLEADED GUILTY to certain indictments (See page 183), before Mr. Justice Ridley, was sentenced by Mr. Justice Phillimore to Four years' penal servitude, restitution to the amount of £,187 having been made.
MR. MUIR and MR. LEYCESTER Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON and MR. CURTIS
WILMOT ERNEST LANE . I am the Secretary to the Electric Lighting and Traction Company of Australia, and of another limited company at limited, Cannon Street—I occupy an inner office, which is reached by going through an outer one—the prisoner was one of my clerks; he occupied the outer office by himself; I have had no quarrel with him, and his behaviour has been good—he was very quiet and I should say unusually reserved for a lad of his age—on January 4th I was in my office from 9.30 a.m.—about 1O.45 the prisoner came in—his conduct was then in no way strange—I had some conversation with him—he went out and almost immediately
came back again—he extended towards me in his left hand this foolscap sized envelope (Produced)—something in his right hand caught my eye; it was partly concealed by his body; it appeared to me to be a brown paper parcel—I took the letter from him, and began to open it, when I lost consciousness—I did not know what caused me to do so—when I came to I was on the floor on the left of my chair—I felt blows on my head—I could not see who was giving them to me—I realised that I was being attacked—I got on to my knees and looked round and saw the prisoner, with his right arm raised, in the act of hurling something at me—I put up my right arm, and I think the missile must have struck my right elbow because a large bruise was found there afterwards—the prisoner immediately walked out of the room—I got to my feet and called for help; my assistant secretary, Mr. Currie. came in, and I was taken to Guy's Hospital—lam all right now, thanks to the excellent attention I received at the hospital—when the prisoner brought the letter in he said, "The messenger is waiting for a reply"—I was endeavouring to withdraw the enclosure from the envelope—the paper and envelope is of a kind which we used to use in the office.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been in the office for about two years and a half—during that time he has been quiet and inoffensive—on this day we were on very good terms as master and servant—I think in August I noticed that he had some marks on his face—I think Mr. Currie asked him about them and he said he had been attacked by Chinamen in the East End of London.
By the COURT. I have no reason to suppose that he had a real or fancied grudge against mo. or of any secret society which has a grudge against me.
Re-examined. I had a few pounds in the office—nothing was missed.
ZELFA SAUNDERS . I am a typewriter in the employ of this company—I occupy a room on the same floor at 120, Cannon Street—on January 4th, about 10.30 a.m., I heard screams—I opened my door and looked into the general office—my room is on one side of the general office, and Mr. Lane's on the other—I saw the prisoner coming from the direction of Mr. Lane's room—I said, Schultz what is the matter?"—he did not say anything, and walked past me into the corridor—he had no hat or cap on—that was the last I saw of him—that would be the way to the street—I helped Mr. Currie to assist Mr. Lane—I afterwards saw the prisoner's hat and coat hanging in the office.
By the COURT. I saw no other person coming from or going to Mr. Lane's room—I looked into the general office directly I heard the screams—the only way to get out of Mr. Lane's office is to go through the general office.
THOMAS DAVID CURRIE . I am assistant secretary to Mr. Lane—on the morning of January 4th I heard screams, and went to his room—I found him bleeding from the head—he was taken to the hospital—I saw this handle of an axe (Produced.) lying on the floor—I did not see the head of it—the handle was under the window, partly lying under the table—I did not see any brown paper—brown paper like this (Produced.) is used in our office—I produce this list of shareholders in the prisoner's writing—I do not know whoso writing the address on this brown paper is in. and I say
the same with regard to the writing on this envelope—this postage book of ours is made up mostly in the prisoner's writing, and also all of this other document.
ROBERT RALPH (594 City.) On the morning of January 4th I was called to 12*3, Cannon Street—with another officer I went to Mr. Lane's room—I found this axe lying between the table and the front window, and about a foot from the wall—this brown paper was lying on the left of the back of Mr. Lane's chair—it was still folded to the shape of the axe head—it has a clean cut, as though the axe had cut through it—I noticed some blood on one part of the paper—I did not notice any hair—on the paper was written, "T. E. Schultz, 1.37. Burdett Road, London"—I saw this envelope on the table in front, of Mr. Lane's chair—I afterwards saw it opened—it contained two blank sheets of paper.
CHARLES REGINALD HOWARD , M.R.C.S and L.R.C P. On January 4th I was acting house surgeon at Guy's Hospital when Mr. Lane was brought there—he had a wound on the right side of the back of the head and one over the right eye; the posterior wound was a clean incised wound, going down through the tissues of the scalp to the outer part of the skull: it was not a fracture—the one over the eye was a little more bruising—I think they were both dangerous—but it would depend on the condition of the person's health, and if there was any dirt on the axe—the wounds were such as might be caused with a weapon like this—the one across the eye would probably be caused by some other part than the edge; it might have been thrown at him or the edge might not have struck clean—Mr. Lane remained in the hospital until the 13th—I hope there will be no ultimate injury, but it is impossible to be absolutely certain.
ALBERT LEVCESTER (Sergeant 62, City.) At 8.40 p.m. on January 5th I was in charge of Cloak Lane Police Station when the prisoner came in—he said, "I am Schultz; I have come in about that affair in Cannon Street, but I did not do it"—I told him to sit down, and I sent for Detective Willis.
JOHN WILLIS (Defective Inspector, City.) On January 5th I was called on Cloak Lane Police Station to see the prisoner—I asked him if his name was Thomas Efford Schultz; he said, "Yes"; I said, "I am a detective inspector of the City of London Police; do you know the charge against you?"—he said. "Yes"—I cautioned him—he said, "I should like to write something"—I supplied him with paper, pen and ink, and he wrote this statement partly in the presence of his father, whom I had sent for—it was read over to the prisoner by Superintendent Staff—he made no reply—(Read:) One morning last September I found a letter on my desk up at the office. Looking through it. I saw it was a letter threatening the death of some persons, and saying that whoever found the letter was to do the deed. That letter I put in my pocket and said nothing about it, because 1 thought someone was having a joke. The letter somehow fell out of my pocket at home, and was seen by some members of my family, after which 1 tore it up. A few days later a man asked me in Queen Street to go in the ironmongers there and buy him an axe head. I did not think much about a then but simply went and bought if for him. Since that time
I have had two or three handbills given me in the street on which was written something like 'When you are ready to fulfil the requirements of the letter you had in September let us know by advertising in the Personal column of the Daily Mad I am now positively sure that the man who gave me the bills and the one who asked me to buy the axe are the same. On Monday. January 4th, I went to work as usual. About 11 o'clock I was going to ask Mr. Lane if he could let me go to the Ophthalmic Hospital about my eyes, when (he man mentioned above came in and asked me for some paper and envelope, as he wanted to write a letter to Mr. Lane. I told him Mr. Lane was in if he would like to see him. He said it did not matter; he would write him a note. I gave him some paper and a plain foolscap envelope in which I was going to send 2 s. to Mr. Stead's new paper. He handed me back the envelope sealed down, on which was written "Wait for answer." When he handed it back to me he said Take this, and fulfil the letter given to you a little while ago,' at the same time handing me a brown paper parcel which felt rather heavy. I thought he meant the letter that I was to give to Mr. Lane, so took letter and parcel in to Mr. Lane. While Mr. Lane was opening the letter I remember hearing someone walking behind me, and turning my head, saw the man come in the door, crouching down. He came swiftly towards me, and before I could hardly take in the situation he had snatched the parcel out of my hand and, as I thought, was going to hit me. I raised my hands to defend myself, but he ran round me and hit Mr. Lane across the head with it. I only have a very dim recollection of what followed. He then thrust the packet back in my hand, and I, seeing blood on it, I threw it away, and I think it hit Mr. Lane. I remember nothing more until I found myself in the Strand with the man who had attacked Mr. Lane. He said I had killed Mr. Lane, and, remembering the letters I had received and the packet I threw away, I thought it was true; so when he said I wanted something to drink, and he would go and fetch it, I waited, this being just by the Charing Cross Post Office. I wanted there a long while until I saw some evening papers saying that a secretary had been attacked in the City. I immediately come to the conclusion that I was the person who had done the deed, and straight away went running oft. I somehow got to the trams over the Thames, which I followed till about 9 o'clock, when I found myself at Woolwich. I then went into a lodging house and went to bed. I woke late this morning, and walked slowly back to the City, where I decided I would go to the police and tell them everything. I sent a note to my mother, saying that I would, and then walked about the West End all the afternoon till this evening, when I gave myself up at the Cloak Lane Police Station. The man is rather short, very thin, but with rather a large face and very black eyes. I declare the above, although it may not seem so to be absolutely true—Thomas E. Schultz"—he was then charged, and made no reply.
Cross-examined. He comes of a most respectable family, and, according to my inquiries has always been a most respectable and industrious lad.
find his cap—I saw nothing peculiar about him—he did not come home that evening—I got this letter from him the next evening—it is in his handwriting—(Read:) "Tuesday. Dear Mum and Dad,—I did not do it. I am going to police station to-night and let them know everything.—Tom."'
Cross-examined. Towards the end of August I remember he injured his face—he said that it was caused by striking his face against a branch of a tree when he was with his brother—it was very much swollen, and his eyes were slightly blackened—when he came home he was wearing his cap over his face—I said, "Why are you wearing your cap like that?"—he said, "I have been fighting"—I said, "I hope you won't do anything of the kind; show me your face"—he said, "I have been fighting a tree"—it happened on a Saturday night and on Monday night I said, "Did they notice your face at the office?"—he said Mr. Currie had noticed it—he did not say what he had said about it—after that I noticed he got pale—I did not notice his general health—he was always a very good boy; I never had any trouble with him—his health has gone off a little since his accident—he lost his appetite, and he was under the doctor's care for a time—a paper was picked up at home—it was not in his writing—I did not ask him anything about it—we have spoken about Mr. Lane—the prisoner has always spoken well of him, and always appeared to be perfectly satisfied with his situation—he was very regular in his habits—I never saw any literature about pirates or anything of that sort about the house—my mother's sister died in an Asylum, and my sister had an epileptic fit—the prisoner had teething fits—a son and a daughter of mine have died.
JAMES HOWARD FRANKLYN . I am managing director of William Pa ton & Co., ironmongers, of Queen Street—this axe head was bought at our shop—we have no proof of the date or who bought it—it was bought without the handle—this handle is a pickaxe handle—the axe is quite new.
THOMAS JAMES GURRIN . I am an expert in handwriting—I have had specimens of the prisoner's acknowledged writing before me, which I have compared with the writing on the brown paper—I believe that was scribbled by the prisoner with the intention of disguising the writing—I have formed the opinion that the envelope addressed to Mr. Lane is also in the prisoner's writing, carefully disguised.
JAMES SCOTT . I am medical officer at Brixton Prison—the prisoner has been there since January (6th under my care—I have had many interviews with him for the purpose of considering the state of his mind.
Cross-examined. I consider he is now of unsound mind, and was so on January 6th—it is not uncommon for men to have delusions, and to keep them secret.
By the COURT. The points which struck me most in coming to my opinion were his apathy of demeanour and want of emotion, so unusual in a person of his age, his apparent unconcern at his position and want of anxiety as to the possible result to himself upon the charge, and his close adherence to his highly improbable story, which he says is the positive truth—I should describe him as of a calm and quiet disposition—this kind of crime would be most antagonistic to his disposition—if it was done in a
moment of fury I think at the first blow his courage would probably have failed—he has always asserted that he had a good opinion of Mr. Lane, and has always spoken highly of him—I asked him if he was glad to hear that Mr. Lane had recovered, and he said he was very glad—he did his work in prison very well, but he generally stood in an apparently listless way—his quietly sitting down and writing this statement was very remarkable.
GUILTY , but insane at the time. To be detained during His Majesty's pleasure.
MR. COHEN Prosecuted.
MAUD CAMBROOK . The prisoner is my father; he is a cabinet maker—I have been living with him at 27. Great Cambridge Street—there are rive of us in family; we have no mother—we occupy the whole house, but take in one lodger—on February—4th, at 8.30 p.m., I was with Mr. Brown, to whom I am engaged, at a public house—the prisoner came in and said he had fired our house—he was not drunk—I left the public house and went into our house, which was next door but one to the public house—Brown came after me—I found two almanacs and a hassock smouldering in the kitchen; they were against the wall—the almanacs were burned, and the hassock was just catching—I put it out and scraped it into the fender—the wall was black; I thought it was from the almanacs—I went to go up stairs into the yard; the kitchen is in the basement—I got to the third stair when I turned round and saw the curtains in the kitchen alight—that was two or three minutes after I scraped the other things into the fender—I do not know how the curtains caught alight—I went back to the kitchen—only the prisoner was there; he had stood there while I put the things into the fender—he was not attempting to put the curtains out; he was standing by the table with a box of matches in his hand—I ran out into the street, where I saw Mr. Brown—we both went back and put the light out—two men from the shop helped to pull the curtains down, and which were nearly all burnt, but I ran out and did not see any more—the prisoner has been very strange ever since mother died four years and four months ago—he has been in and out of work since then—he has been borrowing money from everybody, and I think it has been preying 0:1 his mind—it is nearly four weeks since he has done any work—I kept house for him—when he had money he paid it nearly all away—he was always kind to us; we could not wish for a better father—we had a man and his wife as lodgers—at the time of the lire the woman was up stairs—my father did not know she was there—he has only once before said anything about setting lire to the place, and then he was in drink.
By the COURT. The hassock was very close to the curtain—the curtains were not in flames when I went in first—there was nothing blazing when I went in first, only smouldering.
public house with her and a mend—the prisoner came in and whispered "I fired it"—Miss Cambrook jumped up and said, "What have you done?"—he repeated it—she ran out—I went to the house and saw the place blazing—I said to the young lady, "I think your father has done something bad"—I found two curtains blazing, and two almanacs which had been hanging on the wall were on the floor by a hassock—we stamped them out—I went back to the public house to get a friend to see what we could do with the prisoner—my young lady said, "Jack, look! look!"—I saw the curtains blazing; they were not doing so at first—when I came out of the room the first time I may have left some of the burning stuff on the ground—the curtains were close to the hassock, but did not touch it—I have known the prisoner for three years—he took a drop of drink sometimes—I have not noticed anything in his manner—he has been very much worried of late about his work—he has been out of work because trade is in a bad state—his daughter fetched a policeman.
HERBERT CUSTUS (457 H.) On February 4th I was fetched to 27, Cambridge Street—I found the prisoner in the basement front room—he appeared to have been drinking—the curtains were all burned down, and in a corner the paper was all burned—the paint at the side of the door and window was scorched off—I told the prisoner I should take him into custody—he said, "If you do I shall ruck," which meant he would not go quietly—with the assistance of another officer I got him out of the house, when he went quietly to the station—when there he said, "I did not know"—he was not really sober—he has not been on bail.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I had been drinking, and know nothing about it."
JAMES SCOTT . I am the medical officer at Brixton Prison—I have had the prisoner under my observation since February 5th—when he came I consider he was suffering from the effects of recent excessive drinking, but I consider he is now of sound mind.
Evidence for the Defence.
GEORGE CAMBROOK . I am the prisoner's eldest son—I was not present at the fire—he has been a good father, and has done the best for all his children—he has brought us all up, and it seems that not having much work lately it has worked on his mind—he has been borrowing lately to get his children food—he could not pay the money back, so I suppose he had a drop to drink on this night, and it upset him.
EMILY WASHINGTON . I am an agent for the owners of the prisoner's house and take the rent—the prisoner has always been a thoroughly honest and straightforward man—I have helped him, and am willing to do so again—he has always paid back what he has borrowed—he did not set fire to the place on account of insurance, because he was not insured.
The prisoner in his defence, said that when he went home he had had too much to drink; that he lit his pipe, and must have thrown the match on to the hassock, which was stuffed with shavings; that the curtains must have caught fire from the hassock; that it would be impossible for the almanacs
to catch fire without catching the curtains; that he was not insured, and had no reason to set the place on fire.
GUILTY . Six weeks' hard labour.
MR. BIRON Defended; DR. COUNSELL Defended.
HARRY D'UBAN FREETH . I live at Bedford Park, Croydon, and am a clerk at Messrs. Cox & Co.'s, Army Agents, Charing Cross—on January 6th I went from Highbury to Broad Street Station by the 9.46 p.m. train from Highbury—I was in a first class carriage—when the train left Highbury the only other person in the carriage was the prisoner—he got in after me—the train ran to Dalston without stopping; nobody got in there—the prisoner was perfectly awake the whole time, and was watching me—when we got out of Dalston I turned to look out of the window—I had a hat on—before I knew anything else I became dazed by being struck on the head by an instrument—I did not know then what it was, except that it was very hard—I partially came back to my senses—I was wearing a watch in one pocket on this chain, and a sovereign purse in the other pocket—I had a couple of rings on—the prisoner and I struggled for some time, and then I found myself on the floor of the carriage—I was sufficiently conscious to recognise that it was a struggle for life—I managed to get up, then the prisoner came for me again—the last I remember is flinging him over to the other side of the carriage—he opened both doors, and while I was on the floor he tried to throw me on to the line—I do not remember his leaving the carnage—I perfectly well remember reaching Broad Street—I had closed the doors before that; then a constable came up, and I was taken to the hospital—I stepped on to the platform, and the policeman was fetched—I did not call for the police—when I got out of the carriage I was a mass of blood—I was treated at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where I remained ten days—I am fairly right again now—there were eight wounds on the left of my head and a mark on my ear—I have a lump and the scars now—a link of the chain was found in the carriage—I remember feeling a tug at my chain—there is no truth in the suggestion that I made any attack on the prisoner—I did not speak to him or take any notice of him until I felt the blows.
By the COURT. From Dalston to Broad Street takes about five minutes.
Cross-examined. I have often travelled by this line—the terminus is at Broad Street—it takes about nine or ten minutes from Highbury to Broad Street—I should say the struggle lasted four or five minutes—it did not begin until after the train left Dalston—my chain was afterwards found on the line—I did not find the prisoner making any attempts rifle my pockets—while I was still dazed I think the prisoner continued to strike me—he was dose up to me—I had no rime to think anything about this being strange, considering that the train would be stopping in a minute or two—it now strikes me as strange—in our struggle we may
have been near either door—when the prisoner got into the train he did not appear excited—I was not sufficiently conscious to say if he was excited or not during the struggle—I have gone in for most forms of athletics—when I hurled the prisoner to the other side of the carriage he may have gone out through the open door—I collapsed, but not for very long—when I was closing the doors I was surprised to find that the prisoner had pone—my idea was to keep him out by shutting the doors in case he should be about anywhere—from Highbury to Dalston I had my back to the engine, and the prisoner was opposite me in the middle of the seat—all I noticed about him was that he kept his eyes on me—I saw him rubbing his log, so he was undoubtedly awake—he got into the carriage perfectly steadily and rather quickly at the last moment as the train was going—I do not remember if I was in grips with the prisoner when I was on the bottom of the carriage—I do not know if he was bending over me then—I do not think it was much more than a minute before I got to Broad Street that I closed the doors—when I got out of the carriage 1 soon had a crowd round me—there was no occasion to complain of what had happened—I saw nothing of a revolver during the struggle—the prisoner said nothing at all.
Re-examined. My watch and sovereign purse were one at each end of this chain—they both remained in my pocket, but the chain was torn away—I noticed no sign of the prisoner suffering from drink—most decidedly he was not asleep—he watched me most carefully.
JOHN HUMPHREYS (Constable N.L. Ry.) About 10 p.m. on January 6th I was at Broad Street Station when the train came in from Highbury—I saw the prosecutor on the platform—his head and shoulders were covered with blood—I took him to St. Bartholomew's Hospital—I found two hats and this link.
H. D. FREETH (Re-examined.) This is the link which was at the end of my chain.
WILLIAM GREGORY . I am employed by the L. and N.W. Railway—part of my duty is to examine the carriages—on January 6th, about 10 p.m., I examined a first class smoking carriage which had come from Highbury—both windows, both door glasses, and the looking gasses were broken, and the carpet and cushions were stained with blood—it had the appearance of having had a severe struggle in it.
Cross-examined. The door windows were down and broken in the casement.
HERBERT LOVE . I am house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—the prosecutor was brought in there a little after 10 p.m. on January 6th—I examined him—he was suffering from very severe wounds on the left side of his scalp, a lacerated left ear, and loss of blood—afterwards we found he had eight wounds on the left side of his head and forehead, besides the lacerated ear—the same night a constable showed me this piece of lead (Produced)—the canvas bag round is was damp with fresh blood—the wounds on the prosecutor's head could be caused by being struck by this—a violent blow from a weapon like this would be dangerous to life—it is a wonder it did not fracture his skull—about half an hour
later the prisoner was brought in—I examined him—he corresponded to a rough description I had of the man who had attacked the prosecutor—his face was covered with black grit and he had scraped wounds all over his nose forehead and cheeks, full of black cindery grit—they could be caused by a person jumping out of a train on to a cinder track—he had no other marks except that his upper lip was a bit swollen—the prosecutor was in the hospital for ten days—when he left, the wounds were nearly healed—he was going 10 stay with a friend who is a doctor, so we let him go earlier than we otherwise should—when the prisoner came in he had no signs of drink or drugs about him.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor had no bones fractu ed, as far as I could make out—most of the wounds went down to the bone—it depends how this weapon was used as to whether it would smash in a man's skull, even if the intent was to kill—it depends on the length of the rope attached to it and the thickness of the skull which was hit—a blow delivered with intent to disable, by a man presumably acquainted with the proper use of it might kill—if you used two inches of rope you could not kill; if you used one foot, you might—on the prisoner's mouth there was a mark which might have been caused by a blow or by striking something when he fell, it is impossible to say which—the prosecutor is a fairly strong man—I heard his account of the struggle—he would be able to throw a man of the weight and size of the prisoner if he was not in an injured condition—I did not ask the prisoner how he accounted for his condition.
JOHN LAW . I live at 19, Ashdown Road, Homerton, and am a signalman on the North London Railway—on January 6th, shortly after 10 p.m., I was in my signal box, which is two stations from Dalston, and the next station from Broad Street—I do not know how far it is—I remember the prisoner coming and knocking at the door of my box—lie came in and said he had been on the drink, and had fallen out of the train, and asked if he could have a wash—he had a lot of blood on his face—I sent for the station inspector, who sent for the police.
By the COURT. After Dalston station are Mild may Park and Canon-bury, and from Daston, Haggerston, Shored itch and then Broad Street.
Cross-examined. The prisoner seemed rather dazed when he came to me.
WALTER CARPENTER (108 G.) On January (5th I was called to Law's signal box, where I saw the prisoner—I asked him his name, and how he came to be on the line—he said. "I do not know how I came here"—he said his name was Walter Albert, age twenty-two, 15. Mark Street, Statford—a doctor was called in, and ordered his removal to the hospital—we period him on an ambulance and took him to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where he was asked how he was injured, and what was the matter—he said. "I have been assaulted by a man in the train"—asked to give a description, he said, "The only description I can give is that he had a sandy moustache"—after the doctor had seen him he was discharged from the hospital and taken to the police station—on the way he asked me if I had found any money—I told him I had found
nothing but a lump of lead attached to a piece of string—he said, "That is what the sailor gave me"—being told that a man was being detained in the hospital suffering from severe wounds, he said, "If I struck him with it, it was in self-defence. I did have a fight with a man in the train, and the windows were broken. I do not know how I came out of the railway carriage. I had £3 or £6 when I got into the train; it may have been 13s. more or 13s. less"—I found this piece of lead in his right hand jacket pocket—I further searched him at the station—I found half a third return ticket from Highbury to Broad Street; no money, but a watch and chain.
Cross-examined. I searched his jacket at the hospital, and his trousers and waistcoat at the station—I have not made any inquiries in connection with him.
JAMES PEPPER (Inspector G.) I saw the prisoner at the station on January 7th, and charged him with attempting to murder and robbery with violence—he said, "It is all wrong; I did not try to murder him: he kept rushing at me, and I was trying to keep him off with that," pointing to 'he piece of lead—"I did not start the attack on him; I was half asleep, dozing in the carriage, and I jumped up when he started on me. I could easily have knocked him out of time if I had wanted to, but he got the advantage of me"—I was one of the party searching the railway track when this six-chambered revolver, some cartridges, sevenpence in bronze, and a gold chain were found—hey were handed to me by Mead—the cartridges had been abstracted from the revolver when it was handed to me—I went back to the station and showed the prisoner the revolver—he said, "It is my revolver: I have had it for three voyages; it must have dropped out of my breast pocket."
Cross-examined. I have had inquiries made about him—he gave a correct address—I found out nothing against his character.
CHARLES MEAD . I am a platelayer in the employ of the North London Railway—on the line between Shoreditch and Haggerston I found this revolver, a chain, and sevenpence in bronze, which I gave to Inspector Pepper—the revolver was loaded—Mr. Pepper took the cartridges out—I found the articles about 250 yards from Law's signal box.
Cross-examined. I do not know how far the signal box is from Broad Street.
HENRY CHARLES LOCKETT . I am a porter at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—the prosecutor was undressed to be bathed—I searched his clothes and found a silver match box, a pipe in a case, a cigar case, pocket book, sovereign case with half a sovereign in it, 20s. in silver, 3 1/2 d. in bronze, and two bunches of keys on a chain.
RONALD HODSON (Police Sergeant), Examined by Dr. Counsell. I have made inquiries about the prisoner—he is a sailor—for two voyages he has been a quartermaster on the Papannui, a New Zealand boat—as far back as I can trace him, he was a deck boy on the Fairy Rock from December 8th, 1889, to March 18th, 1901—after that he was on the leland Brothers from March 21st, 1901, to May 29th, 1902, as a seaman—he was on the Yarrowongo as seaman from June 24th, 1902, to November
4th, 1902—as an able bodied seaman he was on the Ashanti from December 2nd. 1902, to March 8th, 1903)—then on the Papannui as seaman from March 26th, 1903—he was promoted to quartermaster on May 27th, 1903, and was discharged on August 4th. 1903)—he again joined that boat on August 15th, 1903, as quartermaster, and received his discharge on December 17th, 1903—I saw the officers on the Papannui when she was lying in Albert Docks and they gave him a very high character—I was also informed that he has been studying to pass a Board of Trade examination for further promotion—when I searched at his address I found a quantity of very good books, principally on navigation—I also found six revolver cartridges similar to what the revolver was loaded with—the prisoner, as far as we know, is a native of New Zealand, and we are in communication with the police there as to his character—I find on the evening of his arrest he left his lodgings at 7.30 at 15, Mark Street, accompanied by his landlady's daughter, to Stratford Market Station—she left him at 8 p.m.—he was then sober, and had been at home all day—the whole of his discharges are marked "Very good"—when he was paid off on December 17th he received £12, and I believe he was about to join the Papannui again—I think she left the Albert Docks on February 2nd—when signing on he would probably have been able to receive a month's pay in advance, and if he had wanted money he could have gone and worked on board the vessel in the docks as she was loading—he was not in arrears with his rent, having paid in advance—his landlady said that she had asked him for change that day, and he said he could not give her change in silver, but he could give her gold—she told me he appeared to be very respectable.
The prisoner's statement before (he Magistrate: "I deny having attacked the prosecutor first. I was attacked by him; I was half asleep, and found myself attacked. I did not touch the doors; I noticed in the struggle they were open. When I was attacked I made use of the weapon I had. I do not remember seeing the chain before I saw it in Court. I suppose it was carried away in the struggle. My reason for using the weapon was that I was at a disadvantage, being first attacked. Prosecutor must have forced me from the carriage, as the last I remember was struggling with him. I cannot remember anything after this."
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that he had £7 on January 6th it of his pay; that on board ship he had a dispute with one of the greasers, who said that he would "do him out" when he got ashore, and have a gang? of his mates to assault him in Canning Town, where he lived; that on January 6th he an I two friends whom he had picked up in public houses were going to Canning Town; that he put the piece of lead, which had been given him by a friend in Hobart, into his pocket as a protection, as well as (he revolver; that weapons like the lead were carried on the Western coast of the States; that instead of going to Canning Town, after having some drink, he went to Highbury with his friends to meet a friend of theirs; that after more drink he went to the station; that he was not drunk; that the train was just about to start and he jumped into the nearest carriage; that he must have gone to sleep that he woke with a start, and thought that the prosecutor was attacking
him; that he jumped to his feet and found himself in the prosecutor's grip; that what had happened before that he could not say; that he then pulled the "slogger" out of his pocket and used it as well as he could to free himself and in self-defence: that he did not recollect opening the doors, and had not the slightest idea of how he got on to the line; that he had made no attempt to rob the prosecutor, and had no occasion to do so; that he last saw his money at the last public house at Highbury, when he had over £3, having spent about £2 in whisky; that he did not know how he lost his money, or what had become of it; that he had no intention of wounding or killing the prosecutor; that if he had not believed he was being attacked he would not have struck him; that he thought it possible that the prosecutor may have been playing a practical joke on him, or that he (the prisoner) may have had a nightmare; and that he did not remember anything after the struggle till he got to the signal box.
Evidence for the Defence.
ESTHER BRACKLEY . I live at 15, Mark Street, West Ham Lane—the prisoner lodged with me—he came to me on leaving his vessel—that was the first time he had been to me—he remained there till he was arrested—he was a thorough gentleman while at my place, and was quiet and well conducted—he never stayed out after 11 p.m.—he always seemed to have plenty of money—he was at home, on and off, all day on January (5th until about 7.30 when I allowed my daughter, aged nineteen, to go as far as Stratford Market Station with him—I never saw him the worse for drink—he did not owe me anything for rent.
Cross-examined. I believe he told my daughter that he was going to Aldgate.
FREDERICK ROSE . I live at Auckland, New Zealand—I come to London in vessels sometimes—I am rated as an able seaman—I was a shipmate of the prisoner, and was with him constantly from January 24th, 1901, to August 23rd or 24th, 1902—I was not with him on his last ship—I knew him to carry a revolver when on the West Coast of America—I carried one also; it was quite necessary—we have been reading up together for the Board of Trade examination—all the time I was with him he always bore a very high character—I left him in Sydney in August, 1902.
JAMES SCOTT (By the COURT.) I am medical officer at Brixton—I have had the prisoner under my supervision since January 7th—on the evening that he was received he seemed to know where he was, and the nature of the charge against him—the appearances of drink at that, time had not fully developed, and were somewhat obscured—he was very much bruised about his face—on the following morning the visible signs of drink had developed, and he had all the appearance of a man who had indulged in a heavy drinking bout, which I should say had lasted two or three days—he slept during the greater part of two days, and then gradually cleared up—throughout he gave coherent and apparently rational answers to questions—he was very heavy and dull and confused, but there was no delerium tremens—he was not intoxicated in the ordinary sense of the word when he came to us.
GUILTY, on the thirdCount — Fifteen months' hard labour. His lordship
stated that if the inquiries from New Zealand were satisfactory he would lay the facts before the Home Secretary with a view to the sentence being reduced.
DR. O'CONNOR Prosecuted; MR. CLARKE HALL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday and Friday, February 11th and 12th, 1904.
Before Mr. Recorder.
229. JOHN O'BRIEN (46), WALTER RICE (19), THOMAS HART (24), and GEORGE HARRISON (23) , Feloniously assaulting Nelly Neuth with intent to do her grievous bodily harm. Second Count, Unlawfully and maliciously assaulting her. In another count Rice was charged as principal, and O'Brien, Hart, and Harrison as aiding and abetting him.
MR. MUIR and MR. ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended Hart and Harrison.
The evidence is unfit for publication.
O'BRIEN, RICE, and HARRISON— GUILTY .
HART— GUILTY of aiding and abetting. Rice then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at the Thames Police Court on May 5th, 1903; Hart also to a conviction at this Court, in July, 1901; and Harrison to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in July, 1900. RICE**†— Six years' penal servitude.
O'BRIEN HART**, and HARRISON**— Four years' penal servitude each.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, February 12th, 1904.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
JOHN VINCET COOPER . I am a cashier at the London and Joint Stock Bank, Chancery Lane—this cheque (Produced) for £340 was presented over the counter on November 12th, 1902, between three and four—it is signed "Arthur W. Bartlett"—I believed it to be a genuine signature, but I know it now to be a forgery—it is like Mr. Bartlett's signature—it is dated November 12th, 1902—I paid it—I cannot recognise the man who presented it.
Cross-examined. It was paid in six £50 notes, six £5 notes, and £10 in gold—it is our custom to enter up the numbers and dates of notes, and I did so—the person I was going to pay them to would, I think, be standing facing me—I think the Bank received an intimation that it was not a genuine cheque about a week after—I have been in the Bank a great many years—it is part of my business to identify customers.
coin's Inn—I keep an account at the London Joint Stock Bank, Chancery Lane—this cheque, marked "A," was not signed or indorsed by me or by my authority—this order form ("B") for was not signed by me or by my authority—it has a printed heading similar to what I use, the same wording, but a slightly different type—I never had, to knowledge, in my possession the cheque book from which this cheque was taken—I signed this cheque ("H")—it is for £20 payable to Mrs. Ellen Norman dated October 8th—that was in connection with a matter which my managing clerk, Mr. Gregory, had the conduct of.
Cross-examined. I discovered the forgery was about six to seven days afterwards.
CHARLES GEORGE GREGORY . I am a solicitor and managing clerk to the last witness—I know the prisoner—he came to our office on October 1st, 1902—he gave his card, "Reginald Shawter, Kilford, High Street, Botley"—he first asked in the clerks' office for some particulars and conditions of a sale of some property at "Wandsworth"—I told him we had only the proofs; he said he wanted them for his brother; I said if he would give me his brother's address I would send them on when ready—he did not give his brother's address, but said if I would send them direct he would hand them to his brother—I sent him a copy on October 4th, but no business resulted—at the same interview, as he was leaving, he mentioned that he had had an accident with his motor car, having run into a woman in his neighbourhood, and he produced this letter from her, claiming damages for injury: "I write to ask what you are ready to settle the accident to my wife for? She is very ill, and won't ever get over quite her shock and injuries; we don't want to go to law, but will take £50; if we do not get £50 we will instruct our solicitor—yours respectfully, Henry Norman"—the prisoner said that the claim was ridiculous, that he had not damaged her at all, but he had been fined for scorching in the neighbourhood, and rather than let the matter get into the papers, he would pay a small sum, say £20—he offered to give me £25—he did not produce the money, but said, "Shall I give you £25 to see if you can settle it?—£5 was to cover our costs—I said it was no use my taking the money till I knew whether we should be able to arrive at a settlement, and I arranged to write Mr. Norman the same evening, which I did, and received his answer:" 48a, West Street, Fairham, October 2nd. Sir,—My wife has decided to accept the £20 offered by Mr. Shawter; I enclose her receipt, which is written by me except her signature, as she is too ill to write much.—Yours respectfully, H. Norman"—this is the receipt: "Received £20 from Mr. Shawter, through Mr. A. Bartlett, in full settlement of my claim against him for my injuries through his motor car knocking me down, Ellen Norman"—I wrote to Mr. Shawter at Botley on the 3rd for a cheque, saying the £20 would be accepted—he called on the 8th, expressing his satisfaction and handed me £25 in notes—the same day Mr. Bartlett drew and signed this cheque for £20, and I sent it off—it is payable to Mrs. Ellen Norman, and a form of receipt was sent with it to Fairham for her to sign—we got the receipt back on the 10th, and it was sent to Mr. Shawter at Botley—he wrote sometimes from 1, Garden Court, Temple—we received this letter about August 20th (Thanking Mr. Bartlett
for the settlement arrived at and asking for a cheque for any balance of the £3 not absorbed in costs)—I sent him a cheque on the 20th for £2 13s. 4d. to 1. Garden Court, Temple—the letter with he cheque was returned through the Head Letter Office and re-addressed to Botley—so far as I know, the cheque was not paid—I did not see Mr. Reginald Shawter again—I was shown his photograph some time after.
Cross-examined. I have not referred to the day sheet and diaries for the purposes of this trial—we have seven or eight clerks in the office—the card I have mentioned was probably handed to a clerk in the clerks' office, who came into my room with Mr. Shawter, and the clerk probably handed the card to me I would not be sure—I very likely saw other people that day, I cannot say how many—I first picked out the prisoner from six or eight photographs that wore brought round to the office about six weeks after by the police—the man who came to us on October 1st had a moustache and whiskers, but they were cut short to the skin—I gave the police a description of the man—I cannot say whether I said that he had a beard—I say the prisoner is the man—he was with me about ten or twelve minutes—he did not sign anything at all in my office.
Re-examined. I have no doubt he is the man.
ARTHUR PHILIP KILFORD . I am a bicycle agent, of High Street, Botley, Hants—Fairham is about eight miles from Botley—I recognise the prisoner—I saw him first about the latter part of September or the beginning of October, 1902—he asked if there were any letters for Reginald Shawter—there were some, and he had them—he came five or six times altogether, all within a short time—he told me he had got into a bit of bother with a motor car accident, that he was somewhere where he had no business to be, and he did not want his wife to know about it—I had no knowledge of him except his calling for letters—I received this letter from him, signed "Reginald Shawter" (Asking for letters to be sent on).
Cross-examined. My son and sister in law arranged with the prisoner to take the letters in—they are not here—I did not see the man who called write—he was like the prisoner, only a bit smarter—I say he is the same man.
Re-examined. I was shown about a dozen photographs, and picked out the prisoner's.
JOHN LINDSAY . I am a cashier at the Charing Cross Bank, Bishops-gate Street—I recognise the prisoner—he had an account at our bank—it was opened with £50 on October 18th, 1902—he gave the name of Henry Norman, of 48a, West Street, Fairham, Hants, and as a reference, "Reginald Shawter, Kilford, Botley, Hants"—he wrote this in my presence—the account was all drawn out by November 5th, with the exception of 4s.—nothing more was paid in—I neither saw nor heard anything more of Mr. Norman or Mr. Shawter—I have had experience in handwriting—I should say that this letter from Mr. Shawter ("K") and this one ("I") are the same writing—on comparing this form filled up by the prisoner at the bank with these documents ("E," "F" and "G"). purporting to be from Henry Norman, I say that the writing is very alike.
Cross-examined. October 18th was the only occasion on which I saw
the prisoner—I see a number of people each day—I am positive I am not mistaken as to the identification.
Re-examined. I picked him out from a number of others.
MARY ANN DACRE . I am single, and keep a newspaper shop at 48A, West Street, Fairham—I take in letters there—no one of the name of Henry Norman or Mrs. Henry Norman has been living there—I have been there five years—letters in the name of "Norman" were left there, and were called for—I cannot recognise the person—I do not recognise the prisoner.
Cross-examined. Fairham is a small place—the letters I speak of were called for about three or four times by a man.
ERNEST AUSTIN . I am a cashier at the London and Joint Stock Bank, Limited, Chancery Lane—this order form was presented to me on November 12th, 1902—it purports to be signed "Arthur W. Bartlett"—I handed to the person presenting it a cheque book for fifty cheques numbered 40551 to 60—the forged cheque for £340 is written upon the first of those cheques—the prisoner seems to be the man who presented the order, but I cannot swear to him.
Cross-examined. I have had about twenty-seven years' banking experience—I had some discussion with the man presenting the order, but I cannot swear to the prisoner being the man.
THOMAS WILLIAMS (City Police Detective.) On January 16th, 1904, I arrested the prisoner—I had not a warrant then—he gave the name of George Elliott Caldwell Frederick Anderson—he described himself as a medical man—he gave this card inscribed, "G. E. C. F. Anderson, M. B.," with no address on it—I asked for it, but it was refused—he was taken to Bridewell Police Station.
FREDERICK HOLMES (Chief Inspector, City Police.) I had not charge of this case from the outset—the warrant is dated December 17th, 1902, against Frederick Bangham—we endeavoured to execute it, but without success—on January 17th, 1904, I went to Bridewell Police Station and there saw the prisoner—I said to him, "I am a police officer; what is your name?"—he replied, "Dr. Anderson"—I said, "What hospital do you walk?"—he replied, "The London University"—I said, "Where are you in practice?"—he said, "I'm not in practice; I am living on money left me by my father"—I said, "What is your father's name?"—he said, "The same as mine, of course"—I said, "Your name is Frederick Bangham—he said, "No, it is Dr. Anderson"—I said, "I will soon fetch someone who will satisfy me whether you are Frederick Bangham or Dr. Anderson"—I then confronted him with Detective Sergeant Smith—he then admitted that he was Frederick Bangham—I read the warrant to him.
Cross-examined. I did not tell him before asking the questions that I proposed to arrest him, or say that anything he said would be taken down in evidence—he said, "Yes, I am Frederick Bangham."
By the COURT. I took Sergeant Smith to him, and he said, "Yes, it is all up; I'm Bangham."
Cross-examined. I have been in Court—I told Inspector houes at Bridewell that his name was Frederick Bangham, and the prisoner said, "Yes, that is right."
Re-examined. I have known him since 1891.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court on July 22nd, 1893. Two other convictions were proved against him. The police stated that he was an associate of thieves. Seven years' penal servitude.
JAMES BROCKIXOTON . I live at 8, Campbell Road, Holloway, and am a labourer—on Sunday, January 17th. at 12.13 a.m., I was walking down the Seven Sisters Road, and was accosted by five men; the prisoners are two of them—they asked me for a light—I said I had not got one—I tried to pass them—they surrounded me, and struck me and knocked me down—Cormo struck me first, and Mole also—they damaged my left eye and nose, and kicked me on my side, rifled my pockets, and took away 30s.—I cannot say which put his hand in my pocket—they ran away—I was close to Hornsey Road Police Station, and reported to the police that I had been knocked down and robbed and I there saw the two prisoners—the inspector asked me if I knew those two men—I recognised them, and told the inspector I charged them with being two out of the five who knocked me down and robbed me—that was in their presence—they had been arrested for something else—they both denied ever seeing me before—after a few minutes Cormo turned round and said, I did not strike you at all; all that I done was to put your hat on your head"—Mole said nothing—I was sober.
Cross-examined by Mr. Fordham. I said at the police court that it was 12.30, but I was confused—I think it was nearer 12.15 than 12.30—I said bur men at the Police Court, but it was five—the night was dark, but the street was lit up by electric light—the men met me—Cormo asked me for a light—the electric light was in front of me.
Re-examined. As soon as I got to the station the inspector asked me what I had come there for—I told him what had happened—he said, "Do you know these two men?"—I said, "Yes, they are two out of the five that assaulted me."
HARRY WEEKES (527 Y.) About 12.30 a.m. I was in the Seven Sisters Road—I there saw five men making a great disturbance—the prisoners are two of them—I took Cormo into custody, complaining of his conduct—Mole said, "Let him alone: he done nothing," at the same time hitting me—I knocked Mole down with my hand; the others closed on me—I blew my whistle, and another constable came up, and we took the two prisoners to the station—the prosecutor came in shortly afterwards—
he said to them, "You are two of the men that knocked me down and took my money from me"—Cormo said, "I never hit you, I only put your hat on"—Mole said, "I never saw the man in my life"—the prosecutor was quite sober—his left eye and nose were bleeding.
Cross-examined by MR. FORDHAM. I gave evidence at the police court, and said the affair took place about 12.30—the prosecutor was not dazed when he came to the station.
ALFRED JENNINGS (Detective Sergeant Y.) On January 17th I was in the Seven Sisters Road about 12.15 or 12.20, and found Weekes holding Cormo, Mole was on the ground—with the help of another constable we took them both to the police station—the prosecutor came in a minute or two afterwards—he said, "Yes, those are the two men that knocked me down and took my money'—Cormo stated that he did not hit him, but that he picked up his hat—Mole said, "I have never seen you before in my life"—the prisoners are strangers to me—I have only been in the division about eighteen months—the prosecutor when he came in was bleeding profusely down his face and nose.
Cross-examined by MR. FORDHAM. I should not like to say the time was 12.30; I would rather say 12.20 or 12.20—the other three men got away.
Cormo's statement before the Magistrate: "I was absolutely drunk, but I am innocent of taking this money."
They then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell on November 18th, 1902, and a summary conviction was proved against Mole. Four years' penal servitude each.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, February 13th, 1904.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. ABIXGER Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
CHRISTOPHER ALBERT WORDSWORTH . I am manager for the proprietor, Mr. Frank Macnaghten, of the Bow Palace Music Hall—the prisoner was employed as gallery check taker—2d. is paid at the pay box for admission, and the check is given to the check taker—the prisoner has been employed eighteen months—"Pay here" is written over the pay box—there was a barrier by the pay box till about eighteen months ago—now persons can run up two flights of stairs to the gallery door—before January 16th I noticed that the takings did not correspond with the number of people in the gallery, in consequence of which I kept my eyes open, and on that evening, at the second performance at 9.10, I followed four young chaps up the stairs—I saw one give something to the prisoner—I made the prisoner open his hand—I asked him what he was doing with the money—he said, "If you will let me off this time, governor, I won't do it again"—I said, "How much more have you got?"—he said, "Nothing"—I said, "You must have more"—he put his hand
into his two side pockets and pulled out a handful of coppers and some from his waistcoat pocket—it amounted to 2s. 10d. in coppers—I sent to the police station for a sergeant, and gave him into custody.
Cross-examined. I have managed this house for about five weeks, but I visited it over and over again before that—the pay box is a slit in the wall on a landing—I was at the bottom of the stairs when the four men went up—there are two flights of stairs before the window—the London County Council made us take away the obstruction on the stairs—there is about eight yards of stairs after the pay box to the check taker—when I came to the prisoner he did not say, "Look, what these men have given me"—I gripped his hand, and made him open it—it was a job to prevent people coming up with money instead of tickets from the pay box—these four men were stragglers—I have not known of the prisoner coming down to the cashier and taking tickets—that was not mentioned at the police court, to my knowledge—I did not. in reply to his telling me that, say "Bosh!"—he owned before I sent for the police that some of the money was from the first house—the doors are open at 6 p.m.—the performances commence at 6.30, and people come in at ten to nine for the second performance, which commences at about 9 p.m.—there was plenty of time to hand over money, but he had no business to receive money—he said, "The money has been taken in the rush"—there was no rush—we have not done the business we should—it was not necessary for him to show people seats—the gallery is large—a manager was convicted of stealing a cheque in November, and since then I have managed the hall—he had been there since May 10th—I have managed this and another music hall for about sixteen months—the prisoner was there when I went—I was surprised when he owned up.
RICHARD NORRIS (Police Sergeant K.) I received instructions from the manager of the Bow Palace Music Hall on January 6th or 8th—on January 26th I was sent for—I arrested the prisoner—he said, "All the money I have belonging to the firm is 2s. 10d."—on the way to the station he said, "There was not enough to get a drink"—he did say, "What Mr. Wordsworth told you is correct"—he was given into custody, charged with stealing the firm's money.
Cross-examined. At the station I found 9d. on him—he has been in respectable employment.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I have had rather a job to prevent people coming up with money since the alteration in the pay box, and the money has been taken in the rush."
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, repealed this statement, and added that he had taken money to the cashier for tickets; and that he had told Mr. Words worth that he had gone down and got tickets plenty of times, and that he rushed after the men.
RICHARD NORRIS (Re-examined.) I found on the prisoner." 3d. bronze and fid. silver—Mr. Wordsworth handed me at the Bow Palace 2s. 10d. in coppers—he never suggested that he was in the habit of taking money to Miss Murray, the cashier, for tickets—if he had done so I must have heard of it—he did not do so.
CHRISTOPHER ALBERT WORDSWORTH (Re-examined). The prisoner did not rush after the fourth man, and look round and see me, and say, "Look here, see what these men 'have given me"—I did not say "I shall look over this this time, but do not do it again, when I asked him how much he had of the firm's money he said, "I had 1s. 3d., and I spent 6d. at the bar"—I then—gave him the 6d. and the 3d. which the officer found on him.
GUILTY . One month's imprisonment in the Second Division.
WILLIAM ELLIOTT . I am a gardener, of 15, Henstridge Villas, St. John's Wood—I am one of the trustees of the Prince of Wales Sick and Benefit Society, whose objects are the relief of members in sickness and a bonus in case of death—on January 7th, 1902, the prisoner became licensee of the Prince of Wales Hotel, and was elected treasurer on January 30th, 1902, in succession to the late proprietor—the society meet every Monday night from 8.30 to 10—the members paid their contributions to the secretary, who handed them to the treasurer—in June, 1903, the treasurer disappeared, and £52 14s. 6d. cash—we made inquiries of his wife and others, but were unable to find him till December.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. Your wife said she knew nothing of your whereabouts—the general meeting was a fortnight after June 29th—I did not ask the former licensee, Mr. Hill.
ERNEST JOHN HARVEY . I am a newsagent, of 38, Netherwood Street, and the secretary of this society—the prisoner was treasurer, and went away with £52 14s. 6d., the society's money, shown by this book, and which I handed to him—I wrote for the money, and got this reply: The Barracks, Preston, December 28th 1903. Sir,—I left the house, Prince of Wales, St. John's Wood, in June, 1903, and in July, 1903, the brewers, Messrs. Chandlers, Wiltshire Brewery, Limited, foreclosed on the mortgage on account of arrears of interest. I had paid £6,100 for the house of which £4,800 and £600 respectively were on mortgage. Of this, £250 was for fittings on valuation. I left the house in charge of my wife. I took no money with me, or goods from it. I understand that the house has since been sold, although I am still the licensee. The money obtained from sale of stock in trade and fittings and the cash in hand would be more than sufficient to pay off the brewers' debt and the sum due to your society. The money belonging to you was, in fact, left by me in the house in kind and in cash, and has been appropriated by the brewers, who should refund the money due to the benefit society to settle the claim of the latter. I am writing to the solicitors who acted for me when I was in London, Messrs. Batchelor & Cousins, to direct them to communicate with the brewers and with the benefit society to settle the claim of the latter.—I remain, yours respectfully, F. GRACE.
To Mr. J. Harvey, Prince of Wales Benefit Society, St. John's Wood, W."—I have never received any part of the £32 I 11s. 6d.
Cross-examined. I made inquiries about you on several occasions of people in the neighbourhood—I never asked Mr. Hill.
GEORGE HAZELDEAN . I live at 62. Brownlow Road. Dalston—I am broad cooper to Messrs. Chandlers. Wiltshire Brewery Limited, 503, Hackney Road—the prisoner purchased the Prince of Wales public house in January, 1902, for £6,100—the Brewery Company lent him £4,800. Mr. Hills lent £630, and the balance he found—in April, 1903, an execution was put in by the distillers for goods supplied—in July Mrs. Grace told me he had disappeared—he had paid £72 of? the mortgage—£200 is duo. and a year's interest on the mortgage loan—we lost £434 4s. 1d. for debt and interest—the second mortgagee got nothing.
Cross-examined. We tried to sell the house to the second mortgagee for £1.800. with the fittings and things like that "all at" Hill came hack again.
WILLIAM GRIST (Detective S.) I detained the prisoner on January 20th at the County Police Station, Preston. Lancashire—I told him I was a police officer, and read the warrant to him—he said, "I can get out of this. I left the value behind in stock and kind, and why did not they get that? I had the rats, or else I should not have done it. I spent money on the house, and there was plenty of fittings, worth £200, which they could have had. I did not want them to elect rue treasurer, but beyond the £52 I did not owe anything"—"rats" is a term for delirium tremens.
WILLIAM ELLIOTT (Re-examined.) When the prisoner first came into the house and became treasurer I handed over to him £15—he signed for the money week by week as we paid it in—we elected him on the condition that he should pay the money into the bank—there were no trustees till this year, when he had absconded—he was elected at a general meeting—the chairman told him what to do—the treasurer always banked the money.
Cross-examined. By December 1902, you had paid £87 outgoings for the club.
The prisoner, in his defence, repeated the substance of his letter, and added that the money got mixed with his own, and that he left the house and re enlisted. as he had lost everything and his wife money, too. He received excellent character.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Saturday February 13th, 1904.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. P. GRAIN Prosecuted: MR. CHARLKS MATHEWS and MR. HUTTON Defended.
I saw him first about three weeks before February 1st, and then for three or four minutes only—he came into the shop and asked to see some diamond and emerald rings—I showed him a small case of rings, and then spoke to Mr. Searle, who was in the next shop, No. 79—Mr. Searle came and stood at a small counter—I got out another tray of rings and showed the prisoner one or two of them—he made some remarks about one or two, and then asked to see a diamond and ruby ring, which was on another tray in the window—he was shown the ring, and asked the price, and then said, "The diamonds are not white; they are, I should think, off colour"—Mr. Searle took the ring and showed it to me—we both looked at it together, and assured him that the stones were perfectly white—a few moments after he said, u I have an important engagement to keep, and if I am successful in making any money thereby I will return in about three-quarters of an hour, and if you will have some rings got together in the meantime, I will come back and make a purchase"—he left immediately—he was dressed in darkish clothes and a silk hat and dark suede gloves—he kept his gloves on while he was looking at the rings—I think he had an umbrella—he did not try rings on over his gloves—they were ladies' rings—he did not come back—Mr. Searle and I remarked that he had gone out hurriedly, and wondered if all was right—we put the rings back in their pads, and missed the lady's ring (Produced)—on Friday, February 5th. about 3 o'clock, I was going along Cheapside, and saw the prisoner—I followed him to St. Mildred's Court, and saw him go into a building there—I sent to Old Jewry for an inspector—Inspector Newell came round—the prisoner came out, and we followed him along Broad Street into Palmerston Buildings—he came out, and I told him that there was a gentleman at the Bank who would be very glad to see him for a few moments—he asked the gentleman's name—I did not give it for a moment or two—as we were going along he said it was funny to go to see a man whose name he did not know—I told him the gentleman's name was Searle—I believe he remarked, "Oh, Mr. Searle. the jeweller?"—I said that was correct—he said, "Well that's funny; I wanted to see him about a ring"—I said that was fortunate, as we could go and see him together—he then went with Newell, and I followed—when we got to the shop I called Mr. Searle, who came forward—I turned round to put my hat down; in the meantime the prisoner had handed the ring to Mr. Searle—there was very little said between him and Mr. Searle—I cannot say what it was.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had been in the shop before in January and stayed three or four minutes, simply to ask a question—when he came back on the 1st I recognised him; he asked the same question—he came into No. 78; one shop runs into the other—he stayed about five or six minutes, during five minutes of which Mr. Searle was there—the pad was got from the window by Mr. Searle—I know that the prisoner had his gloves on—on the 5th, when he was taken back to the shop, I saw him place the ring upon the counter, Mr. Searle being there—he gave his correct name and address.
Street—Mr. Bird is my assistant—I did not seethe prisoner before February 1st—on that day I was in No. 79, and Mr. Bird called me—I went immediately into the other shop and stood near to where Mr. Bird was serving the accused and saw what went on with regard to looking at the rings and so on—the accused asked to see some ruby and diamond rings, and a tray was brought from the window—after looking at them for half a minute, he asked to see a ruby and diamond three stone ring which was in the window—it was brought, and he picked it up off the pad and looked at it—he said the diamonds were not a good colour and passed the ring to Mr. Bird—Mr. Bird said, "The stones are quite all right. Sir; they are pure white, and the ring only wants washing out, and you will see they are"—the prisoner's hands were gloved—he had dark suide gloves. I should say—after he left I gave his description to the police—after Mr. Bird said the stones were all right, the prisoner said he had to see somebody who owed him some money; he would be back again in half or three-quarters of an hour and buy a ring if it was a bargain—he left the shop so hurriedly that I asked Mr. Bird at once to replace the rings in their places—one was missing—this is it—I gave information to the police—I next saw the prisoner last Friday—he was brought to me by Mr. Bird and Sergeant Newell—he said, "This is a shocking position for me to be in, Sir," and handed me the ring—I replied, "A great deal more shocking for me to find that I have lost a ring last Monday after you visited my shop; how did you become possessed of it?"—he replied, "Oh, I accidentally found it on my finger"—I said, "How can that be when you had your gloves on?"—I asked Sergeant Newell to take him to Cloak Lane Police Station and charge him—it was a lady's three stone ring, worth £44.
Cross-examined. On February 1st a case was taken from inside the counter and two trays from the window—I am not quite sure who got the things; I might possibly have got the ruby and diamond tray from the window or Mr. Bird—I say the prisoner was gloved on both hands—that is from what I absolutely saw—I am speaking from memory founded on sight—the gloves were dark ones; I think they were suide—on the 5th, immediately he entered the shop, he offered me the ring before saying anything or before I said anything—I may have said at the Police Court that he said, "It is a shocking thing, but here is your ring"—he may have put in that way—he did not say that he picked up his gloves or glove from the counter—he did say, "I found it accidentally on my finger"—those are the very words he used—I did not make a note of the conversation because there was a witness present.
Re-examined. I gave a description to the police about an hour or so after I discovered the loss, in which I said that he wore dark suide gloves.
WILLIAM NEWELL (City Detective Scrgeant.) On Friday, February 5th, about.3 p.m., I was summoned to St. Mildred's Court—I there saw Mr. Bird—in consequence of what he said I kept observation—we then saw the prisoner leave some offices there—we followed him to Palmerston Buildings, Old Broad Street, where he went in—after he came out, Mr. Bird spoke to him—I then said to him that I was a police officer and should arrest him and he would be charged with stealing a diamond and ruby
ring from Mr. Searle, the jeweller at Lombard Street, on February 1st—I have a note here that I made at the time—he said, "I was going to see Mr. Searle; I have the ring with me"—I said, "You had better give it to me"—he said, "No, I won't, I will give it to Mr. Searle"—on the way to Mr. Searlo's shop he said, "As you are a police officer I had better not say much"—I said, "No, what you do say may be used in evidence against you"—as soon as we got into the shop the prisoner put his hand to his breast pocket, then held out the ring towards Mr. Searle and said, "This is a very shocking thing for me; here is your ring"—Mr. Searle said, "It is a very shocking thing for me to lose my ring; how did you come possessed of it?"—he said, "The ring accidentally got on my finger"—he was taken to the station and charged—he said, "Very well"—he was searched, and—4d., a silver watch, a diamond cock's head pin, cigar case and cigarette case were found upon him—he was wearing the pin—he also had a knife, pencil case, pipe stopper, six keys, chain, memorandum book, umbrella, and a pair of gloves.
Cross-examined. He did say that he was going to take the ring back to Mr. Searle—I was in plain clothes when I spoke to him in the street—he gave a correct name and address, at a private hotel, 12 and 14, Cork Street.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, stated that on February 1st he was in the City, and had some, business appointments, and passed Mr. Searles shop, and recollecting a previous visit he had made there, he went in and asked if they had any more rings that were better bargains than those he had previously seen; that he was shown some; that while he was looking at one of the rings he suddenly recollected that he was late for his appointment, and left hurriedly; that it was absolutely untrue that he was wearing gloves; that he afterwards found the ring on his finger; that he put it in his waistcoat, pocket and went home, intending to return it in the morning; that he changed his waistcoat, and could not afterwards remember where he put the ring, and that he was on his way to return it when he was stopped by Bird and Newell,
GUILTY . The police stated that at the prisoner's lodging they found a large number of pawn tickets but had not had sufficient time to make inquiries; that he was adjudicated bankrupt in 1902, but absconded, and a warrant issued for his arrest. His brother stated that he could not attend the bankruptcy proceedings, being in America at the time. Judgment respited.
MR. PASMORE Prosecuted.
SIDNEY BEESLEY (187. City.) On January 6th I was in Black Swan Alley, City, at about 1.40 p.m.—I went into a public urinal there and saw the prisoner showing another man this bundle under his coat (Produced)—they left the urinal, and I followed them about 200 yards to Carter Lane—I stopped the prisoner and asked him what he had under his coat—pushing on, he replied, "What has that to do with you? I am a commercial
traveller; you have no business to interfere with me"—after a struggle, he trying to get away, I arrested him and took him to the station, where he was charged—he gave me a false address—I took the piece of silk to Selincourt's—they did not know it had been stolen—it has their mark on it—the prisoner was searched at the police station, and a book was found on him containing three patterns and several names of firms, one being Selincourt's.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You hurried away sharply through the urinal—when I arrested you the other man darted away—you said nothing about him.
WALTER GATES . I am a clerk at Selincourt's, Cannon Street—this piece of silk belongs to them—I recognise it by the marks and two numbers on it—on January 6th. about 3 o'clock, a police officer brought it to the warehouse—I had previously been showing it to a customer and stood it on the floor—I have never seen the prisoner before.
Cross-examined. I do not know you at all—I am in the office where the silk is kept, and am seen by people coming there, and if anybody took anything I should recognise them.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he was a commercial traveller; that about 11.30 on the day in question he met a gentleman, and they had a frink together, and separated: that he met him later, and went into a urinal in Black Swan Alley; that the man handed him this parcel and asked him to mind it; that he asked him what it was, and he said, "A roll of silk," when a constable came in and arrested him; that he had it in his possession about three minutes; that he did not steal if, and was perfectly innocent, but gave a false address, as his wife was seriously ill, and was now in a lunatic asylum.
GUILTY on the Second Count.
He received a good character. Four months' hard labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WARDE Prosecuted, and MR. STEWART Defended.
The prisoner PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully wounding, and the Jury found that verdict Six months' hard labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
237. ARTHUR ERNEST BECKETT (23) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a gelding, a cart, and other articles, the property of Alfred Belcham, having been convicted of felony at Maidenhead on January 5th, 1901. Five other convictions were proved against him. Twenty month' hard labour. —And
238. ALBERT BURGIN (38) . to stealing, whilst employed under the Post Office, a post letter containing six stamps, the property of the Postmaster General. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eight months' hard labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
239. ALBERT JAMES ENTWISTLE (18) PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining by false pretences from Emily Sarah Stone certain food to the value of 1s., with intent to defraud; also to obtaining from Walter Whittington a whip, a pair of gloves and spurs; also to stealing a watch and other articles and £1 17s., the chattels and moneys of John Peter Pfeiffenschneider, having been convicted at the Westminster Police Court on July 27th, Two other convictions were proved against him. Eighteen months' hard labour.
Before J. A. Rentoul Esq., K.C.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. J. P. GRAIN Prosecuted.
EDITH MARGARET HARLAND . I live at 12, Clapton Common—on November 17th I was about to return from Scarborough, and dispatched in advance as passengers' luggage an ordinary trunk containing my wearing apparel, value about £60, and addressed, "Care of J. Harland, 12, Clapton Common," who is my father—when I arrived home, the trank not having been delivered, I wrote to the Great Northern Railway Company of that fact—I have not seen my luggage since—I put two labels on it, one in the front and one on the strap at the top.
WILLIAM BOWES . I am parcels clerk at the North Eastern Railway Station—we send parcels in conjunction with the Great Northern Railway, who take them from York—we receive and book passengers' luggage in advance—on November 17th I received a black canvas trunk addressed "Harland, care of J. Harland, 12, Clapton Common," with two labels—I dispatched it for King's Cross with the official label pasted on the trunk—I had no trunk that day addressed to Newington Butts.
THOMAS JAMES TILL . I am a parcels clerk at the Great Northern Railway at King's Cross—I receive passengers' advance luggage—on November 18th I received a trunk from Scarborough, addressed to Harland, 12, Clapton Common—this is the waybill I received from the guard. and I checked it in—several parcels were that day received from Scarborough, but no trunk.
to be delivered by Carter Paterson are placed in one spot on the platform—the prisoner called at the station three or four times a day at the parcels office for parcels—on November 18th I saw a black canvas trunk amongst the luggage for Carter Paterson. and it was addressed over the water—I took it into the office for delivery by the Great Northern carts—I saw a North Eastern label on the trunk from Scarborough to King's Cross.
Cross-examined by prisoner. There is also a counter for parcels.
ROBERT HARDING . I am a carman of the Great Northern Railway Company—on November 18th I received a black canvas trunk from the advance passengers' parcels office at King's Cross, addressed to Pearson, 15, St. Gabriel Street, Nowington Butts—it had a pasted label on it from Scarborough to King's Cross—I delivered it to that address, to the woman who was said to be the prisoner's wife, and whom I saw at the police court—in consequence of what she said I took the trunk back again to King's Cross—the next day I received orders to re-deliver the same trunk at the same address—I saw the same woman, spoke to her, and ultimately delivered it to her—another woman signed the sheet.
WILLIAM PIKE . I am a clerk of the Great Northern Railway at King's Cross in the parcels office—I remember Harding bringing back a trunk addressed to "Pearson, 15, St. Gabriel Street, Newington Butts"—it had a passengers' advance luggage label from Scarborough on it—in consequence of what Harding. said I wrote to Pearson at that address, and received this reply (A request for delivery), in consequence of which I gave instructions for re-delivery—I took special notice of the trunk, it being returned in that way.
ELIZA MOVES . I live at 13, St. Gabriel Street. Newington Butts, where the prisoner and his wife lodge—a trunk was delivered from the Great Northern Railway, and I signed the receipt, as she cannot write, in the name of Shaw, which I thought was her name—I saw the trunk taken into their room by the carman—they have two rooms.
THOMAS PEARSON . I am a carman for Spiers and Pond—I lived at 15, St. Gabriel Street, Newington Butts, up to August 10th or 11th last—the prisoner and his wife were lodging there at. the time I left—I know nothing of this trunk, and did not write this letter (The request for delivery)—my initial is "T;" this is "H."
DAVID YARNER (Police Inspector, G.N.R.) I was making inquiries about this trunk, and on January 26th I went to 15, St. Gabriel Street, Nevington Butts, where I saw the woman I now know as the prisoner's wife—after a conversation she was taken into custody—about 5 p.m. the same evening, with other officers, I returned to 15, St. Gabriel Street, where I saw the prisoner and his wife together—the prisoner had not returned to his duties that day—I told him I was a Great Northern Railway Police officer—I cautioned him and then said, "I saw your wife this morning with reference to a trunk addressed to Pearson, which had been delivered here on November 19th, and she told me that a Mr. Pearson who used to live here one evening asked her to take a trunk in for him. You told the carman on delivery that you had received a letter from
Pearson": she said, "Yes, but as I cannot read I tore it up"; I asked her if she could tell me where the person now lived; she said, "No"; I said, "I shall endeavour to trace Pearson, and confront him with you"; she then said, "It was a stranger who asked me to take the trunk in; he would not tell me his name, he called the following evening, took the trunk, and gave me 6d."—the prisoner said, "My wife told me one evening that a trunk addressed Pearson' had been tendered to her, but that she had refused it. I told her to have nothing to do with the trunk, and I did not know that she had taken the trunk in until you now told me so"—I showed him this letter, signed "Pearson" (The request for delivery) and said, "Do you know anything about this letter? I have examined the writing with some of yours, and I am of opinion it is identical"—he said, "I cannot remember writing the letter; the writing is similar to mine; I will write my name and address for you"—I said, "If you do it may be used against you"—he wrote his name and address in my notebook, also the name of H. Pearson (Produced)—I then left—at 1.55 the following day, January 27th, with other officers, I saw the prisoner outside Aldersgate Street Railway Station—I told him I should arrest him for being concerned with his wife in stealing a trunk value £59, the property of the Great Northern Railway Company, on November 19th last"—he replied, "I shall take it all on my own shoulders; my wife knows nothing about it"—he was conveyed to Kennington Lane Police Station, and afterwards charged with his wife—the wife was discharged by the Magistrate.
JOHN BEARD (Detective Officer.) I received the prisoner in custody from the Great Northern Railway on January 27th at Kennington Lane Police Station—I told him I was a detective sergeant of the Metropolitan Police, and that I should take him into custody for stealing in November last a trunk value £59 4s. 2d."—he said, "A man asked me when I was at the Great Northern Railway if I would have a trunk addressed to my place; I asked him what for; he said, "I would rather have it addressed to a stranger's place than my own"—I cautioned him—he said, "My wife told me when I went home that the trunk had been sent, and that she had sent it back, and after it had been sent back the man that saw me at the station came and saw the Missis standing on the step and asked her if it had been sent. She said, 'Yes,' and that she had sent it back again, and that he then asked her if she would take it in the following day, and she said, 'Yes.' I met the man at Newington Butts, and he asked me to have the trunk sent back. I did so, and afterwards heard that the box had been sent to my place and taken away again. I told the officer that I did not write the letter"—he had a letter in his hand at the time—"because I thought it would be easier for myself to get out of it"—when he was charged he made no reply.—
The prisoner, in his defence, said that a man at the Great Northern Railway Station asked him to have the trunk left at his place, and as his wife knew nothing about it she let it be taken away, but he had not seen it.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Newington in August, 1899, in the name of Edward Lindo. Twelve months' hard labour.
242. FREDERICK AKERS (22) PLEADED GUILTY to carnally knowing Eliza May Hayward, a girl above the age of thirteen and under sixteen; also to taking the said girl out of the possession of her father. To enter into recognisances in £50 to appear next Sessions. —And
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, FEBRUARY 29TH, 1904.