CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 17TH, 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,
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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, October 17th, 1904, and following days.
Before the Right Hon. SIR JAMES THOMSON RITCHIE , Bart., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir JOHN CHARLES BIGHAM and the Hon. Sir CHARLES JOHN DARLING , two of the 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 FORMAT FULTON, Knight, K.C., Recorder of the said City; JOHN POUND , Esq., Sir GEORGE WYATT TRUSCOTT , Knight, THOMAS BOOR CROSBY, Esq., M.D., and W. MURRAY GUTHRIE , Esq., M.P., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Frederick Albert BOSANQUET, Esq., K.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; and JAMES ALEXANDER RENTOUL , Esq., K.C., M.P., LL. D., Deputy Judge of the City of London Court, His Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
RITCHIE, MAYOR. TWELFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that the prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 17th, 1904.
Before Mr. Recorder.
734. WILLIAM BUSH (35) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing two reams of paper, the property of Eden Fisher & Co., having been convicted of felony at the Mansion House on August 22,1903, as William Johnson. Six months' hard labour. —
735. HENRY WOOD (67) and SMAL FACTOROVITCH (21) to stealing 5d., the money of Anthony O'Curry from his person, WOOD having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell Sessions on December 19, 1893, as George Bright. Nine other convictions were proved against him commencing in 1860. Twenty months' hard labour. FACTOROVITCH— Twelve months' hard labour. — [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(736). HENRY WALLACE (51) to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from George Christopher Stevens, and from William Mead Perrott a piece of black serge with intent to defraud: also to forging and uttering a request for the delivery of certain velvet with, intent to defraud; also to forging and uttering a request for the delivery of certain Italian cloth with intent to defraud. Nine months' hard labour .— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(737). HERBERT REED (44) to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £40 with 'intent to defraud; also to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £50 with intent to defraud; also to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £75 with intent to defraud. (See page 940.) Nine months in the Second Division on each indictment, to run concurrently .— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(738). GEORGE JACKSON , to unlawfully and fraudently converting to his own use four suits on clothes and other articles entrusted to him by Abraham Goodman in order that he might deliver same to Alfred Cowen. The police stated that there were twelve previous convictions against him. Twelve months' hard labour. — [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(739.) ANNIE ROBINSON (30) to having been delivered of a female child, did afterwards, by a secret disposition of its dead body, endeavour to conceal its birth. Discharged, in order that she might go into a home. — [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]And
MR. BOHN, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
742. GEORGE EDWIN REID, Feloniously putting across the L. & N.W. Railway certain coils of wire with intent to endanger persons travelling upon the railway, or to injure certain engines, carriages and trucks upon that railway.
MR. J. P. GRAIN, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
743. GEORGE EDWIN REID was again indicted for unlawfully endangering the safety of passengers travelling on the L. & N. W. Railway by placing certain coils of wire upon that railway, to which he PLEADED GUILTY .
DR. JAMES SCOTT , the medical officer at Brixton Prison, slated that he prisoner had a weak and ill-balanced mind, with very little moral sense, and no sense of responsibility. Fined £30, and to find two sureties in £50 each to keep the peace for twelve months or in default to be confined for six months .
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 17th, 1904.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. C. W. MATHEWS and MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
MARGARET ELIZABETH DACRE . I am now living at 87. Catherine Road, East Ham—I formerly lived at 537, Victoria Road, Melbourne, where I supported myself by teaching music up to the spring of this year—I was a widow—my name was Liddle—I inserted an advertisement in the Melbourne Age, and through that got into correspondence with the prisoner about May this year—I also met him in Melbourne; be gave the name of Ernest John Dacre—he said he was a photographer and importer, and that he had remittances of £140 a year from his estate in England, that he was born in Stepney, that his father was an officer in the Army, and was the owner of an estate in Gloucestershire worth £16,000, from which his mother was receiving an income, that he was two removes from the title of Baron Dacre, and was related to the Brandts, the Governor of New South Wales, that he had been an officer in the Army, and had got into debt to the extent of £11.000, and so had cut off his entail, but that his brothers were dead and the property would come to him—after a time I told him I was alone in the world and in delicate health—he asked me if I desired to get married, and professed to be very fond of me—at first he said we would get married and go to
Sydney, and he wrote to Sydney, but he changed his mind and said he wanted to go to England, as his family was there and his mother was dying, and that he was in a delicate state of health—I told him I had advanced £400 on mortgage on a house in Brunswick, and that I had £140 or £150 in the Savings Bank, and two other loans amounting to about £100 on a promisory note and a bill of sale—he said of course I must dispose of my property, and he put advertisements in the newspapers—I paid for the advertisements—the marriage was fixed for June 28th, about a fortnight before that time, because he said he wanted to go home by the Macedonia, he asked me if I could dispose of my property in the time—I said, "Yes, with a lot of hard work"; but I did it with his help—he did all the business of trying to get in the money—he said he had no money to take the passages, but if I would advance money to enable him to take them he would pay me back within two or three days after arrival in England, and I lent him £150 out of sums which I drew out of the bank—I agreed to take £380 in full settlement of the £400 mortgage money, and I was paid £380 in bank notes at the Union Bank of Melbourne—of that I lent him £40—he said, "You had better let me settle up, and he went to several offices, and eventually settled on Cook's—he asked me to make him a belt that he could wear it round his waist—I said no, I would have a draft—he said it was an unnecessary expense, and that Cook's, the tourists, charged £9—I gave him the £340 to get the draft, and when he came back he told me he had taken £15 out of the £340, leaving £325, for which he said he had a draft at Cook's—I did not authorize him to do that—he never showed me the draft—I went with him to the Melbourne Post Office on June 27th, the day before the marriage, to register a letter—the officials asked my name; I said, "Margaret Elizabeth Dacre"—I wanted to be married first and use the name of Dacre afterwards, but he raised objections of all sorts—I said I was doing all this, but I was not Mrs. Dacre—he said he had a lot of business, and if the marriage was the next day it did not mutter—he handed in the registered letter, and I saw him write on it—he said, "I will take charge of this"—(Receipt produced for registered letter addressed "E. J. Dacre, London, England")—on the voyage he threatened to desert me, and I asked him for the receipt for the money, and he gave me this—I said, "It is in your name"—he said, "But the draft is in your name"—at Melbourne Post Office I did not know what the address on the letter was, nor the initials, nor what was in it, excepting what he told me—I had in Melbourne a piano, pictures, and books and music—I wanted to take the music—he said there was no necessity to take music, there was plenty at his mother's home—I said, "I wish to have my own music, it is very valuable, worth at least about £30," but I had to leave it behind and my prizes—the moveable furniture he took to the shipping agents—he said they had already gone by cargo ship and that they were consigned to King and Co., England—I thought they were in my name—he did not tell me the name—the value was about £300—it was consigned before I was married—I took some trunks in my cabin and there was larger luggage in the hold, not all mine—on June 28th I
was married to the prisoner in Melbourne, and we sailed by the Macedonia the same day—I had two boxes and a Gladstone bag in the cabin—the prisoner had also luggage—I got this receipt for the registered letter for the first time on board—I asked the prisoner for it—I saw very little of him from morning to night, only at meals, and every morning he was very disagreeable, saying nasty things and making unpleasant comments—on August 6th we arrived at Plymouth—we went to the Waverley Hotel with some of my luggage—I understood it was all at Plymouth—the prisoner said it was to wait there till he heard from his mother—the piano and heavy luggage he told me were on the cargo boat, but it was all on the same ship under the name Dacre and some in the name of Ward—we travelled as Mr. and Mrs. Ward, because he said he got the tickets cheaper through his threatrical company—on August 7th, he said he was going to see his mother in Gloucestershire, to prepare her for my coming, as although he had written to his solicitor that he was engaged, his mother would not be aware of the fact that he had been married, and it would not do to take me to her till he had broken it to her, therefore he would see her first, and come back to me on the Tuesday—he went away on the Sunday night—I had only £2 of my own that I had on the ship, and he said he had only 25s., and he pretended to be very ill, and told me he had better go first class as he was so ill, so he took £1, leaving me £1—he gave me no address where he was going—he said his mother kept a great number of servants in Gloucestershire, but nothing more definite than that, not even the name of the house—I never saw him again at Plymouth—before he left he said he would go to his solicitor the next day, and that he could get hundreds of pounds from him, and would be able to pay me back what I had lent him—I received these letters (Produced) from him, but with no dates or addresses on any of them—(One letter stated "I have not £10 from the solicitor" and enclosed £5, and another said, that his mother was disappointed)—they had the London postmark, and I have marked the date on some—the passage in one letter "I made inquiries, I said I would, I was very much surprised at the time; I did not think it possible you could treat me so" referred to the fact that I asked him on the ship why I was left entirely to myself, and to give me a little more of his time, and "where was the bond of sympathy that there was between us before marriage?" he said, "Have you been reading a novel? take your hands off me, you make me squirm," and he said other nasty things to me—at Plymouth on the Saturday, I told him that the passengers had said, or at all events that one gentleman had said, that he would desert me, and he asked for his name—several people offered their addresses—he said he would ask every officer and every passenger who it was that said he was going to desert me—he writes: "I ordered letters to be sent to London," but he was in London all the time—his luggage was in London—it was never taken off at Plymouth at all—on August 11th he wrote that he had taken a situation temporarily at £2 10s. a week, and on August 13th I received this telegram, addressed to Mrs.
Ward, Waverley Hotel, Plymouth: "Jack not fit to travel, have kept him back, cancelled his engagement; he writes to-day"—the writing on the back of this form is his writing—I got this telegram on August 14th: "My dear Bess,—Got back yesterday knocked up, all in a nervous tremble; had to resign job; I shall take rooms or house on Monday and send for you, etc.; "more to-morrow. Jack"—I got two of his letters in London—on arrival in London on Monday, August 17th, I went straight to Scotland Yard—I received another £1 from him—I got two letters at Charing Cross—I stayed in Portland Street, where a detective told me to stay—I left word at the Plymouth Hotel to forward letters (One letter from the prisoner stated: "I suppose you have been worrying about me, I have been very bad,' and added that he had been taking advantage of his relative's kindness and care, and was signed "with love, yours, Jack.") the other enclosed a postal order for £1, and asked for a reply to be sent to "Poste Restante, Regent Street, S.W.," on account of the servants—I went to Charing Cross with the police on August 22nd to examine my luggage—I next saw my husband in Oxford Street on that day—I caught sight of him coming across the road—he stood looking at a shop window, and I waited for him—when he came up I said "Jack!" he asked me why I had come, and said that I had upset all his arrangements—he said, "Jump in a cab"—my lady friend was waiting—I said, "I cannot do that without speaking to my lady friend"—he said, "Where is she?"—I said, "Over there," and as I turned my head he turned away into the middle of the road—a hansom cab stopped, and I went after him, and threw my arms around him, and called "Police!"—he struggled and broke my bag—he nearly got away, but a policeman came up—his hat was knocked off—it was about 8 p.m.—this slip of paper and the draft contain my signatures, "M. E. Dacre," in his writing (These were the specimen signatures given at the head office of the Commercial Bank of Australia in Melbourne and the draft from the same office for £325 dated June 27th, 1904)—I did not authorise him to sign it—I had no knowledge of these signatures having been written—the endorsement on this £50 note, No. 99184, "F. J. Vincent, 18, Guildford Street," is also in the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. My first husband was about 19 years of age—I was married in 1895—I did not get that husband through a matrimonial advertisement; nothing of the kind—I did not apprentice him to a dentist—he entered into indentures which you took from amongst my luggage; I stood security for him—during his life I conducted a music business—I lent money on houses, not on promissory notes or bills of sale—my first husband has been dead nearly two years—a postman paid me £15 for the loan of £100 for 18 months—I am not prepared to answer you, I have had a serious illness—you should question my solicitor—I cannot remember my advertisement—I said a lady, age 29, was desirous of meeting a man in a suitable position—my nom de flume was "Amor,"—I answered "E. J. D." at once, but did not call for the letter—I did not interview several other gentlemen—I put
this advertisement in in answer to a letter about the beginning of May in answer to your letter—I have destroyed that letter—I did not have the letter on the ship—you said you were an honourable man and had remittances—you said you were employed as a traveller—I think you said you had £140 a year—I said I had a home; I did not say what sort of a home it was; I never said "small"—I think I said I had about 17s. 6d. a week—you told me your mother was getting old and you ought to be at home to look after your own interests, and that you expected a cable if your mother was dangerously ill—you said in Melbourne you received a cable—on the voyage you went ashore at every port—I remember your bringing me a lot of shipping books and information—I objected to the Star Line because it was only one class, and to a scelping agent, who bought return half tickets—Miss Daly told me there was no harm in it, as others did it—you never said you had been occupied in a humble position in life, nor posed as being a saint—I had more than nine pupils—my business was paying expenses—you said you would throw in your lot with mine—I depended upon your ability to find a living for yourself and me—you suggested the money should be put in the hands of the purser, so that in case of wreck you would not be responsible; but I wanted a draft—I never thought of distrusting you; I had every faith in you—I spoke about the ship going down and you said, "There is your dream out"—you talked about being a military man, and later on I asked you to tell me about your military experiences—you never gave me anything very precise about your life—I had very few conversations with you—you never said you were dependent on your mother; you said you were the lawful heir as your brothers were dead—you were cold on board, and would leave the ship at every port, and you would sleep for hours—I saw you in the smoking room—you said you slept to take off the pain—you met me in Collins Street, Melbourne, to go to the Bank to get the mortgage closed—we visited a stationer's shop and bought a newspaper—you might have had envelopes and paper—I wrote in the shop to Mr. Allen, I think, the man I lent money to—you did not show me the draft in the shop—you wrote a letter and put your hand over it—it was not my business to look—when asked my name at the post office I said "M. E. Dacre," as I was to be married the next day—you put the receipt in your pocket—the money was mine—you gave the initials—I do not say it was your habit to sleep in your cabin in the afternoon, but when I came I got snapped at—I did not go scandalizing, but the people were pitying my being left alone—you asked me their names—I would not give them—you said, "You can speak the truth, or you are a dangerous woman"—before you were everything, but from the moment I got on the ship I never saw you till 12—I did not mention the name, but someone told me you were going to desert me, and I said no, I thought you were too honourable—you left me at Plymouth with every token of affection, kissing me, and said you would soon be buck—on August 4th I was in bed all day—you took £2 5s.—you might have given me a few shillings—the police told me not to go with you in a cab—I never altered my banking account, under
the bank manager's advice and that of my solicitors I left the account as it was—when I went to see my baggage my Gladstone bag was fastened with wire; I cannot say it was by the Custom House;—I made a list of things missing from my box, and those things were found at Charing Cross—I wanted to take things you objected to; there were two paintings of flowers of Columbo, you said, "I will put them in my portmanteau, they won't get damaged"—I painted those on the voyage—I did not ask you to pack my dirty linen with yours; I wanted to take it with me—you had yours washed at Columbo, but I was not allowed to have mine washed—the ship stayed there to coal, and we slept ashore one night at an hotel, and one night on the ship—being short of linen I discovered ray things were not at Plymouth at all—all the things in this list are things which would go to the wash—I found in your luggage a new piece of silk, my father's will, and some papers including my first husband's marriage certificate and his indentures—I visited in good society and matriculated—you said your mother would retire and leave the property to us.
Re-examined. The heavy luggage, to the value of about £300, was to be sent by cargo boat—it was not so sent—it came by the Macedonia in the name of Dacre to King & Co. the agents—the prisoner said it would come in about three weeks' time by the cargo boat—the luggage in the cabin I took to the hotel at Plymouth—that in the baggage room I thought was at Plymouth, but it went on to London, as I found on enquiry at Plymouth, and that brought me to London at once—the prisoner said the draft was in a registered letter in the envelope, and I trusted him and did not look into it—he said I could get it three weeks after arrival—I filled up a form—I handed some keys to the purser to be given to the agent at Plymouth.
PHILLIP HERBERT GARDNER . I am a clerk at the Commercial Bank of Australia at the London Branch in Bishopsgate Street "Within—the head office is in Melbourne—in August we received advice by mail from Melbourne as to a draft for £325 with this specimen signature of the payee—on August 10th this draft was presented at the counter and cashed in notes which are entered in a book called the teller's cash book, from which this is a correct extract—there was one note of £100, four of £50, and five of £5.
Cross-examined. These are the first and second of exchange—unless the signature agreed on being compared with the specimen signature; the draft would not have been given.
WILLIAM JESSER COOK . I am a clerk at the head office of the Bank of England—I produce a £100 Bank note No. 55514, four £50 notes, Nos. 90181—4, which I exchanged for fifty-five £5 notes, and £25 in gold—the £5 notes were Nos. 96335 to 96339 and 97051 to 97100—I asked the person who exchanged the notes for his name and address, and he endorsed this £50 note "F. J, Vincent, 18, Guildford Street." (The prisoner admitted this signature.)
—since the beginning of June. 1904, the firm has not received the advice of any draft from Melbourne in the name of Dacre.
ROBERT ERNEST ANDREWS . I am a clerk to Messrs. H. S. King & Co., of Pall Mall, bankers and army agents—on August 10th I handed a registered letter, addressed to Mrs. K. J. Dacre, care of my firm, to the prisoner, and received from him this receipt—he applied for letters in that name and I had no doubt in this ease.
Cross-examined. I read it as "Mrs. Dacre"—there is a mark through the "s"—I did not observe that, and the matter passed from my recollection.
EDWARD EVERARD. I am a porter at the Charing Cross Hotel—I recognise the prisoner as stopping there in the name of Ward from the beginning of the week commencing August. 7th till Monday, August 15th—I saw him between those dates going to his bed room—so far as I know he was resident in the hotel that week.
Cross-examined. I cannot swear what days you slept there, only from seeing you come out of the room in the morning—I removed a hat box on the Friday and some luggage on the Saturday, but nothing on the Sunday.
ALBERT JOHANSEN . I let rooms at 2, sherwood Street. Piccadilly—on August 15th the prisoner engaged a room and stayed there till August 22nd in the name of Dacre—he had luggage which he took away on august 23rd.
WILLIAM PARRIS (402 D.) About 8 p.m. on August 22nd I was on duty near Oxford Circus when, in consequence of a statement by a lady, I crossed the road and saw the prisoner breaking away from the prosecutrix. and heard her screams—I stopped him and told him he was wanted on a warrant for taking his wife's property and for desertion—he said, "Don't take hold of my arm and make me look like a criminal"—on the way to the station he said, "She says there is a warrant; I am glad there is; fancy a man being charged with taking his wife's property; I sent her £1 last Friday; I did not know she was in London"—I tool: him to the station.
Cross-examined. Possibly I said at Bow Street that you were stooping or in a running attitude.
HENRY FOWLER (Detective Sergeant). I was instructed in this case—Mrs. Dacre first came to Scotland Yard on August 17th and made a complaint, in consequence of which I made some inquiries, and on August 19th a warrant was issued at Bow Street—on August 22nd, about 10:30 p.m., I saw the prisoner detained at Marylebone Police Station—I said to him. "I am a police officer: is your name Ernest John Dacre?"—he said. Yes, that is my name"—I said, "I hold a warrant for your arrest for stealing some of your wife's property"—he said, "What is the charge against me?"—I said, "I will read the warrant to you"—I read it to him—he said. "Is that all? I can disprove that in two minutes, before the Magistrate"—the warrant charges him with feloniously stealing two sill: dresses, one jacket, two fawn coats, and a quantity of lady's underline:) to the value of £15—I said, "What is your address?"—he
said, "I shall want to see a solicitor before I give you that"—I then searched him—in his trousers pockets I found £1 in gold, and in his jacket pocket five £5 Bank of England notes, Nos. 36693-7, dated April 4th, 1904—the prisoner then put his hand in his right hand back trousers pocket and gave me a bundle of twenty-two £5 Bank of England notes, the numbers of which are contained in the forty-five, numbered 97051 to 97095—I also found a watch and chain, latch key, three playing cards and eight visiting cards in the name of E. J. Dacre—I took him to Bow Street—on the way he said, "Do you call this fraud?"—I said, "The warrant charges you with stealing"—he said, "Well, I have travelled all over the world and have had to come back to England to learn that a man can be charged with stealing his wife property; I have written to her, and only last Friday sent her £1; we have been married two months to-day, and this is the end of it; fancy a man in my position being locked up in a cell all night; on our way here from Melbourne, if I passed a chair to another lady it was wrong, and she would tell me of it; I ought to have cut her throat; I ought to have told you before I have got some more money on me; it is in my boot"—I said, "I shall have to search you again when we get to Bow Street"—he said, I forgot to tell you before"—on arriving at Bow Street, on the charge being read over to Aim, he replied, "Very well," and shortly afterwards said, "I can disprove that by telling you where the things are; the things she is charging mo with stealing are all in the cloak room at Charing Cross Station"—I proceeded to search him—he took off his right boot and sock, and from the foot of the sock he took 24 £5 Bank of England notes—all the notes are new and they make up the rest of the numbers already given—I afterwards went to Charing Cross Railway Station of the S.E. Railway cloak room, where a ticket was handed to me by Sergeant Burch, who had been to the prisoner's lodging and found a tin box and black bag, which Mrs. Dacre has seen—she identified the property at Charing Cross as hers, most of which is mentioned in the was in the name of Ward.
Cross-examined. From inquiries we found that a porter had removed luggage from the Charing Cross Hotel to the cloak room in the name of Ward—we have been trying to find the porter—we were told the luggage was taken away on a cab.
WILLIAM BURCH . On August 23rd I went to 1, Sherwood Street, Piccadilly, and found certain luggage in a room occupied by the prisoner; there were a wooden box and two portmanteaux, one light box, two hat boxes, a black Gladstone bag, and a kit bag—Mrs. Dacre identified some of it in separate boxes as that contained in her list—I also found seven certificates of character E. J. Dacre, John Dacre, and Ernest J. Dacre, from April, 1900, to 1904, one from A. M. Hilliary, photographer, of Mount Gambia, near Melbourne, Australia, as having given every satisfaction as manager and operator for six months, others as having held the positions of bar man, night porter, and boots at hotels in Australia.
Cross-examined. I also found a lease of premises at £10 to £12 in the Avenue, Melbourne, and an agreement for a shop in the photographic business.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that the prosecutrix had entrusted him with (the draft and other property as her agent, and she might hare had it back before had she not gone to the police, and that he was willing to sign an authority for it to be delivered up to her. Later COUNSEL informed the court that the prisoner had signed a document which was satisfactory to the prosecution. The court held that as there was no proof that the Married Women's Property Act ever took effect in Melbourne the presumption was that the Common Law took effect in that Colony, and therefore in this case there was no legal defrauding of the wife.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 18th, 1904.
Before Mr. Justice Bigham.
MR. MATHEWS and MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
JOSEPH BARNES . I am a labourer of 21, Kemble Road, Highgate—I look after the sewer works on the Highgate golf links; it is part of my duty to keep clean a ditch on the links—I remember passing the ditch about (3.15 p.m. on August 1st—I noticed it very carefully; there was nothing in it but a piece of paper—I visited the same spot next day at 9.15 a.m.—I saw this piece of iron lying in the ditch; I took it in my hand and examined it—I noticed two small marks on it, which I took to be chocolate paint, and a little portion of hair on the edges—I chucked it out into a field; I did not take much notice of it then; I went back about two or three minutes afterwards and picked it up again—I took it further up the field and put it among the contractor's boards—it was left there till I reported it to the police, when I fetched it and handed it to them—I know the prisoner; I saw him on July 29th in Highgate Woods, sitting on a seat, about five minutes' walk from the golf links—the next time I saw him he was in custody.
WILLIAM BRATTON . I was a night watchman to Messrs. Kellett, and live at 5, Enfield Gardens, Hornsey Vale—at the end of July and beginning of August, I had a night watchman's box in Cranley Gardens, which is
about ten minutes' walk from the golf links—about 1 a.m. on Sunday, July 31st, the prisoner came to my box—he was carrying this large wooden stake—he said, "Watchman, give me some bread, and I will give you a knife"—I told him I had no bread, and said, "You are not without a walking stick, mate"—he said, "I keep one of these to keep dogs off me at nights"—he seemed to want to settle down; I said I could not have him about there, and the police would be round and shifting him—he said he did not mind the police, and that he wanted to see them, because they would find him a bed; he settled himself down—no police came—he stayed for about two hours—I had some biscuits in my overcoat pocket, which I gave to him—when it "was getting daylight he said he was a stoker and had got to Edinburgh on the Thursday and drew £8 there—I said, "Edinburgh is not a seaport town"—he said the shipping offices were there; that he went from there to Glasgow, and then to Newcastle and took the London boat arriving on Friday—he showed me this sailor's discharge book—I noticed the name "Harrison" on it, and he mentioned it himself—he stayed with me till about 5.55, when the relief man came to me—I did not like the prisoner's company—he held the stake most of the time, and I was frightened—I saw him again about the same time next night, which was early on Bank Holiday morning—he was carrying a branch of a tree—he pulled both his boots off and said how bad his feet were—I noticed they were a good pair of boots—he said, "I have spoilt them because I have had to cut them on the right side, but it has done me no good"—I noticed a cut on the outside of the right boot—he said he gave 18s. for them in Edinburgh—he had an engineer's cap on. with a strap across the top, and a peak—he stayed with me about the same time as the previous night—I did not see him again till he was in custody.
Cross-examined. You did not say that you went to Leeds.
ERNEST ROSKELLY OLIVE . I am a tailor, of 13, Milton Road, High-gate—on Bank Holiday, August 1st, I went for a walk with a friend named Grist, about 7 p.m.—we met Miss Amy Curzon and Miss Birthnall Curzon—Grist knew them before, and introduced me—we all went for a walk through Highgate Woods towards Cranley Gardens—Miss Amy Curzon was with Grist and Miss Birthnall Curzon was with me—at 8.45, outside Cranley Gardens Station, Miss Birthnall Curzon and I left Grist and Miss Amy Curzon—we walked to the footpath leading over the golf links—I remember getting to the footbridge which goes over the railway and crossing the bridge; we then took the left hand path—after that I do not remember what happened—when I next remembered anything I was in bed at my home; that was on Sunday, August 7th—on August 1st I had this silver match box on this chain, which I was wearing across the two top pockets of my waistcoat—I had no watch—at the other end. of the chain I had a police whistle; I had also this lion shilling, with a hole in it, attached to the ring now on the chain; the shilling hung down to about the middle of my waistcoat—I also had a bunch of keys in my right hand trousers pocket with about 10s. in silver—I have since seen the trousers I was wearing on that night; the right hand
pocket was torn right out and down to the knee—I had all the property I have mentioned safely in my possession at the time I was passing over the bridge—its value is about 30s.
ARTHUR JOHN BARRETT . I am an ironmonger's assistant, and live at 5, Annington Road. Fortice Green—on August 1st, between 9.30 and 9.45 p.m. I was alone on the railway bridge leading to Cranley Gardens—I saw Ernest Olive making his way up over a piece of rising ground leading to the bridge; he had no hat; he staggered somewhat—I went to him; he had then reached a stone wall, which he supported himself on—I saw that something was the matter, and that he was in an exhausted state—I had some conversation with him—at first his answers were not sensible—I noticed that his head was covered with blood—I took him along Muswell Hill Road, and afterwards with assistance I took him to Mr. Ingram, a surgeon of Woodland Crescent, where his wounds were temporarily dressed—a constable and an ambulance were sent for, and he was taken to his home.
ENEDA OLIVE . I live at 13, Milton Road—Ernest Roskelly Olive is my son—he was brought to my house on a police ambulance about 11 p.m. on August 1st—his clothes were taken off, and his coat and waistcoat were found covered with blood—his right hand trousers pocket was completely torn out.
ROBERT KNOX . M.R.C.P., L.R.C.S. I practice at 1, Jackson's Lane, Highgate—on the evening of August 1st I was called to see Mr. Olive at his father's house—I examined him, and found he was suffering from a severe scalp wound and concussion of the brain—the wound was about 4in. long and roughly 1/2 in. deep, and extended down to the bone—I came to the conclusion that it had been delivered from behind—this piece of iron might have caused it—he had also a bruise on his left shoulder, and one on the back of his neck—he was unconcious for about a week, and is still under my care.
BIRTHNALL CURZON . I now live at South Mimms—on August 1st I was staying at 110, Junction Road, Upper Holloway, and on that evening I was with my sister Amy near Highgate Woods, about 7 p.m.—we met Mr. Grist, and were introduced by him to Mr. Olive—I and Mr. Olive walked together towards Cranley Gardens Station—we there left Mr. Grist and my sister, and turned back as if to go into the woods again over the railway bridge; it was about 8.45—we crossed right over the bridge and took the path to the left which goes along by a hedge—I remember noticing a black man, who I now recognise as the prisoner, on the other side of the hedge looking at us; he was standing still—I do not remember anything after that—when I first began to remember anything I was in hospital, I think about a week later—I do not remember anything happening to Mr. Olive—I was wearing this gold watch and chain, and this brooch—the chain was round my neck; the watch was hanging down, and was pinned to my dress—anybody could see it—the value of the three articles was about £3 10s.
Road—I saw Miss Birthnall Curzon lying on the road—I did nothing then, but when I returned and saw her still lying in the same place, I went up to her and spoke to her—I understood her to say, "Yes"—she was on her knees and her head was on the ground—I saw something at the back of her clothing which caused me to put my hand to see what it was—I thought it was mud, but found it was blood—her hat was on her head—I lifted her hat and saw that her face was covered with blood—by that time I had sent for the police—I and another man carried her out of the wood before the police came and laid her upon some boards—I went for an ambulance—she was placed upon it and sent away.
ALFRED HERBERT CARD , M.R.C.S. I live and practice at 37, Muswell Rise—about 12.45 a.m. on August 2nd, I was called by the police to the golf links, where I found Miss Curzon—she was in a half conscious condition, and had a large deep gash on the back of her head, penetrating to the bone; it was about 4in. long—I dressed it as far as I could and accompanied her to the hospital.
WILLIAM HARTREE RAYNER . I am house surgeon at the Great Northern Hospital—Miss Curzon was brought there on the morning of August 2nd—I examined her and found her to be suffering from a severe wound on the back of her head—she was unconscious for some time—she began to answer simple questions and give her name on Thursday of that week—I should say she was in danger of losing her life—it is quite possible that the wound was caused by this piece of iron—she remained in the hospital for six weeks.
HARRY BILTON . I am a carman of Chapple Street, East Finchley—on Monday, August 1st, about 10.30 p.m., I was out with Annie Turner—we were sitting outside the golf links at Highgate—a man came up to me, carrying a stick or an iron in his hand—he struck me and I then saw he was a black man—later that morning I gave a description to the police; I afterwards saw the man at the Highgate Police Court, and identified the prisoner—he was wearing a round hat with a peak and a strap across it.
ANNIE TURNER . I live at 9, Ingram Road, East Finchley—on the night of August 1st I was with Bilton on the golf links—I saw the prisoner a short distance away from us; he had what looked like an iron bar in his hand.
HENRY FILBEE . I am a labourer employed by the Hornsey Borough Council, and live at 63, North Hill, Highgate—on August 1st, about 10.35 p.m., I was in the Great North Road and about 100 yards from the golf links gates—I saw the prisoner coming in the direction of Highgate—I was going towards Finchley—he came along by a black fence and passed me by Elm Lodge—he was wearing a peak cap with a strap across it, and I think a square cut coat—he had nothing in his hand then.
WILLIAM MALE (656 Y.) I was on duty in High Street, Highgate, about 11.30 p.m. on August 1st—I saw the prisoner coming from the direction of North Road and the golf links—he spoke to me and showed me a lion shilling—I noticed it was very much worn and had a hole in it—I believe this is it (Produced)—he said it was worth 3s. 6d., that he had
no money for his lodgings—he offered it to me—I examined it and said, "I will give you 3d. for it"—he said, "No; it is worth 3s. 6d."—I asked him how long he had been in the neighbourhood; he said he had been in London a week, that he had come from Newcastle—he left me and went in the direction of Holloway—I reported what had taken place at the police station a little after 1 o'clock—about 10.30 that morning I went with Neal to Commercial Street Police Station and saw the prisoner in custody—he said he had been with a watchman down Cranley Gardens.
HAROLD BULLION . I am a barman at the Whittington Cat, Highgate Hill—on August 1st, between 11.45 and 12 p.m. the prisoner came into the public house—he said. "Hi. bloke, what will you give me for this," and he put what appeared to be a shilling with a hole in it on the counter—I looked at it, and said, "I do not wish to buy it," and he went out.
ALFRED LEE (467 H.) On August 2nd, about 5.40 a.m., I was on duty at Commercial Street Police Station—at that time information had been circulated in reference to a black man—as I was standing at the door I saw the prisoner—I asked him to come into the station for an offence which had been committed in the north of London—he said, "I have done nothing, I have been down at the docks all night"—I said, "You had better come to the station with me, as I am going to arrest you"—he said, "All right, I can soon prove to you where I have been all night"—he came to the station with me, and I told him that the description tallied with him, and that I was going to search him—he said he had been down to the docks, and a policeman had given him 1d. and a white boy 2d.—he said he was a sailor and an American, that he had come from Newcastle, but he had not been there more than a fortnight—I found on him in different pockets a lion shilling, a silver chain and matchbox, a knife and several documents—he had no money.
ARTHUR NEAL (Inspector Y.) On the morning of August 2nd, I found the prisoner detained at Commercial Street Police Station—I continued the search which an officer had already made of him; I found this watch and chain and match box which had been handed back to him; I also found this seaman's discharge book, and this small brooch—I told him he would be charged with attempting to murder these persons, and that in all probability he would be further charged with robbing them at the same time and place—he said, "I can prove I was somewhere else at the time; give a fellow a chance, I can prove I was down here at the dock gates all the evening, and a policeman at the dock gates saw me there"—he indicated some docks at Leman Street a short distance away—referring to the watch and chain he said, "That belongs to my girl; she bought it at Glasgow with some money I sent her from Manchester"—referring to the silver chain and matchbox: he said, "They are mine; I have had them a long time"—indicating Male, he said, "I admit I saw this gentleman last night away over the hills somewhere; I do not know these people; I stopped with a watchman the other night and he gave me some food; I have been here only a few days; I was going to get a ship to go to America if I could"—
when charged at Highgate he made no reply but only laughed—he afterwards told me it was the West India Docks he had spoken of—I noticed his right boot was cut.
FRANCIS HALL (Detective Sergeant Y.) I was in charge of the prisoner on August 2nd—when he was waiting at Highgate Police Station in the cell passage, he said, "The Judge cannot lock me up for stealing that watch and chain, I would sooner go to prison; that watch and chain belongs to my girl Jenny; she lives somewhere in Glasgow, I do not know the address; I gave her the money which she bought them with, and earned it on my last voyage.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that he admitted doing everything except stealing the watch and chain and shilling; that he had been at High-gate for a couple of days on the drink; that he was going back to London when he saw Mr. Olive and Miss Curzon lying in the grass in a compromising position; that he had a small walking stick in his hand and struck into the grass, hut did not intend to hurt them, because he was half drunk; that they jumped up and ran away; that he then saw a watch and chain and handkerchief lying on the grass, which he picked up; that he went back to the path and saw another young lady and a man in the grass; that he hit the man, and then went on to the road.
GUILTY . Ten years' penal servitude. Mr. Mathews stated that the doctor's examination of Miss Curzon made it clear that what the prisoner had said in reference to misconduct was clearly false.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 18th, 1904.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. S. CLARKE Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH TODD . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 20, Salisbury Road, Kilburn—some time before July 8th I had trouble with him—I met him on that day and accused him of drinking with another woman—he said he had not, it was a lie, and he could prove it—he was very drunk—I told him I did not believe him. and spat in his face—he then kicked me in the stomach—I left him and went to a public, house, afterwards going home to bed—I found my husband in—in the morning I told
him I was very bad through the kick, and should have to have a doctor—he asked me should he go for one. and said he was very sorry, and started crying—the doctor came, and I was taken to the Willesden Infirmary—I stayed there sixteen weeks—he has been a good husband when not in drink—I have been married fourteen months—I have been ruptured for ten years.
ALFRED WEBSTER . I am a Bachelor of Medicine—I attended the prosecutrix at the Willesden Infirmary—I found she had an enlarged hernia of old standing protruding from the lower part of the abdomen, and the surface of the skin was ulcerated, and had been so for some time; across the centre of this surface of ulceration there was a fresh wound between three and four inches in length—it was a very serious injury, and in my opinion may have been caused by a kick the day before—she was in imminent danger of her life for a long time—she has now quite recovered.
DAVID GRAHAM (48 A". R.) On July 10th I arrested the prisoner and charged him with kicking his wife in the lower part of her body—he said, "All right"—I took him to the station—after the charge was read over to him he said, "Yes, I did use the boot."
The prisoner, in his defence, said he was sorry for what he had done, but that it was under great provocation: that he was accused of drinking with another Woman. and that his wife spat in his face.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony on January 28th, 1884. A large number of previous convictions were proved against him. Five years' penal servitude.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday and Wednesday, October 18th and 19th, 1904.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUGHES Prosecuted.
ALKRED RYDER . I am a carmen of 44, Devonshire Street, Theobald's Road—on September 12th, about 12.10 a.m., I was going home through Chancery Lane with George Dodd, when we passed the prisoner. two other men. and a female—I did not know them—they were having an altercation between themselves—a dog that was with them followed us and continued to growl at us—somebody said to the dog, "Come hero, Jack"—having crossed Holborn, and gone along Red Lion Street, and turned from Eagle Street to Leigh Street towards Devonshire Street, on our direct way home, I heard someone running behind us—we were on the pavement on the right—I looked round—the prisoner passed me
to the left, used an abusive remark, and fired at me—the bullet hit me in the left thigh—only my friend was with me—I said, "You have shot me"—he ran away—the female tried to prevent my following him, but I pulled myself away, and ran after the prisoner as well as I was able—I went to the hospital in a cab, and stayed there from the Monday morning till the Friday afternoon—I had done nothing to the prisoner or any of his friends.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I turned round because the noise of your running behind aroused my suspicions—the bullet was found outside St. Paul's Hospital, about the second door in Leigh Street—I did not see your brothers, I only saw you running after me.
Re-examined. His brother was not facing me with his coat off.
GEORGE ALFRED DODD . I am a fire wood dealer, of 28, New North Street, Theobald's Road—I was with Ryder when we saw the prisoner and his friends near the Holborn end of Chancery Lane—there were two other men, a female, and a dog-one man was carrying a half gallon stone jar bottle—I had not seen them before—the dog continually ran up in front of us, but nothing was said—the prisoner and his friends followed us—as the shot was fired the shortest of the men hit me on the back of my neck and knocked me down—he had come up in his shirt sleeves—the prisoner must have been in front of me—I ran for all I was worth into Mr. Steel's, the undertaker, for protection, two or three doors round the corner—it did not matter what door had been open, I would have gone in—the men were strangers.
Cross-examined. I ran into the centre of the road from the pavement—I never had an altercation with you, only I was knocked down—the first time I saw you was at the Holborn end of Chancery Lane—I heard you hollo a as you were running behind—Steel did not know me—the Steel who is here is not the same man I saw, but his son.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. On this night I was talking to a friend outside my father's shop—I did not see the prisoner or his friend—I heard a shot, but no scuffle or quarrel—the Skin Hospital is at the corner of Leigh Street and Red Lion Square—I was in Eagle Street.
By MR. HUGHES. I work for my father, who is a carpenter and coffin maker.
MONICA ROBERTSON . I am house physician at the Royal Free Hospital, Gray's Inn Road—I received Alfred Ryder after midnight on September 12th—I found a bullet on the inner side of his left thigh—I have said it penetrated between six and seven inches, but it was about nine inches, I find now that I have measured it—it missed any serious artery, and was not a dangerous wound—Ryder left the hospital the following Friday, and is all right now, only a little bit stiff—there is no danger, though the part of the limb where the bullet struck was a dangerous place—it was about the middle of the thigh—the direction of the bullet was almost straight across the thigh, entering on the outer side and lying on the inner side—I took the bullet out—it could not have
been fired straight down to the ground, but must have been fired level with the wound.
GEORGE BARKER (195 E.) About 12.15 on September 12th, I stopped the prisoner in Orange Street—he was running into Theobald's Road, and about 50 yards from it—this revolver was in his hand—several persons were following about 150 yards behind shouting, "Stop him"—when I caught hold of him he put the revolver in his pocket—I took hold of his hand—when it was taken from him at the station it was found to be loaded in five chambers—one was discharged—when stopped, he said, "I am done, I will go quietly with you; I did it in self-defence with a revolver; it is in my pocket"—at the station he said, "I have been interfered with by several men; I did it in self-defence, and I am sorry I did it"—he was very excited—he might have been drinking, but was not drunk; he knew what he was doing quite well.
Cross-examined. You said at the station several men had insulted your wife.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that he merely went to ask for an explanation why his wife had been insulted when he was assaulted; that what he did was in self-defence; that when the prosecutor was facing his brother to fight him, he fired the revolver towards the ground to frighten them; and that he was sorry for what he had done.
Evidence for the Defence.
ALICE MAUD PRICE . I am the prisoner's wife—about 8.15 on Sunday night we went to Union Street, Borough—about 8.30, we met his brothers Arthur and John—we stopped in a public house till it closed at 11, and about 11.15 started for home—we walked over Blackfriars Bridge into Bridge Street—I turned into a dark part of Tudor Street to relieve myself—Dodd and Ryder stood at the corner, and as I walked by I saw them make an expression with their mouths—they said something I did not catch—I was telling my husband I had been insulted when they walked by—I said, "There you are, they insulted me, going up Bridge Street"—he wanted to go after them, "but I said, "Don't, you'll only get into a row and get fighting"—the men walked up Fleet Street in front of us—we crossed Fleet Street and went through Chancery Lane to Holborn—they looked round once or twice—we walked up Red Lion Street to Leigh Street—they turned, facing us—Arthur Price asked what they were after—they made expressions with their mouths—he ran after them—my husband was at his heels—he fired the pistol at the ground—he ran away, and was caught.
Cross-examined. They were going towards Red Lion Square when we were behind them—we had an Irish terrier with us—we had no altercation amongst ourselves in Chancery Lane.
ARTHUR PRICE . I am a time-expired man from the Army—on October 7th I was with my brother, the prisoner, when we returned from Union Street, Borough—Ryder and his friend followed behind us—I saw them first after we had passed Tudor Street, when the prisoner's wife complained that she had been insulted by them—the prisoner was
going to follow them, but his wife advised him not to—they followed us, and then got in front of us—we went into Fleet Street and up Chancery Lane to Eagle Street and Leigh Street—I said, "What are you after?" or something of that, when they made an abusive and indecent noise with their mouths—I next heard the report of a revolver as I threw my hat and coat off and ran across the road to fight these two men.
Cross-examined. In Leigh Street they were ahead of us—I cannot say if they were going home—they were continually looking round—we did not intend to have a row—we had not been talking it over from Bridge Street, nor disputing amongst ourselves whether we should assault them—the indecent expression is commonly known as f—g—I did not see the revolver—I knew my brother had a pistol, but not on that night—he does not carry it, that I know of.
JOHN PRICE . I left the public house in Union Street with my brothers about 11 o'clock, where we had been drinking till closing time, during two hours, but not all the time—we came along Blackfriars Road—passing Tudor Street the prisoner's wife left us and came back and complained to her husband about two men—he asked who they were, and wanted to have something to say to them, but his wife stopped him, and we went along Bridge Street to Fleet Street—the two men went on in front, but were continually looking round—we turned up Chancery Lane, crossed Holborn, and went from Red Lion Street to Eagle Street—at the corner of Leigh Street, when we were leaving one another, the two men made a foul and abusive expression, when my brother stood in a fighting position—we went to stop the disturbance, the prisoner followed on the heels of his brother, and afterwards I found the prisoner had gone to the police station.
Cross-examined. I was three or four yards away, but it was all done in a moment—I did not hear a shot fired.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. (The prisoner had been in prison a month.) Five months' hard labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, October 18th, 1904.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
753. HENRY GEORGE READ (56) , PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a request for the payment of £1 1s. 6d., with intent to defraud"; also to obtaining from William Wallace £1 1s. 6d. by means of the is forged request. One month in the Second Division. —
(754). WILLIAM SIMPSON (20) to breaking and entering the ware-house of Ward, Lock & Co., Ltd., and stealing therein two bags and other articles, their property; also to burglary in the dwelling house of Henry Comyns, and stealing therein a clock and other articles, the property of the London City Mission. Twelve months' hard labour. — [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
(755). FLORENCE GOSLING (29) to stealing a Post Office Savings Bank book, the property of Charles Henry Clayton; also to forging and uttering a notice of with drawal for £10 with intent to defraud. Judgment respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. PASMORE Prosecuted.
GEORGE KEMPTOX . I am a foreman to Mr. Patrick Hearn, of 234, Gray's Inn Road—I engaged the prisoner on March 6th, 1902, and at 8.45 a.m., on March 12th. I sent him with a brougham to take out a commercial traveller—at 4 p.m. the brougham came back in charge of another man—it was empty but for a livery coat inside, which the prisoner had worn in the morning.
HENRY BOARD (Detective Sergeant, City.) On May 14th, 190-4. the prisoner was sentenced to six months' hard labour for embezzling, by Mr. Fordham, who said that he was not considering the indictment with which he is at present charged, and he would not deal with it. as it was not within his jurisdiction—on the prisoner's release from Pentonville on September 13th I arrested him. telling him that I was a police officer and held a warrant for his arrest—he said, "Yes, I know all about it; I have been already informed about it by the prison authorities"—I then conveyed him to the station where he was charged, to which he made no reply.
WALTER HAMLYN BENSON . I am a commercial traveller to Messrs. Max Izbiki and others, mantel manufacturers of St. Paul's Churchyard—on the morning of March 12th, 1902, the prisoner came to take me out with a brougham, in the same way that he had done five or six days previously—at 12.30 p.m. we got back to St. Paul's Churchyard, when I told him to go to dinner, and be back by 2 p.m., but he did no. come—the brougham contained 7 blouses, 16 fancy jackets and mantel. and 2 costumes, to the value of £64 15s. 0d., which my employers have never seen again—when I sent him away with the brougham I locked it up.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. When we got back to St. Paul's Churchyard you were wanted on the telephone.
By the JURY. It is quite a usual thing in the trade for a brougham containing £60 worth of stuff to be kept at a jobbing yard—I had the keys of the brougham.
Re-examined. It was fitted up for the purpose of carrying samples out.
JAMES STEGGALLS . I am a carman at the Globe Beer Shop, in President Street, St. Luke's—at 2 p.m. on March 12th. 1902. a man. who, as far as I can recollect, was the prisoner, came and asked me to take a brougham which was outside, to Mr. Hearn's yard at Gray's Inn Road, where, he said, he had two days' money to come, and that I should get 1s.—he then took off a livery overcoat and put it in the brougham, which was empty—I drove it to Mr. Hearn's yard.
Cross-examined. It being two years ago, I had some difficulty in identifying you at the police station.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that in 1902 he had embezzled a sum of £3 1s. 6d.; that he obtained employment at Hearn's yard, and was going on all right until he saw his late employer looking for him outside the yard; that after returning from taking the traveller out he was told that he was wanted at the telephone, and, believing that he was wanted for his theft, he had run away, leaving the brougham outside.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury. Two convictions were proved against him. Six months' hard labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 14th, 1904.
Before Mr. Justice Bigham.
MR. J. P. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. A. GILL Defended at the request of the Court.
ROSAMONTD AMELIA JEFFERY . I am a widow, and am the mother of Violet Jeffery—I have also a boy aged four—I live at 43, Askew Crescent, Shepherd's Bush, in two rooms on the second floor—I know the prisoner, his mother and father—they live on the ground floor of the same house—I am an assistant in the tea room at Evans', in Oxford Street—on September 21st I went out about 6.15 a.m., leaving my children in bed together; the door of the room was unlocked—about 2 p.m. I was fetched from my work to the West London Hospital, where I saw Violet—I was not on friendly terms with the other people in the house—I have heard the prisoner using bad language, which was meant for my children.
Cross-examined. My little girl goes to school at 8.45 and comes out at 12. Ada Freeman. I am the wife of Patrick Freeman, a labourer, and the prisoner's mother—this (Produced) is ray husband's hammer—I go out to work—I live at 43, Askew Crescent, in the basement and ground floor—on September 21st I went out to work about 8.30 a.m.—I left the prisoner in bed seriously ill with consumption—I returned about 1.20 for my dinner—I did not find the prisoner at home—I went into the back parlour on the ground floor—I found the blinds down as I had left them—I went to the back of the room and found Violet lying on the floor, I think unconscious; blood was on her head; I sent for a doctor—Dr. Davidson came and sent for a policeman—I was taken to the hospital after the policeman and the doctor had seen the child—the prisoner returned about 7 p.m.—he sleeps in the front parlour.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has breakfast about 8 o'clock—I left him having it—when I found Violet nobody else was in the room—her little brother was in the next room, where my son usually sleeps, and when I screeched he cried—I did not see little" Sadler there—the house was quite silent when I went there—Violet's brother was sitting in the next room in a chair—he could not get out because he could not reach
the latch—I did not see Sadler outside the house—I do not know him or his mother—I never saw them before I saw them at the police court—I do not know where my son was from the time I left him having breakfast until I saw him in the evening—his health is very bad—he has been ill for between six and seven years—he is 22 years old now—I never knew him to ill treat or threaten children before—he is very fond of children—he has been in charge of them.
JOHN CHARLES SADLER . I am seven years old and go to school—I know Violet Jeffery and her brother; we go to the same school—we come out of school at 12 o'clock—on this day I came out of school with Violet—I knew whore she lived; her little brother was with her—they went into their house—I know the prisoner; he lived in same house—after Violet and her brother had gone in I saw the prisoner having his breakfast in the front room—I was on the steps and heard him speak—Violet went upstairs—I heard the prisoner say, "Make that door leave off banging"—I did not hear anything after that, till I heard Violet's brother Freddy crying, and then I heard Violet crying—about 12.37 the prisoner came out—I was standing outside till then waiting for Violet to come out to play—after the prisoner had come out Freddy came down and spoke to me—he then went upstairs—then I saw Mrs. Freeman come.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner come out and go towards Uxbridge Road—I did not see him come back—when he said "Make that door stop banging," I could see him through the window; he was sitting at the table; he had two eggs for his breakfast and bread and butter—I am not thinking of anything that happened earlier in the morning.
VIOLET JEFFERY . I have been brought from the hospital this morning—I live with my mother at 43. Askew Crescent—I do not know the prisoner—I do not recollect anything about being struck on the head, or going to school.
GEORGE LAMBERT (Detective.) I was called to 43, Askew Crescent, on this day about 2 p.m.—the place had then been examined and searched—I made inquiries in order to trace the prisoner, and left two officers in charge in case he returned—he did so, and was brought to the station at 7.15 the same day—I told him the charge; he said he went out at 10 a.m. that morning and walked to Trafalgar Square—I said, "Can you refer me to anybody who saw you that morning"—he said, "No, no one knows me"—I charged him with striking Violet Jeffery on the head with a hammer. I had this hammer in my possession, and seriously injuring her; he said nothing—Freddy was at the station, and when confronted with the prisoner the boy said, "That is Ted, he hit Vi on the head with the hammer; she was in the front room; then he shut me in the other front room and went away: that is the hammer"—the prisoner said nothing—I said to him, "Did you hear what the little boy said"—he said, "Yes"—he was then charged and made no reply.
JAMES BATEMAN (641 T.) I was ordered to remain in this house after the injured child had been discovered—a little after 7 p.m. the prisoner returned; he came into the front parlour; I was there—he said, "Are you waiting for me?"—I asked him if he was Edward Freeman, he said,
"Yes"—I told him I should arrest him on suspicion of attempting to murder Violet Jeffery—he said, "I know nothing at all about it"—I took him to the police station.
Cross-examined. I was in uniform and sitting in the room; another constable was with me.
RICHARD NURSEY (Sergeant T.) About 2 p.m., on September 21st, I went to 43, Askew Crescent, and searched the house; in particular I searched the bed in the front room on the ground floor—that bed had been pointed out to me by the prisoner's mother—I searched the bed clothes; at first I saw nothing—I pulled the bedstead to one side, and in doing so this hammer fell down between the bedstead and the wall—I picked it up off the floor—I examined the hammer head; there were no blood marks or hair upon it.
WILLIAM ALEXANDER DAVIDSON . I am a medical practitioner of 235, Uxbridge Road, W.—I was called on September 21st, about 1.30 p.m., to 43, Askew Crescent, which is quite close to my residence—I saw Violet Jeffery on the floor in the back sitting room; she was unconscious and huddled together; and was lying on her left side in a pool of blood—I found two straight cuts, one in her forehead just at the beginning of her hair, and another at the back of her head; they were a little over one inch in length; the one in front went through to the skull and the one at the back of her head was through to the brain; the skull had been fractured—I dressed the wounds and sent her to the hospital; she was still unconscious—there were no other wounds upon her—the wounds may have been caused by the sharper side of this hammer, but not the round end—when I saw it there was no blood upon it, but it may have been washed—the girl was very dangerously ill.
Cross-examined. I should expect to find blood upon it unless it had been washed—I should say a poker would not cause the wounds, because there is a larger part on a poker, so both wounds would not be exactly the same size; these wounds were both the same size—I do not know of any other instrument which would cause them besides a hammer—falling upon a sharp surface like a fender would not cause them, or one of them—unless tremendous force drove the child against a fender it would not cause the wounds.
ALFRED SUTTON MILLARD . I live at Costock, in Leicestershire—at the time of this occurrence I was house surgeon at the West London Hospital—I remained there till October 1st—I remember this child being brought in about 2.30 on September 21st—I have heard the description of the wounds; I agree with that—she was conscious when admitted—it is possible that this hammer caused the wounds—one of the wounds was dangerous; it was doubtful for some lime whether she would recover—about an hour after she was admitted, two bits of bone had to be removed, altogether about 1 1/2 ins. square—when I left she had lost her memory of this event, but I do not think she had of other things.
GUILTY on the Second Count. Three years' penal servitude.
ESTHER COLLINS . I am married, and live with my family at 10, Ridley Road, Dalston—the deceased was my daughter—she was 21 years old—I know the prisoner; he was engaged to my daughter—there was no proposal about being married—I did not understand that they were to be married sooner or later—they were walking out together for about four years—I did not see him often—about 18 months ago a disagreement arose between my youngest son Fred and the prisoner—the deceased was there when it happened—the prisoner hit my son, and I said to her, "I should think you have seen enough of this"—she and the prisoner continued to walk out together till about the beginning of July—I forbid him the house at the time of the quarrel—he did not continue to come to the house, but on Sunday, July 17th, he forced his way into the house—that was the first time after the quarrel that he came to the house; I saw him—the deceased was at home—I told him he was not wanted—he gave me a push and sent me flying—I was in the passage—I went to the door and said, "I will get a policeman"—he said, "It will take three to take me"—he got in and saw my daughter; he said he wanted to speak to her—I said, "What you have got to say, say before her mother"—I did not hear what was said—I went to the door; my daughter came to me—I said, "Go into one of the neighbour's houses; perhaps he will go away quicker; I cannot get a policeman"—she went to Mrs. Worth's, at No. 8—the prisoner banged at the door of No. 8—he did not get in, and my son persuaded him to go away—he went to the end of Ridley Road—I do not know where he went then—I saw no more of him that night—I saw him again on the following Tuesday or Wednesday at the corner of Colvestone Crescent—I had no conversation with him—my daughter, who was with me, went over the road and spoke to him—my son was with her—she spoke with the prisoner for a few minutes—I did not hear what was said—I told my son not to leave her, but he did, and I ran out and stood within sight of them—on the following Saturday he came for a tin box which he had left at my place—it had been there a good time, I do not know how long—I told him he could not have it on the Saturday as I was busy, and he would have to send for it on the Monday—he said he could not understand why the engagement should be broken off—the deceased was there, and said, "We are not suited for each other; when I was first engaged I was too young and did not understand things, but every week as I get older I can see for myself that we are not suited in our dispositions; each time we have met we have had quarrels lately"—he said, "There will be none of that when we are married"—she said, "If
it is not that it would be other things, and we are not suited for each other"—next day, Sunday, July 24th, my daughter and myself went out for a walk about 10 p.m.; we got back about 11—my daughter had some supper, and went up to bed after 12—she sleeps by herself in a room on the first floor over the back parlour—I also went to my bedroom, which is an off-room on the ground floor at the end of the passage and over the wash-house—my husband and a young man were sleeping in a room at the top of the house, and William Tregonnin was in a room over mine; his room is nearly on the same level as the deceased; only up a few steps—when I went to bed I went to sleep—I was awakened by somebody forcing a door open and breaking a window—that was past 2 a.m.—I then heard somebody coming up the stairs from the basement—I called out, "Who is that, who is that"—I heard the steps go to my daughter's door—the instant the person entered her door, I heard her cry "Mother, mother!"—I ran upstairs and tried to burst the door open, but found it was locked on the inside—my daughter never locked her door at night—I screamed "Murder" as loud as I could—as I ran up Tregonnin ran out for the police who came in a very few minutes and burst the door open—they asked for some lights; I ran and got some, and when I got back my dear daughter was lying on the floor.
Cross-examined. My daughter was about 17 when she first knew the prisoner—they were not on affectionate terms, they were on kindly terms—I was against the marriage—there were no prospects, and there were several other things against it—once he took hold of her throat at Berkhampstead, and said, "What could you do now?"—he did not seem very depressed when it was broken off—about 18 months ago he threatened her life, and said if he did not have her, nobody else should—when the man broke into the house he made no concealment; he did not walk quietly—I do not know if he knew that the persons in the house must have heard him—heavy sleepers might not have heard him—I did not suppose that the prisoner would do my daughter any harm—I thought he might try to hit her—they were not on affectionate terms at the last, because they had words—my daughter was not much downhearted about the engagement being broken off—I do not know if I saw the prisoner before he went to South Africa, but I knew very little of him—he was right in his mind while he was courting my daughter—I did not notice that he was very excited from time to time.
Re-examined. I noticed that the footsteps went upstairs very quickly.
FLORENCE REYNOLDS . I am the wife of William Reynolds, a stone mason, of 23, St. Jude Street, Mildmay Park—the prisoner is my brother, and stayed with me and my husband occasionally when he came to London—I knew he was engaged to be married to the deceased—about July 8th I heard of the engagement being broken off—I did not see the letter—I saw the deceased on the same day that I was told it was broken off—she came to my house that morning and saw the prisoner—he asked her why she had broken it off, and she said it was on account of her being unhappy at home—I asked her what she was going to do about it, and she told me she would come round about
three o'clock in the afternoon to meet the prisoner and talk the matter over—she then wont away—she did not return in the afternoon, but her father came—the prisoner was lying down asleep—Mr. Collins told me to tell him that Mrs. Collins would not allow her daughter to come—I took the message to my brother, and he left the house with Mr. Collins, saying he would go round and see Florrie—on Sunday, July 24th. The prisoner was with me at my house until 12 a.m., when he went out for about an hour and met Mr. Collins: he then returned and had his dinner with us, and then went out with my husband about 2.45 for a drive—I did not see any more of him till about 11.15 p.m.—he was in a very low mood—I asked him how he had enjoyed himself; he said he could not enjoy himself; that Sunday was no day without Florrie; that his head was bad, and he fretted very much as if he was in great agony—he commenced to fret as he commenced to speak to me—he said the letter he had received from his young lady breaking off the engagement had troubled him a great deal, and he saw it on every wall in my kitchen, and he shaded his eyes as if the light was too much for him, and he said, "Yes, it is still there"—I went into the other room as it rather upset me to see him, and when I came back he was in the same position, as if he was still reading the letter, and he said it was still there and it maddened him—he took his coat off because he was feeling very hot; he hung it up on the door, and then sat and cried very much—I tried to comfort him—he said he would go out for a blow and he would feel better—I tried to persuade him to go to bed—he left me between 12.10 and 12.15; he was quite sober then, and had been all day—he had my latch key—I gave it to him in the morning—I saw him next in the hospital—when he was at my house he slept in the back room; I tidied it up for him and made his bed—I do not recognise this razor (Produced); my brother always carried his razor in his inside pocket; he had no other—I recognise his coat and boots (Produced)—this (Produced) is my latch key.
Cross-examined. I know my brother went to South Africa—I was examined before the Coroner, and said he was a farrier and went to South Africa, and whilst there he had fever and that he was wounded in both legs, but I have since found out that he was not wounded—it was my mistake—I think he came back about September, 1900—I saw him from time to time after that—I noticed his manner was very singular and strange; he would say things, and when I told him afterwards what he had said he would not remember them—when he stayed out on Hackney Downs for two nights, he told me that when he woke he found himself there, but did not know how he came to be there—he said he was frightened to go out in the sun because it made his head bad—that strangeness of conduct lasted from time to time right up till these matters occurred—after his return he was, from time to time, living with me or seeing me up to the time of deceased's death—on July 8th, 1904, I saw him with the deceased; they were very affectionate; she was sitting on his knee with her arm round his neck—as far as I could see they were a very affectionate and loving
couple, and apparently attached to one another—from what she said I gathered the engagement was broken off in consequence of the disapproval of her parents—she herself was not desirous of its being broken off—on July 24th his eyes were very dazed and his conduct was very strange and odd; he seemed to be more cool and quiet when he went out; he was not excited then; he seemed to be in a wandering state in his mind.
Re-examined. He was especially strange in his behaviour during the last three weeks—when he had any worry he was much more strange—between the time of his return from South Africa and the breaking off of the engagement he was always very irritable,—he said things and then could not account for then afterwards—sometimes on little family matters he would say things which I knew were not right, and when I told him of them afterwards he would almost stake his oath that he had not said it, or if he had said it he did not remember—after he came back from South Africa he worked as a farrier—Mr. Blake was one of his employers, Mr. Cooling was his last—I believe he gave satisfaction to his masters, and did his work regularly—he stayed in London from the Friday that he received the letter of the engagement being broken off till the Tuesday; then he went back and tried to work—he told me he tried his uttermost to work, but he was so dazed he could not—he came back to me on the following Saturday, which was a week before the 24th—he had been doing no work during the week—as far as I know he was sober during the week—he came to see me daily—he was fretting all the time—I did not notice anything very peculiar about him—he was complaining the whole time of his head being bad—he held it a great deal—he was very depressed and said the sun made a great effect on his head, and he would lie down and try to rest it—I did not take steps to have him looked after—he had been strange before, and I thought he would get right again—he had never been watched—I let him go out on July 24th; I thought he would come back—when the police came next morning I thought they were my brother coming back—I did not think there was anything the matter with him beyond being very much upset.
ALFRED BERNARD COLLINS . I am a commercial traveller of 88, Farlee Road, Stoke Newington—the deceased was my sister—I have known the prisoner for about four years—he has lodged at my house several times—I am married—I recognise this razor in this case; it belongs to the prisoner—I sold it to him about two years ago, when he lodged with me; he frequently kept it in his pocket in its case—I saw him on July 23rd; he appeared to be all right in his mind—I did not see anything in his behaviour to suggest he was not of sound mind.
Cross-examined. The prisoner and the deceased were on mutually affectionate terms—I did not know him before he went to South Africa—after his return I saw him for a portion of the time, only occasionally, and then towards the end of the time frequently—I saw him several times after July 7th, when the engagement was broken off—he seemed cut up.
room, and five steps higher than the deceased's room—I was asleep in my room on the night of July 24th; I was awakened by a crash of glass, I think about 2 a.m.—I next heard footsteps passing my bedroom door, coming upstairs—I opened my bedroom door, then I heard the deceased's bedroom door being shut and locked—I heard cries of "Mother, mother"—I went down stairs for assistance, and passed Mrs. Collins—I went into the street and found the police—I went to Inspector Grove and told him what was going on—he blew his whistle, and he and a sergeant came back and burst the door in.
GEORGE ROUSE . (146 J.) On the early morning of July 25th, I was in Colvestone Crescent with Haywood—I heard cries of murder about 2.30 a.m.—I went to 10, Ridley Road, and broke open a door on the first floor—I saw the deceased standing just inside the door in her nightdress covered with blood—the prisoner as standing at the foot of the bed bleeding from a gash in his throat—I caught the deceased and sat her in a chair—Haywood seized the prisoner—I rushed down stairs to blow my whistle for assistance, and met Inspector Grove and Sergeant Sly at the door, and returned into the room with them—I went to Haywood, who was struggling with the prisoner—after a very violent struggle we overpowered him, took him down stairs, placed him on a barrow, and took him to the German Hospital—while lying on the bed he said, "Is my sweetheart dead; is there any escape for me? I hope I shall live so that I can repent for my sins"—I had my lamp with me, and when I got to the room I turned it on as the room was in darkness—the prisoner had nothing in his hand then.
RUFUS HAYWOOD (173 J.) I went with Rouse to 10, Ridley Road, at 2.20 a.m. on July 25th—we went to the first floor back room, and burst the door open; I turned on my light; the room was in darkness—I saw the deceased standing in the room against the chest of drawers bleeding from a large wound in her throat—the prisoner was standing at. the foot of the bed also bleeding from a wound in his throat—I at once arrested him; he became very violent; Rouse came to my assistance; we could not overpower him, so Rouse went for other assistance—Inspector Grove and Sergeant Sly came to our assistance—the prisoner was overpowered and taken down stairs—he was placed on a coster's barrow and taken to the German Hospital; he had nothing in his hand.
HENRY CHARLES GROVE (Inspector.) About 2.30 a.m., on July 25th, I was on duty in High Street, Kingsland, when Tregonning came up to me; in consequence of what he said I and Sly went to 10, Ridley Road—Rouse and Haywood were already there—I went upstairs to the back bedroom on the first floor—I saw the prisoner being held by Haywood and the deceased sitting in a chair near a chest of drawers inside the door in a state of collapse—she had only her night dress on—as I went towards her she fell forward and I caught her in my arms—I laid her on the floor and put a pillow slip round her neck and a pillow under her head—I then called for assistance and lights, as the constable's lamp was knocked over in the struggle—I got lights, and a doctor came, but by that time the deceased was dead—we had the prisoner removed to the German
Hospital on a coster's barrow which was near at hand—after he had gone I looked round the room; I found a razor lying on the dressing table wet with blood, and one or two spots of blood on the looking glass; also marks of blood on the top in the centre of the bed—I went down into the basement and found the washhouse door window broken, and an old bolt partially forced off. which would enable the door to be opened—it was standing open at the time.
Cross-examined. When the struggle with the prisoner took place, he was making desperate efforts to get away for some purpose, and I should say he was greatly excited—he was very much injured and bleeding very much—his throat was cut.
EDWIN SLY (21 J.) On the early morning of July 25th I went with Grove to 10, Ridley Road—I went upstairs to the back bedroom of the first floor—I saw the deceased sitting in a chair with a wound in her throat—I also saw the prisoner struggling with Rouse and Haywood, with a wound in his throat—I went to their assistance—after struggling for a short time he said, "All right, I am done"—we put him on a coster's barrow and took him to the hospital—I went back to the house and helped to search the premises—in the w.c. in the yard I found this hat and jacket (Produced)—in the left jacket pocket I found this empty black razor case (Produced); it was shut—I also found a lady's white bow, in the dust bin I found a pair of boots—on the floor of the bedroom I found a waistcoat and this latch key in the pocket—I—have tried the key at Nos. 9, 10 and 12, Ridley Road, and it fits them all—No. 12 is an empty house; No. 9 is not empty—you can get from No. 9 or No. 12 to No. 10 by climbing over a wall 3 or 4 feet high—you can get into the yard of No. 10 without going through either of the houses if you go by the backs of about thirty houses.
BERNARD GOITEIN . I am a registered medical practitioner of 114, High Street, Kingsland—on July 25th I was called to 10, Ridley Road—I got there between 2.40 and 2.45 a.m.—I saw the deceased lying on the floor with a wound in her throat—she had been dead for ten or fifteen minutes—she had one wound in the middle of her neck 4 in. long and 1 in. deep—a second wound was in the middle of her left cheek, about 1 1/2 in. long, and the same depth—the great vessels of the neck were severed—she had bled to death—I made a post mortem in examination—there was no doubt the cause of death was loss of blood; the wounds might very likely have been caused by a razor.
PAUL DASER . I am house surgeon at the German Hospital, Dalston Lane—on July 25th, about 3 a.m., the prisoner was admitted to the hospital suffering from his throat cut in the thyricd cartilage and an opening in his wind pipe; the large vein and artery were not severed—he was under my care from July 25th until September 15th—he seemed to me to be quite sane, but I did not examine him on that behalf specially—I saw no indication of insanity—the wound was certainly self-inflicted.
16th, I took the prisoner into custody at the German Hospital—I told him he would be charged with murder and attempted suicide—I cautioned him, he said nothing—I took him to the station; he was formerly charged but said nothing.
MR. MUIR proposed to call Dr. Scott to show that the prisoner was sane as the defence had set up the question of the prisoner's sanity.
MR. JUSTICE Big ham agreed that Dr. Scott should be called.
JAMES SCOTT . I am the medical officer at Brixton Prison—formerly I was medical officer at Holloway—during the eight or nine years that I have held those appointments, prisoners awaiting trial have been under my care, and it has been part of my duty to keep prisoners under observation to see the state of their minds, particularly in cases of murder—I have had the prisoner under my care since September 16th—I have had many interviews with him, and reports have been made by the warders as to his habits day and night—I have not detected any insanity during that time—I have heard the evidence in the case, and have made enquiries of the prisoner as to his family history—in my opinion he has been sane whilst under my observation—I do not think the evidence proves him to have been insane on July 25th.
Cross-examined. I had the depositions laid before me—I made a report—I made enquiries from Mrs. Reynolds—she related to me what she has said here about the prisoner's strangeness—he seems to have been very much attached to the deceased, and felt very much the breaking off of the engagement—on one occasion he said he scarcely knew what he did during the rest of the week after it was broken off—he said he was very much depressed and miserable on the evening of July 24th—he did not speak to me about the writing on the wall, but Mrs. Reynolds did—more than once the prisoner said that from the time he left his sister's house on that Sunday until after the deed was done he did not know what he was doing—I think on July 24th he was in a condition of extreme mental worry.
Re-examined. I do not find anything to account for his mind being a blank from July 25th to 26th—I only know of cases where a mind is active, then becomes a blank, and then is active again, in epilepsy, and I do not find any in him—there would probably be some history of it if it was there.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 19th, 1904.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. C. F. GILL, K.C., and MR. MUIR Defended.
During the evidence for the prosecution, the COURT considered that the case was no sufficiently strong, and the Jury returned a verdict of
MR. JOHNSON Prosecuted.
CHARLES HAMPTON . I am a labourer of 13, Curzon Street, Hoxton—on September 24th, about 11 p.m., I was in Shoreditch—I went down by the Griffin public house, when I was seized from behind—there was a wrestle, and I was thrown down—I cannot say who my assailants were—I was not much hurt—I lost about 2s. 9d. in money and two tin boxes—these articles (Produced) are like what I had—I cannot identify anybody in connection with the matter.
Cross-examined by Harry Wells. I admit I struck you when you were brought back by the constables, because one of the witnesses said you were the man.
THOMAS BRAIN (231 G.) I was on duty in Great Eastern Street on September 24th, and saw the two prisoners—I received information and went towards them—on seeing me they commenced to run in different directions—I blew my whistle and followed Harry Wells—as he ran, he took something from his pocket and threw it away—I caught him, and he said, "What is this for, guv'nor, I have done nothing wrong, I earn my living honestly"—I took him back to where he threw the articles away and found these things produced—I took him back to the prosecutor and asked him if they were his—he said, "Yes," and on seeing the prisoner he said, "That is the——who knocked me down and robbed me"—the prosecutor was drunk—at the station nothing was said.
Cross-examined by Harry Wells. You were about ten yards from me when I saw you throw away the things—I never saw you rob the prosecutor.
FRANK CHAFF (367 G.) I was on duty in Great Eastern Street or September 24th, and heard a whistle blown—I saw William Wells running; I gave chase and caught him—he said, "What do you want me for?"—I said, "I don't know, come back and see"—I took him back to the constable who blew the whistle, and he was taken to the prosecutor.
HENRY NORRIS . I am 12 years old, and am a schoolboy—on September 26th, I was in Shoreditch, and saw the two prisoners take these things from the prosecutor's pocket, and then walk away—I went up and told a policeman, and he went after them—they ran away—I followed and picked the things up.
Cross-examined by Harry Wells. I saw you feeling in the man's pocket.
Cross-examined by William Wells. I saw both of you with the prosecutor—one was lying on him, and the other was at the side—I do not know which one took the things.
Harry Wells, in his defence on oath, said that he was going home, at the time when he was arrested, that he was not running, and that he never saw the prosecutor.
William Wells" defence:" I do not know anything about the robbery; I have a good character and have never been convicted before."
HARRY WELLS then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court on February 10th, 1902. Three other convictions were proved against him. Twelve months' hard labour. WILLIAM WELLS. who received a good character— Three days' imprisonment
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, October 19th. 1901.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GAXZ Prosecuted.
BARBARA HOWARD . I am the wife of Hedley Howard, fancy dealer, of 11, Lambeth Road—about 12.30 a.m., on Sunday. September 18th. I was coming along the Albert Embankment from Vauxhall Station, near the temporary bridge at Vauxhall, on the south side of the river, and walking as fast as I could, when the prisoner rushed from a turning, cave me a blow in the back, put his foot out. threw me, and then snatched my purse from my right hand; this is it—it contained three 2s. pieces, a half crown, a shilling, two sixpences, and old. in copper—he gave me another blow in my back, or kicked me—I was on the ground—he put his hand over my mouth, and dragged me round the corner into Tinworth Street—I was unable to scream—he whistled like a bird, when five more young fellows came up—he held me in a recess against a wall in Tinworth Street—I was standing up—he then handed this purse to the young men who were round me, and one took the contents, and handed it back to the prisoner, who gave me my purse back, and said. "There's your purse, your money is all right," but when I opened it afterwards there was only a penny in it—he then put his hand over my mouth, and asked me to pull my clothes up—he said, "If you scream or make any noise, I'll put your lights out"—I did not scream, because he had his hand over my mouth—he then pulled my clothes up. and tried to do something to me—his own were open—I screamed murder as loud as I could. I resisted, and scratched his throat—a man passing went for the police—the prisoner dropped my clothes, and they all ran away—the policeman ran after him and caught him—I did not know any of them—I went to the police station with the prisoner and the police—the prisoner was not the worse for drink—he used filthy language—I had had a glass, but was not the worse for drink—I had left off work at eight, in the Belvedere Road, Westminster Bridge Road, and I had been at work at Thanet House, opposite the Royal Courts—I was coming from visiting my sisters, where I go every Saturday night, in Stewart's Grove, Wandsworth Road.
female cry for help—I saw the prosecutrix surrounded by five or six men—the prisoner either pushed or struck her in the back and backheeled her against a hoarding at the corner of Tinworth. Street—she struggled to her feet, and ran across to the opposite corner, where there is a public house in Hopkins Street—she spoke to a man, who made his way towards Vauxhall, and the prisoner companions, who had been standing there, rushed over; the prisoner seized her and dragged her down Tinworth Street—where the brickwork is set back for the South Western Railway Extension, about 10 feet, he forced her into a recess in Tinworth Street, placed Ms hands over her mouth, and said. "If you shout again I will put your light out"—his left hand was over her mouth, and his right hand up her clothing—she struggled for her life—I went for a constable—I found one about fifty yards off in about two minntes, and saw the prisoner arrested—he attempted to outrage the woman—he ran down Tinworth Street, away from the river.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The whole thing lasted five to ten minutes.
EDWIN ROWE , M.R.C.S. I am divisional surgeon of police—I saw Harry Leeves, a police constable of the L Division, yesterday—he was suffering from influenza, and is not likely to be able to attend here to-day to give evidence.
FREDERICK ANDERS (Detective L.) I was present at the Westminster Police Court on September 19th when Harry Leeves' evidence was taken before the Magistrate—he was sworn—the prisoner had an opportunity of examining him. Deposition of charles Harry Leeves. P.C. 60 L., read: "At 12.43 a.m. on September 18th I was on duty at the foot of Vauxhall temporary bridge. Charles Leaver came to me. From what he said I went to Tinworth Street. I saw last witness surrounded by several men. They saw me and ran. I gave chase, and caught prisoner about three parts down the street. I asked him to come back to the woman. He said, 'Yes, I will come back, I have done nothing wrong.' I took him back to prosecutrix, and she said,' I have been robbed and assaulted by this man.' I told prisoner I should take him. He said, 'I do not know her. I am a hard working man, and would not do such a thing to any woman.' She had been drinking, but was not drunk, and prisoner was in the same state. At the station when charged, the prisoner said,' I don't know anything about it; you have made a mistake; it is all lies.' On him I found in his waistcoat pocket one shilling and two sixpences. 1 1/2 d. in bronze was in his trousers pocket."
The. prisoner, in his defence on oath, said he heard shouting and went to see the cause; that he was drunk, and when taken into custody he protested his innocence; and that he was a hard working man, and could not commit such an assault.
Evidence for the Defence.
HENRY MILLER . I am the prisoner's brother—I was with him drinking in a, public house till closing time in Tyers Street, Lambeth—I left him at Vauxhall Cross, about a quarter of a mile from where the assault
is said to have been committed, when I went to the urinal there—on coming out I missed him, and supposed he had gone home—he was very drunk.
Cross-examined. I live in the Wandsworth Road—Tinworth Street is in the opposite direction.
GUILTY . Twelve months' hard labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, October 19th, 1904.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
762. HENRY THOMAS (23) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing two banker's cheque forms; also to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £.50 with intent to defraud. Seven previous convictions were proved against him. One month hard labour. —and
(763). JOSHUA SARFATY (19) to stealing 70 1/3 yards of black Silesia and one piece of Twilette belonging to Albert London and others, his masters, and GEORGE FISHER (47) and BARNET ROSENTHAL (24) to receiving those goods, knowing them to be stolen. SARFATY, who received a good character— Discharged on his own recognisances. FISHER, having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell Sessions on January 6th, 1896— Four months' hard labour. ROSENTHAL, who received a good character— Three months' hard labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
764. AUGUSTE BOASSO (30) , Being the occupier of certain premises, did knowingly suffer Desolina Anna Maria Rigole, a girl under the age of 16 years, to be upon the said premises for the purpose of being carnally known by men. The evidence is unfit for publication.
MR. COHEN Prosecuted; mr. O'Connor Defended.
GUILTY . Eighteen months' hard labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, October 20th, 21st. and 22nd, 1004.
Before Mr. Justice Bigham.
765. WILLIAM ROBERT REECE (47) , Committing wilful and corrupt perjury in evidence given in an action brought by him against the London and North Western Railway Company; also attempting to obtain £5,000 from the said Company by false pretences with intent to defraud.
MR. J. P. GRAIN and MR. PETER GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL and MR. PIERSON Defended.
notes and the transcript—at the police court I underlined certain passages in blue.
ALFRED HENRY LAW . I am a shorthand writer at the Royal Courts of Justice—on June 2nd, 1904, I took a shorthand note of the evidence given by the prisoner, the plaintiff in the action mentioned—I produce my note and a transcript of it—at the request of the Magistrate, at the police court, I underlined certain passages in red—I was present on the first day of the action, and saw the prisoner sworn.
The shorthand notes were then read, in which the prisoner swore that he had an accident at Euston on August 8th, 1903, in consequence of which he was unable to walk without a stick, and could not walk any distance without fain; that he had made from £800 to £1,000 the year before the accident; that within a week of the accident he was unable to walk; that he had been deaf on his left side ever since the accident; that he had been compelled to wear glasses since; that he never carried on business as Morant and Company; and that he was now unable to carry on business.
CHARLES LOUIS OUIN . I am managing clerk to Mr. J. S. Old-field, solicitor, of 64, Basinghall Street—Mr. Oldfield was agent to Mr. Day, the landlord of 13, St. Edmund's Place, Aldersgate Street—I know the prisoner and his writing—I produce a tenancy agreement which bears this endorsement on the back: "Ada Martin, trading as Morant & Co., having transferred her business to me, I am agreeable to carry out this agreement from March 25th, 1902, p.p. Dora Reece, W. Robert Reece"—that is in the prisoner's writing—the tenancy was assigned to Dora Reece—in the end we were losers to the extent of £25 in conesquence of a cheque handed to us signed "Morant & Co.'s successors, p.p. W. Robert Reece," which was dishonoured.
PERCY JAMES BALDOCK . I am a grocer at 35, Copthall Avenue, City—I know the prisoner—on October 13th, 1902, I let him a room at 27, Copthall Avenue at £20 a year—he took it in the name of Wm. Robert Reece—in March, 1903, I let him another room at £20 a year, taken in his name—there was very little business carried on there, as far as I could see—the rent was paid up to March 25th, 1903—I took the keys back in September, 1903, six months' rent being due—in the vacated rooms I found a number of documents and letters, amongst them this call book—I produced them at the police court.
Cross-examined. I last saw the prisoner about June, 1903—I said before the Magistrate that I did not see him limping about before the accident nor wearing dark glasses, nor notice any deafness—I have seen him since the accident, and he has limped and worn dark glasses, and was apparently deaf—generally he appeared to be physically weaker after the accident—he had an appearance which I should expect to see of a man who had gone through a shock on a railway.
LEONARD STANLEY FIELDING . I am now a messenger, of 94, Eugenia Road, Rotherhithe—in March, 1903, I was engaged as office boy by the prisoner at 27, Copthall Avenue—I stayed till July 4th, 1903—there was no one else employed by the prisoner—there was no business done there as far as I know—I kept this call book—I used to write out telegraph
graph codes; the prisoner said it would improve my writing—there was no name outside the door—on the wall down stairs was "Mr. Reece"—I had 5s. a week.
JOHN GEORGE REITAMULLER . I am a clerk to Messrs. Buchholtz, wholesale drapers, 37 and 38, St. Paul's Churchyard—the prisoner came to us in April, 1902, introducing himself as "A. Morant & Co.'s successors"—he wanted some drapery goods for South Africa—he had £2 or £3 worth for cash—he came again for more goods, on credit this time—we asked for a reference, and he gave this card, "A. Morant & co., tea gown manufacturers, export and wholesale, 13, Edmund Place, Jewin Street, Aldersgate"—we supplied him with £42 worth of goods on a three months' bill—this is the bill accepted by him, and dated August 20th, 1902—that bill was presented and dishonoured—we threatened an action but dropped it—we have never received any of the money.
Cross-examined. The London and North Western Railway people called upon me in August this year.
Re-examined. I gave evidence before the Magistrate.
FRANK CAMPBELL . I am a grocer, at Hove, and have known the prisoner for some time—I have cashed cheques for him—he dealt with me—he owes me about £22 for grocery—this cheque for £20, dated March 10th, 1902, is signed "A. Morant & Co."—he sent it to me asking for it to be changed—I paid certain matters for him, holding the cheque as security—I never presented it for payment, as I received a letter asking me not to do so.
Cross-examined. I advanced him sums of money, and received repayments—I have changed cheques for him in the name of Mrs. Reece and Morant& Co., and they were duly honoured—I heard about the prisoner's accident—I never noticed him wearing dark glasses before, nor walking with difficulty, nor supporting himself with a stick—after the accident he limped and walked lame—when I first saw him after the accident he was so changed in appearance that I hardly knew him—he held his hand to one of his ears.
Re-examined. He spoke to me about his action and the result of it—he told me what he alleged his injuries were—the cheques I received were drawn by Morant & Co. and Mrs. Reece—the loan transactions were quite independent of the payments for groceries.
ELIZABETH FRASER . I am a widow—in December, 1902, I was keeping 96. Addison Gardens, Kensington, as a boarding house—on December 24th, 1902, the prisoner came to me—he had a lady with him. Whom I now know to be Miss Ada Martin—he described her as Mrs. Reece—he took my upper flat, furnished, at two guineas a week—he did not give any reference, as he said he had just landed from South Africa, and could not give any—eight guineas was paid in advance—after four weeks I gave him notice to leave, but Mrs. Reece, as I thought her then, pleaded to stay for her accouchement, and I consented—they left in May, 1903, owing me £33—I took proceedings against them, and got judgment, but was unable to serve it—I have never received any part of the £33.
Cross-examined. It was the lady who said they had just come from
South Africa—she did not say she had just come, but her husband and herself had just come; she described the voyage as well.
GEORGE HENRY GODFREY . I am a butcher at Sidcup—in 1903 I was a butcher at Hove—the prisoner was a customer of mine—on June 6th, 1903, he asked me to cash a cheque for £10 for him, which I did—the cheque was paid into my bank but dishonoured—I have never been paid the £10—in addition, he owes me £9 6s. 5d. for meat supplied.
Cross-examined. I may have cashed two cheques before for other customers, but I do not remember doing so—in my first dealings with the prisoner, the account was sent in to Mrs. Reece monthly, and it was paid, either in full or in substantial parts—my shop is near the railway station—before August 8th I had not seen the prisoner wearing dark glasses—before then he walked like a perfectly sound, healthy man—I heard that he had been sent to a nursing home—when he came back he always had a stick and always wore glasses, and he appeared to be deaf, holding his hand to the ear.
Re-examined. I called upon him once or twice unexpectedly about the cheque, and he could hear me when I was close to him.
FRANCIS SMITH . I am a grocer at Hove—I have had dealings with the prisoner—he came in July, 1903—he owed me some money then—he asked me to cash this cheque for £18 12s. 6d., drawn on the South African Bank, Capetown—I said I did not cash cheques that were not drawn on a London bank—he said they had a London branch, and he altered the "Capetown" to "London"—I did not cash it, but kept it—about May, 1904, he spoke to me about some pictures that had been put up for sale, but had not reached the reserve price—he said they were worth about £250—he asked me to clear the auctioneer's charges and commission, and in return he would make over the pictures to me as security—I gave him £10 12s. 6d. for this purpose—I found the pictures were only worth about £10—the prisoner owes me about £35—he gave me an order on Messrs. Osborn & Osborn, his solicitors in his action, for the money, but I never got anything under it—he also wanted me to lend money on pawn tickets.
Cross-examined. Of the £35 due, £1 14s. 11d. was owing for grocery, the rest was for money lent prior to August 8th, 1903.
CHARLES LAMMOND . I am cashier to the African Banking Corporation, Ltd., 43, Threadneedle Street, City—we have a branch at Capetown—the prisoner opened an account with us on October 13th, 1902—I produce a certified copy of the account, which was closed on March 31st, 1903—this cheque form is issued by the Long Street Branch, Capetown—there was no authority in London for paying any money in reference to it—I found an entry in our books which denoted that a cheque drawn for £140 by A. Muir & Co. had been presented at our bank and returned—there was no such account at our bank—at one time there was an account at the Capetown branch in the name of Ada Martin.
Cross-examined. The account was opened on October 13th, 1902, and was always in credit.
solicitor, 27. Copthall Avenue, City—in 1902 the prisoner was tenant of the back room at that address—he afterwards had a second room—he carried on business as "A. Morant & Co.'s successors," which name was at the entrance—on his door was a card with "Richards & Co., general insurance, mortgage and money brokers"—this bill was drawn by the prisoner, in the name of Richard & Co., upon Arthur Sebright—£25 was advanced by my principal upon it—we took proceedings upon it, in the course of which we received this cheque for £3 3s. for Counsel's fees—that was paid in, but dishonoured.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner after August 8th, 1903—he was walking with two sticks, and wearing dark glasses—I saw a considerable alteration in him.
MAXIMILIAN' NICHOLAS MORAINE . I am a merchant at 87, Finsbury Pavement—I knew the prisoner when he was trading as Morant & Co., nine or ten years ago—about two years ago I met him, and called upon him, thinking I might do business—it is not true that he was engaged by me as a buyer; there was no arrangement at all—I was subpœnaed by the prisoner to appear at the trial, but was not called.
Cross-examined. His solicitors drew up a proof of my evidence—they put what they liked in it—I do not remember that these words appeared in it, "I proposed for him to come to me as a general buyer for the South African market," hut they wanted me to make that statement—I may have agreed to those words in the proof, as I was worried by the prisoner, and I thought the only way to get rid of him was to agree to everything the solicitors put in—I did not swear to it—what I say now is the truth—I wrote a letter on August 13th. 1903, to Mrs. Reece saying, "I beg to say I will keep open the position as long as I can," but that was in answer to a letter from her—it was to smooth matters at home, as I knew the prisoner had a double establishment—it was written out of kindness, at the prisoner's dictation.
Re-examined. The reason of my letter was to cover up the existence of the second establishment.
JOHN BROUGHTOX KNIGHT . I am Senior Examiner at the London Bankruptcy Court—I examine bankrupts on their accounts, which is distinct from any private or public examination—I am well acquainted with the three files and the documents relating to the prisoner's bankruptcies—a receiving order was made on September 24th, 1890, and an adjudication on October 4th, 1890—the file shows liabilities £3,217 assets nil—there was no dividend paid—he obtained his discharge in January, 1893—the next bankruptcy is January 7th, 1899—he is there described as "W. Mayward & Co., 36, Copthall Avenue"—the adjudication was March 8th—the liabilities were £8,046, liquid assets £686. out of which only £32 was realised—he was examined by me, and, amongst other things, described himself as a money lender—he has not applied for his discharge—the bankruptcy petition on December 3rd, 1900, was
filed by himself—the adjudication was the same day—the liabilities were £155, assets nil—he was examined by me on a good many occasions—he appeared to be deaf at times—several appointments were postponed, doctor's certificates being sent, saying he was suffering from nervous debility, influenza, and different complaints—I am now speaking of 1898; I had very little to do with the prisoner in 1900—in 1898 he shuffled a little with one foot in walking—occasionally he wore tinted glasses.
Cross-examined. Debtors very often are a little hard of hearing at examinations, and it is not uncommon to have certificates sent—they suffer from all sorts of maladies—I examine 40 or 50 debtors in a year—I have not time to notice the walk of all—the prisoner's is an exceptional case—if there had been anything fraudulent disclosed in the prisoner's bankruptcies it would have been reported on an application for discharge—nothing has been reported.
Re-examined. I discovered no criminality—in some respects his answers were not satisfactory.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was a resident of the hotel on and off for two or three years—he always paid his bills—he stayed at the hotel occasionally after the accident—he walked with a stick—I conversed with him, and found I had to talk louder than before—he put his hand to his ear, and appeared ill—he was wearing glasses—I have seen him since about 30 times—he has always been the same as to hearing and walking—I should say he has aged since I saw him last—about six weeks after August 8th he told me he was being watched by detectives in the employment of the railway company at Hove and London—I have seen him with a light bag and a rug done up in a strap, which a man in his condition could carry—the bag was empty, that is, it contained a few papers—I handed it to him—the cheques I mentioned amounted to £10.
Re-examined. When he went out after the accident he remained out some time.
SELWYN WARNER QUARTLEY , L.S.A. Lond. I live and carry on my profession at 9, Stanhope Terrace, Gloucester Gate—in February, 1904, I was staying at the Bourne Hall Hotel, Bournemouth—the prisoner was also there—I conversed with him—he spoke to me about his accident, which he said had affected his sight, hearing, and walking—he said the company had offered him a fairly large sum as compensation—I forget what, £1,000, I think—I do not think he then knew I was a doctor—I did not notice any defect in his hearing—he seemed to walk lame, dragged one leg slightly, and used a stick, which did not seem to be much assistance—I was interviewed by the London and North Western Railway's solicitors before the action was heard, and gave them a proof—I attended the trial, but was not called.
Cross-examined. The prisoner's condition and accident was a matter
of general conversation in the hotel—I found an officer of the company had come to stay there about ten days after I arrived there—the prisoner told me that he had been examined by Dr. Field and Dr. Ferrier, and also by doctors for the railway company—I did not form any material opinion about his case—I never saw him without his glasses—I concluded there was something wrong with his leg and nervous system—I have seen him walk a mile, not without stopping and taking about 20 minutes to do it in.
Re-examined. I saw him leave his chair without a stick, and walk three or four yards and then back again.
W. G. NORTH. I follow no occupation—in February, 1904, I was at the Bourne Hall Hotel, Bournemouth, and saw the prisoner there—he told me about his accident, that the company admitted liability, that they had paid £500 into Court, and had offered to compromise for £2,000: that they had offered to send him for a voyage, or pay his expenses at the hotel—he said his medical expenses would come to £700—I told him if he could get his medical bill out of the railway company, he had better take the £2,000—he also said he was blind, lame, and suffering from his bladder—nothing was said about his deafness—he said he was a diamond broker, but could then hardly tell the colour of a diamond properly—I did not know he was deaf, so took no extra trouble in that respect—I could not see that there was any difficulty in his hearing—I saw him walk in the hotel, but there was no indication of pain—I was subpœnaed at the trial, but was not called.
Cross-examined. His condition was the subject of general conversation in the hotel—I never saw him outside the hotel—in the hotel he was always carrying a stick—I thought the lameness was simulated—I mentioned that to several in the hotel.
Re-examined. I said quietly to a gentleman at the hotel, "Look at that man, he is posing here as an invalid; he is going to bring an action against the London and North Western Railway for £5,000; does he look like an invalid? he is as sound as I am; I have nothing to do with the North Western, it is not my business, but supposing I had, I should write this very night and tell them to send somebody down to look after their interests."
ARTHUR TURNBULL . I am an engineer in the London and North Western Railway Company—on February 12th, 1904, by instructions, I went to stay at the Bourne Hall Hotel, Bournemouth—I spoke to the prisoner there—he had no difficulty in hearing me—I spoke as low as possible—he carried a stick in the ordinary way; it did not seem much assistance to him—he did not use it like a lame man—I went for walks with him—he walked very briskly and easily—I went to a concert with him, and he appeared to have no difficulty in hearing—I overheard him telling somebody that he had received some years ago a stiletto wound, and at the time it was thought his sight would be lost, but that such was not the case, although his sight had never been the same since.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was speaking in the hotel of his claim and maladies—I say he put no weight on his stick—he wore dark
glasses—I took notes of my observations and made a report to my superiors.
Re-examined. He did not know who I was when he walked and talked with me.
EDWIN FREDERICK GWYNNE . I am the proprietor of the Bourne Hall Hotel, Bournemouth—the prisoner came to the hotel on January 28th, 1904, and stayed until February 16th, 1904—I constantly saw him at meals—I never noticed any difficulty in his hearing—he has never paid his hotel bill—he borrowed £2 or £3, which has not been paid—I conversed with him, and he appeared to have no difficulty in hearing—he used a stick, and two sticks at first—he told me about the accident, and that the company had paid a sum of money into Court, I believe £2,000. "
Cross-examined. I cannot say if he suggested that his solicitors had offered to settle for £2,000 without prejudice—I do not know that the solicitors had written to that effect—he told me he had been examined by doctors of the company—he told me he was deaf—I may have told him that his bill might stand over until after the action.
ARTHUR HENRY CHEATLE , F.R.C.S. I live at 18, Savile Row, W., and have had considerable experience in ear maladies—on May 13th, 1904, I was instructed by the railway company to examine the prisoner's ears—I had not acted for the company before—I thoroughly examined his ears, his nose, and pharynx—I came to the conclusion that he was trying to deceive me—he complained that through the accident he had become stone deaf in his left ear and badly deaf in the right—I told him I was going to block up his right ear, his good one; but instead of doing so, I introduced a small rubber hollow tube, which interfered in no way with his hearing; he then pretended to be stone deaf in his right ear; could not hear the loudest shouting; as soon as the tube was removed his hearing returned—this is the tube (Produced), which, inserted in the ear, would not in any way affect the hearing—I bellowed in his right ear—I also applied the tuning fork test—I proposed to him another test, which he would not face; he pretended to faint—Dr. Field was present at these tests—he was called at the trial—I had heard nothing from the railway company except that the prisoner was deaf—I formed my opinion upon my independent tests.
Cross-examined. I was asked to come for a consultation with Dr. Aldren Turner—my instructions were verbal, and they came from Dr. Turner—I knew that the prisoner had been examined three times by medical men of authority—I arranged that a shorthand writer should accompany me for one test, which was not carried out—one test was in the nature of a trick—when I put the tube into the ear I beckoned to Mr. Field to come and look—it would be possible for the Indiarubber to kink in the ear passage, but if so, it would not stop the hearing—I am convinced that his fainting was a sham—there were several doctors present besides Dr. Field—they were there to look on, I suppose—I would swear that he tried to deceive me—I said before the Magistrate that I would not swear that the prisoner was not deaf in the
left ear and I adhere to that now, but I say that when he said he was stone deaf he was telling a lie.
Re-examined. The tube did not kink; I was careful to look down it, and could see the drum of the ear.
JANE BURROUGH . I am the wife of William Burrough, and live at Manor Villas, Acton Lane. Willesden, and keep a boarding house—the prisoner called upon me on August 7th, 1903, between 9 and 10 p.m.—he engaged a bedroom and sitting room for himself, wife and baby—he came the next day between 4 and 5—the lady I now know to be Miss Ada Martin—they brought a good deal of luggage—he apologised for being late, and said he had been in a railway accident, and I inquired if he was hurt—he said, "Well, I have had a shaking up," and he sat down and added, "I am afraid I shall have a black eye, and will make the railway company pay for it, make no mistake"—I thought he was very funny—he had no black eye—he went out probably three times that evening—after taking a lot of things in at the door he lifted in a box of beer—he did not appear to be suffering from dreadful pains in his back—later on, the baby was crying, and I went upstairs and saw that he was dancing the baby in the window—I offered to take it, but he refused—I saw him go out the next morning—he did not appear to walk in pain—he ran down the steps—during the time he stayed at my house he had no sickness at all—on the 7th, when he came, he put on plain glasses to write me out a receipt, what I call goggles—when he went away on the Sunday morning he was wearing similar glasses.
Cross-examined. He did not tell me that he had just seen the company's doctor at Willesden—I was at the High Court, but was not called—I may not have been asked about the box of beer when before the Magistrate.
JOHN THOMAS ALLEN . I am a police inspector, employed by the London and North Western Railway Company, and have been for many years—I received instructions about September, 1903, to make inquiries, and to watch the prisoner—I took notes from time to time of what I saw—I watched him on November 28th, 1903—I saw him first at 12.40 p.m. in Great Portland Street—a fellow officer, Dyke, was with me—he entered 63, Great Portland Street, carrying a rug, and he had a stick—he stayed there till 1.40—he came out and went to the post office in Regent Street—inside the took off a pair of dark glasses, and wrote a telegram—he then went to 239, Regent Street, a restaurant, and stayed there some time—he then went back to 63, Great Portland Street—he was there half an hour, and then left in a cab, and went to Victoria Station—this was at 3.8—he alighted from the cab—I saw him on the station—he was walking about—he seemed to walk very well—he was not using the stick for support—I next saw him on Tuesday, December 8th, in George Street, Euston Road—he left a barber's shop at 12 o'clock, and went to the Gower Hotel—he was wearing dark glasses—he left the hotel at 1.10 and went to Gower Street Railway Station—I followed him—he went from there to Moorgate Street—I
saw him get in and out of the train with no apparent difficulty—I saw him go up the stairs on to the City level—he went to Fore Street and then to Coleman Street the address of Osborn & Osborn, who acted for him as solicitors—he came out and went to a restaurant—from there he went to 40, Copthall Avenue—he remained there some little time, and then went to 52, Copthall Avenue—he then went to 70, Fore Street—he walked then to Moorgate Street Station—I followed him—I saw him go down the steps and get into the train—he got out at Gower Street, and I followed him to the Gower Hotel—he left at 4.25, carrying a Gladstone bag in one hand and a bundle of rugs in the other—he went to Gower Street Railway Station again, and booked to Finchley—I saw him get into the train—he was not aided or assisted by anybody—I saw him change at King's Cross and Finsbury Park—I saw no difficulty on his part—he was still carrying the bag and rugs—he was not using any stick—he got out at Finchley and stood waiting for a 'bus—he got into one and got out again—he then went to 4, Derby Villas, where Ada Martin was then living—during the whole of the day he had no difficulty in walking—he walked with a kind of a shuffle; he is not a smart walking man—on December 15th I again saw him—he left 5, Wilberry Avenue, Hove, where he was living with his family—he had a stick with him—there is a steep footbridge over the railway near his house—I saw him go over it—he rode in a 'bus a little while, and came home at 3.40—I saw him several times that day getting in and out of 'buses and walking—he had no difficulty in getting about—I saw him get out of a 'bus before it stopped, catching hold of his wife, who was on the footboard, and saying, "Don't get off till it stops"—I heard that—he walked behind the 'bus, holding her hand for about 10 yards—I next watched him on December 16th at Hove—he left his house at 9.45, having a rug with him and a stick, wearing dark glasses—he caught the 10.2 train for London—I rode in the train—he got out at London Bridge—he had no. difficulty—he got on the outside of a 'bus and so did I—I overheard his conversation—he was sitting on the right side of the gentleman he was speaking to—the prisoner had no difficulty in hearing—he talked of the accident, substantially—he went to a lot of places, walking sometimes, and then went to the Gower Hotel—he had a Gladstone bag, a rug, and a stick—he went from there to Victoria Station and took the train to Brighton, changing at Preston Park—I followed him—he walked to his home from Hove Station—during the whole of the day I saw no indication of pain in his walking—I watched him next on December 21st—he travelled to London, and was about London the whole day—I saw no indication of pain or difficulty in walking—I watched him again on January 1st, 1904—he went about a good deal, climbing up to the top of 'buses and walking about without any difficulty—I watched him again on January 5th—he went to a number of places—I noticed nothing wrong with his walking powers—I watched him again on January 14th when he came front Hove—I got out at East Croydon, where I saw ex-Inspector Howard on the platform—I gave him certain instructions—he got into the prisoner's compartment—I was present when Carlin arrested him,
and saw the documents found upon him—I produced them at the Police Court—during the whole of the time I watched the prisoner he walked about apparently without any pain or difficulty.
Cross-examined. I saw him go to a barber's named Chapiri near Gower Street—I did not inquire of the barber about him—I did not inquire whether the bag I saw the prisoner carrying was full or empty—on all the days except one that I saw him, he was carrying a stick, but putting no weight on it—the one exception was when he had a bundle of rugs and a bag—on most occasions he was wearing dark glasses—I was pretty frequently near him—I should say he knew he was being watched.
HUMPHRY MANSFIELD DYKE . I am a detective employed by the London and North Western Railway Company—I began to watch the prisoner on Friday, November 27th, 1903, about 10.30 a.m.—I saw him leave Great Portland Street—he was alone—he walked into Regent Street. Oxford Street, and back to Great Portland Street at 11.15—I saw Ada Martin arrive at Great Portland Street at 12.55 p.m., and leave with the prisoner at 1.10 p.m.—they called at the Cock Hotel for a few minutes, and left for the Tube Railway, from where they went to Shepherd's Bush and on to Richmond—I followed them about, and they eventually went to Church End, Finchley at 9—I was watching him on December 7th—he had then a rug, a bag, and a stick—I saw him get into a train at Moorgate Street and get out at Gower Street—he was out all day—I followed him about by 'bus and train—on December 9th I saw him leave Derby Villas at 10.20; he took a 'bus to Church End Station, Finchley—he got off the 'bus and ran down the slope to the station, and down the steps and into a train, without a ticket—I followed him—he alighted at York Road, King's Cross, and got on a 'bus—I saw him actually running down the incline at the station—on December 12th I was at Brighton and saw him leave Hove about 10 a.m.—he walked along the road and got on a 'bus, got off the 'bus and walked along the front—he was using his stick to walk with—he did not seem to put any weight on it—I saw him leave his house about 2.30—he had a boy with him—they went to the Park—the boy had a football with him—they began to play—the boy threw the ball to him, and he kicked it back—he did that two or three times—he picked the ball up—I did not see any signs of pain when he did so—going back to December 8th, I saw him leave the Gower Hotel at 4.25 p.m. with a bag and a bundle of rugs, also a stick which he was carrying in a trailing manner—I was watching him, off and on right up to December 28th—I watched him on June 22nd. 1904, when he went to the Court of Appeal—I saw him come out of the Law Courts—he went to a barrister's chambers in the Temple, from there he walked over Waterloo Bridge, where he got on a 'bus—I had to walk as hard as I could to keep up with him—he held himself very erect and walked very sharp.
Cross-examined. Altogether I watched him for sixteen days—I do not know that he would observe that he was being watched—it reached ray knowledge that he had been complaining of being watched and
followed—I cannot say when—the bag he was carrying from the Gower Hotel did not look full, it was not bulging out—Allen and I made a joint report—I should say every time I saw the prisoner he had a stick with him, which he was mostly holding in his hand with the end on the ground—I saw him one day without glasses at all.
HENRY LINWOOD EVEREST . I am a clerk to the Cunard Steamship Company—on June 17th, 1901, the prisoner came to our office and took a ticket for America by the Umbria—he paid £2 deposit—on June 24th I received this telegram from Portslade: " self and son unable to travel, you must refund money"—he afterwards came with a detective and said he had been arrested.
Cross-examined. He told me something about having been in an accident, and was going for a sea trip for the benefit of his health—I do not remember that he appeared to be deaf—he was wearing dark glasses—he told me he had had an action and had lost it.
FRANCIS CARLIN (Detective Sergeant). On June 23rd, 1904, I had a warrant for the prisoner's arrest—I went with Inspector Allen to Brighton—about 10.30, on June 24th, I saw the prisoner, his wife and child at 18, St. Andrew's Road, Portslade—I said to him, "Reece, you know me, I am a detective from Scotland Yard"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I hold a warrant for year arrest"—before I could read the warrant to him he said, "I was just off to America with my son, my wife has the ticket"—she handed it to me—I made a note of it and returned it to her—the prisoner added, "I was first going to Liverpool, and my wife was going to accompany me as far as Brighton, it is a lucky thing you saw me; I am an American subject"—I read the warrant to him—I found on him some keys—he said. "You can search my boxes if you like, but I have burnt and destroyed all the papers in the case, as they refused me an appeal"—I conveyed him to London and charged him at Bow Street—he made no reply—when arrested, he had some letters on him that bear on the case.
Evidence for the Defence.
GEORGE PURDIE FIELD , M.R.C.S. I live at 34, Wimpole Street, and am Consulting Surgeon to St. Mary's Hospital—I examined the prisoner before the trial of the action—I came to the conclusion that he was absolutely deaf in his left car but he could hear in his right—I thought it was due to shock, I did not know what—he told me he had been in a. railway accident—the mischief was in the internal ear—I should think it would be permanent, but some of those cases do eventually get better—I applied the tuning fork and other tests—when the Lord Chief Justice put to him very awkward questions he could not hear at all—he was nervous—he was a long time in the witness box—at my first examination there was present a doctor from Brighton, Dr. Godfrey, I think—I saw the prisoner on May 13th with Dr. Cheatle and other doctors—Dr. Cheatle did not explain to me the tests he was going to apply—he said he was going to block up the ear with india-rubber, and I thought he meant a solid piece—I think it possible for this hollow
tube to kink and so block up the ear—I should not think that Dr. Cheatle would put it in so as to block up the ear; but it might happen that the experiment would fail, that is, the apparatus might defeat his purpose—a man's nervous condition at a test would affect his hearing—Dr. Ferrier, at the time, mentioned his nervous condition.
Cross-examined. I gave evidence before the Lord Chief Justice, when I said that the man had exaggerated the injury to his right ear—I think he was shamming in the right ear, but not in the left; he might have been in the left, but it was unlikely—Dr. Cheatle in looking down the hollow tube might have seen the drum of the car, but I do not think he would have done so.
Re-examined. I said before the Lord Chief Justice that there was an injury to the inner receiving organ of his left ear, and I am of that opinion still—that is an injury which might be occasioned by a railway shock—he was in a nervous state when giving evidence, and that might account for the exaggeration.
GARNER HOWE . I am a registered medical practitioner, of Duffryn Ledge, Hove—I have been the prisoner's medical attendant for about three years—I have frequently seen him prior to August 8th, 1903; I observed nothing wrong with his hearing or sight or walk—I saw him on the 11th, having been away—I found him in a more or less collapsed condition, turning away from the light, groaning, answering my questions more or less incoherently, complaining of pains down his spine and in his head and of sickness; he seemed in a muddled condition—he told me what had happened to him—his symptoms were consistent with the shock of being in an accident—three or four days afterwards my attention was drawn to his hearing and sight—I examined his ear, and could see nothing wrong—there may have been deafness without my being able to discover anything externally wrong—I looked at the drum with an instrument and light—he seemed to have difficulty in hearing—when I first saw him he was in bed; also the second time—he complained of difficulty in walking, and said he could not steady himself—he has been under my care practically the whole time—in November I attended a consultation with two other doctors for the company and Dr. Godfrey—they examined the patient's general condition, examined his skin, his reflexes and general nervous condition—nothing was said by them as to his condition—when he came back from the Nursing Home he was walking with a stick, complained of his hearing in his left ear, and pains in his back and head, and he was in a generally extremely nervous and low condition—his carrying a stick with the handle in his hand and having the end on the ground, but not putting weight upon it would be consistent with his suffering from shock—I always saw him wearing dark glasses after August 11th, not before—I think he complained to me of being watched by detectives—I examined him before he gave evidence at the High Court—he was in a highly nervous state and very much depressed before he wont into the witness box.
Cross-examined. From beginning to end I practically acted upon his statements as to his maladies—I applied tests—I tried his knee jerks
and tried his hearing—I found he had an exaggerated knee joint—I examined his ear with a small instrument and found it normal—I formed my opinion from his complaints; a doctor has nothing else to go by if there are no objective symptoms—a man, as I saw him, could not run up and down railway steps, get on to omnibuses, and so on; that would be inconsistent with his condition—I should be surprised if a patient in his condition could walk about for hours—I could not explain it; I would not believe it—I should say in that case he was a very active man.
Re-examined. In December I should say he was capable of very little walking; he could walk, I daresay, a great distance gently with care, but I should be surprised to see him running or attempting to run—he was capable of getting on to an omnibus, getting out again, and walking into a shop, slowly—I do not think he would be capable of sending a football back with his foot—he could limp up steps.
ALBERT EDWARD GODFREY . I am a registered medical practitioner of Lansdowne, Woodside Park Road, North Finchley—I saw the prisoner on August 18th at the Nursing Home—he was suffering from shock—he complained of a bruise on his cheek, deafness in his left ear, sleepiness, and pains running down his back and up to his head—I came to the conclusion that he was deaf in his left ear—we kept him in bed and in his bedroom the first few days; then he was allowed to get out, and he could walk with difficulty with a stick—I think he did not then wear glasses—his symptoms were consistent with his having been in some accident and having met with a nervous shock—he told me he had been examined by Dr. Roberts, and I wrote to the latter, and he replied that he could give me no information, as he was acting for the railway company—I then wrote to the company, and they sent Dr. Hollings to meet me in consultation—he examined the patient and told me his opinion.
Cross-examined. I did not entirely form my opinion upon his statements; there were some objective symptoms, such as a bruise on the left cheek—I did not prescribe for it—he also had increased knee jerks—those were the only objective symptoms—I attached importance to both—he never pretended to me that he could not get about—he took journeys to see his consultants.
Re-examined. I think he mentioned that he was being watched by detectives—I saw nothing improbable in his travelling to town.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, stated that on August 8th, 1903, he got into one of the Company's trains at Euston; 'that the train suddenly backed on to the buffers, throwing him forward; that he did not remember any more for some time; that he made a complaint to a railway official and then went on in the train; that when he got to Willesden he was very bad, and was taken to Dr. Roberts, who gave him a draught; that Mrs. Burrough was mistaken as to his carrying a box of beer; he had not drunk beer for 20 years; that there was no beer ordered; that the incident as to the baby was imagination; that he always had to walk with a stick as a support or guide, but not to put weight upon it; that the bag he was seen carrying was a little hand-bag and a rug to keep himself warm; that as to his income, he was engaged in buying and selling jewellery, and obtaining financial assistance
for people; also by buying pictures and photographic films on the Continent: that he estimated the £800 to £1,000 income the year before the accident from his banking account, as he kept no books; that it was given to the best of his belief; that he was stilt deaf in his left ear, and that his sight teas still affected; that he could not go about without a stick; that what he swore in the High Court was absolutely true; that he never bought any goods from Messrs. Buhholtz for himself; that no part of the cheque altered from "Capetown" to "London" was in his handwriting; that he never asked Mr. Smith to lend money on the cheque, but asked him to collect the money, and when he had done so to give it him, taking off what he (the prisoner) owed; that he still said he was injured in the accident; that he never pretended he carried on a regular business: and that his solicitors, on his authority, offered to the Company to settle the action for £2,000.
RICHARD HILLS . I am an officer of the Bank of England—I never knew the prisoner before the action—two £500 notes and one £200 were changed at the Bank on February 18th, 1903—they are indorsed "W. R. Recce, Copthall Avenue"—I have not the particulars of the exchange.
Cross-examined. We wrote him a letter calling attention to the irregularity of his account—it was closed, there being 1s. 4d. left—there were several cheques of his presented and dishonoured, there being no funds to meet them.
Re-examined. I do not know whether they were taken up or not—the account ran up to the extent of some £800.
DAVID CHAPIRI . I am a barber of George Street, Hampstead Road—I know the prisoner—he came to my shop in December, 1903; he was wearing glasses, and walked like a cripple—he was deaf, and I had to speak very loud to him—I was not called in the High Court.
Cross-examined. He did not walk whilst I was shaving him, but I saw him as he came in.
MONTAGU WILLIE DICKINSON . I am an omnibus conductor on the line of 'buses from Oxford Circus to North Finchley—I have often had the prisoner on my 'bus from Finchley—he seemed to walk with great difficulty with the aid of a stick—I have never seen him get off my 'bus while it was in motion—I spoke to him, but he did not seem able to hear very well—I did not give evidence at the police court.
WILLIAM HENRY SUMMERS .—I am a stationer at 87, Finsbury Pavement—I know the prisoner before the accident as a strong, robust man—I saw him after it—he was considerably changed in appearance, and hard of hearing—the only walking I saw him do was to come up the stairs—I saw him on the top of an omnibus twice, but do not remember when.
Cross-examined. He told me about the accident: as much as he could in the time: it was on the omnibus—I warned him to be careful what he
was doing, but I did not say he might get seven years—I thought the claim was excessive.
GUILTY . Nine months' hard labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, October 20th, 1901
Before Mr. Recorder.
767. JOHN MACKENZIE, CHARLES GEOGHEGAN, DAVE MILLER, JOHN ASHDOWN, JOHN WILSON WATT , and CHARLES WILSON BACON PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully conspiring together and with other persons unknown to defraud such persons as should be induced to pay moneys and valuable securities to persons trading under the name of "Sporting Luck" and "Dormice & Co." in respect of "Sporting Luck contests and sweepstakes"; and DONALD MACKENZIE to unlawfully obtaining from Annie Radford a postal order for 1s. and 6d. in postage stamps by false pretences with intent to defraud. Mr. Muir, on behalf of the prosecution, offered no evidence against JAMES LEADBETTER MACKENZIE , and the Jury found him
NOT GUILTY . DONALD MACKENZIE— Twelve month in the Second Division; GEOGHEGAN— Three months in the Second Division; JOHN MACKENZIE, MILLER, ASHDOWN, WATT, and BACON— One month in the Second Division each —
(768). GEORGE GAGE to burglary in the dwelling house of Beneveste Vidal and stealing 27 spoons and other articles his property; also to assaulting Arthur Allen, a Metropolitan Police Constable, in the execution of his duty, having been convicted of felony in July, 1897. Four years' penal servitude — [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
(769). CHARLES WARWICK (48) to obtaining by false pretences from Daniel Rees 2s.; from William Treebury. 1s.; and from Nellie Lamplough 1s., with intent to defraud, having been convicted of misdemeanor in December, 1903. Six months' hard labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, October 20th, 1904.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. DAVENPORT Prosecuted.
RICHARD ALFRED ROBINSON . I am a caterer of 6O, Barbican—the prisoner is one of my kitchen porters—on September 8th I gave him two sovereigns and two half sovereigns out of which to pay a bill of £2 19s. 6d. to T. Wallis & Co. I next saw him at his lodgings on Saturday, September 10th. where the detective had arrested him, and was having his pockets turned out—he said,' I must have lost a
sovereign"—on the Wednesday he had asked me for money to buy some tobacco to smoke going home—he said, "I am very sorry, when I got back I missed the money; I am willing to go back to work till the money is paid back."'
GEORGE DANSER (Detective.) On September 10th I saw the prisoner at 66, Barlow Street, Walworth—I said, "I am a police officer from the City; I shall arrest you for stealing £3 in money on the 8th inst., entrusted to you by your master to pay a bill at Messrs. Thomas Wallis & Co., Holborn Circus"—he then produced from his pocket half a sovereign, 11s. 6d. in silver, and 2d. in bronze, £1 1s. 8d. in all—he said, "This is all I have left; I must have lost a sovereign somewhere"—he was taken to the City—on the way he produced this unreceipted bill from his pocket, and said, "That is the bill; to tell you the truth I lost two sovereigns as I was on the way to pay it, and was afraid to go back"—he was searched at the station—this receipt for 2s. was found on him for' a phonographic form—it plays the tune known as "The Bobby's Patrol"—on the remand before the Magistrate he elected to give evidence on his own behalf—I heard him give that evidence, and saw him sign the deposition afterwards; (Read:) "George Parkins, the accused, on his oath, says as follows: I live at 66, Barlow Street, East Street, Walworth. On Thursday, 8th inst., Mr. Robinson gave me £3 in gold, telling me to pay a bill at T. Wallis & Co., and bring him 11d. change. That was a little after four in the afternoon. As I was going along Charterhouse Street I felt in my pocket and found two sovereigns missing from my right hand side pocket, into which I had put all the money. The two half sovereigns were left. Then I did not like to go back, so I went home. When I was arrested I had half a sovereign in gold, and half a sovereign in silver on me, and 1s. 6d. of my own. I got change for the half sovereign in the Victoria public house at the corner of Barlow Street. They know me. That was on Saturday. The governor's son, Fred Rook, gave it to me. I find there is a hole in my right hand waistcoat pocket.—G. Parkins."
WILLIAM FREDERICK CHARLES ROOK . I am called "Fred," and manager for my father, of the Victoria in Barlow Street—I have changed money for the prisoner—he is a regular customer—I did not change a half a sovereign for him on Saturday afternoon, September 10th—I was not in the bar—I did not not see him—he came into the bar two or three times last year.
Prisoner's defence: I am sorry I lost the money, and I hope you will let me go back and work for the governor till the money is paid up.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Lambeth Police Court, on March 18th, 1901. Six months' hard labour.
MR. GOODWIN Prosecuted.
two Mondays back about 4 p.m. and presented this £5 note for payment—I asked him to put his name and address on it; he did so, and then brought it to the counter again—I compared the number and date with an entry, and saw that it was a stopped note; I went in front of the counter and said, "I must ask you to come to the Secretary's office with me, as there is some inquiry about the note"—I took the prisoner to the Secretary's office and handed the note to Mr. Wallis, saying, "This is a stopped note"—Mr. Wallis said he would deal with it—I did not give the prisoner the money.
WILLIAM FITZGERALD (Detective, City.) On September 19th I was called to the Secretary's office of the Bank of England by a communication from Mr. Wallis—I was shown into an inner room, where I told the prisoner I was a police officer—I said "From what has been communicated to me by Mr. Wallis with reference to a £5 note which is one of four which were either lost or stolen on Saturday, September 17th, I must ask you to come with me to the Police Office in Old Jewry for the purpose of making further inquires"—when we arrived at Old Jewry he was seen by the superintendent, to whom I stated the facts, and who cautioned him, and asked him if he wished to say anything—he then said, "I picked it up off a window ledge in a by-turning off Queen Victoria Street on Saturday afternoon, between 4 and 5 o'clock; I do not know the name of the turning; I showed it to a man at Lipton's in Old Street to-day, and asked him if it was a good one; I then showed it to a fruiterer in East Road, City Road, and asked him if it was a good one, and to Mr. George in East Road, and asked him the same question; that is two doors from the fruiterers"—Mr. Cook, from the London office of the Bank of Egypt, was present, and said he could not have found it at that time because they were not lost until 9 p.m. or past on Saturday, September 17th—the prisoner then said, "I have told you a He about it; I will now tell you the truth; on the Sunday morning"—that would be September 18th—"I went to the Salvation Army Shelter in the Blackfriars Road, about 9 o'clock in the morning, for a free breakfast; whilst I was in there a shabbily dressed man came in a few minutes after; he had three of these notes in his hand; he gave me one and two other men one each; I do not know the man"—he was afterwards charged—he made no reply—Mr. Greville, the manager of the Bank of Egypt, is in Cairo—he attended at the Mansion House, but had to go next day to Cairo, and his duties detain him there.
WILLIAM HENNESSEY COOK . I am a clerk in the Bank of Egypt in Old Broad Street—I gave Mr. Greville, an officer of our bank, on Saturday morning, September 17th, five Bank of England notes—the note produced is one of them—I know the numbers.
Henry Brooke Greville was then called on his recognizance, but did not answer.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted; DR. POLLEN, C.I.E., Defended.
JORGINE MARIE LIE . I am a Norwegian, and I am now staying at 203, Dalston Lane—my home is in Trondhjen, Norway—in January I was at Trondhjen attending the Berlin School of Languages—the prisoner was a teacher there when I made his acquaintance—I was a student—on April 17th I became engaged to him—after he had asked me to marry him he asked me for 60 kronas—I gave it to him—he was looking for another situation—he said he was offered one at Palermo—I asked him if he had the means to go there—he said he had not—I offered him 300 kronas—I afterwards received several letters from him in Trondhjen in his writing, the last was in April or May (these were put in and portions read; they were of an affectionate character, one stating, "I think you were born to be my wife")—I sent 100 kronas from Norway in June to him at 5, Frederick's Place, London, the address he had given me—I came to London in August to get married to him—he had more money from me to put into a bank—I went to a registrar's office at Hackney to get a certificate of marriage.
Cross-examined. I am very fond of him—I have travelled a good deal—I have not been through all America: I have been to Chicago—he never toll me he was a bachelor—I took it for granted that he was—I think I was very kind and generous to him—I gave him any money he required, and did everything he asked me—I came to London at his request and by arrangement with him—he made a declaration at a registrar's office—I asked him to make the same declaration at Holborn—I asked him to make it in two places, because he ought to make one in the district where he lived as well as where I lived—he did not break off the engagement with me—I don't think he ever told me there was a great impediment to the marriage—he did not go further with the business—there was a hitch of some kind—I was never married—I knew a declaration had to be made in two places, because I read it in a paper—he pretended to be very fond of me, and led me to believe he was going to marry me, and I think I was generous and kind to him in consequence—I do not know that he was sorry and offered to compensate me—he has offered to pay me back what I gave or lent him, and to make me compensation in money for not performing his promise of marriage—I asked him to get me a lady's maid's place.
Re-examined. He has never given me money except £1 1s.—two letters from him are dated September 9th and 15th—the last I heard from him was a post card—I went to the police two days after his last post card, when he promised to bring my money back—that was a few days after I went to the registrar's office—I told the police what had happened and he was arrested.
TOM HOSGOOD . I am Superintendent Registrar for Births, Marriages, and Deaths at Hackney—I remember the prisoner calling upon me on September 7th with the prosecutrix—he gave me notice of his intending
marriage in writing, and made this declaration in writing—I procured the form from Somerset House—he signed it.
Cross-examined. This declaration is not sufficient to procure a marriage; he would have to have made a similar declaration in Holborn in respect of his residence in that district in accordance with 19 and 20 Vic.
GEORGE PEMBERTON . I am Registrar of Births, Marriages, and Deaths at Nottingham—I remember on August 5th, 1903, the prisoner being married as Henry Forbes Harding to Beatrice May Young—he is described as aged 26, a bachelor, a furniture manufacturer's clerk; and Beatrice May Young is described as a spinster—I saw her at Bow Street Police Court on Friday week last—this is the lady in Court.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that the prosecutrix made love to him; that he accepted her offers to help him; that he had not the courage to tell her he was a married man, but he was very sorry and was willing to compensate her.
Eighteen months' hard labour.
DAVIS PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. COTES-PREEDY Prosecuted.
WRAY GUILTY — One month's hard labour. DAVIS (who had been in prison for nearly a month)— Three weeks' hard labour.
MR. LEYCESTER Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON and MR. GIRON Defended.
From counsel's opening it appeared that the money was invested in the the prisoner's business, and the court held that while it might be the subject of a civil action, there was no fraud shown, and therefore directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, October 20th, 1904.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
MR. RODERICK Prosecuted.
EMMELINE EDSER . I am the wife of William Edser, of 95, Cottenham Road, Holloway—the prisoner is my brother—at 10 p.m., on September 8th, my sister Maggie came and told me the prisoner had smacked her face—I went out and saw him standing with his wife, who is known as Daisy Saunders, at the top of the road—I asked him why he had smacked my sister's face, and he said he would serve me the same—his wife pushed me, and I struck her—the prisoner then struck me three times, and I fell and became unconscious—I remember him saying "Get up, Em."—I was taken to my home, which was a few doors away—I was
in bed for nine days, and kept to the house just over a fortnight—my state of health is not very good; I am about to be confined.
By the COURT. My younger sister had gone for an airing, and I was just going to bed when she returned—when I asked the prisoner why he nad hit her, he said something about my saying things about his wife—I struck his wife, and he told her to strike me as hard as she could, and if she did not, he would—she hit me once.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were going up Hornsey Road, towards home, when I saw you—you might have told me to mind my own business—I did not say, "It is through that little messer," meaning your wife—she said, "Don't push me with the child," and I said, "I will not hurt your baby"—you lived with us before you were married—you have not quarrelled with me or my husband; we have been very good to you—you punched me on the mouth; you hit my head against the wall; and you punched me in the stomach.
Re-examined. It was not the prisoner's wife that assaulted me; it was the prisoner.
WILLIAM RICHARD EDSER . I am the husband of Emmeline Edser. and am a painter, of 93, Cottenham Road—about 10 p.m., on September 8th. someone came and told me that my wife was lying insensible—I went out and found her lying on the ground unconscious—with the assistance of another man I carried her home, put her to bed, and sent or Dr. Maclean—she was kept to the house for about a fortnight—I saw the prisoner that day and said, "I shall lock you up," he said, "It is nothing to do with me"—I said, "I believe my wife is dying; I shall lock you up," whereupon he said, "You can do what you like," and he offered to fight me.
Cross-examined. I do not recollect your saying, "Your wife and my wife had a quarrel, and it has caused some unpleasantness between us; we had better finish it"; you said, "Fight me"—you and I have never quarrelled before this.
By the COURT. He has never been quarrelsome with our family at all—he seemed sober at the time—his conduct surprised me very much on this occasion.
KENNETH MACLEAN , F.R.C.S. I practice at 68, Cottenham Road—at 10.30 p.m., on September 8th, I was called to 93, Cottenham Road, where I found the prosecutrix lying unconscious—on examination I found three distinct bruises on her back and two very marked bruises over the region of her kidneys—she remained unconscious from the Thursday night till the Saturday evening—when she recovered consciousness she was very ill for several days; then labour set in for a day without any ultimate result; she has been weak ever since, and is now approaching her confinement—I should say that her condition and the concussion of the brain was caused by a violent assault—she might have been kicked possibly.
Cross-examined. Concussion of the brain cannot be caused by excitement—it is possible your wife did it.
ROSE WRIGHT .1 live at 101, Cottenham Road, Holloway—at 10 p.m., on September 8th, I was outside the School Board in Cottenham Road when I saw Mrs. Edser with Daisy Saunders quarrelling—they began striking one another, which lasted for a few minutes—I heard the prisoner tell his wife to hit Mrs. Edser in the stomach, but she did not do so—the prisoner then struck Mrs. Edser in the stomach—she fell down and knocked her head on the step and became unconscious—the prisoner and his wife then walked away—they did not attempt to assist her at all, the prisoner simply saying, "Get up, Em"—Mr. Edser then came and took his wife home.
Cross-examined: Mrs. Edser struck the first blow—your wife had a baby in her arms which was taken by a woman in the crowd—I did not see you pulling your sister away; I could not see you all the time.
By the COURT. I do not think there had been any fighting before I came up—I cannot say whether anybody tried to separate them; there was a crowd round.
SIDNEY KENDALL (Sergeant Y.) About 3.30 p.m. on September 26th, with Detective Smith, I arrested the prisoner for assaulting his sister—he said, "It is only a family matter"—when charged he said nothing.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "She was more in fault than I am."
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that he smacked his sister Maggie's face for making insinuations against his lawfully married wife; that the prosecutrix then came up and abused his wife, which led to a quarrel; that his wife and the prosecutrix then started fighting, and that as his wife was a very much weaker woman he had pushed the prosecutrix away with considerable force; that his wife must have caused the injuries, as he did not hit her nor did he kick her when on the ground.
Evidence for the Defence.
DAISY BERRYMAN . I was walking with you and my baby, when your sister Maggie came along and said "Hullo. Jack"—you said, "If you'do not like to respect my wife, do not speak to me again"—I walked on with the baby, and you caught me up—the prosecutrix then came up and asked you why you had slapped your sister's face, and pointing to me, she said, "It is through that dirty little messer," and she smacked me in the face two or three times—a little girl took my baby from me—she then caught hold of my hair, and we had a bit of a fight—when we left off I saw her fall—I did not see her struck.
Cross-examined. I did not know that she was unconscious for two days—I never saw my husband bit her.
GUILTY , † Several previous convictions were proved against him. He was stated to be very violent. Twelve months' hard labour.
MR. JENKINS Prosecuted.
HENRY BARING SMITH . I am a merchant, of Ipswich—about noon. On September 30th. I was leaving Younger's office in Belvedere Road, Lambeth, when I was accosted by the prisoners—they both rushed at me instantaneously, and Jones caught hold of my watch chain—one of them kicked me under my left knee and the other kicked me on my right knee, and I went down—Jones then kicked me in the body, and after that I had a succession of kicks—they then got away with my chain and compass—I saw Day running away—I do not know who took my chain and compass, which I have not seen again—there were about six other men there when I was on the ground—I was taken to the police station by a constable, where I reported the matter—at Bow Street police station last Friday I had no hesitation in identifying Jones from among twelve other men—as to Day I was not quite certain, and I went back to the gaoler—in consequence of instructions I went back again—I happened to turn round, when I caught an expression on Day's face by which I identified him—he had previously been contorting his face, which made me uncertain as to his identity—his description exactly corresponded to the description I had given of him at the Kennington Road police station.
Cross-examined by Day. I did not say to the gaoler, "I think it is the fourth man"—I said to him, "I am certain of one, but I am not quite sure of the other"; and he said, "Take your time, and scrutinise the men again"—the detective did not give me any assistance.
Cross-examined by Jones. I ran after the man who took my chain a little way—I have been examined by a doctor.
JAMES JOHN GOODFELLOW . I am a cabinet joiner of 75, Rockingham Street, New Kent Road—about 12 a.m., on September 20th, I was in Belvedere Road when I heard a scuffle behind me, and, on looking round, I saw Day making off and the prosecutor on the ground—a policeman and I ran after Day—I identified him at the Bow Street police station without hesitation.
Cross-examined by Day. I said to the gaoler, "It is the man with the blue tie," and I went up and touched you.
JOHN GLISSOLD (Detective Sergeant E.) Day and Jones were placed amongst twelve other men to be identified, and they said they were satisfied—the prosecutor went along the row and immediately picked out Jones, and went away—on coming back he went up and picked out Day; Goodfellow went along the row two or three times and came back to where the gaoler was, and said in the hearing of the prisoners, "It is the fourth man. the man with the blue tie"—the gaoler said, "If you are quite sure, touch the man," and Goodfellow went up and picked Day out—Day, when charged, asked the prosecutor who had kicked him, to which the prosecutor replied, "Both of you did."
Jones statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent of this; the man who took the gentleman's chain is the very image of me; I know the man: the gentleman was not kicked; I was with the gang."
Jones, in a written statement on oath, said that he had just come from prison, and was standing with six other men outside the Feathers 'public house, Belvedere Road, when the prosecutor walked by; that one of their number, exactly resembling him in height and complexion, snatched at his watch and chain, and made off; that the prosecutor was running after this man when he was tripped up and fell to the ground; and that he was not kicked at all.
Day, in his defence, said that it was a case of mistaken identification; and that he was not picked out at first, but that another man wearing a blue tie the same as his, was really the man who was first identified by Goodfellow.
DESMOND† then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony as William Ring at Clerkenwell Sessions on March 3rd. 1903; a number of previous convictions were proved against him. Five years' penal servitude. JONES† PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony as John Coleman at Clerkenwell Sessions on March 3rd, 1903; a number of previous convictions were proved against him. Three years' penal servitude and eighteen strokes with the cat.
DAY† PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Marlborough Street Police Court on May 17th, 1904; a number of previous convictions were proved against him. Three years' penal servitude and eighteen strokes with the cat.
MR. LEYCESTER Prosecuted; mr. Roderick Defended.
GEORGE LEONARD . I am a market gardener of Shepperton, and I have a stand at Covent Garden, where I sell goods in hamper baskets, and other things—I charge my customers 1s. each empty basket, and if they bring back empties, I either give them the money back or a ticket crediting them with what they have returned—we keep a counterfoil, with which we compare the ticket returned—I start business in Covent Garden Market about 5 a.m.—at 9.30 a.m., on September 27th, the prisoner, with whom I do not recollect having had dealings before, presented this ticket for thirty-one empties at 1s. each, making £1 11s., and dated September 27th (Produced)—i had been in charge of my stall from 5 a.m., and I did not remember issuing such a ticket, so consulted my son—he looked in the counterfoil book and said, "I issued that ticket this morning, but it was for one single basket only," and he produced the counterfoil—when the prisoner heard this, he said he had sent in thirty-one empties and wanted the money for them, but I refused to pay him and sent my son for a policeman—the prisoner was making away when he was stopped by a detective and taken into custody.
Cross-examined. These tokens (metal discs bearing numbers) are used by some people, but I have given them up—this is my counter-foil
book (Produced) bearing the counterfoil to the ticket issued No. 1305, where 1s. is entered, meaning one empty—the prisoner said something about going to fetch the porter that he had given the empties to, and he was going away when he was stopped—I did not notice any other men with him; there were—0 or 30 in the passage—I do not say that it is impossible to swindle me, having a counterfoil to compare with the ticket presented.
GEORGE LEONARD . I am the prosecutor's son—I was at the stall with my father from the time we got there till the prisoner presented the ticket—I did not issue a ticket for 31 empties that morning, and on looking at my counterfoil book I found that the ticket I had issued to a Mr. Jones for one empty had been altered to one for 31 empties—I wrote the "one" before "empty" and the figure "1" in the shilling column—the name "Jones" and the date is in my handwriting—I do not remember to whom I issued the ticket—I have seen the prisoner about the market—I did not issue a ticket for more than twelve empties that morning—neither did we receive thirty-one empties.
Cross-examined. I issued the ticket about 8 a.m.—I do not remember the prisoner having more than one deal with me—we do not always compare the ticket presented with the counterfoil.
Re-examined. The deal I had with him was about a week before this when he brought five or six bushels of apples, which would mean five or six empties.
JOSEPH JOSLIN (Detective E.) On the morning of September 27th I was on duty in Covent Garden Market in plain clothes talking to a friend about 120 yards away from the prosecutor's stall—I saw a market porter come up and hand the prisoner, who was standing behind me talking to another man, a ticket, saying, "Hurry up; now is your chance," and he went back to the other side of the market again—the prisoner then turned to the other man and said, "Come on; look sharp"—I followed the prisoner; the other man stopped to talk to a third man while the prisoner went on—he came back and said, "Where the hell have you been; we shall lose it"—they both went to the prosecutor's stall and the prisoner handed him a ticket, whilst the other man stopped six or seven basket lengths away and asked the price of some apples—the prosecutor looked at the ticket and said, "I do not know anything of this," and handed it to his son, asking him if he knew anything of it—the son said, "I gave that out for one bushel; the writing on the top is mine, but the '31s.' is not; my 'one' has been rubbed out"—the prosecutor then said he would send for a policeman, whereupon the other man walked away—the prisoner said, "I sent, the baskets in, and I want my money"—the prosecutor refused to give it to him, and the prisoner then walked away, saying he would fetch the porter whom he had sent the empties with, when I stopped him and took him back I told the prosecutor what I had heard, and asked him if he would charge the prisoner, and on his saying "Yes," I took him into custody—he made no reply when charged.
Cross-examined. My suspicions were first aroused by the porty saying,
"Hurry up, now is your chance"—he had the appearance of a market porter—I did not arrest him also because I did not know what was going to happen—I do not remember seeing the prisoner before—I could see he never intended to fetch a porter; I might say he hurried away—I did not see the prisoner alter the ticket at all.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that he had been a greengrocer for 18 months; that at 8.30 that morning he had given a market porter 6d. to take 31 empties, 21 of which were the collection of two or three weeks from dealings with the prosecutor, the other ten being bought from a friend, and had contained fruit, and which bore the prosecutor's name; that on returning about an hour after, he found that the porter had taken them from his barrow, but where to he could not say; that he took the ticket given to him by the porter to the prosecutor's in the ordinary way; that the porter did not say, "Hurry up, now is your chance," neither did he say to the friend accompanying him, "Where the hell have you been? we shall lose it"; that he went in the name of "Jones" in the market, because Susan sounded so odd; and that the porter could not have taken the baskets anywhere else other than the prosecutor's, as they all bore his name.
Evidence for the Defence.
HENRY WILLIAM DEBENHAM . I am a wine and beer retailer at the Nag's Head, Maldon Road, Wimbledon—on the afternoon previous to the morning in question, I saw some empties being unloaded, but as to whom they belonged, their number, or from whose barrow they were being unloaded I cannot say—the prisoner has always been honest in his dealings with me.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has stables at my place where he keeps his empties—I had no special reason to notice the transaction.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY . Discharged on his own recognisances.
MR. P. S. TURNER Prosecuted.
GUILTY . A previous conviction of a similar nature was proved against him. He received a good character. Discharged on his own recognisances.
MR. BUSZARD Prosecuted.
JAMES JOHN MELVIN . I am a commercial traveller of 12, Green Line Gardens, Ilford—about 12.35 p.m. on October 7th, I bid my friends "good-night" in Whitechapel Road, and was going along Dunn Street. to get into Spitalfields when I was accosted by a woman—I told her to go away, but as she still followed me I turned down a street, of which I do not know the name, to avoid her—I felt someone trying to throttle me and I fell on my back; I then heard someone shout, "Look out, here is a copper"—I was just losing my senses when I felt my throat relaxed,
and I saw Jones, who had me by the throat, running away—the others had run away—I had heard one of them say, "Down his pockets for his purse"—I think they must have seen me change a sovereign with some friends in a public house—I pointed Jones out to a policeman, who had got about five yards away when he was caught—another policeman came up and I said "Take the woman as well," indicating Roberts, who was just moving away—I then went to the police station and charged them.
SAMUEL CURNOW (157 H.) On the night of October 7th I was on duty in Old Montagu Street, when I saw the prosecutor going along with Roberts, with three men following behind—suspecting something wrong. I got into a doorway in Old Montagu Street, opposite Dunn Street—when Roberts and the prosecutor got to the top of Dunn Street, I saw Roberts turn to the three men and beckon thorn to follow on—when they had got about ten to twelve yards down Dunn Street the three men made a rush, and Jones, clasping the prosecutor by the throat, pulled him to the ground—there was a sharp struggle, Roberts standing by looking on—as I rushed out Roberts saw me, and I heard a shout, "Look out, here comes a copper"—all three men got up and made a rush past me, but I caught Jones about a yard from the spot—I asked him what was the matter, an I he said, "You have made a mistake; I have got nothing on me; I am just going to work"—the prosecutor was still sitting on the ground, and when he saw me coming, he said. "Hold the man," indicating Jones, "There are two others who have robbed me of all my money"—another constable came up and we took Roberts and Jones into custody and took them to the police station—when charged, Jones said, "You have made a big mistake this time, guv'nor"—Roberts made no reply.
Cross-examined by Jones. 4d. was found upon you.
By the COURT. None of the £3 10s. was traced; the other two may have had it—Roberts is a prostitute—I have seen her several times with men.
Jones. in his defence, said (hat he was arrested in Old Montagu Street, and knew nothing of the matter.
Roberts, in her defence, said that it was true she had accosted the prosecutor, but that she did not know the men who committed the robbery.
GUILTY . JONES— Three months' hard labour. ROBERTS— One month in the Second Division.
NEW COURT.—Friday, October 21st, 1904.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BEGGS Prosecuted; MR. JENKINS Defended.
Street, I was walking down Bishopsgate Street—I did not know the neighbourhood at all, and I asked the prisoner whom I saw at the corner, if he could recommend me a decent bed—he said he could, and we had got down a certain street when I was attacked by the prisoner and some other men, the prisoner nearly strangling me whilst the other men robbed me—a policeman came up—I made as much noise as I could—there was over £2 in my pocket, which was taken from me, my pocket being entirely torn out—the prisoner walked over the road into a shop, and the policeman went over and fetched him out—he is a complete stranger to me—it was a dark street.
Cross-examined. I work in Pall Mall—I left work at 8 p.m. to go to the Pavilion Music Hall alone—I only had one drink that night with a casual stranger I met at the music hall—I left there about 11.15 p.m., and walked to Liverpool Street, arriving there at 12.30 a.m.—I was accosted by a woman there, whom I shook off—I did not ask the prisoner if he knew of a room where I could go with the woman, and he did not say, "I am not one of that sort; there are some men over the road; go and ask them"—I did not see any other men at all—he did not go into a shop after saying that—I did not go over to the men to ask them—I was not able to run after I was assaulted—the prisoner had got about 20 yards away when he was arrested.
WILLIAM FOWLER (56 H.) In the early morning of October 4th, I was at the corner of Dorset Street, a little turning off Bishopsgate Street, when I heard a shout—I ran round the corner and saw the prisoner coming across the road from the prosecutor and go into a shop—I saw the prosecutor; he told me what he had lost, and pointing the prisoner out to me I called him back—he said, "God strike me dead; you have made a mistake"—when charged he said that I had made a mistake—the turning was not particularly dark—I did not sec any other men about at the time.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT—Friday, October 21st, and
NEW COURT.—Saturday, October 22nd, 1004.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
PETERSON and WESTOVER PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. LEYCESTER and MR. GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted; MR. MUIR Defended SAUNDERS.
JAMES BENTON . I am manager for my father, James Benton, a biscuit manufacturer, in Commercial Road—we have a store in Lowell Street, whore we keep large quantities of flour in sacks and bags—a sack contains 280 lbs., and there are eight to the ton—a bag contains 140 lbs., and there are sixteen to the ton—we sometimes have as many as 8,000 or 9.000 sacks and bags in the store—it is what we call a low
grade wheat flour—it comes from America principally, but some from Russia—it is used for making biscuits—we give 14s. 3d. to 17s. 6d. a sack for it—it costs us over £7 a ton when rent and carriage are paid—Peterson had been in our service fourteen or fifteen years—he was a labourer—he had no authority to sell any of the stuff—Westover bought some old bags, and some years ago one lot of sweepings—about August 31st. in consequence of information I received, I went and examined the store at the arches—I found that a large number of bags had been removed from the back—on examining the stock book, there was a large deficiency—on September 2nd I saw that four tons of flour had been seized at the Devonshire Street Goods Station—I identified that as our property—it was in first-rate condition, as good as new—it was in bags—this is one of them if it is not stamped—on September 6th I went to Saunders' place in Essex and identified twenty empty bags—some bags are marked "Chandos" in a diamond, some "Army and Navy," and there are various markings indicating the kind of flour, and sometimes the name of the maker is put on it—every lot is shipped so marked—about four London firms deal in it—I went to Mr. Lowes at Broxted and saw about 113 bags marked "Army and Navy" and "Chandos," about seven or eight tons in very good condition—I have one of the bags here—the flour is delivered in bags sewn up in this way, and as clean looking as this one—I next went to Mr. Freeman's, and saw twenty empty bags, marked "Army and Navy" and "Chandos," I believe—then I went to Mr. Bains's, at a farm called Broxted Hall, Dunmow, and I saw thirty full bags marked "Chandos," and I fancy "Army and Navy" in fair, but not in quite so good a condition as the others—the bags had been stacked in a dirty place before they reached Bains's—the flour was all right—this bag is marked with an "L"—I had no dealings with Saunders, nor with Benjamin, to my knowledge.
Cross-examined. Without knowing the history of these different bags I could not swear to them coming from my place—the marks have not been tampered with in any way—the full bags were sewn up when I saw them—I only opened one—I selected it—I examined the flour in it—I had seen the flour in four or five out of the 113—I should say the condition of all the flour was the same, from the condition of the outside of the bags if they are of the same, and that it has not been examined in this country—I cannot say whether Saunders ever saw the contents of the bags.
ARTHUR ALBERT EELE . I am a carman in Bethnal Green—Westover sometimes employed me to take a pair horse van and he went with me to Beston's railway arch between 6.30 and 7—Peterson opened the gates—bags like these produced were loaded on to my van by Westover, and I helped sometimes—Westover and I drove with the bags to the Devonshire Street goods station of the Great Eastern Railway—I was paid 10s. for the job—Westover generally used to give it to me—the first time I went was in January—Westover generally went with me—Peterson did not always open the gates; I generally used to meet him—I always took the sacks to the same place—I have been paid for the cartage by a man
named Benjamin, who came to my place—on one occasion I saw him at the railway.
Cross-examined. I have been to Benjamin's shop—I have seen Westover there—I believe he used to work for Benjamin, so far as I can understand—he was in the shop with Benjamin.
JOSEPH SMITH . I am a carman to Mr. Eeles—I used to go with one of his vans to Benton's wharf in Lowell Road; first, some time in May—Westover went with me to the arch—Peterson was at the arch except the last time—the van was loaded with bags and sacks—we took them to Devonshire Street goods station where they were unloaded into a truck—the last time, the load was seized by the police—Westover was there, and a person I do not know—I had not seen him before, and I have not seen him since.
RICHARD FREEMAN . I am a farmer and carter at Broughton House Farm, Thaxted, Essex, near Elsenham—Saunders is a farmer and pig dealer at Broxted, six miles from Dunmow—in January I was keeping some pigs for him—on January 18th he wanted me to fetch a ton of pig meal from Dunmow Station and store it in my barn for the pigs—it was in all sorts of sacks and bags, and not so good as that in Court—I fed the pigs with it—about a month afterwards Saunders told me he got it from Horncastle in London—I fetched a second ton on January 25th, and another lot on January 26th or 27th of five tons—these are entries I made at the time—on March 30th I started again—I carted about seven tons in January—he said in February he paid £3 15s. a ton in London for it—on March 30th I fetched three tons—some of it was very good, and some of it was very bad—it was in 2 cwt., Il stone, and 10 stone bags; the weight varied—that was used for the pigs—some was in lumps as big as a bushel; it had got damp, and we had to break it to pieces—some of it had been heated, and stunk horribly—one lot on April, 20th of 2 tons 18 cwts., came to Elsenham—the last time I went was on July 14th—altogether I brought away about 19 tons, I believe—some of it was very funny stuff, I do not know what to call it; it was damaged—some was black and looked like sweepings—I never carted more than a couple of tons like that—when the police came I had nothing left but the empty bags—I believe Saunders went with me to the station once to fetch it, when he signed for the stuff—at other times I signed—I had some of the stuff for my own use in payment for the carting—5s. a ton I charged for the hauling—the rate to me was £4 0s. 10d. a ton with the carriage from London to Dunmow station—the price varies from £6 to £5 for middlings. but I had bought it for 50s.—it is the offal that is left over when the wheat has been ground into flour; I do not call it flour—it looks like biscuit meal or something like that—I could not tell whether it is wheat or oat meal by looking at it.
Cross-examined. I have been at the farm just over eight years—I have known Saunders about two years—he is a neighbour, and is well known and respected in the neighbourhood—I first saw stuff like this in Court on
September 9th, 10th and 12th—I instructed Inspector Nicholls to bring back 4 tons—I never received from Saunders any stuff of the quality produced—the only dealings I had with flour of this quality was when I carted it for the police from Mr. Lays to the railway—Saunders' stuff was not fit for feeding purposes, even for pigs—I keep from 20 to 50 pigs—I feed them on middlings—I use this book as my ledger to keep anybody's account in—my wife makes entries in it every day as the facts happen—I have seen Horncastle at Saunders' farm in the summer twice or three times.
HENRY LOWE . I am a corn merchant at Thaxted, Essex, seven miles from Elsenham, and between Dunmow and Saffron Waldron—in March, Saunders, whom I did not know, called and said he had pig meal to sell, and produced a sample, about a handful, in a piece of paper—it seemed like middlings, it had a funny smell as if it had been heated or damaged—he said his friend bought it at the docks, and sent it to him—I asked him what price he wanted for it; he said £3 15s., or if he paid the carriage £4 0s. 10d. at Dunmow—I asked him if that was the lowest he could take—he said he could take no less—I agreed to buy some—he said the people he bought it from had a lot of it, and that they had bought it by auction—the first transaction was 4 tons 1 cwt. 2 qrs. on March 2nd in cwt. bags—this is the invoice I got from Saunders—I paid by this cheque, deducting £2 for bran I had sold him—I did not notice that the invoice calls it flour; I call it middlings; he called it pig feed and pig meal—I had lots on March 26th, April 7th and 23rd, July 3rd and 15th, and August 24th, making altogether about 38 tons—these are. the invoices, except of the last lot on August 24th, when the police came—I had then in my possession 7 tons—the police opened some bags in my presence and took the stuff away, and 200 or 300 empty bags—it was stuff like this in Court, and all about the same grade, except the first lot which was not so good—the bags were marked "Army and Navy" the last two, and some "Chandos," and some had foreign writing on—I had told Saunders the stuff was bad, and I would give him another order if it was a better quality—we keep some of the bags—sometimes we are charged 1s. a sack—when we buy from abroad we get the bags in—some of them go rotten and are all to pieces—Saunders asked me to write a cheque to Benjamin—I wrote out two cheques for £8 10s. and gave Saunders the balance, £3 12s. 6d., in cash, because he had no banking account—he never told me who Benjamin was.
Cross-examined. I sold the stuff for pig food—it is used for dog biscuits—we carted it from Elsenham station ourselves—it arrived there in bags sewn up—as far as I know the bags had not been sampled—they were consigned to Saunders, who gave me an order to the station master in his own name with the consignment note—the stuff is called by different names on the documents, which I did not pay much attention to—the transactions with Saunders took place at my shop as a rule, once or twice at the mill—it was stored at the mill and in the store room—there was nothing in the transaction to give me an idea the stuff
had been improperly come by—the price was fair—I made a fair profit—I know that flour sweepings are sold for pig feed.
Re-examined. I sold it at £4 15s. 5d. a ton, and some was mixed with other stuff—what the police fetched was what was left of the last two lots of 8 tons 10 cwt. 2 qr. and 7 tons—about 8 tons of those lots had been sold as pig meal at the same price as the rest of it, £4 10s. to £5 a ton—I sifted some that was heated, and some I gave my pigs without sifting.
SAUNDERS— NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LEYCESTER and MR. GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted;
MR. WARDE and MR. THATCHER Defended hill.
DAVID HARRISON . I am a corn merchant at 26, The Broadway, Barking—I have known Carr between five and six years—he is a carman—on August 2nd he called at my shop and asked me if I would buy some pig food; I asked him the price; he said £3 a ton—I said I would take two tons at 50s. a ton—he had a sample by him—he said, "Make it three tons, then it will pay me for carting it"—I agreed to take three tons at £2 10s. per ton—on August 3rd, he brought me the three tons—another man was with him—I could identify him—I have not seen him here—I paid Carr by this cheque £7 10s. on the London and Joint Stock Bank, it is endorsed "Walter Carr"—it has been presented at my bank and returned to me—a day or two afterwards I ordered from him another consignment of three tons, which he brought on August 8th—I paid him this cheque for £7 10s. (a similar cheque)—that has also been through my bank—I saw him again about a fortnight afterwards at Stapleton's horse repository—I asked him if he could bring me another load—he said, "I do not suppose it is all gone, or they would let me know"—I said, "Bring us down another load at the end of the week"—I next saw him at the West India Dock Road police station in custody, in September—the police afterwards came to my premises making enquiries—I handed over to them 32 full bags of flour—they asked me for Chandos marks—I said I did not know the marks; some were Phoenix—no marks were used to my knowledge—I had sold some of the pig food.
Cross-examined by MR. WARDE. I never saw a mark removed—I bought and sold the stuff for pig food—the price was reasonable—I sold it for £3 10s. to £4 10s. a ton.
EMMA PARRISH . I am the wife of Charles Parrish, of 45, Granville Road, Canning Town—Harry Hill is my son by a former marriage—I got this cheque dated August 8th from him for my landlord to change, and he did so.
I know Hill—he is a carman—I have cashed several cheques for him—I cashed this one of Harrison's, dated August 3rd, for £7 10s., and it has passed through my bank—on August 6th, Hill came to order his horse food as usual, as he is a customer—he said that he knew a man who had some damaged flour for sale, could I do with any?—I said I could not toll him offhand, but if he brought me a sample I could tell him what I could do with—he brought me a sample the same day, and I told him to come on Monday evening, and I would let him know if I could do with any—on Monday, August 8th, when he came, I told him I could do with ten tons, and I gave him this delivery note for three tons to be forwarded to Slough station, to the order of W. Millard, of the Dolphin Hotel, who is a customer—it is signed by my son. and "C. Palmer" is the signature on the railway notes produced—he brought it back the next evening, the 9th, like that—"H. W. Wood "is on the receipt for the railway carriage, £1 at 6s. 8d. a ton—I gave Hill the sovereign and the delivery ticket—I told him I should give him another delivery note for another three tons to go to Slough—he said the man wanted the money before he would part with any more—I told him I should have to have a receipt for the flour, which he had not got, but agreed that I should have it, and that he would take three tons more, he went away about 8 p.m.—after we were closed in the evening, he came back, knocked at the door, and told me he had seen the man the flour belonged to, and he did not think the receipt was necessary—I said I should not pay it till I had one, and even if I wanted to I had not the money, only a cheque—he said, "A cheque is no use to me"—I have not seen the flour, only the sample—on Wednesday 10th, I telephoned to Millard to ask him to examine the flour—on that morning I had communicated with the police because Hill's conduct about the receipt led me to be suspicious—Hill came in about mid-day—Detective Stevens was upstairs—I said he had better come in and see Stevens and tell him all he knew about it—he said he did not think it was necessary; he would go and get the receipt and bring it later in the day, and he left the shop saying he would seea Mr. Sale first, and that evening he would see Thompson and get the receipt from him—Stevens and I stopped him lower down the road and questioned him as to where he got the stuff—we all three went to the station—Hill was questioned there, and then allowed to go—he came again later that Wednesday evening and brought this receipt [this was dated August 12th (Wednesday was August 10th), it had a printed heading, and stated, "Mr. H. Hill, bought of George Thompson, 49, Frean Street, Jamaica Road, Bermondsey, 48 bags of damaged flour;"] Hill said he paid for it in the first place, and he represented it to be Thompson's transaction through Hill to me—he ridiculed the idea of my being suspicious, and told me it was all right, and I believed it was then, but I had not the money in the house to pay him in cash, so I did not pay him—he came again, I think the next day, with this bill, dated August 11th, "Debtor to H. Hill for 48 bags of damaged flour, £23s.," and on Friday 12th I went to 49, Frean Street, Thompson's address, but could not find him—a fortnight or three weeks afterwards I told Hill I had been to find Thompson—I was continually
seeing Hill—he seemed surprised I could not discover Thompson—I told him to go and see for himself—he told me he had been and had discovered nothing—I advised him to see the police.
Cross-examined by MR. WARDE. Hill is a small contractor in my neighbourhood—he has one van and some horses—I have known him two or three years—during that time I have seen him pretty frequently—I know he carts for Cloke Brothers, dealers in coke—I have not heard of his carrying for dock carriers—I knew him as a customer and as a respectable man—he bears a good character—I have cashed his cheques, he not having a banking account—they were always honoured, with one exception—I never handled the flour; it was sent direct to the purchaser—it is not flour that we should sell in a shop—I sold it to Millard to feed his pigs—Hill said he was selling it for Thompson—I asked him to fetch Thompson to me when I asked him for the receipt—at that time he said he did not know where he lived—Frean Street is an hour and a half journey—when Hill said he was going to meet Thompson that evening the detective did not offer to go with him—from the beginning to the end I regarded him as the agent for the sale of the stuff.
ALFRED PALMER . I am bank foreman at the Poplar Goods depot of the Great Western Railway—a van came with forty-eight bags of flour—two men came with it—I believe Hill is one—I signed this receipt for the delivery—the carriage was paid, £1, and the man got the delivery note from the office—I sent the flour on to Slough.
Cross-examined by MR. WARDE I have some recollection of seeing Hill about 7.30 one morning at the station—I should not be surprised to hear he was at Bow—I say he is the man, because there was a miscount in the bags, and he came up to the truck and counted them—I cannot swear, I only think it was Hill.
WILLIAM MILLARD . I keep the Dolphin Hotel at Slough, and purchase corn and things from Mr. Lewis—on August 8th I purchased three tons of damaged flour from him—it arrived by rail, I think, on Wednesday, August 10th—the same day I got a telephone message from Lewis to examine the flour, and before it was actually delivered—I examined it on the trucks on the railway siding—it was in bags like those produced,. sixteen to the ton—I had it carted to my place from the station—I kept it for a time, and afterwards handed it over to the police—the bags were all marked "Chandos" in a red diamond.
Cross-examined by MR. WARDE. I did not use any of it.
JAMES BENTON . I am manager to my father, James Benton—we have a store in some railway arches at Lowell Street—Peterson, who has PLEADED GUILTY, has been in our service fourteen years—on August 31st examined the store and found that a large number of bags of flour had been stolen—I afterwards saw three tons in Millard's possession at Slough—it was similar to what I had missed, and was marked "Chandos"—it was in good condition—the bags were clean, and there were no signs of the flour having been damaged.
—I afterwards saw Hill outside with Lewis—Lewis said, "This man sold me some flour, and I cannot get a receipt for it"; Hill said, "I will get you a receipt"; I said, "Then you know who you got the flour from"; Hill said, "I am selling it for a man named Thompson"—he went to the station and was questioned there, and let go—I asked the two of them to accompany me to the station, and said, "Everyone will want to know your business,"and both appeared to understand—on Monday, August 29th, I was talking to Lewis, when Hill came up and spoke about his money—from instructions I received, I walked away from them—on September 2nd, I arrested Hill at his house, 49, Granville Road, Canning Town—I said, "I am making more enquiries about the flour, have you found the man Thompson?" he said, "No"—I said "Then you will be charged with stealing three tons of flour between the 1st and 10th August last, from Lowell Street Arches, the property of Messrs. Benton & Co."—he said, "I did not steal it; a man named Thompson asked me to sell it for him; I do not know where he lives, or where he can be found; I never saw the flour, only the sample he gave me; he sent me this receipt on the 12th"—he was taken to the station and charged—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. MR. WARDE. We have made inquiries, and cannot find Thompson—I did not go with Hill to find Thompson on the 10th, because then there was nothing to arouse my suspicions that anything was wrong—he said he was going to meet Thompson at the railway station, and at his residence.
JOHN DOUGLAS HOWARD WOOD . I am clerk to an estate agent at 98, Jamaica Road, S.E.—my firm had the letting of 49, Frean Street, Bermondsey, from June, 1902, to January, 1904—during that time there was no tenant there named Thompson—we gave up possession to the South Eastern Railway Co.—my employer is the local tax collector, and we have to keep an eye on the premises, and these have not since been relet.
WILLIAM BROWN (Detective Sergeant K.) On September 20th I went to Carr's house, 54, Florence Street, Canning Town, to make enquiries—I said to him, "You answer the description of a man alleged to have been carting flour for a man named Hill"—he said, "I know Hill, he is an old friend, I have done a lot of jobs with him, but I have never carted any flour for him or for anybody else, or pig stuff, cull it what you like; of course, if you mean to arrest me, you must do it"—I said, "You answer the description of a man that was seen at the Poplar Goods Station"—he said, "I never carted any flour to Poplar Goods Station; if the Railway say so, they are fools"—I said, "Good night," and left him.
Cross-examined by Carr. I did not say, "You answer the description of a man seen riding through Poplar with a load, which, as far as I could see by the bags, was a load of flour"; nor did you say, "The officials who recognised Harry Hill as carting the stuff on the rail, were fools and liars"—I may have said "Harry Hill"—I made this note the same evening about eleven, after waiting about to arrest you, on my return from the station—you had been present at the Police Court, though I did
not know it, and heard Hill's defence when "pig stuff" was mentioned—I do not think Stevens asked you about pig meal.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Inspector K.) I arrested Carr on September 21st at Plaistow police station, where I found him detained—I told him I was a police officer, and from inquiries I had made, I had traced a quantity of flour which was stolen as having been sold by him to Mr. Harrison, of Barking Broadway, that I had also traced a cheque for £7 10s. that he had received in payment for the same as having been cashed by a man named Harry Hill, already in custody for stealing flour—he said, "I got the flour from Benton's stores in Lowell Street; me and Hill have both been made mugs of, but I am going to tell you the truth about it when we get to Limehouse"—I then told him he would be charged with being concerned in stealing the flour—I conveyed him to Limehouse police station, where he afterwards made this statement, which I took down in writing, and which he signed: "Limehouse Station, September 24th, 1904—I, Walter Carr, now in custody, charged with being concerned with Harry Hill, also in custody, in stealing and receiving flour from Messrs. Benton's stores at Lowell Street, Commercial Road, E., do hereby wish to make the following voluntary statement: About three months ago a man came to me, whose name I do not know, or where he lives, and asked me if I would cart one ton of flour from Benton's stores in Lowell Street (although at that time I did not know it was Benton's) to a flour factor's in a turning off the Holloway Road, near the Archway Tavern. I said Yes,' and arranged to draw it the next morning, which I did. The man paid me 10s. for the job. About a week after this I got friends with the man who gave me the job, through meeting him about, and he told me then that all this flour I saw in the railway arches at Lowell Street was for sale, and that a lot of it would suit pig dealers. In consequence I went and saw Mr. Harry Lay, pig dealer at Canning Town, and took some samples with me of the flour, and asked him, Mr. Lay, if he would buy some at £3 10s. per ton. Mr. Lay said £3 10s. was too much for pig food, and he could buy it for 55s. a ton. I agreed to take that price, and supplied him with either nine or twelve tons. He paid me all the money, and I gave him receipts for the same in my name. He had previously asked me where the flour came from, but I could not tell him. I drew all this flour from the railway arches in Lowell Street. The man Sailor Peterson, whom I see in custody, is one of the men who helped load my van. The reason I would not tell Mr. Lay where the flour came from was that I thought he would do me out of my commission. The man who first came about the flour sent me with either five or six tons of flour one morning from the railway arches to a big corn merchant of the name of Osborne & Young, Limited, at Loughborough Junction. I did not sell or take the money for this, but he paid me 10s. per ton. He also sent me to the British Paste Company, Canonbury, with six tons. He paid me 7s. 6d. per ton for taking it there. I also sold six tons of the flour that I took from the railway arches at Lowell Street to a Mr. Harrison, Corn Merchant, of Broadway, Barking. He paid me by two cheques the sum of £15 for the same. I gave the cheques to Harry Hill to get cashed,
which ho did. After Harry Hill had sold the three tons of flour to Mr. Lewis I carted it from the railway arches at Lowell Street to the Poplar Goods Station of the Great Western Railway, consigned to a gentleman at Slough. Hill, I believe sold the stuff on "behalf of the man who first asked me to cart the flour, at any rate he is the man who gave me the order to cart.—Walter Carr. Witness, Alfred Nicholls, Inspector."
Carr, in his defence on oath, adhered to his statement, and added that he sold to Harrison but not to Lewis, and that Hill did not have a 'farthing of the money, and that Kerner, whom he took to be the "boss" at Lowell Street, suggested the stuff would suit figs, and was paid £3 2s. 6d. a ton, but the other man, who Kerner knew had to do with the signing of the papers, was the carman.
Hill, in his defence on oath, said that he sold the flour as agent for a man named Thompson at a fair price; that he saw Thompson about the receipt; that he never saw the flour that was taken to Slough; that he never removed any flour from Benton's stores, and had nothing to do with the sale to Harrison
Witness for Hill.
JAMES COBB . I live at 5, Brabazon Street, Poplar—I am a labourer employed by Cloke Brothers, contractors—on August 9th I was at the London and North Western Railway Depot about 5.30—Hill came for a load of clinkers about 7 a.m.—I heard at the time the horn of Spratt's Patent Biscuit Works, which goes punctually at 7 a.m.—he backed to the clinker heap and started loading, which took him an hour—he was in my sight the whole time.
Cross-examined. Then he went to the depot of the London and Tilbury Railway at Bromley, about half an hour's walk from the London and North Western Railway at Poplar—he came four times during that day—he often came on other days—I remember that day on account of a 100 ton order—that impressed it on my mind.
CARR and HILL— NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
PETERSON and WESTOVER, who PLEADED GUILTY (see pages 1061 and 1065)— Three years' penal servitude each.
OLD COURT.—October 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, 31st, November 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 7th. 1904.
Before Mr. Justice Darling.
788. HENRY SCOTT (55), otherwise HENRY SLATER , GEORGE PHILIP HENRY (43), HENRY ALBERT OSBORN , JOHN PRACEY (32), otherwise JOHN BRAY, FREDERICK STANLEY DAVIES (39), and CYRIL BROUGHTON SMITH (35), Conspiring together to pervert the due course of justice. The Second Count set forth certain other overt acts done in the conspiracy.
The SOLICITOR GENERAL, MR. SUTTON, MR. MATHEWS, MR. BODKIN and MR. GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted; MR. RUFUS ISAACS, K.C., and MR. MUIR Appeared for Scott, MR. LEYCESTER for Henry, MR. C. F. GILL, K.C., and MR. VALLETTA for Osborn, MR. GRAHAM CAMPBELL for Pracey and Smith, and MR. FULTON for Davies.
SANDFORD ARNOTT . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 146. Brixton Road—for some time I have been attending Mr. Stewart Chapple, of 45, Melfort Road, Norbury—on October 18th he underwent an operation, which I was present at—as a result of that operation, he is confined to his bed, and will be for a fortnight or more—it would be dangerous to his health, and almost to his life, for him to come here to give evidence.
ROBERT OLIVER STANLEY MACE . I am a clerk in the Probate Registry at Somerset House, and produce the certified copy of the proceedings in the case of Pollard against Pollard, the King's Proctor showing cause—I have the original minutes of the Court here—I have also the affidavit in support of the petition, both dated July 12th, 1902—(Mr. Gill submitted that particulars given in the pleadings should not be given in evidence against the prisoners who were no parties to the suit, and had nothing to do with preparing the particulars, and that the overt acts alleged in the second count limited the range of the first.' Mr. Justice Darling said that he did not see why the particulars need be read, but would not shut out the evidence)—the petition was filed by Messrs. Osborn and Osborn, of 56, Copthall Avenue; it was an appearance entered for the respondent by Messrs. Gribble & Co., on July 25th—the petition was set down for hearing on September 2nd, 1902—no answer was filed by the respondent, and it went into the undefended list, and was heard on November 24th, 1902, when a decree nisi was granted to the petitioner—Osborn and Osborn acted as solicitors to the petitioner—on May 26th, 1903, an appearance was entered on behalf of the King's Proctor, and on June 11th, 1903, the King's Proctor's plea was filed—the particulars appear on the minutes of the Court, and were filed on July 17—on August 13th, 1903, the second block was filed—the petitioner's reply to the King's Proctor's intervention is dated September 14th, 1903—the solicitors were Osborn and Osborn for the petitioner, and Gribble & Co. for the respondent—the case was heard before the President and a special jury on a number of days between March 16th and April 21st, 1904, upon which day the decree nisi granted on November 24th, 1902, was rescinded, and there was substituted for it a judicial separation and custody of the child on the ground of cruelty—I produced all the documents put in in the case—they were left in the custody of the Court—I have checked the list which was made of the documents.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. The allegations in the petition from Nos.3 to 7 refer to acts of cruelty—I am pretty familiar with the practice of the Divorce Court—I should say it is a very common thing for evidence of adultery to be proved by immoral women—I have been present when every kind of case has been tried—a shorthand note is taken of everything that takes place in Court—I do not know if the King's Proctor is always represented there; he is very often—among the letters put in there is a bundle of letters from Mrs. Pollard, senior, to Mrs. Kate Pollard—I cannot remember if they were read in Court—the first one I have got is May 14th, 1902.
SIDNEY BEX (Detective Sergeant.) I was' present at Bow Street Police Court on April 30th, when Stewart Chapple gave his evidence—he was cross-examined, and all the defendants had an opportunity to do so—his deposition was read over to him and he signed it—I identify his signature.—(The deposition was then read, and stated that Stewart Chapple was the official shorthand writer to the Probate, Divorce, and Admiralty Division; that he took a shorthand note of the action on November 24th, which was correct.)
FRANK MEAD . I am a clerk in the service of the Great Western Railway, at Plymouth—in the early part of 1902 I made the acquaintance of Davies at Plymouth—he was staying at the Mount Pleasant Hotel—besides meeting him there I saw him at the Golden Fleece, kept by Mr. Cleeve—I remember seeing Davies at the Golden Fleece with Thomas Pollard—Davies suggested a trip to Jersey to Pollard, and asked him if he would accompany him; Pollard declined, as he said he was not in a position to go, and his clothes were shabby; he referred particularly to his boots—Davies said that would be all right.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. Pollard was very peculiar looking; he was not a man one would be likely to forget (Pollard was brought into Court)—when I saw him he wore a very long coat; his dress was peculiar.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I am only saying what I can remember of the conversation—Davies and Pollard were both in the Golden Fleece; when I went in they were talking—I sat down near them; they saw I was there and continued their conversation—I think, I had seen Pollard in public houses before that, but I am not sure—I think I had spoken to him before.
JOHN CLEEVE . In 1902 I was landlord of the Golden Fleece in Eastcheap, Plymouth—I am now a steward of a club—I have known Pollard for some time; I have seen him with Davies in my house very often—they were talking one evening in the saloon bar, and Davies said all at once, "I am getting sick of Plymouth, I think I will take a trip to Jersey, will you come Pollard"—he said, "I have not got any money"—Davies said, "Never mind, I will pay all expenses"—I think Davies paid for all the drinks Pollard had.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. Pollard very seldom paid for any drinks, he never had any money—I did not know him in 1901—I first knew him when I took over the public house—I do not exactly know when I
first knew him—I have stood him drinks now and then—there was sometimes a sing song in the place, and some ladies used to come when I first went there, but I soon stopped that.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. When Pollard and Davies were in my saloon bar there were several customers there; they wore talking in a general way—Pollard always behaved himself as a gentleman in my presence—he was always talking about abroad, and as I had been abroad, he knew a lot of people I knew—he talked of China and round there.
EDWARD LEGG . I live at 33. St. Andrew's Street, Plymouth—in the early part of 1902 I was barman at the Bodega Wine Vaults, George Street, Plymouth—I remember Pollard visiting that place; Davies came with him frequently—as a rule they sat for a long time—one time I refused Davies when he asked for a drink, as Pollard had had enough, and so I told him to take Pollard out—they went away arm in arm—Davies always paid.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I saw Pollard with Davies for two or three weeks, but I knew him before that—he generally came in by himself; unless he saw a gentleman who would stand him a drink he would go out again after looking round—I never remember him paying for a drink—I never noticed him coming in more than once of a morning or in the afternoon of any day—you could not mistake him after you had once seen him—one thing remarkable about him was his height.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I did not have to threaten to punish him in any way to get him to drink.
WILLIAM JOHN LEE . I am manager to George Oliver, who keeps a boot shop at 4, Union Street, Plymouth—in the early part of 1902 I remember Pollard coming in with a gentleman who I cannot recognise; they both had a pair of boots; the stranger paid—the boots were sent to Mount Pleasant Hotel.
ALICE BRADBROOK . I am a book keeper at the Star Hotel. St. Heliers, Jersey—I was occupying that position in March, 1902—I keep the hotel ledger and the visitors' book—I find the names of Davies and Pollard as arriving at the hotel on March 11th, 1902—they left on March 17th—the Pollard mentioned there is the one in this case—Davies is the prisoner—Pollard's account was £1 17s. 1d. and Davies' £2 13s. 8d.; Davies paid for both—Pollard did not pay anything while at the hotel—they came together and left together.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. The total bill was £4 10s. 9d.—they had all their meals in the hotel—the account for drinks is about 7s.—no doubt there were other drinks between meals which would be paid for at the time.
MARIE TRAVERT (Interpreted.) I live at Cannes, in France—in March, 1902, I was living with Mrs. Macnamara at 7, Hillary Street, Jersey—one night in that month I remember three gentlemen coming to the house between 11 and 11.30—Pollard and Davies are two of them—at that time Marie Leroi was living in the house—she occupied room No. 4, and I was in No. 5—I first saw the three men in the sitting room down stairs—some wine was sent for; Davies paid for it—he said he was Pollard's valet—
Pollard proposed that we should go up to my room, but Davies made him go—I went upstairs with Pollard to my room—he undressed. I got on to the bed, and he had connection with me—while we were still lying on the bed I heard someone knocking at the door, and directly after Davies and the other man and Marie Leroi came into the room—Davies said something to Pollard, but as I do not understand English I cannot say what he told him—Davies then left the room—Pollard and I dressed and went down stairs to the same sitting room—Davies was there—he gave me half a sovereign—Leroi was also in the room, and Davies gave her the same as he gave me—he said he was carrying all Pollard's money as he had not all his senses about him—soon after that Pollard left the house—after he had gone Davies proposed to go upstairs with me—we went, and he had connection with me—on coming down to the sitting room he gave me the same as before—shortly after he and the other man left the house together.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I understand, but I cannot speak English—Mr. Hawksford first spoke to me about this matter (The Agent of the King's Proctor); he was something in Jersey, I do not know what—he sent me a telegram when I was in France telling me I must go to Jersey at once—I went to Hillary Street in Jersey and saw Madame Macnamara—Mr. Hawksford was not there then, but he came during the day—I didn't know who it was who had sent the telegram saying I must go at once—I went because it was signed in the name of Madame Macnamara—I left a situation in order to go—I thought I had to go whether I liked it or not; I didn't know what it was about—that was in December, 1903—Mr. Hawksford asked me whether I should know the man again—he did not tell me what the man was like—I knew what man he meant, because we were not in the habit of frequently receiving persons of that kind, and we could easily remember their visit—Mr. Hawksford asked me to describe the man, and I did so—I remembered both men who had connection with me—they had come to the house about 11 or 11.30 p.m., and the tall man left about one or one and a-half hours afterwards by himself—the other man remained much longer—Mr. Hawksford asked me to come to England and give evidence—Mrs. Macnamara speaks English—she is a native of Jersey—she told me that she had sent for me because I should have to go to England to give evidence in the case of the three persons who had come a year before in March, and who I should remember well as they had been playing pranks in the house—Leroi wasn't there—Mr. Hawksford told me that I was obliged to go to England and give evidence—when I saw the tall man again I knew him at once—Mr. Hawksford said he would pay my expenses before I came to England—he gave me 10s. a week and my food for eleven weeks—when I came to London I stayed at the Hotel de Temple—Leroi was with me and Mrs. Macnamara—I went back to Jersey—I left Mrs. Macnamara the next day and took another situation—this is the fourth time I have come to England in this case—I was always told I should have to come—I think Mr. Hawksford took a statement in writing from me, but I cannot remember—the last time,
I came over with Mrs. Macnamara and Leroi—Mrs. Macnamara was at the police court, but was not called—she is not here now—I think the paper I signed was printed—when I recognised the tall man he was in a passage which was not very well lighted—I did not speak to him, and he did not speak to me—I am not mistaken about him—the conversation which took place in the house in March was in English—this (Produced) is the statement I signed—I do not know who wrote it; it was sent to me at Trouville to sign by Mr. Hawksford—my name was probably on it when it was sent to me—I did not notice if it was written in ink or pencil—Mr. Hawksford is called an eminent solicitor—I made a verbal statement at Trouville, and it was written down on a piece of paper, and it was sent to Jersey—Mr. Hawksford probably got my address from Mrs. Macnamara—I did not know him—I first saw him at his office—I was taken there by Madame Macnamara twice—she never told me that she was frightened that there might be trouble about her house—when I got the telegram from her I started for Jersey the following day—I do not know what she was paid for finding me and bringing me over—there was a tall fair man at the house in March besides the tall dark man and the short dark man—I remember being examined by a gentleman in a private room when some other gentlemen were there—it is possible that I then said that the tall dark gentleman asked me to go with him to my room, and that the fair gentleman, who was not quite so tall, went with Marie Leroi—if I said so it is true—after we had been there some time, I think it was the tall fair man and Leroi who came in—while Mr. Hawksford was paying me so much a week I saw Mrs. Macnamara every day—I did not sign any statement until I went to Trouville—Madame Macnamara only came to England with me twice—I read the statement that was sent to me to sign—I sent it back by post—the door of my room was very easy to open—Hillary Street is five or six minutes walk from the Star Hotel—I have not got the letter which was sent to me telling me to sign the statement—I keep no letters—Mr. Hawksford went to Trouville, but I was not there then—that was before he had seen me at Jersey—I saw Madame Macnamara in July last in Jersey—I came over in July by myself and returned by myself.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I distinctly remember the tall dark man and Davies—I said in February last that I could not remember the valet, but I recognised him as soon as I saw him—I first identified Davies in May last—I do not remember anything being said when I got into the sitting room, except that wine was sent for—the men were talking among themselves, but I could not understand what they said—I said in February that the tall fair man said they had been recommended to the house, and had been obliged to strike matches to find the door plate—Madame Hacnamara repeated the statement to us because we could not understand English—I fetched the wine—the valet paid for it before I fetched it—I took the money from the table—I did not kuow by whom it was given—the men arranged among themselves who should go upstairs with me—I locked my door, but it was very easy to open when it is locked, a crew was gone—the valet came in to fetch the tall dark gentleman—the
tall fair man was there and Marie Leroi—Madame Macnamara did not come in then—she pointed out the door of my room to the valet, but she did not come in, she came up the staircase—I do not remember if I said in February that Madame Macnamara and the valet only came in.
Re-examined. I received the telegram recalling me to Jersey while I was at Cannes—Madame Macnamara had the custody of my child—I did not make a statement to Mr. Hawksford on my arrival at Jersey—I had made it at Trouville, and I signed it there—I had not seen Mr. Hawksford at that time—I first saw him after my return to Jersey—I read the statement over before I signed it—nobody was with me when I signed it—the contents of the document were true—I sent it to Madame Macnamara at Jersey—it was a long time after that that I received the telegram—I went to Mr. Hawksford's twice while I was at Jersey—I did not give evidence on the last occasion that I came here—when I was here in February I gave evidence in a little room, and not in court—I was not present at the Divorce Court in March for the purpose of being called as a witness—the third time I came to this country was in July, 1904—that was to go before the Grand Jury—I was not called as a witness then; Mrs. Macnamara and Leroi came over with me in February—they came as witnesses—I remember being at Mrs. Macnamara's towards the end of January, 1904, and receiving a visit from men who came to see Mrs. Macnamara and myself—I did not know them—(Mr. Gill objected to the witness being asked what proposals these men made to her. Mr. Mathews submitted that he was entitled to ask the questions, as it had been suggested that there was a special reason why one or two of the witnesses should be kept under supervision, the reason being that there had been some attempt on those witnesses. Mr. Justice Darling ruled that if the men could be identified with any of the prisoners the evidence would be admissible, but otherwise the witness could not be asked what propositions they made.)
MARIE LEROI (Interpreted.) I now live in Guernsey, but in March, 1902, I was living at Mrs. Macnamara's, at 7, Hillary Street, Jersey—I occupied room No. 4—Travert was also living in the house, in room No. 5—one night in March I remember three visitors coming to the house—they were in the sitting-room downstairs when I first saw them—two of them were a tall dark man (Pollard), and a man with a big moustache (Davies), who said he was the valet, and he paid for what was had in the house—I went up to my room with the third man, who was tall and fair—whilst I was there Davies came in, but as I do not understand English I do not know what he said—I went to the door of room No. 5—shortly afterwards I went downstairs—Davies paid me.
Cross-examined by MR. JILL. I did not see Pollard after March, 1902, until some time this year—on the night in March I only saw him for a short time—he was not alone with me—when Pollard came down stairs he looked rather tipsy, and went away—I recognised him at once when I saw him again two years after—I did not speak to him in 1902—I was with Travert last night—I was not spoken to by any gentleman
about the evidence I was going to give—I did not come over with Travert—when I came over formerly I stayed with her in London three times—I was first spoken to about giving evidence about a year ago, when I was at Guernsey—Madame Macnamara came to see me, and I went with her to an hotel to see Mr. Hawksford—I was told I should have to make a statement, and I was asked whether I remembered the three persons that came to Madame Macnamara's in March, and I said I did remember them—a statement was taken from me in writing—I had stayed at Mrs. Macnamara's three different times—she said she was frightened her house would be prosecuted—she did not say that was the reason why I must make a statement—she only told me she was frightened the last time she came to the court—I came to England to give evidence the first time because Mr. Hawksford made me—he paid for my journey—I believed that I had to come—if I had known that such explanations would be asked of me I should not have come here—I came because I believed I had no choice—I did not know who Mr. Hawksford was—Madame Macnamara told me he was the Public Prosecutor—she only came to Guernsey once—she said she had also been able to find Travert, because she was writing to Travert on account of her little girl, who stays with her—when I recognised Pollard I was with Travert and Mrs. Macnamara.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. (Mr. Fulton said that he was informed that the tall fair man was a stranger casually met in crossing.) I do not speak English at all, and understood nothing that was said on this night—it was Madame Macnamara who told me that Davies was a valet to the tali dark man—I said in February that the man I went upstairs with told me that Davies was his valet—I cannot remember if he told me upstairs or downstairs—the tall fair man opened the door of No.5; they came and fetched me from my room; myself, the tall fair gentleman, and Davies all entered No.5—the tall fair man did not open the door—they asked me where was my friend with the tall dark gentleman, and asked me to show them the room—I took them to the door of No.5, and while I was pointing to the door they pushed me in—the door gave way, and we all three entered—they asked me in English, which I do not understand, but "gentlemen" is a word I am forced to know—that was the only word which was spoken and I saw what they wanted.
Re-examined. MRS. MACNAMARA told me she was afraid her house would be prosecuted the last time I came to Bow Street—she is still in Jersey.
JOHN CHARLES BARRETT . I am a clerk in the Money Order Department of the G.P.O.—I produce a telegraph money order and the application form for that order, issued on March 12, 1902, at the Lothbury Post Office, the remitter being E. Wright, 13, Basinghall Street, for £5, payable to F. Davies, at Jersey—I also produce two similar documents dated March 17th, from the same post office, the remitter being E. Wright, 13, Basinghall Street, payable to F. Davies, for £4 at Guernsey—I also produce two further documents of the same kind dated March 20,
the remitter and the person to whom the money is remitted being the same—the amount was £2 payable at Plymouth. (The evidence of Davies, Henry, Scott. Osborn. and Bray given in the. Divorce. Court when the King's Proctor intervened was then read at great length.)
THOMAS POLLARD . I now reside at 34. Headlands Park. Plymouth—with mv father and mother—I was married to Kate Pollard on July 4th, 1801—I continued to live with her until April 13th. 1901—upon that date I went to stay with my parents at Headlands Park—I have lived with them there ever since with slight breaks—when I went down to live with them I went with the assent of my wife and at her request, in fact, she made all the arrangements—when I was there I recollect in November, 1901, meeting Smith, who I knew as Roberts; he told me his name was Roberts—at that time I had not the slightest idea that I was being watched by detectives or at any time up to the trial in November. 1902—I was walking down one morning and I went into a paper shop on my way into the town—Smith followed me in; I think he asked me some common question, which I answered, and we entered into a conversation; he told me he was a stranger there; I had nothing to do and I chatted with him—that was the commencement of the acquaintance—I saw him from time to time after that—I ran across him accidentally so far as I was concerned—at that time I had very little means; my personal spending money was about 3s. a week, which my wife sent me, out of which I bought tobacco, papers, and small items—I remember in March, 1902, making the acquaintance of Davies—that was done in the smoking room at the Golden Fleece—I used to go into the little back parlour and have a glass of beer, and Davies came in there and made my acquaintance in a casual way—he said, "I know you"; I said, "I do not recollect you at all": he said, "Is not your name Pollard"; I said, "Yes": he said, "I used to know you when you lived up in Bedford Place somewhere"—I said, "Did you; I haven't the slightest recollection"—he said, "That is easily accounted for; I had not this then, you know." and he pulled his moustache, which is rather a long one—then we had drinks together—I presume Davies paid for them—I might have paid had I the money—I do not suppose I had—he met me frequently—we nude appointments, and he waited for me, and I met him whenever I went out—I ran across him sometimes by appointment and sometimes accidently—he said he was travelling—I understood he was in business with a brother or a brother-in-law—I did not see any business being done—he said he had been to South Africa for a trip on business and come back—on the occasions that he met me we generally went and had a drink, and then perhaps went for a short walk, and then perhaps had another drink—we had walks into the county, too—I showed him around the immediate district; just the prettiest places—one day he said, "Iam utterly sick of Plymouth; I must get out of it. I am going to have a change; I am going over to the Channel Islands"; that he had a little business there, and was going to combine pleasure with business, and he added, "Will you go with me?" I said, "I should like to very much, because I am thoroughly tired and sick of Plymouth, having nothing to
do hero, and coming down every day and doing nothing." He said, "Will you come?" I said, "No, I cannot." He said, "Why not?" I said, "Well. I am too shabby, and I cannot go, I have not means of any sort." He said. "Oh, that does not matter: you come alone—what is the mattor?" I said, "I have not any boots for another thing"—he said, "I want a pair of boots; come down with me and we will get some"—so we went down to a shop in Union Street named Oliver's, and we had a pair of boots each—he paid for them—he also bought me a new hat—he repeated the offer to take me on this trip several times—it was discussed on many occasions and I hesitated for a long time before I accepted it, which I did after great pressure—I believe we left Plymouth on March 11th, 1902—we went straight to Jersey to the Star Hotel—Davies paid the expenses there with the exception of some small items which I had the money to pay for—I started with about a a sovereign in my pocket—I went about with Davies there—after breakfast in the morning we would go round to a cafe and have a game at billiards, and probably several drinks, and then we would go back to lunch—one evening, it may have been March 12th, I went with him to a house of accommodation, that was after a long drive in the afternoon—coming back we called at many public houses—when we came back to St. Heliers we stopped at the first hotel, I forget the name, at the far end of the town and had more drinks, in fact the coachman had so much that he fell off the box and let the horses run away—during that day Davies paid for all the drinks and the cab, but he did not pay the cabman on that day—eventually he did, and he paid for the cabman's drinks—we went back to the Star and had dinner and I have no doubt we had more drinks—after dinner, Davies suggested we should go out and have a look round—we went out—we went into one or two places, and played ping-pong, I remember at one place, and then we went into a house in the front, which I remember had green shutters—it was a house of accommodation, which Davies knew—he took us there—there was another man besides myself—I think Davies said simply, "Come in here and have a drink"—I had a very good idea what the house was—I went in with him to that house—a bottle of wine was ordered, and two or three women came in with their hats on, as though they had come from a walk—one, I remember, had a perambulator with a baby in it—we left that house—Nothing happened there that I saw—we went from there to Mrs. Macnamara's, in Hillary Street—Davies found that house out—I had never heard of these houses before—I had never been in St. Heliers before—when we went into Mrs. Macnamara's, I think at first we saw only Mrs. Macnamara—some drink was ordered—I think it was claret or burgundy—Davies ordered it and paid for it—I did not see him pay for it, but I did not do so—there was no conversation between Davies and Mrs. Macnamara when I was there that I remember, except casual remarks—two girls came down into the room where I and Davies and Mrs. Macnamara were—I am not sure that we were all there when they came down, but we were all there after—I had not said any
thing about the girls coming down—I have not the least idea how it was they were brought down—I thought they came quite in the ordinary way—they were Mario Travert and Marie Leroi—after some lapse of time it was suggested we should go upstairs—I cannot be sure who suggested it—I was to go up with one of the girls and the other man who was there was to go up with the other one—that was suggested by Davies—I said: I have not got any money: I cannot go, and I do not want to: I will go home" He said: "Oh rubbish, that is all right: that is all right"—I did not hear him on that occasion represent that he was my valet?—I went upstairs with Marie Travert, and into the room with her—I was partially undressed, not fully—I was smoking a cigarette and lying on the bed—the door was suddenly pushed open and the landlady and Davies looked in and made some remark—I cannot remember what he said—after that I got up and dressed and went downstairs—Marie Travert came down too—I immediately left the house, leaving Davies behind—I asked if there was anything to pay, and he said, "No, nothing," so I left—I returned to the hotel—on the 17th I stayed a night at Guernsey, and on the 18th went back to Plymouth—during all that time I had not the slightest idea that Davies was an inquiry agent or a detective—I never saw Davies after my return to Plymouth until I came up here to the Courts—down to July 10th I never knew that I was being watched—I do not know Bray or Pracey at all—I never recollect seeing him in Plymouth at all—on July 10th I got a note with a visiting card enclosed with the name of Albert Osborn on it—I had not the least idea who he was up to that time—I have tried to find that note and card, but I have been unable to do so—it said "I am in Plymouth, and I shall be very much obliged to you if you will give me a call during the afternoon"—it was headed "The Grand Hotel"—it was brought by a porter, and I said, "I am going out shortly, and I will come up"—in the afternoon I went up—just as I was entering the hotel Osborn came forward and said, "You arc Mr. Pollard, I believe?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I want to have a chat with you. Will you come inside?"—we went into a room just behind the office, a sort of small smoking room—we sat down and I think he asked me to have a drink—I had a whiskey and soda, I think—then he gave me a cigar—he said, "I have come down on behalf of your wife; you have been up to London kicking up a row, and she has decided to have no more to do with you." I said, "I am very grieved to hear that, and I am very sorry for having created any disturbance, but I was living under great tension at the time, and I regret it. "I appealed to him and I said. "Is there not any chance of making up?" he said, "None whatever. It is absolutely hopeless"—I said, "If it is, I think I shall clear out of the country; I shall go abroad"—he said, "I think it would be about the best thing you can do; it is a very good idea; your wife will take proceedings against you"—I said, "On what basis?" and he said, "We know all about you in Plymouth; we have found out all about you"—I said, "You have found out nothing wrong as
regards women"—"Oh," he said, "we know all about that"; he said it in an insinuating way, as if he knew that I had had some connection with women, which I emphatically denied—when I appealed to him, and asked him could he not intercede or use his influence he said, "It is perfectly hopeless; she has quite made up her mind to have nothing more to do with you"—so I said, "Well, I must accept the position."—I should say I was there with him on that occasion about three-quarters of an hour—I never saw him again until the trial, when the King's Proctor intervened—within a week I was served with a citation from the Divorce Court at my mother's house by a Mr. Hamilton, as I know him now—I did not know who he was then—I know now that he was one of Slater's employees—I did not know it then—when I got that I went to consult Mr. Bennett, a solicitor of Whiteford and Bennett—he entered an appearance to the citation, and subsequently communicated with me on the subject of the petition—at that time I had no means by which I could defend the divorse proceedings—I endeavoured to raise means, but I could not—I had tried to raise the money to defend the case, I again saw Mr. Bennett on several occasions—if I had had the money I should most certainly have defended the case—on August 2nd I remember getting a letter in pencil—I have not it now—in consequence of that letter I went to the Clock Tower on the Hoe, opposite the Royal Hotel in the centre of the town—I cannot remember the whole of the letter, but I can remember the gist of it—it said, "Dear Tom,—Will you meet me at the Clock Tower at 11 o'clock I should very much like to see you; just back from South Africa. Your old friend, Friend, "—I think it was—I did not know any such person, and could not make out who it was, but I went down out of curiosity, and I did not see anybody—I knew at that time that Davies' name was Frederick, but I did not know Bray at all—I have since that date seen Maud Goodman several times, and Louisa Ford once or twice—I did not observe them at the Clock Tower or about there—I should not be likely to do so; there is quite a wide space there—at that time I had not the slightest knowledge of their existence—I did not notice Bray there at all on that day—I had no knowledge of him at the time—I had no knowledge on that day that I was being watched or identified—I know Mrs. Dale—she is a sister of my wife's—I have not seen her for some years—I did not see her in the early part of August at Plymouth—I did not know she was there identifying me—I should not have recognised her had I seen her, because I have seen her since in the Courts and she is much changed—I received no notice that the divorce case against me was going to be heard—I saw in the papers that the Divorce Court commenced its work on a certain day in November, and I came up to London to the Courts in the Strand—I thought from the citation my case was coming on on that date—I made inquiries, not at the Courts, and I discovered that my case might not come on for weeks or months, so I went back to Plymouth—during 1902 I was in the habit of visiting a Mr. Thomas at Summerland Terrace, he was retired from the Dockyard—I forget the number, it was the last
house on the left hand side—it was No. I or 3; 1, I think; there was an Auctioneer's Mart at the extreme end of the road, and then comes the first private house, I think it is No. 1—Summerland Terrace and Summer-land Place are opposite each other—I saw the account of the divorce proceedings in the Plymouth papers the day after it was heard, on November 24th, 1902; I saw the ordinary short account—I got no notice before it was heard—on December 2nd I wrote this letter to the King's Proctor (Produced)—on January 1st, 3rd, and (5th I got these three letters, signed "Longleys," and many others of different dates—(It was admitted that they were written by mith.)—' Read: January 1, 1903. Dear Sir,—There are certain facts in connection with the proceedings lately taken against you in the Divorce Court of which you ought to be aware at the earliest possible moment. Should you be able to come to London the matter can be privately gone into at a personal interview at Longley's Detective Agency, Featherstone Buildings, Holborn. On calling at the offices suggested you will be given certain information which will enable you to approach the King's Proctor. As you will readily understand, it is not desirable to go into this matter by letter. An interview here would cost you nothing, and afterwards it will be for you to consider the advisability of seeing the authority mentioned.—I am, Sir, yours faithfully, Longley's—T. Pollard, Esq." "The next is January 3rd: "Dear Sir,—We are glad to receive your letter of yesterday, and wish to impress upon you the importance of keeping your own counsel at Plymouth. Do not try to trace the woman who was the chief witness against you, or make any local inquiries of any sort or kind. It is essential that you should come up to town as soon as possible, and bring with you the citation, all letters and telegrams received by you from Mrs. Pollard during your stay in Plymouth, a photograph of Mrs. Pollard, and also copies of the western newspapers in which the case was reported. We have no doubt but that we shall be able to come to some arrangement with you at a personal interview in regard to possible future expenses. Should the King's Proctor intervene, you will be to a great extent relieved from this financial burden. On second thoughts it might be as well to post us a copy of the citation, and also, as you suggest, a copy of your letter to the King's Proctor. Further, a slight sketch of Mrs. Pollard's life, so far as you know it. Would help us to corroborate one or two points.—We are. dear Sir, yours faithfully, Longley's." January 6th: "Dear Sir,—We are obliged by your letter and copies of letters which reached us yesterday. Our Mr. Longley called on the Solicitors to the Treasury in the course of' the morning, and, at their request, a preliminary statement was later on submitted for the attention of His Majesty's Proctor.—We are, dear Sir, yours faithfully, Longley's"—on May 14th, 1903, I attended at the office of the King's Proctor's agents at Plymouth, Messrs. Watts. Ward, and Anthony, where I saw Mr. Murray, the managing clerk—I had previously seen him frequently and knew he was the managing clerk, and engaged for the King's Proctor—I also saw there upon that occasion at the office the woman I now know to be Maud Goodman, and another woman I now know to be
Louisa Ford—Mr. Stredwick, who is the assistant in the King's Proctor's office, was also there—up to that date I had never seen Goodman on Ford before to my knowledge—there is no truth whatever in the suggestion that I ever had immoral relations with Maud Goodman; or that I had ever been at 3 or 9, Summerland Place; or that I ever met Goodman and Ford together—when I was in the office and these women were there, Maud Goodman said she did not know me—that was the first time, so far as I know, that I had ever been confronted face to face with her—this photograph is a photograph of me (Produced) and had been originally a joint photograph; it was cut from one like this of myself and my wife—they were taken about fourteen years ago, when we were first married.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I knew Longleys were detective agents; but why they were approaching me or writing letters to me I had no idea; I was rather surprised to hear of it—nor did I know of the existence of Cartwright or Stevens, nor had I any knowledge of what theey wre enquiring at the time—my evidence at Bow Street was read over to me, and I signed it as being correct—I had an office of my own to work at ten years ago in Gracechurch Street—I paid the rent, I believe, as long as I could; I gave it up in a perfectly friendly way: I did not run away—since then I have had no office—after my marriage I took my wife to Bedford Place to live—it is right to say that after three weeks I do not remember being turned out of there for not paying the rent—from Bedford Place we went to a coffee shop near London Bridge, kept by Mrs. Hill—I took one room with use of other rooms—I cannot say what happened—from there I forget whether I took my wife to the Great Eastern Hotel, Liverpool Street—I think we went to Clapham—I took her to Faulkner's Hotel, Newgate Street, but I do not know when, and I took her to the Temperance Hotel, Moorgate Street, one or two nights—I do not remember taking her to a coffee shop in Whitechapel, I will not swear I did not—I do not think I had to leave either of those places because I could not pay—I could not say exactly how soon after my marriage my wife had to go and work, I think about two or three years—she worked at different places, amongst others Fuller's, in Queen's Road, Bayswater—she went to live at her mother's place and at her sister's place, but she always paid—from the time that she got situations—she was working in different situations down to 1901, with certain intervals—before I married her I was in possession of a little money which came to me from my first wife, who died about three years after the marriage—she left a small sum of money in which I, was to have a life interest, and which was to go after my death to her child—it was settled so at my request—the child is named Leslie—my dead wife's relatives came over here and asked me to let him go to America, and I consented—that is ten years ago—I have made enquiries with regard to him since, but not of late years—I have not contributed anything to his support—he was taken with that proviso, and it has been unnecessary to do so—"I did mortgage my life interest for £500, but I do not recollect the date; it was twelve months after my wife's death; I think it was
mortgaged through Mr. Cosens to one of his clients; there was a second mortgage to Mr. Cosens subsequently, but not on the same estate; I had nothing but this life interest that I could mortgage; from the money coming to me there had to be deducted the interest on the mortgage and the premiums on a life insurance, and Mr. Cosens paid my wife first 25s. a week, then 20s. a week, and then 15s. a week"—I believe that is correct—the money coming from Mr. Cosens, representing that life interest after the deductions was paid in the form of weekly payments to my wife—I do not think that was to prevent me spending it on drink—I quite agreed with the idea—I was not aware that it was to try and prevent me having the chance of spending it on drink—I might have pawned the sheets on one occasion, but not for drink—a sheet is a more convenient thing to carry than a chair or a table, a sort of thing you can put under your coat and pawn for a shilling or two—that was when my wife left me without money, which she frequently did—I may have pawned sheets at a pawn shop in the Uxbridge Road, close to the last place I lived at with my wife—on one occasion my wife found me in a public house with the child of my second marriage—I was talking to the barmaid asking her to serve me—the last house we lived at was kept by Miss Marshall—she did not give me notice that I should have to leave, or say she could not have my wife there while I was there—I do not know what she said to my wife—she went to her work every day—I spent most of my day strolling about in fine weather, if I was wet I stayed at home—I did not stay in bed—I do not care much for bed—I was not aware that Miss Marshall declined to have me there any longer—my wife told me that Miss Marshall had "given her notice, she did not give me notice personally—I said at the police court "While at Miss Marshall's I was once found at the Bush Hotel, a public house, with my child: my wife found me there; Miss Marshall gave my wife notice, I was told that; I had previously stayed at my wife's sister-in-law's house; I do not think it was through me we went; I think there was friction between her and my wife; we also stayed at my wife's mother's place at Fuller's, where my wife was employed, in Queens Road; when Miss Marshall gave notice it was at that time that I went to Plymouth"—at that time I knew that my wife had been to a solicitor and a solicitor who knew me and all about my first marriage and the child, had written to me; I do not know what representations she made to him; he wrote to me on February 1st, 1901, saying. "Dear Sir.—We have been consulted by Mrs. Kate Pollard, your wife, with reference to your recent misbehaviour to her and the necessity of some action on her part in consequence. We have advised her that a deed of separation may be necessary, and before proceeding with this we appeal to you in your own interests to render it unnecessary by treating your wife with courtesy and respect, as we are instructed your recent conduct has been painfully the reverse. In the event of the separation becoming necessary, the mortgagee of the Baltimore Trust Funds will be advised to retain all the income until the mortgage money, £750, is paid
off. which would take fifteen years. This course was advised by the American lawyers about two years ago, but was not acted upon by us out of consideration for you and your son. This will be the case unless an immediate improvement in your behaviour takes place as suggested. We have not lost interest in your concerns, but you never inquire after your son Leslie, or write to us."—The only means of livelihood that I had was what would come from Mr. Cosens through my wife—I arranged that it should come so—if that stopped I had nothing—at the time the divorce proceedings were commenced that money stopped as far as I was concerned—I wrote to stop it myself—I did not go to Mr. Cosen's office and complain that I was not receiving the money, and ask for it, and he did not insist on my going very quickly out of the office—the amount was about 25s. a week—I received it weekly from Mr. Cosens—it was reduced afterwards—I was never informed what the amount was—it was entirely through my wife, she did all the business—I believe the fund had been mortgaged, and there was due in reference to that, £750, so the amount was reduced until it first became 25s., then 20s., and subsequently 15s. a week—after the divorce proceedings commenced, I did not get any more money, or for some time before the actual proceedings commenced—I do not remember at what date the money stopped, but it was about that time—I did not complain in Plymouth to everyone I spoke to that the action of my wife had stopped my allowance—I did not make any public complaints to my boon companions or to my friends in the public houses—since I wrote to the King's Proctor in December, 1902, I have not done a day's work—I occasionally assist a friend of mine—I was in the tea trade at one time and went to China, and was there eight years—since I have been back in England I was an insurance broker for some years, and then I was ill—I had paralysis, and I had to give it up—that is the reason I went to Plymouth for the benefit of my health—I found out it was because I had paralysis that I could not work when I could not walk about—I am a very good walker now—I have not been able to walk about for the last ten years—I have not been absolutely tied to the house—it was ten years ago that paralysis prevented me from working—it took two or three years to wear off—when I went with a pair of sheets to the pawnbroker's, it was not very far—I have never before to-day said upon oath that the fact that I did not walk was due to the paralysis I had ten years ago—if somebody gave me an insurance I should take it to Lloyd's, and so should be an insurance broker, and I should get my commission on that, and also life insurance—I asked people to insure their lives or their ships—you go to various offices where you think business is to be done, and ask them whether they wanted to. be insured—I was not at all well when I got down to Plymouth, and I took a still further rest—since I wrote that letter to the King's Proctor my father, mother and brother had been supporting me—I think that is all—my sister helped me indirectly—I do not think I got all I could out of her—I dare say there are people I can borrow a sovereign from now and then
if I liked to ask them—there is a limit to all things—the King's Proctor has assisted me to a small extent—he made me a small allowance while the case was pending—I think it was 15s. a week, but it stopped long ago—it went on for about two months—that was before the trial in the Law Courts at the begining of this year—before that I had nothing at all from them—I only got expenses which were incurred if I went on a certain business—if I had to attend a solicitor's office and neglect the insurance broking my time was paid for—I cannot tell you the scale, but it was extremely small—when it has been necessary for me to travel, and I have wanted necessaries, they have provided small articles like boots or clothes and very likely a hat—I may have had two suits of clothes—I had my grey or lavender suit at the police station—I got this one since for this trial—I may have been disreputable-looking, but I was not naked—they found me this smart suit which I have got on now when I came up the other day—I did not get measured for it after I came up—I was fitted straight away—I have not been staving at Matcham's Hotel while I have been in town, but in private apartments—I have one or two companions that I can talk to—there was a gentleman connected with a Government office—I have gone to the same place on each occasion because I have found it very comfortable there—I have had the chance of going elsewhere, but I said I preferred going there—when I was up at Bow Street, I had my suit of clothes and my hotel bill paid, but I only had my railway fare paid when I went back—I had my 'bus fares—I was not taken out in the evening—I had—2s. perhaps, to see me through the day, and I got what I could, I suppose—when I went to Plymouth, I do not think at first the 15s. a week was sent to me direct—I swore before the Magistrate: "At first, when I went to Plymouth, I think the money was sent to me," but not 15s.—I think it was 8s.—when I went to Plymouth first, the money was sent down direct to me by ray wife, and my mother complained that I spent the whole of it and gave her none, and then the money was sent to her in consequence of a letter from her—I said before: "The money that was for my support was sent weekly to Plymouth. I do not know if at this time my wife was receiving 15s. a week from Mr. Cosens. I believe it was 15s. The money sent by her to Plymouth, 8s. to mother, and 3s. to me, may not have been sent direct to me for fear I might spend it on myself"—that is perfectly true—when the money was sent to my mother in that way I succeeded in intercepting it on one occasion—I took a letter that was addressed to my mother with the money in it, took the money out of it and spent it—my mother was called as a witness in the King's Proctor's case, and the letters that she had written to my wife were produced in Court and put to her—it is correct to say, "From April, 1901, to July, 1902, I would not swear to how many times I wrote to my wife; I would not swear three times, or any number"; neither would I now—I wrote in reply to letters from her, but when I got no letters I did not reply any further—I said before, "The two or three letters I wrote from Plymouth were written when I first arrived; afterwards I ceased to write"—I knew that
my mother was in communication with my wife—(Mr. Gill read several letters from Pollard's mother to his wife in 1901, saying, how mad drunk Pollard was at times, that she had tended him as much as she could, but he called her vile names, and that he had made acquaintance with those who did him harm)—from the time I arrived at Plymouth till the divorce proceedings commenced I paid my wife one visit, less than a month before I saw Osborn on July 10th—I think it was the beginning of June—I have six brothers—they are living a respectable life, and are in employment and have businesses as far as I know—I have not asked them for assistance or money—I got £2 from my mother in respect of the journey to London—I will not swear that it was not £2 10s.—my mother did not send to see that I was going to take a ticket to go to town; or go to the railway station to see whether I took the ticket—the money was given to me in the house—I travelled by the night train—I got the money when I had got my bag in my hand, ready to go to the station—I was starting—I knew the address which my wife put at the head of her letters; I presumed that was where she was living—I did not write and say I was coining, because I waited until I got to London and then I sent a telegram—from the position she had taken up, I did not think she would be very pleased to see me and would try to stop me, because she had shown no anxiety to see me in all her letters; that was my personal feeling in the matter—I presumed she was living in Forest Gate, and I thought by the time I should get there she would have left for the City—she said at the time she was employed in the City; I found out afterwards it was not so, but I thought I should miss her; therefore I sent a telegram, thinking it would get there quicker than I could—I arrived at Paddington about 6 or 7 a.m. I think—I did not go to Forest Gate then, because I had an objection to going there to begin with, and I thought it better to send her a telegram to meet me in the City, from both points of view—I did not get to Forest Gate for many hours after that, but I got there all right—I think I arrived there at 3.30 a.m. on the following morning; a "police constable there saw me, I can not fix the hour myself—I know it was late; I think 3.30 is very much too late—I got there in a hansom—I cannot say if I took the cab in Marylebone Road—I would not say I did not, because I do not know, but I do not think I did—I should say it was in the Edgware Road myself—I had not got the money to pay for the cab—the cabman did not complain of my conduct in the least—he did not call the policeman—my wife's sister called the policeman—the cabman did not create a disturbance there in consequence of my having taken him from London and not being in a position to pay him—he was not pleased, but he was not abusive or anything of that sort—he asked me, and I said "Go and get your fare there"—I meant at my wife's—she had my money, I considered, and I had not the money to give him—it was a very wrong thing to do, and I was ashamed of it—I had had a day in London, otherwise I should not have done that—I did not start in the morning drunk—I was never absolutely drunk that
day at all, I was rather excited—I should say I was more or less under the influence of drink during the whole day—I had not slept the whole night, and it has an effect—I could not travel free from Plymouth, I had to buy my ticket—I had £2—the fare to London is 18s. and something—I think I had to buy some necessary articles with the other sovereign—when I spoke to the cabman in Edgware Road, I did cot leave a woman there—I am perfectly sure I did not associate with any woman in Edgware Road—I was by myself when I met the cabman, but I do not remember where it was—I do not think I had got the necessary articles with me that I had bought with the sovereign—I forget if I had any money, it is so long ago—I had a little—not very much—I explained to the cabman that I had none—he was not. annoyed in the least—I brought a bag to town with me—I left it at shop in Praed Street, and asked them to kindly care for it—I bought some articles there—I never found the bag, I found the shop—I think I went to the shop I left the bag at—they said they knew nothing of it—of course I could not dispute the matter, I had no receipt for it—I went to my sister and asked for the money to pay my fare to go away—I had no difficulty in getting it—she gave me 25s. to go to Plymouth—I saw Osborn on one occasion only—he told me that he was acting in this matter for my wife, and complained to me of my conduct on that visit to London, and said that it was the climax—he warned me that my wife would have nothing more to do with me—I understood that this going at 3.30 a.m. drunk with a cab driven from London to Forest Gate was the sort of thing that did not want repeating—when I got there I walked quietly back from Forest Gate to London—I suppose it is nine or ten miles—I went to my sister's the next afternoon and asked her to lend me the money to go back to Plymouth—I went to Paddington and got the train back to Plymouth that night—upon occasions when I have got no money I can walk nine or ten or twenty miles—I should be very glad to earn money by walking—when I saw Osborn he was standing in the hall—afterwards he had tea—I did not express any desire to take tea—I do not care for tea—I was in the tea trade once, and I have had enough of it—when he spoke to me about my having been in London that matter was fairly fresh in my recollection—I had hardly got over my adventures physically—I cannot repeat his exact words, but the impression was most defined on my mind that he insinuated that I had been with women in Plymouth, which I emphatically denied—he said "We know all about it"—at the Police Court I said: "At the interview Osborn said,' We know what you have been going on with in Plymouth '; that referred to women, and I emphatically denied any association with women whatever; loose women"—nothing had been said about divorce at all. but I assumed he referred to women because you have not the exact statement there—I assumed from his exact accusation put to me—I cannot say if he believed me when I said I had done nothing—I did not form any opinion—he laughed the idea off that I had had nothing to do with them, and said "Oh, yes, we know all about that"—that was the final remark as far as I remember
—he pretended not to believe me—I made a most emphatic statement that I had had no connection with women in Plymouth—I referred to Plymouth particularly, and confined it to Plymouth—I said. "Since I have been in Plymouth I have had no connection with any woman," or something to that effect—the proceedings were not mentioned; at the beginning the fact that my wife would not live with me again was only mentioned, that was the only point—nothing was said about proceedings at all—I was there about half an hour, and had one drink and one cigar, I believe—I do not know if there was any more drink—I do not know whether I had two drinks or not—I am not quite sure about that—I think one drink is right, but I should not notice it much—that was the only interview that I ever had with Osborn, and after that, the next incident that occurred was that I was served with the citation—it was handed to me, and I took it as I should a letter from a postman—I looked at it, and the man went away—I saw what it was very promptly—I did not make any denial then—I did not know who the man was who delivered it—the allowance was not sent down some time previously to that—I cannot fix the date—I said before, "When the divorce proceedings commenced, the allowance came to an end"—it was before that, I suppose when they commenced in London; before I got the citation. "I recollect going to Mr. Cosens' office about it. I did not go there; I wrote. In August I was not in London. I do not remember an interview when I asked Mr. Cosens to pay what he had been paying my wife to me. I have no recollection of his ordering me out of the office. I did not want the allowance paid to me if I received a portion of it. I certainly wanted a portion, to receive it through my wife. At the beginning of the divorce proceedings I did not want Mr. Cosens to pay the allowance to me." I went to Mr. Cosens about the allowance—eighteen months before, he had told me that as soon as there was any separation between me and my wife the allowance would come to an end—when the allowance came to an end I was in Plymouth, and no money was coming in—my mother is a comparatively poor woman—not very poor, I should think—I know that she describes herself as poor—she does not always speak the truth, or write it—to a small extent she was cooking for me and attending on me, and giving me what money she could—in December I wrote to the King's Proctor—I first saw Mr. Murray on receiving a communication from him after I had written to the King's Proctor and got a reply; after I sent in my petition, I cannot remember the date—I only went to see him when he requested me to go, about three times a week—I began to go there immediately after he was instructed to inquire, I have not got the date—it was soon after I had written to the King's Proctor, there was not a very great delay, I should think three weeks afterwards—I disclosed the fact that I had been with a woman in Jersey as soon as I was asked—I do not remember when it was, I did not admit it as soon as I knew they knew it—I volunteered it, so told them before I was asked, I believe—I cannot
swear that, but I believe that is the case—I disclosed the whole thing right through—I did not disclose it when I wrote to the King's Proctor in December—it must have been some time after that; when, I cannot tell you—I cannot give exactly the date now that I first saw Mr. Murray, I should think it was in January—I used to call in there without his requesting me to do so—I frequently passed the office or close by there, and I used to look in to ask if there was any news, or anything required of me—that went on from January down to the King's Proctor's case—I was in Plymouth all the time, and in my morning walk I would drop into the office to see if there was anything moving—it was not till May 14th that Maud Goodman was brought to the office—I do not know how many times she was interviewed by Mr. Murray before she was ripe for being confronted by me—I saw her on May 14th—there was no conversation at all; simply "Good morning"—I walked into a room and out again, and stayed there half a-minute—I might have said, How do you do"—when I went there I knew that they would have to see me—I had said, "Let me see this woman at once"—Mr. Murray did not tell me how many interviews he had had with her—I never heard that there had been an interview the day before I saw her, when she was to be in the frame of mind that I was not the man, that she had made a mistake—there was another woman with her in the room when I saw her on May 14th—I think it was Louie Ford—my account of the matter was: "Maud Goodman and Louie Ford were not in the room with me more than half-a-minute, there was no conversation. I stayed a minute or two, perhaps half-a-minute, and they looked at me, and I went out. That is the whole thing"—I asked her no question at all—I was at the hearing of the trial when the King's Proctor intervened and gave evidence—my mother and Maud Goodman gave evidence—I heard Nellie Bell called and give evidence—with regard to Mr. Cosens I said, "Cosens' complaint in his letter was as to my conduct to my wife, and taking no interest in my child Leslie"—I never inquired as to the child through Mr. Cosens—I cannot remember when I wrote to the child—I have written to him some years ago; I cannot say how many—I have not written to him because he left when he was a baby, and, therefore, as I cannot have him back, I have not wished to disturb him—he was virtually a baby—he was quite a young child—he went to Mr. Hill's coffee house where I was with my wife—I was not drunk all the time that I was at Jersey—I had lucid intervals—on going there I had some money—I can always borrow a sovereign on an emergency if I run across a friend—one of the places I was in the habit of going to was some place opposite Summerland Terrace—I knew somebody there—he was a man I could borrow money from—he has never refused me—I never trespassed on his generosity—he is dead—I could not have got money from my brothers; there is only one brother in England—I was in communication with Whiteford and Bennett, solicitors, at Plymouth—I don't think I wrote to Osborn and Osborn, the solicitors on the other side, and asked when the divorce case was coming on—I naturally should not make any enquiry—
I watched in the papers to see when it was coining on—I thought it would come on—my wife has not got a divorce—she has got a judicial separation, with custody of the child—I have lost the weekly allowance.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAHAM CAMPBELL. I forget how I fixed the date as August 2nd as the day on which I got the letter commencing "Just back from South Africa," it was a Saturday—my father had come up from Cornwall on that date—I said at the Police Court:" on a Saturday early in August"—I know it was early in August—It was not in July or September—one would be too early, and the other too late—I was going to meet my father when I got this letter—there was nothing different in my routine on Saturdays—I did not get the letter in the afternoon—I was dressing at the time—my usual time of getting up was not after 11 o'clock—I was very irregular. Sometimes I would be up at 8 and perhaps the next day at 11—I know I got up rather early on that date because I had to meet my father—then I went to the Clock Tower—there is a large open space in front of the Clock Tower—I said at the Police Court:—"There I walked up and down some time."
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I had very few acquaintances in Plymouth who used to stand me drinks—I did not have as many as I could get I—did not associate with anybody—I drank with most people I knew who would stand me a drink—I added Davies to that list after he told me he was an old friend of mine and not a stranger—I did not drink with him whenever I could, only when he forced it on me—I am not in the habit of forcing myself on people to induce them to ask me—Davies would say "Come on. you must come," I said "All right"—without that I should want a little pressing—he was a man who said he knew me years ago, but there had been an interval of time between our acquaintance—when I got to Jersey I took a great many drinks—that was my amusement—I should think we had more drink than usual on the day we went to Mrs. Macnamara's—the cabman fell off the box—Davies was getting fairly fresh—I can take a good deal—I had had quite enough to drink, but I was not absolutely drunk—the stranger we picked up was perfectly sober, or very nearly so—he was not the man who came into my room with Marie Leroi—I think he looked in after—we only had one cab on that day, but two horses, both at the same time—I was perfectly able to walk home—I drove to the house in the evening with the stranger and with Davies—we had refreshment on the way there—I suppose we gave the cabman plenty—I did not give him any, Davies always asked him, and he always took it.
Re-examined. The only two of Slaters' employees that I knew were Davies and Smith—the only other person connected with the case that I ever met was Osborn—I never met any of them on any occasion without being offered drink, I willingly accepting it as a rule—I suggested to Mr. Murray that I should be confronted with Maud Goodman—when I wanted to be confronted with Maud Goodman I knew nothing about when Mr. Murray was first able to trace Maud Goodman—I heard that Osborn was advising her not to come and be confronted with me—I do not know when I heard that—on March 17th, in the King's Proctor's
Intervention. I said, "Did he (Osborn) say anything else': he said, 'Of course you know your wife is going to take proceedings?': I said, 'On what basis?'; he said, Oh, we know all about you in Plymouth, we have found out all about you '; I said, "I do not care what you have found out, you have not found out anything wrong'; he said, 'Oh, we know everything, you will soon hear we have found out everything about you': I said, I have not done anything you cannot know in Plymouth, or that I am ashamed to Jet you know, I absolutely deny anything wrong"—In the Police Court on June 13th I said, "At the interview Osborn said, We know what you have been going on with in Plymouth.' He referred to women, and I very emphatically denied any association with women whatever—loose women."; and later I said, "I now remember on my previous evidence being read to me he said my wife would not live with me again, and was going to take proceedings. He said to me, We know all about you in Plymouth' That was the effect of it. I spoke to him some considerable time; I said I had been to China in the tea trade; I do not think I said I would not go to her any more. I said I was very sorry, and used words that implied that it should not occur again."
MAUD GOODMAX . I live at 1. Summerland Terrace, Plymouth—in July, 1902, I was living at 11, Trafalgar Street, Plymouth—I remember receiving a message there, brought by Mrs. Smith, who I knew—she told me there was a gentleman at No. 9, Summerland Place who wished to see me—she said it was a friend who had been away to the Front—in consequence I went to 9, Summerland Place and saw Osborn—Minnie Wilson was with him—I had never seen Osborn before to my knowledge—I knew Minnie Wilson—she lived at!), Summerland Place, which was a place where different women and gentlemen used to go—Osborn said a gentleman friend of his told him that any time he came to Plymouth he was to look for a girl called Maud Goodman, and he produced a photograph which he showed me, and asked me if I knew the original—this is either the photograph or one like the one he produced (Photograph of Pollard produced)—I said I might know the gentleman, but I certainly had not stopped at No. 9 with him. and if I had stopped anywhere it was at 3, Summerland Place—that was a house kept by Mrs. Condon, and a house of the same description as that which Minnie Wilson kept—I asked Osborn to come to No. 3 with me—Minnie Wilson said, "You have stopped here with him on two or three occasions"—we were then at No. 9—Minnie Wilson had nothing to do with No. 3—if I really had stopped with the man at No. 3 she would not have any means of knowing it—I asked Osborn to go round to No. 3, and we went round together—I did not tell him why it was that I wanted to go to No. 3—I do not remember if I had any conversation with him on the way—we went into the front parlour of No. 3—nobody was in the room then—I left Osborn in the front parlour and went away with the photograph—I took it to the kitchen and showed it to Nellie Bell, who was one of the occupants of Mrs. Condon's house—I remained with her a few minutes, and then returned alone to the front parlour
and told Osborn that I heard it was about a divorce case and I would not have anything more to do with it—I gave the photograph back to him—he said there was no harm in telling what I knew—he wanted me to sign a paper—I think it was to the effect that I said I thought I knew that photograph—I saw the paper but not the writing—he did not say anything about what it was—I cannot tell you where he took the paper from—I saw it in the parlour in his hand—he told me there would be no harm in signing it, and I should hear nothing more about it—I said, "I will not sign it now"—while we were still in the parlour he made an appointment to meet me at 9 p.m. that evening, at the Victoria Hotel, Plymouth, to sign the paper—I said if I would sign it I would sign it later, and he then made the arrangement to meet me at 9 o'clock at the Victoria Hotel—I left No. 3 in his company and we went to No. 9 together—I saw Minnie Wilson—Osborn was not present when I saw her on my return; I was only with her a few minutes—I had some conversation with her, and then I left No. 9 and went back to my lodgings at 11, Trafalgar Street—when I left No. 9 Osborn was still in the house, as far as I know—later that day Osborn came to me there, between about 6 and 7; I do not quite remember—Minnie Wilson was with him—they saw me in the front room down-stairs—Louie Ford was also there—Minnie Wilson also went by the name of Mrs. Thompson—I knew Louie Ford beforehand; she was living in Trafalgar Street, and was a woman who had been in Plymouth for some time carrying on the same life as myself—Osborn produced the paper and still wanted me to sign; he said I might as well sign it now as later on, because I understood he wanted to get back to London again that night—I said I would not sign it then, but I would keep the appointment that had been made for 9 o'clock that evening at the Victoria—Minnie Wilson said I had got to sign the paper—she said I knew the gentleman, and it was just as well for me to sign it now as at any other time, because I had got to sign it—Osborn could hear that—he did not say anything that I can remember—nothing more happened at that interview, as far as I can remember—Osborn went away shortly after on the arrangement that we should meet again at the hotel in the evening—he went away with Minnie Wilson and Mr. Thompson—Thompson was present at that interview throughout—he lived at No. 9, as far as I know—he was the Mr. Thompson who gave his name to Minnie Wilson, who went both by the name of Minnie Wilson and Mrs. I Thompson—Osborn left in the company of the Thompsons, and I and Louie Ford were left behind—when the question of signing the paper was mentioned I think a pen and ink were fetched—I cannot tell who it was who mentioned the pen and ink or who fetched it—I did not use it on that occasion—the next I saw of Osborn was at the Victoria Hotel at 9 o'clock—I went with Louie Ford—we went into the public bar—Mr. Thompson was there when we arrived, and two or three others with him—Osborn was there—I do not remember if Bray or any of the other prisoners were there—when I got into the bar Osborn spoke to me—I do not remember the conversation, but I know he asked me to sign a paper there—I said
I would not sign it there—he then took me across to the Swan Hotel—I do not think anything was said about going to the Swan before we left the Victoria—before I left the Victoria I had some refreshment—I do not remember what it was or who paid for it—nobody besides myself and Osborn went to the Swan—we went together to the private bar of the Swan—he wanted me to initial a photograph to say that I knew the gentleman, and also to sign a paper to say that I knew him—I did not want to do it at first—he said I should not hear anything more about it. and offered me a sovereign, which he produced—he said if did not sign it somebody else would—I signed the paper (Produced) in pencil, and he gave me the sovereign—I. Maud Goodman, say that I know the gentleman whose photograph is shown to me and to which I have put my initials, and he has had intercourse with me, Maud Goodman"—he produced the sovereign before I signed the document, and gave it to me after I had signed it—that was not the first money which Osborn had given me that day—he gave me half a sovereign in the afternoon at Mrs. Condon's—that was after I had taken the photograph into Nellie Bell and brought it back to him—he and I were alone in the room when he gave me the half-sovereign—I initialed this photograph (Produced)—but this is not my writing—my initials, M.G., are there, but it is not what I wrote—the document that I signed was already written out when it was produced to me—I do not remember if I read it before I signed it—I think it was read to me before I signed it—I cannot say if the piece of paper Osborn produced in the day was the same kind as he produced at night—I left the Swan with Osborn, and I went to No. 3 or No. 9—I had some refreshment in the Swan; I cannot remember what—Osborn paid for it—on getting outside the Swan I saw Louie Ford, and went away in her company—Osborn came back with us, I think—we all three went back to No. 9—I think we saw Minnie Wilson when we got back there—I am not sure of that—I stayed at No. 9 on my return only a few minutes—when I left I went away alone—I cannot say if Osborn was there at the time I left, or if Louie Ford was there when I left—Minnie Wilson was there—I do not know if Thompson was there—I was not present that night at Minnie Wilson's to sign any document, or when any document was signed by other people—I did not see any such thing happen that night, or do any such thing that night at Minnie Wilson's—some time in August, after I had received a message, I remember going to Lockyer Street towards the Hoe with Louie Ford and Bray—I met them at 3, Summerland Place, Mrs. Condon's—I did not meet Mr. Bray at 3, Summerland Place, I made a mistake, it was at the Clock in front of the Theatre, or in front of the Royal Hotel, Plymouth—it was owing to the message I had received—that was the first time I had ever seen him, I think—he wanted me to identify the gentlemen whose photo I had seen, and whom I had stopped with, or supposed to have stopped with—I do not remember all the conversa-tion—we then all three went to Lockyer Street—when we got near to the Lockyer Hotel, Bray said, "There is our man," and pointed to
Pollard, who came out of the Lockyer Hotel—I said, "I cannot tell whether I know him by his back"—he had his back to me at that time—I said. "If I see him face to face I will tell you if I know him"—Bray said, "We will walk on to the Hoe, and then you will be able to see his face"—we all throe went to the Hoe—Pollard had walked in the direction of the Hoe at that time—when we got on to the Hoe I waited till he got some distance near me, and then I looked at him—I thought he knew me, or at least Louie Ford said he recognised me. and I did not trouble to look whether he did or not—I never got close up to him—I was, I should say, a few yards from him—after Louie Ford had said that to me I said to Bray, "I suppose he knows me"—next, I was taken back to No. 3, Summerland Place to sign the paper to the effect that I identified the man—in Bray's company on that occasion, I think we went to an hotel and had some refreshments, but I do not know the name of the hotel—that was after I had seen the gentleman on the Hoe, and before getting back to No. 3—Louie Ford went with me—she had some refreshment, which Bray paid for—then I went back to No.3—Bray suggested going back to No. 3—I was not living at No. 3 at that time, nor was Louie Ford—I had an appointment to keep at 9, Sunderland Place in the morning, and I thought it was to see Osborn, but I was told to go to the Clock Tower and I should meet either one of the gentlemen, and I met Bray: that is all I know of him—he told me he wanted me to identify the gentleman—nothing beyond that that I remember—at No. 3 I signed this statement—I think it was already written out—I read it before I signed it—Louie Ford also signed a statement produced by Bray already written out—we were at No. 3, when we got back there, more than an hour, I should say—(Read:) "I, Maud Goodman, say that I have to-day had pointed out to me a gentleman whose name I am told is Pollard. I have previously identified the photograph of the gentleman, and put my initials to the same"—the photograph was produced at No. 9 first, but not on this occasion—"The gentleman I have to-day had pointed out is the gentleman who went with me to No. 3, Summerland Place, which house is kept by Mrs. Condon. He there had intercourse with me"; and then there is "Louie Ford spoke to us. and he asked us to come and have something to eat"—that is scratched out—that is a lie—it was scratched out because it was not right—I am quite sure I never spoke to Louie Ford on any occasion when I have been in the house with a gentleman—I said so at No. 3—I said that this was not right—Bray as far as I remember crossed the words through—they were struck out in pencil—"I made a previous statement to Osborn and identified the photograph "—(This was dated August 2nd, 1902.)—I do not think the date was put in at that time—it is signed "Maud Goodman"—I think Nellie Beil was in the room when the statements were placed before us—she signed a statement, but I do not know what it was—some statement was produced to her—Louie Ford was not there when the words in pencil were struck out—Bray left me at No. 3—it was some time after that before I saw him again—within a few
days of signing that document I wrote this letter to Messrs. Osborn and Osborn: (Dated 7th August, addressed from Trafalgar Street to Messrs. Osborn and Osborn): "Dear Sir,—Just a line to let you know that the gentleman Mr. Bray pointed out to me last Saturday in the presence of Louisa Ford was the gentleman I stopped with at Mrs. Condon's house, No. 3, Summerland Place, Plymouth. I also think that if Miss Wilson should be called she would only make a blunder in the matter, as she is not to be trusted as regards to the truth. Trusting for an early reply, I regain yours truly, Maud Goodman. Osborn and Osborn, Exchange Chambers, 56, Copthall Avenue, London, E.C."—Then: I should feel obliged if you would send my friend and myself a present for our trouble on Saturday"—the address must have been given to me, I do not know where I got it—oh, yes. Bray gave it to me the afternoon that I signed the statement at 3, Summerland Place—I do not remember if he wrote it down, but I know he told me where to write—he told me to write and say I had identified the gentleman—this was the answer: "56, Copthall Avenue, London, 8th August, 1902. Miss Maud Goodman, 11, Trafalgar Street, Plymouth. Dear Madam.—Pollard.—We have your letter of yesterday's date, and Mr. Bray has already reported to us that you identified Mr. Pollard as the man who stayed with you at Summerland Place, and he has handed us the statements made by yourself and Louisa Ford. We herewith enclose you a postal order for £2. which is £1 for yourself and £1 for Louisa Ford, and we should be glad if you would both sign the enclosed form of receipt and return it to us. We are sending you this money for your trouble, and. of course, when you are required to come to London for the purposes of the case we will arrange to make the necessary provision for your expenses.—Yours truly, Osborn and Osborn" in writing: "I also think that if Miss Wilson should be called she would only make a blunder in the matter, as she is not to be trusted as regards to the truth." I was referring to the time that she said I had stopped with the gentleman on two or three occasions at No. 9, Summer-land Place, where she lived—Minnie Wilson had been saying I had stayed two or three times with a man at her house, No. 9—that is why I put that in—I knew that if I had stopped with a gentleman it would be at No. 3 and not at No. 9, as I had not been visiting that house for some months. She said I had recently stopped with him at No. 9, and I knew that was wrong, and I knew she would say I had been stopping there because she did not mind what she said for money—I understood she was coming here to the Courts in London, and she did not mind saying I stopped at her house—I did not write it, but I told Louisa Ford to write it for me, and she wrote it—I told her what to write—I knew myself that if she was called she would not mind saying I had stopped with a gentleman whether I had or not—if I had had connection with Pollard it would have been at No. 3, because I was not going to the other house at that time—I was made to believe he had had connection with me whether he did or not; I hardly knew whether the gentleman knew me or not—if I had been asked to say where it was he had had connection with me it would have been at 3, Summerland Place—if Minnie Wilson had
been called she had nothing to do with 3, Summerland Place, but she said that I stopped at her house with a gentleman; of course I said if I had stopped anywhere with a gentleman it would have been at No. 3. Summerland Place—if we had both been called and she said it was at No. 9 and I said it was at No. 3, I should have said she was telling a lie—so that there would have been one witness for the petitioner saying that another witness was telling a lie—when I went to identify the photograph she said, "Of course you know the gentleman; you have stopped here with the gentleman"—I said, 'If I have stopped anywhere with the gentleman it is at No.3"—anyway I had not stopped in that house with a gentleman in those months—I do not think I had been given any document, any subpoena, by Bray on this first occasion, anything which would take me to court to give evidence on this first occasion that I met Bray—when I was taken to London the first time I gave evidence before Mr. Justice Barnes Louisa Ford was there, and Minnie Wilson, but I do not think Wilson was there on the first occasion—in the letter of Osborn's there was a form of receipt enclosed, as he says, to sign and return: "London, 8th August, 1902. Be pollard. We hereby acknowledge to have received from Messrs. Osborn and Osborn the sum of £1 respectively"—that came to me with the penny stamp on it—I signed it—Louisa Ford signed it—I returned it to London, addressed to Messrs. Osborn and Osborn, and Louisa Ford and I continued to live on at No. 11, Trafalgar Street—I do not think that between the time I saw the gentleman on the Hoe and going to London for the trial I saw anything more of Bray—I remember going to London for the purpose of attending the trial—I remember seeing Bray about that time, but not the day—I think I saw him on the day I left Plymouth to go to London—if anywhere, it would be No. 3, Summer-land Place, because I think I was stopping there—I was told by Osborn that I had to come to London, and I said I did not want to do so—I saw him that day at No.3, Summerland Place—McKenna was present, and I think Nellie Bell—it is so long ago I cannot remember who was there—Osborn said I had to come to London, and I said I did not want to go—he said I had to go whether I liked it or not—he frightened me into going, that is all—he was not with me long—the reason I gave him was because I was not quite sure whether I knew the gentleman or not—he already knew I was not sure whether I knew the gentleman—I do not remember any more conversation—soon after that conversation I started for Plymouth station—I had had a subpoena some time before, but I do not remember when—I left No. 3 for the purpose of going to Plymouth station to get to London with Mrs. Condon, Nellie Bell, Louise Ford, McKenna. Bray, and Osborn—I do not think Bray was there when I had the interview with Osborn, I am not quite sure—Bray was there when I left the house for the station; I remember that now—I know he was in the house—he was one of the party which came to London—I came to London that same afternoon, and arrived some time that night at Paddington—we ad travelled up together in the
same compartment—on arriving we wont to Matcham's Hotel, and Mrs. Condon. Nellie Boll and I were put up there—Bray and McKenna stopped at the same hotel—Osborn did not stop there—they stayed with me there on the Sunday—they remained there on the Sunday on the Sunday night and on the Monday the case was heard—I wear to the Court on the Monday—McKenna and Bray took me. Mrs. Condon and Nellie Bell together—at the Court Osborn showed me the statements, and said all I had to say was that I him in June. July and August, and that I had identified the gentleman—that was all I had to say in the Divorce Court and that I had identified the photograph of the gentleman—he said I should be all right—he looked out some papers—he did not read anything to me—I saw some papers, but I did not see what the writing was—when I saw Osborn. of course I asked him what I had to say, so he pulled out the papers and looked at them, and said:' Oh, it is June, July, and August. If you remember that you will not be asked anything else," and he told me I should be all right—I do not remember anything else he said—I do not think I said anything to him—he looked up some papers that he had in his hand then—not long after that I went in the witness box, was sworn, and gave evidence on oath—after the trial that night I stayed at Matcham's with Mrs. Condon and Louisa Ford—McKenna and Bray went with me—the next day I went back to Plymouth—McKenna and Bray took me to Paddington and saw me off—at the station I was paid my fees as a witness by McKenna—at Paddington Station before leaving for Plymouth I signed this document: "Exchange Chambers, 56, Copthall Avenue. E.C., London, 25/11 02. Re pollard. Received £4 witness's fee. Maud Goodman"—the other three who had come with me, N. Bell, M. Condon, and Louisa Ford, received £3 apiece as witness's fees at the same time, and signed immediately after me—I was the only witness that was called of the four that were brought up—I got £4 and Louisa Ford only £3, because I asked McKenna for the other sovereign on Paddington Station—I next saw Bray after the trial, the early part of the year 1903 I think first in the street at Plymouth—I went to No.3, and he asked me if I had heard anything about the Pollard case—I said that I had not—he said if I did hear anything about it I must stick to what I had said—I do not know what answer I made—I suppose he meant what I had already said in the Divorce Court—up to that time I had not seen the gentleman I afterwards knew by the name of Murray, and when he was asking whether I had heard any thing about the Pollard case. I told him I had not—after that interview, Mrs. Stitson, a daughter of Mrs. Condon's, wrote this letter for me—I told her what to write—I was living at 3 Queen Street at the time—it was written there—(Dated March 27th. 1903:) "Sir, Mr. Osborn, since I saw Mr. Bray on Monday (the Monday preceding the 27th would be the 23rd March) Mr. Murray solicitor, has been to see me about the Pollard case: he tells me the King's Proctor has taken the case up, and I have had to make statements when I first met you, and during the time the
case came off, and they also want me to have an interview with Pollard himself. Of course I did not know anything about it when Mr. Bray were down, but I have since found out this has been going on for some time between Louie Ford and Miss Bell, and I do not know what has been said; of course Mr. Murray tells me quite a different tale than what Mrs. Pollard stated in Court, so I thought I would write to you as I did not know how to act in seeing Pollard. I saw Murray yesterday, and expecting to see him again during the week. Do not communicate with 3, Summerland Place, as this is private. Let me know what is best. Yours truly, Maud Goodman."—In answer I received this letter from Osborn and Osborn, dated March 28th—(Read:) "Exchange Chambers, 56, Copthall Avenue. London Wall. Dear madam, re Pollard, We are in receipt of yours of yesterday's date, and note what you say, that a gentleman named Mr. Murray, who you state is a solicitor, has been to see you about this case. Whether this gentleman comes from the King's Proctor or not, of course, we do not know, but we think before you give any information respecting this matter you should be satisfied that this gentleman comes from the King's Proctor, and ask him to give you his card, and if you will send this to us we will write to the King's Proctor and ascertain whether this is right or not; but we have every reason to believe that this man does not come from the King's Proctor at all, and, moreover, we do not think the King's Proctor would send a solicitor, and we do not find any solicitor of the name of Murray in the Law List as practising at Plymouth. With regard to the matters that they ask you about, there can be no harm whatever in telling the truth and stating exactly what was stated to us as being the facts in connection with this matter. There is no reason why you should see Mr. Pollard or have any unpleasantness caused you in this case, and if you are caused any unpleasantness by anyone you can communicate with us, and we feel quite sure, if the King's Proctor is making inquiries, he would only make inquiries to ascertain the truth. We shall be glad to hear further from you in the matter, and there is no harm in informing the person who comes to you that you have communicated with us and informed us what has been stated to you. You stated in your letter that Mr. Murray tells you quite a different talc to what Mrs. Pollard stated in Court. We shall be glad to know what this is, because Mrs. Pollard's evidence was given in respect of matters quite different to yours, and, therefore, we cannot understand why, if Mr. Murray comes from the King's Proctor, he should refer to Mrs. Pollard's evidence, because in seeing you his inquiry would only relate to the evidence that you gave, and to ascertain whether this is correct or not, because you do not know Mrs. Pollard, and have never spoken to her, therefore any evidence that Mrs. Pollard gave could not in any way affect you. Yours faithfully, Osborn and Osborn."—I replied on the 28th, and forwarded the name and address of Messrs. Watts, Ward and Anthony, the representatives of the King's Proctor in Plymouth—on April 3rd I received this further letter: "Dear Madam, re Pollard. We are in receipt of yours of the 1st inst., from
which we observe that Mr. Murray is now a clerk to Messrs. Watts, Ward and Anthony; we do not know who these gentlemen represent or whether they represent the King's Proctor. We have, however, written to the Kind's Proctor on the matter. We should be glad to know what further was stated to you when Mr. Murray called on you last, and if you hear anything further herein, we shall be glad if you would communicate with us on the matter. As we before stated, there is no harm in your giving the same information which you gave to us in the matter. Yours faithfully, Osborn and Osborn."—After that letter had been written I saw Mr. Murray again, more than once—I remember attending at his office in May—I was with Nellie Bell—I did not then recognise Pollard except as a gentleman I had seen on the Hoe, but not as a gentleman I had stopped with, or was supposed to have—I said I did not know the gentleman—I have never had any intercourse with Thomas Pollard—I am quite sure—Mr. Murray and another gentleman were present—Bell and Ford were rot—I moved to No. 1, Summerland Terrace, I think the end of May, or in June—after I had removed there I remember seeing Bray—he love that I had seen McKenna, but I am not quite sure whether I saw him first, or Bray—I saw Bray, I think, at 3, Summer-land Place—I remember that I had seen McKenna first—he went and fetched some pipers—with the papers in his hand, he had some conversation with me—I did not sign any one of the papers he brought to me—some days after, Bray told me Osborn had sent him down—as McKenna could not do anything with me, he had sent Bray down to see what he could do—he wanted me to sign this paper—I did not read it; I looked at it—I cannot say if it was type-written or written—I should say it was like this one—I do not think he read it to me—I said I knew I had made a mistake, and I would not sign any more papers—he went across to No. 1, Summerland Terrace with me, from No. 3, Summerland Place—my land-lady at No. I Summerland Terrace was Mrs. Bolt—in there he gave me plenty of refreshment—I do not know who it was fetched it, but I know we had it—he sent out for some whisky—it was in the evening, the interview at No. 3 was in the afternoon—he stayed with me at No. 3 until he went across to No. 1, Summerland Terrace—he left me somewhere about 11 o'clock at night—he came to me in the afternoon about 5 or 6 o'clock; I do not quite remember the time—he was with me a great many hours that afternoon and evening—he was trying to make me sign the paper—I was not going to sign the paper when I knew I had made a mistake—I told him so—he asked Mrs. Bolt to fetch the pen and ink for me, and she did so—that was to enable me to sign it—I was drinking more or less all day—I did not sign it—he left about 11 at night, taking away the document with him unsigned—he called the next morning about 9 o'clock, very early, at 1, Summerland Terrace, where I was living, for me to sign the paper—he produced it again—he was not with me long then—I said I would not sign it—he went away with the paper and I did not see him again after that—I did not sign the paper—the last I saw of it was when he took it away with him—with that document in
front of me I say that at no time do I think I saw that statement sufficiently to say what was in it at the time—looking at it now I find crossed out in pencil and underlined—"We then went to Minnie Wilson's house, where also were I, Louie Ford and Nellie Bell. Mr. Osborn had us there to make a statement to the effect that I knew the gentleman "—I remember this being read to me at No. 3, Summerland place, and of course I told them it was wrong—I think McKenna read it when he came—I never signed any statement at Minnie Wilson's house—this was not read to me at No. 3, Summerland Place—I think McKenna struck those words out because I told him it was wrong—on arrival in London to give my evidence on the trial of the King's Proctor's intervention at Paddington I saw Bray on the platform when the train arrived—he said "I want a word with you in a minute"—I did not answer; I passed on—I have never gone at any time by the name of Maud Baker—I did not and do not know any woman of that name in Plymouth.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I remember in March of last year Mr. Murray came and saw me at Summerland Place—some woman from the house was sent to find me, and I was brought to Summerland Place—I did not know who Mr. Murray was before I went there—from the time I saw him in March, 1903, I have not seen him upon many occasions—he got me to sign one or two statements—not a number—two, I think; I do not think any more—when he saw me at Summerland Place he might have said that poor Pollard had been badly treated, that he had not treated his wife badly, and had not been guilty of cruelty—something like that—I do not remember the conversation—it took place in March, 1903—I remember saying to you at Bow Street, "I do not know that I remember distinctly about either the 10th July or the 27th March"—I would remember March 27th better than what took place the year before—when I went to No. 3, Summerland Place, I saw Mr. Murray, and he told me that the King's Proctor had intervened, and he said that they would like me to see Pollard, and I think it was to see if I had made a mistake or not; in regard to the cruelty he might have said that, but it did not matter to me whether he said it or not, because I was not interested in Pollard or Mrs. Pollard—if Osborn had told me as a gentleman who Pollard was, of course I should not have had anything to do with the case at all—what I had heard in the Divorce Court was the evidence of Mrs. Pollard—I do not remember what Mr. Murray told me, but I know this much, that he told me to tell the truth; he did not ask me to tell lies for money—I do not quite remember what the different tale was' of Pollard in the Divorce Court from that of Mr. Murray—that did not interest me—I was not told it was a pity I had done Pollard an injury, and that now he had nothing to live on—I was not told anything of the kind—nothing about his allowance—there might have been something said in regard to the cruelty, but in regard to his allowance or drinking habits I knew nothing about it—I intended my letter to be the truth—every time I have given evidence in this case I have always told the
truth to the best of my ability—I told you at the police-court, "This is the third time I have given evidence—every time I have given evidence I have always told the truth to the best of my ability"—that is correct—whenever I have written letters in the case, those letters have always been truthful—I went on to say, "And when I was in the Divorce Court the first time the judge told me I need not give evidence if I did not like; and I said I was willing to give my evidence, and then gave it"—that is right—with regard to the Pollard case, the total sum that I received was £7—this is correct, "The money I received had nothing to do with the evidence I gave"—I did not trouble to think whether I knew the gentleman or not when I signed the paper when Osborn offered me the sovereign—the £4 I had for the evidence I gave and the sovereign was for signing the statement, and the 10s. was for the trouble of coming down in the afternoon, and the 30s. was with the subpoena I had—I was four days in London—I got £4 with regard to that—I did not get the sovereign for the trouble of going on the Hoe—I was offered the sovereign to sign the statement—I did not ask for anything; I was offered half a sovereign for the trouble of my coming down in the afternoon—I remember writing to Osborn asking him for something for the trouble I had been put to—I got £1 for that—I got 10s. for my trouble in coming down on the 10th July, and afterwards £1—since I saw Mr. Murray in March, down to the present time, I have been living in Plymouth; and going about in Plymouth in the same way, living the same life, and meeting the same people—with regard to a woman living the life that I and the others were living we can please ourselves as to whether we give away a man who has been with us—I never troubled to think of such a thing—we can please ourselves—that is my only answer—there might have been a man with me in June at 3, Summerland Place, who was like Pollard—I said at the police court: "It is true a man did stay with me in June whom I had in my mind, a man whose name I did not know"—I do not remember saying that I stopped with a gentleman on June 3rd—I understand what I say affects the prisoners, but it does not matter to me, I shall speak the truth—I remember being at the Bow Street police court, being examined there, and giving evidence, that you asked me questions, that my answers were written down, that after they were written down they were read over to me, and that I swore to the truth of them, but I do not remember saying I stopped with any gentleman on June 3rd; I might have said I stopped with a gentleman, but I am sure I did not say when——that man I had in mind as having stayed with me in June was very much like Pollard—if he was not Pollard I have never seen him since—I do not know whether the Judge was kind or not; I thought I was speaking the truth when I gave evidence—I had no reason for not giving evidence then—I had Pollard in mind, but I go with different gentlemen at 3, Summerland Place—when I saw Osborn on July 10th, 1902, I was rather annoyed at having been brought there; because I was brought down about a divorce case, and about the manner I was brought down—I
do not know that I showed it—when I went into the room I think Osborn showed me the same photograph that was handed me in the Divorce Court when I was before the Judge—I believed it was the gentleman who stayed with me at No. 3 in June who was much like Pollard, and I went to No. 3 and saw Nellie Bell; it was she who told me it was about a divorce case—when I heard it was about a divorce case I said I would not say anything more, because I was not going to give a man away—it did not make any difference to me; if Osborn had come to me and told me what the case was I should not have said anything; he came to me and said it was a friend, and I looked at the photograph, and I said I thought I knew the man; they made me believe I did know him; it does not matter to me whether I knew him or not—after I had seen Nellie Bell I told him I was not going to say anything, but I did not say that I knew the gentleman—I did say: "After he had gone"—that is after Osborn had gone—"I told Minnie Wilson that I thought that I knew the gentleman, but it was not my business to give him away because the information was wanted for a divorce case"—I was not influenced by the fact that the information was wanted for a divorce case, but I did not want to give the man away—nothing of the sort—if I really thought I knew the man I should say so—I was told I did know him; I did not have any choice to think whether I knew him or not—if I said to Minnie Wilson that I thought I knew the man, but it was not my business to give him away, it is not to say that I did know the gentleman—Mr. Murray has not taken a statement from me lately nor read my evidence over to me—at the police court I came to town with Mrs. Emma Smith and two detectives—I travelled up with them—they never mentioned the case—I do not know their names—this time I came with Mrs. Smith, a detective, and Mr. Legge—there were one or two others, but I do not know their names—I have stayed at the Ship Hotel—I have never talked about the case, or about my evidence at all—it might have been talked about, but not to me—I saw Osborn at Trafalgar Street—Louie Ford was there—when I saw Osborn at Trafalgar Street, Minnie Wilson said in the presence of Osborn what I had said to her: that I did not want to give the man away because the evidence was wanted for a divorce case—she reminded me of what I had said, that I had said I might know the gentleman but it was not my business to give him away—I did not say anything about what the evidence was wanted for; she said of course I had got to sign the paper—that is all—Osborn asked me to sign it and he said I could say what I knew and it would do me no harm—I did not want to sign a statement in the presence of Minnie Wilson—I said I would be at the Victoria Hotel at 9 o'clock, and if I signed the statement I would sign it there and not in Trafalgar Street—the interview in Trafalgar Street did not last very long—the Victoria Hotel is a place that at that time I very often went to—it is a place with a very large open bar, and people were standing four or five deep there—it is a place in which there were usually at that time a good many people in the evening, and
not a place I wanted to sign a statement in—I suppose it was because I did not want to sign a statement before a lot of people that I went across the road to the Swan—I know I went across there to sign the statement—Osborn suggested my going there—I said I would not sign the statement, and he suggested my going across to the private bar—I said I would not sign a statement before a lot of people—I do not know whether it is true that that was why I went across to the Swan—of course he suggested my going, and I went—I do not know whether I said I would not sign before a lot of people; I know Osborn wanted me to go across into a private place—the fact of the matter was, I did not know there was a private bar across there; it was the first time I had been there when Osborn took me there—I might have been unwilling to sign anything before a lot of people, but I did not suggest going there; it was suggested—I was made to believe I was telling the truth, whether I did or not—I have said this: "When I signed the statement that night I believed I was telling the truth"—very likely I believed I was telling the truth that the photograph was the photograph of the man who had stayed with me in June—the man who had stayed with me in June was very like the photograph—I remember giving evidence about this in the King's Proctor's case, and making some statements about it, but not saying at Bow Street police court that Osborn showed me a sovereign before I signed it—the only day I saw him, until I saw him just before the trial, was July 10th—nothing was said then about my evidence; the only matter that was discussed was that I was to come up to town—I do not think anybody had told me that I need not go up to town if I did not want to, but Osborn told me if I did not go they would make me go—I did not want to go to London—I did not want to leave Plymouth—when I saw the man that was pointed out to me on the Hoe, I said I could not tell him by his back—I said, "Let me walk on the Hoe and see him face to face, and I shall be able to tell you if I know him"—at that time Pollard was walking on the Hoe—I wanted to see his face—there was nothing to prevent my seeing him quite well—I did see his face—he was very like the gentleman who had stayed with me in June—I did not trouble to think anything about it, whether he was or not; I was told he was—I did not form an opinion whether he was the same man or not—I did not say I thought he was, or anything of the kind—I do not remember ever having said that the man stopped with me—I wrote, "Dear Sir,—Just a line to let you know that the gentleman Mr. Bray pointed out to me last Saturday in the presence of Louie Ford was the gentleman I stopped with at Mrs. Condon's house, No. 3, Summerland Place"—a few days afterwards, but that is not to say I said on the Hoe I had stopped with the gentleman—I was told that I had stopped with him, and I did not trouble to think whether I had or not, but I since know that I have not stopped with him—when I saw Pollard I knew I had made a mistake—I did not want to deceive Osborn at all—my friend that was with me said. "That is the same gentleman as you were with the other night," and I thought it was, and I said it was, but I did not
think I was doing any wrong in saying it was—that it has nothing to do with Mr. Murray—I was not going to say I had stopped with a gentleman if I had not—he was pointed out to me at once by Louie Ford passing in the street; she said she had seen him leave Summerland Place—I told Mr. Murray on March 27th at Summerland Place, when I gave my description of this to Mr. Murray: "Afterwards I heard nothing more until Mr. Bray came to me asking me if I would identify the man in the photograph; I went up in the town with Louie Ford and Bray and stood on the steps of the Royal. Bray then said, "There is our man," and looking across I saw a man, and was not then sure as his back was towards me, and I said I would go on to the Hoe where the man was going and see his face. I did go up and saw the man and I recognised him"—that is what I told Mr. Murray at the first interview—I told him the truth, as I told everybody else the truth, or what I believed to be the truth at the moment—I suppose I told Mr. Murray on March 27th, "I saw a man and was not sure, as his back was towards me, and I said I would gsso on to the Hoe where the man was going, and see his face; I did go up and saw the man and recognised him; I have seen the man since, and I still think it is the man who stayed with me in the month of June"—I did not walk past Pollard—I did not say I recognised him—I was told that he recognised me—I told Osborn in my letter not to rely on Minnie Wilson, because she was a person who was not to be trusted as regards the truth—I do not know anything about myself, but I know she had said, as I said, that I stopped there with a gentleman—I myself cannot be bought with money as she could—I would not, for money, injure a person—I was cautioning Osborn about Minnie Wilson in the letter I wrote when I was at Trafalgar Street—nobody told me what to say in that letter—I intended to tell the truth as far as I knew—I never wrote any letter to Osborn telling him that Pollard was not the man who had stayed with me in June—after August I had no communication about this matter until shortly before the trial, when I was seen about coming up to town—I did not say that I had had advice upon the matter, and that I was not compelled to come up, and that I did not want anyone calling at my house about the matter—nothing of the sort—I remember telling you that at Bow Street—it was on the Saturday that Osborn saw me and said I was to go to London—I had been served with what I now know is a subpoena—he said I would have to go—at that time when he spoke about going to London, nothing at all was said about my evidence; was only a question of my going to London—this is my account of it, "Mr. Osborn said I was to go London that day. I said I would not go. Osborn said I should have to go I said, 'If I have got to go I will go.' I do not remember Osborn saying more"—we stayed at Matcham's Hotel both times that we came up on the divorce case—when I came up on the divorce case I was taken to a concert—when I came to London on the King's Procter's case I was taken to the Tivoli Music Hall—I said at the police court: "On the Monday I went to the Courts
from Matcham's. We all six wont, including Bray and McKenna. At the Courts I saw Osborn in the corridor. Ho read over a statement. I think it was the one where I said I indentified the gentleman"—that was what I told you before—"' I saw Mr. Osborn in the corridor. He read over a statement. I think it was the one where I said I identified the gentleman"—I did not say I think at all; it was the statement to tell me what I had to say when I got in the Court—I think this is my first account of it: "On the Monday I went to the Courts from Matcham's. We all went. At the Court I saw Mr. Osborn in the corridor. He road over a statement. I think it was the one where I said I identified the gentlemen."—I can assure you Osborn did not read anything to me; he only told me what to tell in the Court, when I met him, when I identified the photograph and signed my name to the paper—he did not read a statement to me; he only told me what I was to say in the Court—what I said at the Police Court was wrong—I am tolling you as far as I can remember; of course, I cannot remember everything—I heard Nellie Bell examined in the King's Proctor's case—she was examined about the journey up to town—if she hoard it said that I was to confine myself strictly to the truth, or rather to say only that which I was sure of, I did not—I remembered having a talk with Mr. Murray, but I do not remember having any writing taken down—I did not believe I had made a statement, or that he had even asked me to do so, that I remember—Nellie Boll was at No.3, Summerland Place, when he came There—I found out that he had been seeing Nellie Bell and Louie Ford the day that I wrote to Osborn—I remember this statement; "I. Maud Goodman, say that I have to-day had pointed out to me a gentleman whose name I am told is Pollard. I have previously identified the photo of that gentleman and put my initials to the same. The gentleman I have to-day had pointed out to me is the gentleman who went with me to 3, Summerland Place"—the next statement I made was the statement made to Mr. Murray—I made a statement first to Osborn which was signed at the Swan—the third statement I signed for Mr. Murray—one is the statement I have no recollection of at all; it was read to me, I think, at 3, Summerland Place—I never told Mr. Murray that I had stopped with a gentleman at all—(Reading from the first statement Mr. Murray got from the witness:) "Mr. Osborn and I went to No.3, and I then showed the photo to others in the house, and found out they had seen the photo before, and that it was about a divorce case. When I returned to the room to Mr. Osborn he told me who he was. and that he was engaged on the divorce case. I told him I thought I had seen the man once, and stayed at No. 3 one night with him"—I never told Osborn anything of the kind—I told him it was about a divorce case, and he told me I could say what I knew, and it would do me no harm, as I should hear nothing more about it—I never remember saying,' When I returned to the room to Mr. Osborn he told me who he was, and that he was engaged in the divorce case. I told him I thought I
had seen the man once, and stayed at No.3 one night with him."—it does not matter to me—I can assure you I do not remember saying that—the conversation I had with Osborn when I went into the room was "It is about a divorce case; I will have nothing more to do with it"—he said, "There is no harm in telling what you know, as you will hear nothing more about it," and he wanted me to sign a paper, and I would not, but made an appointment to meet him, and he gave me half a sovereign for the trouble of coming down—that is all I know about it—I do not know that Mr. Murray invented this—I am simply telling you what I said myself—I see my signature 10 it—I supposed I was signing right when I signed it—I signed it to say that I made a mistake in the gentleman—it was read to me as far as I remember—I did not tell Mr. Murray that I had stopped with him—I told him I thought I did—I never told anyone that I had stopped with him—I thought I had seen the gentleman—Osborn showed me a sovereign and told me if I did not do it someone else would—he told me the man's name was Pollard, when I went back into the parlour of No. 3 with the photograph—I did not know the name of the man who had stayed with me in June—I did not tell one of these girls that the man who had stayed with me in June had asked me, while he was with me, whether I had given him away at all, nor that anything was said about the man's name being Tom—I did not know the man's name who stayed with me in June—until I saw the gentleman in Mr. Murray's office I still thought he was the same man, or very like the same man—it was always Mr. Murray who saw me—it may have been once or twice between March 27th and May 14th—I never saw Pollard until I saw him in Watts, Ward & Anthony's office—I did not write that second statement; I is nothing to do with me whatever; I did not write it or anyone for me—I do not know who wrote it—I believe Mr. Murray brought it for me to sign—I cannot tell you if it was at the office or 3, Summerland Place, I do not remember—I do not remember Mr. Murray writing statements at 3, Summerland Place or, as it is called, turning a brothel into an office, nor do I remember Mr. Murray writing that statement at 3, Summerland Place—(Read:) "In the event of Mr. Murray desiring to see me at his office I am willing to attend"—that is not to say he turned a brothel into an office—I do not remember where I signed this statement—I only saw Mr. Murray; I did not see any other gentlemen—I can assure you nobody else wrote this for me; it was brought to me—it must have been Mr. Murray, if any gentleman—I am not quite sure; it is so long ago; I cannot remember—I only know I saw Mr. Murray in connection with this case, and another gentleman I saw in his office; that is all I know—Nellie Bell used to go with me to Mr. Murray's office—she did not bring me that statement—it-was already written out when it was brought. I think—("I believe now that in identifying Mr. Pollard I have made a great mistake. In the event of Mr. Murray desiring to see me at his office I am willing to attend"—
every time I received a message from Mr. Murray's office it was through Nellie Bell—when I went on Ma)" 4th to see the man, Pollard came into the room and sat down—I was told to have a good look at him and see it I recognised the gentleman—I looked at him and I saw he had never stopped with me, and I said so—I never spoke to him—I did not know who the gentleman was who was coming in—as he came in I was asked if it was the gentleman I stopped with; I said, "No, I do not know him"—that was all that was said—he did not speak to me—he sat down; I had a good look at him, and I said, "No, I do not know the gentleman; he never stopped with me"—that is all that occurred—I had not the advantage of hearing his voice—I did not take the trouble to look at him when I saw him on the Hoe—he was very like the man I saw on the Hoe—not as like him as the man I saw on the Hoe was to the man who slept with me—he was not the man that stopped with me—he might have been very like him but he was not the man—this is right, what I said: "I did not speak to him at the office, so I was not assisted by any conversation; there was no question of his voice; he sat down for a few minutes, then he went out of the room and left me there"—I do not remember saying that I knew the reason I had made a mistake was on account of his voice—I signed another statement on May 14th—I said. "I have now seen Mr. Pollard in Mr. Murray's room; I now say that I have never stopped with him at any time, and I have never spoken to him in my life that I am aware of; I have never stopped with him. The gentleman I stopped with and to whom I referred in my evidence was much like Mr. Pollard, but I am absolutely certain, now that I see Mr. Pollard face to face, that he is not the man I referred to. I did not identify him with any sense of doing wrong, and I am sorry if I have done him an injury"—I do not remember their telling me about the wrong I had done him and the injury to poor Pollard—I do not remember saying such words—I did not think about it—if I had done so I should have said so—I should not have thought of putting it on someone else—those who communicated with me never told me about Pollard—nobody told me to say anything, and nobody had said anything about my having done an injury—I did not think I had, and when I saw the man, I knew that I did not know him—I had never heard Pollard speak that I remember—I said, "There is no question, now that I have heard Mr. Pollard speak, that I must have been mistaken; when Mr. Osborn first showed me the photo I thought I knew the man as a tobacconist who lives at Plymouth"—I had never up to May 14th said that I thought I knew the man as a tobacconist who lived at Plymouth—I never said "I mentioned the name of the gentleman I thought it was to Mr. Osborn"—I do not remember any further statement—I saw Nellie Bell perhaps every day—I do not think I saw Mr. Murray again afterwards—the letter that Osborn wrote to me I gave to Murray—my only answer to Osborn was sending him a piece of paper with the name of Murray on it and Ward, Watts & Anthony—I never wrote Osborn any letter to say I had seen Pollard and thought I had made a mistake
or that I had made a mistake—McKenna called on me in the early part of the evening—he went and fetched some paper, and he commenced to read it, and I told him I had made a mistake—he asked me to read the statement and see if there were any statements I wished to correct—did not read the statement of July 10th—there was a statement he read to me where it is struck out, but he did not read any when he came that evening—he came in the early part of the evening and went away and came back again with those papers—at Bow Street I said, "McKenna had a conversation with me. I mentioned the case to him, and he said he was down on different business. I saw him again afterwards. He did not produce anything then. The second time I saw him he fetched some statements. He came to me at 3, Summerland Place. He said that he had come from the defendant Osborn. He told me to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth"—that is when he came in the evening—I told him that I found I made a mistake in the gentleman, so he said if I found I had made a mistake say so, and tell the truth—after that he went back to London—he said he was going back to Osborn, and they sent Bray down to me—I told McKenna I had made a mistake, and he told me I had done quite right in saying I had made a mistake—then they sent Bray down to me, I had said something to Mr. Kenna as to my having a doubt—I told him that I had a doubt about the man—I remember the fact of some alterations being made by him—Ford said she had seen Pollard leave No. 3 some time during the morning—early in the case in June or July I told Nellie Bell about the man who had slept with me inviting me to breakfast at a place called the Cafe—Nellie Bell was not generally present when I signed the statements for Mr. Murray—she was present the first time on March 27th when she went to Mr. Murray's office with me—I said at the Police Court: "When at the King's Proctor's case, I could not remember if the man who stayed with me in June had done so more than once"—I remember that between August 2nd and the trial in November I had nothing to do with Mrs. Wilson or Thompson.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAHAM CAMPBELL. When I saw Bray in March, 1903, and had some conversation with him about the case. I do not remember whether I told him that what I had said was the truth—I thought it was the truth what I said in the Divorce Court—I said that Bray said that he had been sent down because McKenna could not do anything with me, some time back, I do not remember when—I do not think I said it is in the King's Proctor's case—I do not know that it was in the King's Proctor's case, but I remember saying those words—I have said before to-day that Bray gave me plenty of refreshment at No. 1 at the interview in July—I might have said it at Bow Street—I cannot tell you when I went to Mrs. Condon's and saw Bray there—no correction was made on the occasion when Bray was with me in July as far as I remember—I do not remember very much about the interview—It was pressed to sign the statement.
Re-examined the SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Until I went to see Osborn
on the 10th July, nobody had soon me about this case at all, or about Pollard—I had not up to that seen the photograph or anybody whatsoever in connection with the case—after the interviews with Osborn that I have told you of, he put me forward as a trustworthy witness in Mr. Justice Barnes' Court—from the time I saw Pollard in Mr. Murray's office I have never said that he was the man who slept with me in June—I have no doubt about it now—I had stopped with a gentleman some little time before that who I thought was like the photograph—I had no date in my mind—Osborn did not ask me about any date—I am living at 1, Summerland Place now—I never lived at 3 Summerland Place; I used to go there but not live there—in June I made the aquaintance of gentlemen at Plymouth—I do not know how many—I was at that time with Miss Ford; she was not with me at all times—I went with gentlemen to a house of accommodation frequently—Mr. Murray as early as March 27th wanted me to have an interview with Pollard as I said in my letter—I remember getting this letter from Osborn: "There is no reason why you should see Mr. Pollard, or have any unpleasantness caused you in this case"—I remember sending up the address of Watts & anthony to Osborn—I got it at Mr. Murray's office—I recollect going there and asking for that address which they gave me—had with me when I went to Mr. Murray's office Osborn's letter, in which he said, "There is no reason why you should see Mr. Pollard"—I do not remember now whether I made any statement to Mr. Murray—I did not say anything about seeing Mr. Pollard that I remember—I thought I recognised the photograph as a person who had slept with me, because Osborn said that it was a friend of his, so I thought I must know him—I said in my statement,' I asked Mr. Osborn why he wanted to know, and he said he required to know because he had heard that this gentleman had stayed with me at a house"—he could not say he heard; he said it was a friend of his—on the 10th, the first day I saw Osborn, I went up to No. 3 and then back to No. 9, and then went away—I said something afterwards to Minnie Wilson before I saw Osborn again—she was in the house when I wont back with Osborn—I went away then—I saw Minnie Wilson when I went back to the house—I did not see her again till I saw Osborn and Minnie Wilson together in Trafalgar Street—I had a conversation with Minnie Wilson when I got back to No 9—I went away from Minnie Wilson's first—I left Osborn and Minnie Wilson there as far as I know—I did not see Minnie Wilson from the time I left No. 9 till I saw her at Trafalgar Street—I did not make any statement to her after I left No. 9 till the time I saw her at Trafalgar Street—since I gave evidence in the Divorce Court at the King's Proctor's intervention, I do not think I have spoken to Mr. Murray—no statement has been taken from me since—I was present through that trial, examined and cross-examined by Sir Edward Clarke—I do not think Louie Ford was there: she was examined, but not while I was there; nor was Minnie Wilson examined while I was there; nor Thompson—I went away before the case was over.
WILLIAM JOSEPH FOOTMAN . I am a clerk in the department of the Director of Public Prosecutions.—I was in Court during the trial of the King's Proctor's intervention in the Pollard case—in the course of the trial the reports of Slater's agents to Slater's Agency were called for more than once—after the trial had proceeded for some days, Osborn handed to me this bundle of typewritten documents (Produced) purporting to contain the reports which the Agency had received from its different agents in the course of the case—Mr. Stradwick asked Osborn to make him a copy, and this is the one he supplied us with Louisa Ford, Minnie Wilson, and William Henry Thompson were examined on behalf of the petitioner.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. During the course of the King's Proctor's intervention different reports were called for, and these copies of the reports were furnished by Osborn, who was conducting the case, to Mr. Stradwick—in, the course of the King's Proctors case Nellie Bell was called by the King's Proctor's counsel.
EMMA SMITH . I am a widow, and live at 4, Summerland Place, Plymouth—I know Mrs. Thompson—she was living at 9, Summerland Place in the summer of 1902—she was then Minnie Wilson—she married William Henry Thompson on June 24th, 1902—that summer I remember receiving a message from her, in consequence of which I went and looked for Maud Baker—I could not find her—the address given to me was Athenaeum Street—I looked for her for about half an hour; she had left—I returned to 9, Summerland Place and saw Minnie Wilson—from what was told me there, I went and looked for Maud Goodman—when I was told to look for her Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, were there—I never saw anybody but Mr. and Mrs. Thompson—I went and looked for Maud Goodman—I found her at 11, Trafalgar Street—I brought her back to No. 9—Mr. and Mrs. Thompson and Osborn were there—Minnie Wilson asked me if I had Maud with me—I told her "Yes," end within a few minutes I left them there altogether—later in the day I called at No. 9, and Thompson gave me £5—I remember reading in the papers of the first hearing of the Pollard case in November, 1902—shortly after that, I remember seeing Minnie Wilson; she did not give me anything then, but afterwards she asked me to cash a cheque for £5—I did so, and gave the £5 to her.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I first saw Mr. Murray about the King's 'Prector's ease twelve months last August at Watts, Ward & Anthony's office, 1, Princes Square—no one but Mr. Murray was there at the time—I came up on the trial of the King's Proctor's intervention, with the King's Proctor's witnesses—Mr. Murray came with us—he brought up Nellie Bell, Louie Ford, Maud Goodman, and several other people; I cannot tell how many—most of us stayed together at Matcham's Hotel—I think Mr. Murray stayed there; I am not quite sure—Nellie Bell was one of the witnesses called previous to myself—I have not seen the Thompsons since they left Summerland Place; not to speak to—six months ago, I should say—Mr. Thompson I knew more particularly, and occasionally I called, and if I happened to be in the house and they asked me to go anywhere, I have pone—I was not sent to find Maud Goodman when she was brought to Mr. Murray at Summerland Place.
CHARLES FIELDING . I live at 22, Selborne Road, Wood Green—I was Originally in the Metropolitan Police, from which I retired after twenty-five Yars' service, as a pensioned sergeant—in 1895 I went into the employment of Slater's Agency, and remained there until July, 1903—I know Scott; he had the Agency under the name of Slater—at the Agency he was also known as Captain Scott and Captain Brown—I always thought he was the proprietor—I know Henry; he was the manager at the Agency—I did various things there, office work, and copying reports, and so on—my office was on the first floor, and was practically the first office that anyone would come to; the door was always open, and anybody coming to the place had to see me first—I kept a call-book—I know Smith; he was employed by the Agency, as a private inquiry agent, I suppose; his employment began in my time—I think ho was there about a year or two; I cannot toll without the book—I know Bray; he was employed by the Agency as a private detective; he was called Bray in the office—I cannot say how long he was there; he came before me, and remained on. after me—I knew Davies; ho was employed by the Agency as a private detective—I cannot say what was the length of his service; ho was there before me, and remained on after me—I should think about thirty were employed there as private inquiry agents—I know Osborn—I saw him at Slater's Office, at 1, Basinghall Street, several time—I invariably put his name down in the call book if he called—he used to come generally even day on some case or other; ho came sometimes more than once a day; I might put him down twice, but it was an understood thing his coming there; he came in and out as he liked—I might enter his name or I might not—there was private telephonic communication from Slater's to Osborn's office; no other people had private telephones to Slater's—during my time, Osborn had two offices, one at London Wall, and the other at 2, Coleman Street—he removed from one to the other—ho was in Copthall Avenue, and then he went to Coleman Street, which is quite close to Basinghall Street—I had some business cards in my office given, me by Osborn in relation to his business; I have not got one—Henry and Osborn suggested that I should keep those cards in my desk so that they could give them to clients when they came—to introduce business, I presume: it was simply for that; I did not give any of them to clients; I gave them to Henry, or anybody who asked for them: I kept them there for that purpose, to give them away—I gave them to the private inquiry agents; in fact, they used to help themselves if they wanted them; they knew where they were kept, and they used to take them—at I, Basinghall Street there wore three floors occupied by the Agency comprising twelve rooms: my room was on the first floor, and the other three upon that floor were used as consulting rooms—there were four rooms upon the second floor: one was the general office occupied by Cartwright and two clerks, and another was termed Slater's office, and was generally occupied by Hamilton; the next one to that was occupied by Henry and another clerks; and the back room was used as a consulting room and a sort of store room for books and papers—there were four rooms on the third floor also; of the two front rooms, one was used by representatives—next to that was another office used by two lady clerks; the next was used for
the female representatives; and the back room was used for the men employed there generally; they used to meet there—this call book begins on February 13th, 1001, and goes to Juno 6th, 1903—looking at it, I see on September 20th, 1901, Osborn called at the office—there is no entry of Knowles calling on that day; there is a blank there—I cannot tell when it was he came first, but I know him very well now—on September 23rd, Osborn was a caller—on September 24th, Knowles was a caller—on September 28th, Osborn and Knowles called, but their names are not entered in succession upon that day; one is third and the other last—on October 3rd Osborn, October 8th Osborn, and October-8th Osborn, senior, and on October 9th, Knowles—Osborn, senior, is Osborn's father—Osborn and Knowles both called on October 18th; one appears second in the list, and the other eleventh—on November 19th, they both called; their names are entered in succession—on November 26th, they both called, but net in succession, Osborn being eighth; upon the list, and Knowles eleventh—on December 3rd, they both called, Osborn being eighth, and Knowles thirteenth—on December 23rd, they called in succession—on January 23rd, I find them again calling in succession, Osborn being fifteenth, and Knowles sixteenth—on January 29th, they both called in succession—on March 7th, they called, Osborn being sixth, and Knowles seventh—on March 14th, the same thing happened; they called intermittently from time to time, and on May 2nd they both called, but not in succession—they called upon the same day, although not in immediate succession, on several occasions afterwards—Knowles. was a visitor at the office on November 22nd, 1902—between September 20th, 1902, and June, 1903, Knowles was a very frequent caller—Osborn was there more frequently still—it was my duty to make out a list of the calls and hand it either to Henry or to Cartwright at the end of the day's work, which was sent to Slater with a covering letter explaining the business of the day—it was part of my duty to make a fair copy of the reports that I received from the agents—I was told by Henry to make copies of the reports of the detectives in the Pollard case and send them on to Osborn—I cannot tell exactly when that was; it was before the divorce case—the original reports were given to me to copy; I think a junior clerk named Bowden gave them to me; he was upstairs in the general office—I fair-copied the reports which Bowden gave me—amongst the reports given to me to fair copy I did not see any which purported to come from Jersey—I knew Davies had been to Jersey on the Pollard case, but what he was there for I did not know—I told Henry I could not find any of Davies' reports from Jersey in the Pollard case; he smiled, and said they must not see daylight—after I had sent Osborn the fair copy of the reports, on one occasional said to him: "I understand from Mr. Henry that Davies' reports from Jersey with regard to the Pollard case are not required," and he said, "That is right; there is nothing in them"—that was before the case in Court—Osborn went down to Plymouth in connection with the Pollard case—Osborn met Henry on the landing opposite my door, and Henry told Osborn that he was not getting on very well with the pollard case at Plymouth, and Osborn slapped. Henry on the back and said: "Shall I go down and see what I can do for you?"—Henry said: "I wish
you would, Albert"—on September 20th, 1901, in the call book I find next to each other, two names, one being Osborn and the other Pollard—Osborn was not at the office on July 8th, 1902, according to the call book, but I did not always put him down—I kept the destination book; that was a book in which I entered where the employees were sent, and the dates when they were sent, and where they should be, and sometimes their return—apparently Smith was kept on in the employment subsequent to November, 1901; he is down on November 16th in the destination book—it does not mention the case upon which he was employed upon the 16th; it simply says: "Argyll Street"—that would be his destination—I find entries of his employment some time into 1902—my duties were confined to my office; they did not take me abroad at all—I was not a private inquiry agent or anything like that.
Cross-examined by MR. ISAACS. I suppose I bore a high character in the Force—I went to Slater's and remained in their employment for eight years—at the end of the eight years I was discharged by them on July 25th, 1903—I have heard that they suspected me of being in communication with a rival agency known as Simmonds' Detective Association—Simmonds had been in Slater's employ for several years—Cartwright was there before Simmonds, I think—there was also a person called Stevens; he had been there about a. year, when he left in August or September, 1902—when he left, Cartwright was still in the employ, but was discharged by Slater within about. September 22nd, and Simmonds left four days afterwards—I do not know that he was discharged; I believe he left of his own accord—that was on a Friday—I did! not know that whilst those three wore still in Slater's employ that they had agreed to set up a rival agency and to get Slater's business if they could—I never heard anything about that whilst I was there, or whilst they were there—I got to know it afterwards—I did not know that the idea was that whilst they were in Slater's employ and pay, they should start a rival agency and get Slater's business—I know that Simmonds' business was started' to compete with. Slater's; if they could get rid of Slater, I suppose it would be a very good thing for Simmonds and Co.—I think on September 27th there appeared an advertisement of Simmonds' Detective Association in the Daily Telegraph—Slater's was advertised in the Daily Telegraph—I think I saw this adver-tisement or. the Saturday, the day after Simmonds had left—it was rather quick—it was very good business—I should think it shows that there had been an arrangement beforehand between them—they started business at 29 and 30, King Street, Cheapside, London—I noticed in the advertisement that Mr. Henry Simmonds was described as "Manager (late of Slater's)": every time his name is mentioned as Henry Simmonds, Manager, there is always inserted "late of Slater's"—I think I saw the advertisement which was issued by Simmonds' Detective Association under date of September 27th, 1902, in the Daily Telegraph: "Simmonds' Detectives For all matters of a confidential nature requiring discretion, tact and skill. Consultations free. Simmonds Detective Association, Henry Simmonds, Manager (late of Slater's), 29 and 30, King Street, Cheapside, London, E.C Telephone, 230 Bank. Telegrams, ‘Kinster, London.' Divorce: Reliable evidence secretly obtained by expert male and female
detectives for divorce proceedings. Our system is unique and the only one from past experience by which secrecy can be assured. Consultations and correspondence free. Information secretly ascertained for financiers, manufacturers, merchants, bankers, shippers, insurance companies, and other firms who suspect that their interests are being neglected or betrayed. Consultations free. All matters under the personal supervision of Mr. Henry Simmonds, Manager (late of Slater's), 29 and 30, King Street, Cheapside, E.C. Simmonds' Lady Detectives personate any character in life in order to accomplish the desired object Call, write, wire, or telephone. Telegrams, 'Kinster, London.' Telephone, 230 Bank. Henry Simmonds, Manager (late of Slater's:), 29 and 30, King Street, Cheapside, E.C."—there was a circular dated September 30th, headed-: "Simmonds' Detective Association. Henry Simmonds (late of Slater's), Manager, 29 and 30, King Street, Cheapside, E.C, September 30th, 1902. Dear Sir,—We beg to inform you that this Association, having taken offices at the above address, will be pleased to undertake all confidential matters requireing the combined qualities of discretion, tact and skill, upon, terms which will be found more moderate than hitherto. We may mention that we have a carefully selected staff of detectives of world-wide experience, and same being under the personal supervision of the management (late of Slater's), you may rely upon all matters entrusted to us will receive the most careful consideration; with all regard to the secrecy which is most essential in obtaining successful results, and which from our past experience, it is almost impossible to guarantee under any other than our own up-to-date system. Should you at any time desire our confidential services, we shall be pleased to hear from you, with an appointment, when one of our managers will make a point of being in the way to see you on your calling, or will wait upon you if necessary, no charge being made for consultations or correspondence. Herewith we beg to enclose a card for future reference.—Yours faithfully, Simmonds"—I do not know that the names on these two envelopes were customers of Slater's—I saw the card which was issued by Simmonds' Detective Association—this one has on. it: "Henry Simmonds, Manager (late of Slater's), assisted by Mr. Edgar Wright, for the past eight years head of working department at Slater's"—the mr. Edgar Wright there referred to was Cartwright—I had one of those, but I do not remember where I got it from—I believe Simmonds sent one to all the representatives of Slater's—I have heard that there was a good deal of suspicion in the office in consequence of what had happened with Cartwright and Stevens and Simmonds, and apparently I was suspected of communicating with them—I have heard that that was the reason I was sent away, but I was not told that; I was told my services were no longer required; there was no reason given whatever; it would not be right if persons in the employ of Slater's who were watching, for example, for one customer, went and communicated the fact either to the customer or to Simmonds' detectives—it would be very injurious to Slater's business if that were known, or if it came out that anyone in Slater's employ was giving that information to Simmonds' people—there were between thirty and forty people employed at Slater's—the majority of them were detectives who would be sent about to watch at various
places according to the instructions given—besides myself, there were a number of other clerks who copied reports—I did not copy all the reports—during 1900, 1001, and 1902 Scott, very seldom came to the office, and then at irregular intervals—there was no fixed time at all for him to come, but ho came irregularly and stayed' sometimes for a short time, and sometimes a little longer; he never came before midday—a list of callers was made out and handed to Cartwright or Henry, which was sent, with a statement, to Slater ever day—that was the way in which he was informed of what was going on in the office—he was ill for some time: I do not know exactly when it was—I remember that he went to Australia, in January, 1902; I have heard it was for his health—he was away from this country until about April 17th, 1902—he did not come very often to the office during 1902—I cannot exactly say that he did not come at all after his return—whilst he was away the business went on just the same—when I was dismissed in July, 1903, he was not there—I had not seen him for several months before that—the last time I saw him was about the end of February or beginning of March, 1903—during 1901, 1902, and 1903, until the time I left, the business was being carried! on by Henry, Cartwright, and Hamilton—Henry managed it—Simmonds used to do inquiry work, and so forth—I cannot tell you exactly what he did do: he was in the confidence of Slater, and used to do confidential work for him—Slater's office was at 1, Basinghall Street—Cartwright lived at 13, Bakinghall Street; he had the keys; he came and opened the office; the front door was open—there were other offices—he would take the letters and open them; that was part of his duty—he would see whatever reports or letters came to the office when he opened them in the morning—I should think he would have the fullest knowledge of what was going on to be gathered from the letters and reports—I do not think there was any name or anything of that kind on Slater's room; it was occupied by Hamilton, and when Slater came at these irregular intervals, as a rule, he would use that room if he wanted to write a letter or anything of that sort—during the-time he was abroad I think letters were sent to him in batches, with reports—I have no recollection of a batch of letters being returned to the office not having been delivered to Slater abroad—I have heard since this case has been on that £5 or £5 10s. is the cost of a private telephone at a distance such as this was 'between Osborn's and Slater's.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I said at the police-court.: "When I entered their employ I had' a first-class pension after twenty-five years' service, so I had borne a very high character in the Force, and I considered I answered the requirements of anyone wanting a. man of honourable character, and I was eight years at Slater's"—that is accurate—I have not noticed that that has been used as an advertisement, since then—I was in the Service down to July 25th, 1903—after I left I saw Simmonds and Cartwright—after I had seen, them somebody called on me from the King's Proctor—Cartwright or Stevens had not been writing me letters—I think I wrote to Stevens; I do not think I wrote to Cartwright or Simmonds—I spoke to Stevens about getting me employment—I told him if he heard of anything that would suit me, I should be glad if he would
let me know, but I did not try very much after it—he promised that if he hoard anything he would let me know—I heard that there was the idea while I was in 'Slater's that I had been in communication with Stevens and Cartwright, but that was not the fact—they got into communication with me after my dismissal, when I was not in the employment—after that I got into communication with the King's Proctor—I said before: "I saw Cartwright and Simmonds after ray dismissal I did not go to the King's Proctor with them. Someone called upon me from the Treasury to take me to the King's Proctor. That was after I had seen Cartwright and Simmonds"—that is right—I presumed that Cartwright and Simmonds were indirectly in connection with the King's Proctor—I said at Bow Street: "The reports sent to Osborn would, I think, go to him in the usual way from the general office. After reports had gone to him, he would call on me in my office on his way upstairs. On one occasion I. said to him:' I understand from Mr. Henry that Davies reports are not required': Osborn said,' That is right: there is nothing in them"—that, is so—that matter that I was speaking of was something that had occurred about twelve months before I left—I did not make a note of the conversation; it was said in the doorway, on the landing, by the front consulting room; they stood at the door in the passage—I was in such a position that I could see them both; the conversation was directly opposite the door—after the conversation they went into some room—I had nothing to do with seeing any clients—after a caller came, if I knew the name, I would enter it, and then telephone to the general office and communicate with somebody there—apart from divorce matters, there were inquiries upon a great variety of matters—I knew Osborn was a member of a firm of solicitors, Osborn & Osborn—there were two, one Albert and one Oscar—it was very seldom that Oscar called, but he did sometimes—in 1902, there were several divorce oases going on—when Osborn came in and passed my room, he would go up to the general office—as a rule, I was on the first floor, and the other offices were higher up—the entries of Osborn's name that my attention has been called to are entries on pages where there are a number of other names mentioned whose business I should have no knowledge of—I do not know the date of the conversation with Osborn with reference to the reports—I used to copy reports and do all manner of things—I asked' Osborn if I had copied the reports in the Pollard case correctly; he said, "Yes," I only want copies of the originals"—as a rule, in reports, they write up the history of the case, but that was a fair copy of each report—I believe he was coming into the office when he said that.
Cross-examined by MR. LEYCESTER. Henry was manager—he was employed the greater part of every day in seeing callers; that took up nearly all his time—Hamilton's position was not similar to Henry's; he used to come and sit up in Slater's room, and used' to go out on business, but I do not know what he did—lie did not see clients of late years—in 1895, when I first went there, he used to see clients, end did so for two or three years afterwards, and then 'he left off seeing them and Henry saw them, all—I do not think he saw any at the end of the time—I believe he was a man in authority there—I cannot say that I looked upon him
as being in equal authority with Davies—I was the first person to arrive in the morning—Cartwright did not come next; all of them came in then at different times—I cannot tall you what Cartwright did upstairs—the reports were sorted eventually and put into separate envelopes, one foolscap envelope for each case; the reports would be folded up to be put into the envelopes; they would be turned over once—I saw Davies' reports from Plymouth—I looked through Pollard's case, and found that the reports were, not there from Jersey; this one, of February 13th (Produced) is in his handwriting—they are all on half sheets of note-paper; I cannot say that if the report; came on half sheets of notepaper, and half of it was not written on that thai, would be torn off before it was put away in the big envelope—when I came to copy them out, they were generally on half sheets of notepaper with the other halves torn off—these have never been folded, so they must have reached the office in envelopes of the same size as this is: envelopes of this size were not in common use in the office—I never saw these reports before I copied them; and I have never seen them since—I cannot recollect exactly what documents were amongst them and what were not—I did not see any letter from Jersey—I do not remember seeing this note dated! March 12th from the Star Hotel—I am not prepared to swear at this distance of time that that that was not there—this one dated March 14th, is on the same sized paper as the one of March 12th, and also purports to come from the Star Hotel—I am not prepared to swear that that was not there—it was nothing to do with me what went on with regard to the reports between Cartwright and' the agents—I heard there was a petition in the Pollard case—I forget now how long after that it would be that Henry told me to copy the reports out—I remember Cartwright leaving on September 22nd—I was asked in the Divorce Court, "Do you remember Wright's?" and I said, "Yes"—that is Cartwright—"Did' you copy out the reports before Wright left or after?" and my answer was "Before Wright left"—that is right.
Cross-examined by MR. CAMPBELL. There was a system at Slater's of employing detectives known as the daily system; detectives went to the office to see whether their services were required, and if they were not they went away, not being paid—I think Smith was on that system during the latter part of the time—detectives were employed both for watching and making inquiries—I cannot say if Smith was only employed in making inquiries in the Pollard case after his return from Plymouth—I had nothing to say to the preparation or sending out of the advertisement issued by Cartwright—I looked for employment after I left Slater's—I had at that time my first-class pension.; and I have it still; I had an excellent character when I went to Slater's—I was never put by Slater to do any inquiry work—I mentioned at the Police Court that I spoke to Osborn about the Jersey reports.
By the COURT. Whilst I was at Slater's I remember a, registered parcel coming addressed to Henry; he opened it in my presence; it contained a diamond stud and pin combined, in a case—he said it was a present from Mr. Knowles,
By MR. LETCESTER. I do not think I ever saw it again—I do not think I ever saw him wearing it.
EDGAR CARTWRIGHT . I am now a private enquiry agent employed at 29 and 30, King Street, City—I was formerly in the employment of Slater's Agency—I entered that employment in 1895, and continued in It up to September 22nd, 1902—in the latter years my duties were those of cashier of the establishment—all my duties were within the building—in September, 1901, Slater was at the office—Henry was employed there a manager at the time—I remember a visit by Mr. Knowles on September 20th, 1901—after Mr. Knowles had gone up an that day, I remember seeing in Henry's hand's this document (Produced) it is in Henry's own shorthand—I can read it: "20th September, 1901, Thomas Pollard, 34, Headlands Park, Plymouth, 48, tallish, dark man, medium build, black moustache, been living at above address three or four—months. Party in question supposed to live at 26, Doughty Street some time"—on the other side is "Client, H. C. Knowles, 26, Vincent Square, Westminster"—I had to keep a cash book showing the payments made by clients to the Agency—I find in Exhibit 13 a number of sums of money under the heading of Pollard and the name H. C. Knowles, 26, Vincent Spuare, Westminster, attached to it—the entries begin on September 20th, Watch above at Plymouth; cash £20"—"September 27th, £15; October 11th, £20; October 14th, £150; October 24th, £25; October 28th, £100; November 22nd, £25; December 6th, £145; making up to the end of that year a sum of £500 which had been paid—in. 1902, the account goes on: "February 21st, £240; March 20th, £250; March 26th, £150; June 13th, £50; July 1st, £100"—they end there for 1902—in Exhibit 69 the payments go on, "July 18th, 1902, cash August '4th, ' £100"—that is headed: "Pollard. From folio 7,165, Knowles, Esq., brought forward, £1,290"—the £100 on; August 4th is in addition to the £1,290——"September 5th, £100; October 6th, £100; October 4th, £100: October 24th, £100.; making £1,790 paid up to that time—four sums of £50; on December 22nd—In the year 1903: May 18th, £100; August 12th, £100; March 2nd, 1904, £100, in all a sum of £2,290, which was received on that account—that is what Knowles actually paid to Slater's for carrying on divorce proceedings; Osborn's charges' are not included in that £2,290—I became acquainted with the handwriting of a number of the agents employed at the office, amongst others, that of Smith, who was employed in the name of Roberts, and of Pracey, who was employed in the name of Bray; and of Davies—Exhibits 15 to 28 and 104 are in Smith's writing, Exhibits 29 to 47, and 160 and 161, are to the 'best, of my belief in the handwriting of Davies and Smith—Nos. 48, and 52 to 68, to the best, of my 'belief, are in Bray's writing; and No. 50, to the best of my belief, is in the handwriting of an inquiry agent named Iles, who went by the name of Sargent, I think—Exhibit 51 is in Osborn's writing—there was a postage book kept at Slater's—Exhibit 48 records the letters posted by the Agency to their different employees who were at a distance, amongst other things a number of letters posted to Davies in March by the Agency—on March 4th his name appears twice over once on March 5th, twice on March 6th,
twice on March 7th—a registered letter appears to have been sent to him, as 3d. Appears as the postage—I find an entry of 28s. postal orders with the numbers—one of 10s., and a number of postal orders which seem to have been sent on that day amounting to £8 10s.—the numbers are taken and recorded—on March 10th, I find Davies' name again, and on March 12th and 13th—I do not see any correspondence after the 13th—I find Davies as being the addressee of letters from the Agency—on March 12th, 1902, I find £5 is requisitioned by me, which was sent to Jersey—on March 17th £4 was requisitioned by me to be despatched to Devies at. Guernsey, and on March 20th, 1902, £2 was requisitioned by me to be sent to him at Plymouth—I wrote to Slater when he did not attend at the office at all—on such days as he did attend at the office for only part of the day, I wrote him a report of what had occurred there, if there was anything important; when he attended throughout the day at the office, I would not write at all—that correspondence begins on October 14th, 1901, and goes down to May 13th, 1902; from January to April, 1902, Slater was away from this country—he made a round voyage to Australia—during that time I supplied him with reports from the office saying what it was in the way of business that had been conducted there—amongst the callers which I reported to him was "Mr. Knowles, re Pollard, the Plymouth matter, called to discuss the further reports herein. Nothing else of importance." That is followed by a letter of January 23, 1902, apparently—I find Mr. Knowles' name mentioned in the same way in a letter of February 7th—and one of February 11th—the entry here is, "Mr. Knowles, re Pollard, discussed reports; will arrange to let us have £200 or £300 further"—I was in the habit of telling Slater in my letters whether any and what amounts of money had been paid in in relation to particular matters of business—in the letter of October 14th, I find: "Mr. Knowles, Pollard, the Plymouth matter; called and paid £150 as arranged, and is calling again in a few days to discuss the account for the previous working and to see if 'there, is any balance Nothing else of importance"—on October 24th: "Mr. Knowles, re Pollard, the Plymouth matter: called to discuss reports herein and paid £25 on the old account"—October 28th: "Mr. Knowles, re Pollard, the Plymouth matter; called to discuss further reports herein and paid £100 further on account. This is the last money we shall have from 'him for some time"—December 5th, 1901: "Mr. Knowle re Pollard, the Plymouth matter. He has promised to call to-morrow and pay the sum asked for to make up the £500 for which sum he was informed we would carry the thing through, although there will be some extra expenses in looking after the witnesses"—on February 21st I wrote to Slater: "Mr. Knowles, re Pollard, discussed reports herein and paid £240 further on account"—on March 20th I wrote to Slater: "Mr. Knowles, re Pollard matter, called to discuss matter and paid £250 further on account"—on March 24th: "Mr. Knowles, re Pollard, only called to discuss further reports herein."March 26th: "Mr. Knowles, re Pollard, only called for further reports herein, and will call again in a day or so to pay the £150, further on account" April 2nd: "Mr. Knowles re Pollard, Only called for further reports herein and will call again in a few days"—
he is again referred to in a letter of April 4th: "Mr. Knowles, re Pollard, called to discuss further, reports herein"—on April 8th: Re pollard, called for further reports herein, and will call again in a few days"—on April 13th, in the same way, and on May 15th, which is the concluding letter of the correspondence: "Mr. Knowles, re Plymouth matter, called to discuss further reports herein"—when Slater returned from his voyage in April he came to the office in May—when I left in September, 1902, I took away with, me certain reports which had been made to Slater's Agency by their private inquiry agents—amongst' them some by Smith and same by Davies—I took a lot of things away in the Pollard case and other cases—I took all the papers that were in my drawer; and at a later date I placed the reports in relation to the Pollard case in the possession of the King's Proctor—I said at the Police Court, "The Agency conducted inquiries into matters which in some cases became the subject of Divorce proceedings; a very small percentage of the cases developed into Divorce, matters, when they did so develop, Osborn acted sometimes as solicitor in those cases."
SAMUEL THOMAS MORRISON . I live at 7, Richmond Road, Leytonstone, and am a private inquiry agent; I was employed by Slater's Agency for about four years; I left the employment in September, 1902; amongst my duties was one to attend to the reports coming from the private inquiry agents—those reports were filed in the general office—I had to take them off. the file and put them in the envelopes which were endorsed with the name of the case to which they referred—I remember Cartwright leaving Slater's employment on Monday the 22nd September—on that day I received instructions from Slater to collect all the papers in the Pollard case and two other' cases—I collected the papers in the Pollard case—amongst them would be the reports of the private inquiry agents—those were the only three cases which I had to collect; having collected the reports together, I gave them to Henry—when I entered the room I think Shayler was present, another clerk employed at Slater's—I gave them to Henry in the back room on the same floor as the general office—it was an office used by McKenna and Stevens for writing out their reports in—after I had given Henry the reports, I had to go back; I was looking for the Kitchen case; it was an old case that had been put away—I had to go back on several occasions after I had given the reports to-Henry in Shayler's presence—when I went into the office upon the second or third occasion, the papers were all strewed about the table—Henry, Shayler, and Davies were in the room—they had the papers all over the table, and they were looking through them—I do not think there was anyone else there on that occasion—on five or six occasions I think I went into the room—en, the fourth or fifth occasion that I went into the room I saw some papers had been burnt in the hearth—they were smouldering then in the hearth—Henry and Davies were in the room then—I went in again and Davies was there alone—the papers had been put back into the envelope)—I went in for the envelope with the pollard papers in; Davies said: "What are you going to do with those.?;" I said: "Puts them in the proper place"—he said: "Well, leave thorn here"—I am not sure whether I left them there or took them into
the office—I paid a visit to the room afterwards; there was no one there then—I saw the pile of papers in the hearth that had been burnt, and there was a corner of a report not quite burnt, which I looked at, and I saw Davies' hand writing on, it.
Cross-examined by MR. ISAACS. I was. in Slater's employ three or four years ago—I was there the day Cartwright left—I remember after Cartwright came back from lunch that day—he was away three-quarters of an hour to an hour—when he came back Scott called him into his room and charging him with 'having been communicating with Stevens and Simmons, or something to that effect; meeting Stevens outside the office—I do not know what transpired; but he went out of the office then, and never returned—before he went he handed over the keys to Scott—I was present; I saw him come out of the room with Scott in which they had had the conversation—they both went down together on to the first floor. I think it was—nothing took place in my presence except that as Cartwright came out of the room he handed over the keys to Scott and then they went downstairs—I did not know that before Cartwright left on the 22nd it was proposed to start a Detective Association by Simmons, Cartwright and Stevens—I heard it very soon after—I had a letter from Wright or Cartwright enclosing a card—that was about four or five days after I left Slater's, on September 29th, 1902; three days after Simmons and a week after Cartwright, and the next working day alter the advertisement appeared in the Daily Telegraph—Simmons left on the Friday, the advertisement appeared in the Telegraph on the Saturday, and I left on the Monday—I always had some idea of leaving the place; I did not want to remain there—I had never given notice—I told Henry I was leaving because I was going to America—that was the truth—I did not go, but I was thinking of it at that time, and had been for some months—I am sure that is what I left for—there was an object in going—I was going out to my uncle's place; that is what I left for—my uncle is still in America—I have not been to him—I left Slater's on the Monday—I think Henry said: "You had better go at once"—I do not know that he made it pretty plain that he thought I was working with the other gang—I do not think that was his view; he may have thought so—I do not know whether I told him what I was; going to do—I was really employed in the office as junior clerk—I used to go out occasionally, doing a little watching or something like that, if they were very busy—I did not tell Henry that I was going to America to put him off the scent—I may have said it to him, but I cannot swear to it—I did not take a passage to America, or take any trouble about, going to America—the idea of going to America, never came to anything—I never took any more steps than having it in my head—I went to Simmons Detective Association as their employee on the following Monday—I did not give notice on the Monday because I was going to their employment on the following Monday—it was pure chance that they took me—I gave notice on Monday, September 29th, which expired at the end of that week, and should have been free to go to Simmons' on October 6th—that is the day on which I, in fact, entered their employment; and from which date I received payment—I did not apply to them before—I received a card and a letter from Cartwright asking me to call; I went and saw
Cartwright then—I have not got the letter or the card—the card was not sent to me at the office when they first started; it was sent to my private address—I went there on that particular Monday, and I am still there—I think I was getting; 17s. a week at Slater's when I left—when. I started at Simmons' on that Monday I got 25s. a week—I do not know that it was rather a big rise—I was practically out of work—my salary has been raised since—it was raised after I gave evidence in the King's Proctor's ease—I do not know that it was for the services I rendored Cartwright and Simmons—I have rendered them no services—I have got my duty to do in the office there; that is what I am paid for—I worked under Cartwright at Slater's—we sat in the same room—I do not know that if Cartwright, Stevens and Simmons could ruin Slater it would be a very fine thing for them; it might be—I have been five or six years in the business—I have had several conversations with Cartwright and Simmons with reference to this case—I gave evidence first of all in the King's Proctor's case—I am sure that it was Slater who gave me instructtions to collect those papers—if I have ever said anything eke I must have been stating what was not true—I remember giving evidence in the King's Proctor's case—I do not remember swearing: "Q. Who told you to make that collection—to collect these papers or documents? A. Mr. Henry"—I cannot understand how I came to say it—it was an untruth, certainly, if I said it—that is my view now because I am sure that it was Slater who asked me to get those papers—I collected them from the office—before I went to the Police Court I had never sworn before, that it was Slater who gave me those instructions—I did not get a rise in wages after I was at the Police Court.
Cross-examined by MR. LETCESTER. When I found the papers burning there was nobody in the room except Henry and Davies—Shayler had; gone—I cannot name any person who ever saw any burnt papers except myself—the corner that I saw that was not burnt was the corner of a report, or instructions—at the Police Court I was asked to say what size that corner was by tearing off a piece of paper—I did so—this is the size of it (Produced) as near as I can say—I should think it was a report—there was enough writing on it for me to identify the handwriting as Davies—there was no single whole word I could see upon it—I do not think I can say how many letters were there—from what I remember I should think there were four or five letters on it—I cannot remember what they were—I do not profess to be a judge of handwriting, 'but I—know Davies so well, I saw it every day—I picked it up and looked at it—I did not keep it—I threw it back again into the grate—I think I first mentioned this circumstance to Wright some time after I had been in his employ—I cannot say how long after—it would be when I was making my statement out for the King's Proctor; that would be the first occasion'—I think Stevens and Cartwright had made statements for the King's Proctor—then the question arose what statement I could' make, and have I could help—then I first thought of this incident of the burning; and then I first mentioned that I 'had seen Davies' handwriting.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I was told to bring three separate cases, including the Woods and the Kitchen documents—I do not know
whether Davies, did any work in the Woods or Kitchen cases; the Kitchen case was about five years before I was employed there.
FRANCIS CARLIN (Detective Sergeant). About 8 p.m. on April 22nd, 1904, I went, to 71, Palace Court Mansions, Not tiny Hill Gate and saw Scott—I said, "I am a police officer, a warrant has been granted for your arrest for conspiracy with Osborn, Henry and others to pervert the true course of justice in the action of Kate Pollard at the Law Courts, in November, 1902, I shall arrest you on that charge; he said: "Very well I will come with you, I am perfectly innocent. I have not been to the office for 13 months' prior to last March I have not taken any active part in the firm for many years. Henry manages the business but, of course, I take the money. I know nothing of this case. Someone is supposed to have shown me a. letter with regard to the case. I am as innocent as a child"—he was taken to Bow Street, and charged by Inspector Freest—at 12.45 I went to 66, Balcombe Gardens, Earl's Court, and saw Osborn—I told him 'the same as I told Slater—he said: "This is very annoying, but I suppose I must go with you. I am quite ready to accompany you"—I conveyed him to Bow Street'—on April 23rd I went with another officer to Southend, where I found Henry detained—I told him I was a police officer and held a warrant for his arrest—he made no reply.
FRED BROWS (Detective Sergeant). On April 26th, I saw Smith in Bedford How, Bloomsbury—I told him I was a police officer, that he would be arrested for being concerned with others in conspiring to pervert the true course of justice—he said: "I expected this would happen. I admit I foolishly wrote letters concerning Pollard which were not true, but I was talked into doing so, and I was anxious to send in a, good report of my work"—at the station the warrant was read and he then said: "All right"—he gave his address as 3, Featherstone Buildings, Holborn.
THOMAS HARVEY PUITCHARD . I am. head passbook keeper at the Lothbury Branch of the London and Westminster Bank—we had an account named Slaters—these are two copies of the ledger (Produced)—one oranges between September 1st, 1901, and July 31st, 1902—that is one of the books,—and the other from August 1st, 1902, to the end of November, 1902—they have been compared with the books at the bank, and are certified as being correct copies of the ledger account—I cannot. say what the cheques are drawn to—we have only got the number in the ledger.
Cross-examined by MR. ISAACS. It does not follow that the cheques were drawn to numbers—that is the way they are entered in cur ledger—we do not fill it up in the original pass book; we copied this direct from the ledger—I know 'that, the original passbook, of which this; is, a copy, wax said to be lost'—Scott applied for a copy and these two wore made out on the request of Slaters—apparently the amount paid in during each month in 1901 varied between £1,000 and. £2,000.
The Prisoners statements before (he Magistrate, Osborn said:" I wish to say I have not. conspired with anyone, neither have I incited
nor procured Maud Goodman to give false evidence, and I believe the evidence she gave was true. I should like to add that my connection with the Pollard case commenced on July 8th, 1902. It was on that date I was introduced to Mr. Knowles by Mr. Henry. The only other persons employed by Slater's Agency with whom I subsequently had any communication in reference to this case were Iles, Pracey and McKenna. I had nothing whatever to do with either Smith or Davies in reference to the case. On July 8th, Mr. Knowles made a statement to me with regard to Mr. Pollard's treatment of his wife, and I was instructed to act in the matter. The following day (July 9th) I made a note which has already been produced in evidence of information given me by Iles. I only saw Mr. Pollard upon the one occasion, which was at the Grand Hotel, Plymouth, and that was July 10th, about 5 o'clock, and I spoke to him on the subject of his having in the preceding month of June) created a disturbance at the house where his wife was staying. That was at 3 a.m., and I cautioned him as to a repetition of it The statedments by Stevens with regard to me are absolutely untrue. With regard to Maud Goodman's statement, taken on July 10th, I believed that she was telling the truth, and that her hesitation in making the statement was due entirely to her unwillingness, as she said, to give away a man who had been with her. I made her no promise, neither did I hold out any inducement to her to make a statement. On July 14th I saw Mrs. Pollard, who gave me an account of her husband's conduct during her married life, which she afterwards gave in evidence on the trial of her case. I was informed that Maud Goodman had identified Pollard on August 2nd, and I believed the letter Maud Goodman wrote me on August 7th was a truthful letter. Having been told that she did not want to come to London, I saw her on November 22nd. She did not on that occasion suggest any doubt as to the identity of Pollard, and I believe the only reason for her objecting to attend the trial was that she had been advised she could not be compelled to give evidence in the Divorce Court I told her that having been served with a subpoena, she would have to attend the trial. I did not then hold out any inducement to give evidence or make her any promise On the journey to London I told her, in the presence of Nellie Bell and others, that in giving evidence I wished her to say nothing she was not certain of On the morning of the trial, before giving evidence, I saw her in the corridor of the courts, and gave her the opportunity of making any correction in her statement if she desired to do so Before being examined in Court, she was asked by the Judge whether she was willing to give evidence and she said she was. From beginning to end the total sum of money paid to Maud Goodman was £6 10s., and that included' payment for the trouble she had been put to in seeing me on July 10th, and for 'her attendance on August 2nd when she attended to identify Pollard, and also for her four days' attendance in London at the time of the trial. As to what subsequently occurred. I say, when she wrote me on March 27th, 1903, I did not know who Mr. Murray was I did not believe he was representing the King's Proctor, and thought she was being approached by some one at the instigation of Stevens, Cartwright and Simmons. As to the King's Proctor's intervention, the whole
of the material I had, and all the documents that came into my possession, were placed before Counsel who conducted the case on behalf of Mrs. Pollard."
Henry Scott said:" I should like to say that in 1901, when Mr. Knowles first became a client of Slater's, I was in ill-health, and paying almost no attention to business. I never saw him until I was in Court in the King's Proctors case. I had no knowledge of what was being done either then or afterwards in the Pollard case. In the autumn of 1901, I decided to go for a voyage to Australia for the benefit of my health and for the same reason I spent a great deal of my time at Brighton. I never saw Smith's report which Cartwright says I handed to him until I was in the witness box in the Divorce Court. That report appears to have been written on November 13th, 1901, and would reach London on the 14th. On November 14th, 1901, I spent the entire day at Brighton. I had no knowledge of the telephone message mentioned in it coming from Smith, and I knew nothing of the telegram sent in reply. On January 16th, 1902, I left England for a second voyage to Australia and returned to England on April 13th the same year. I never heard anything whatever about the Jersey incident until after the King's Proctor intervened. It is untrue that Cartwright 'took any documents out of a drawer on the occasion when I discharged him, as he had no opportunity of doing so. It is also utrue that I was a party to or present at the destruction of any documents, or that I "was sent for (for that purpose as suggested in the evidence of Morrison I had no knowledge of any of the stops taken by Mr. Osborn in connection with the Pollard case until after the King's Procter's intervention, and in conclusion I think it due to Mr. Henry to state that when I said in the Divorce Court that he was a partner, I did not mean that he was so in any legal sense."
Henry said:" I say I am not guilty of conspiring with anyone."
Davies said:" I am perfectly innocent of this charge."
Pracey said: "'I say there is no truth in the suggestion that I at any time conspired with the other defendants or any of them During the whole time I was in Slater's employ I never had any communication with Mr. Scott about this case I quite believed Maud Goodman had identified the photograph of a gentleman who had stayed with her at 3, Summer-land Place, in June, 1902. I further believe that when she saw Mr. Pollard on August 2nd, she believed he was the gentleman who had stayed with her there. Before the statement of August 2nd was signed by her, she had an opportunity to make any correction, she desired, and a portion of the statement was struck out by the at her request She never at any time suggested tome she had any doubt as to the identity of Pollard, and I always understood from her that the reason she was unwilling to go to London in. November, 1902, was that she had had advice on the matter end had been told she was not compolled to give evidence. When I went to Plymouth early in 1903, to obtain a further statement from Maud Goodman, I heard she had been approached by a Mr. Murray, who was said to be acting on behalf of the King's Proctor, and whose description was driven to me. I made inquiries at Plymouth, but failed to trace anyone
of that name, and as the description' given to me corresponded with one of Simmons' employees, I came to the conclusion Murray was acting on, their behalf. I have never asked Maud Goodman to state anything untrue, and she has always had an opportunity of making any correction in any statement submitted to her in connection with the case I was subpœnaed by the King's Proctor as his witness, but was not called."
Smith said: "I state that about the middle of November, 1901, while I was in the temporary employment of Slater's Detective Agency, in which I was paid about the average rate of 4s. 6d. a day, I received instructions to go to Plymouth, and there make the acquaintance of Mr. Pollard, living at 34, Headlands Park, with the view to obtain information as to his past, and present mode of life and manner of conversation. This appears in my report of November, 1901, in which I say that I think it would be quite futile for me to try to become acquainted with him, in the street No one ever gave me instructions to endeavour to induce Mr. Pollard to commit adultery, and I have never seen nor had any communication with Mr. Osborn or Mr. Slater in connection with the case at any time. Four days after reaching Plymouth, namely, November 7th, an opportunity occurred of opening a conversation, with Mr. Pollard, and we then became on sufficiently friendly terms to occasionally go about together. I seat in reports giving particulars of the occasions on which I met. him and stating where we went on these occasions. I admit in tome of these reports I foolishly made statements concerning Pollard, being anxious to send in a good report of my work and thus improve my position with the Agency. At no time while I was in company of Mr. Pollard did we frequent the society of loose characters, nor did I ever make any endeavour to induce him to commit adultery. My reason for sending that report, Ex. 24, was the hope 'that should my suggestion be accepted, money would be wired to me from London. As a, matter of fact the suggestion was not accepted, and I was immediately called from Plymouth to London. the only work I subsequently did in connection with the Pollard case was to make certain, inquiries in London with a view of tracing where Mr. Pollard had previously resided. The last report made by me in connection with the Pollard case is dated December 27th, 1901; as between January and June, 1902, I occasionally did work for Slater in connection with other cases, for which I was paid on the daily system, which means I go to the office daily to see if my services are required, and if they are not I do not get paid. From June 13th, 1902, not being on the permanent staff of Mr. Slater's, I left London to undertake a commission for a friend, and I never heard anything about the presentation of a petition by Mrs. Pollard until my return from the country, where I had been several months. I was employed in December, 1902, and January, 1903, by Longley's Agency in doing chance inquiries. While so employed' I saw Cartwright at Longley's, and I "wrote the letters for Longley's at the instigation of Cartwright and Stevens. In February, 1903, I met Cartwright in London, in Holborn, and he asked me to make a statement about the Pollard case for the King's Proctor. At the suggestion of Mr. Cartwright I went to Longley's Detective Office and made a. statement there, which was handed to Cartwright and sent to the King's Proctor through Longley's,
so that the information, might not appear to have come from Cartwright. About October 12th, 1903, I received a letter from the King's Proctor's Department asking me to call at his office. I went there, and was closely questioned by one of his representatives, Mr. Stredwick, who suggested I was anxious to screen Mr. Henry. I answered all the questions put to me truthfully and to the best of my ability, and I assured Mr. Stredwick I was telling the truth. Some time in November, 1903, I received a subpoena to attend to give evidence on behalf of the King's Proctor, and on December 9th, 1903, I was again seen by the same gentleman, who further questioned me in reference to my statement. I attended on my subpoena throughout the trial, but was not. called to give evidence. The trial ended April 21st, 1904, and I was arrested on April 26th, 1904.I have never conspired with any of the other defendants."
FREDERICK WILLIAM MURRAY (by the court). I am managing clerk to Watts, Ward and Anthony, of Plymouth—they were the solicitors instructed to inquire down there by the King's Proctor—we have many cases in the course of each year.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. We were first instructed on January 5th, 1903—'the instructions were in the stereotyped form that is always sent to us in each case—we have been in the habit for many years of making inquiries for the King's Proctor—the instructions were accompanied by the copy of the letter which Pollard had sent to him, simply for our information—my instructions were limited at that period in the stereotyped form, to hiking a statement from the respondent; not general instructions to see anybody—we got general instructions in the middle of March, as far as I remember—nothing happened! in the interval from the sending up Pollard's statement to the Treasury—I think I first saw Maud Goodman on March 26th—before I saw her I had seen Nellie Bell—she was the first person I saw; I saw her a few days before I saw Goodman at our office—I had seen her about nine years previously—she was a witness in a divorce ease in which the firm were concerned, but I did not know it till she came into room—I saw Louie Ford, probably a day or two after seeing Bell—I saw Ford at Trafalgar Street—no subordinate of mine interviewed her—I took a statement from her at Trafalgar Street—I did not take her from Trafalgar Street to my office or to any rooms in an hotel or anything of that kind—I think I—took it at that interview—I went to Summerland Place to see Maud Goodman, after I had had the interviews with Nellie Bell and Louie Ford—I think it was Miss Bell who fetched Maud Goodman for me to see her, but I do not know as a fact—I had just then learnt that Bray had arrived in Plymouth—I was at Summerland Place waiting for Goodman to come—Nellie Bell went out of the room, and may have been the person who fetched her for aught I know; she was in and out of the room occasionally—I believe Nellie Bell came to our office with Maud Goodman on two occasions—I cannot remember anymore—when I took the first statement from Goodman., I took down what she said carefully—qualified in this way, that she was reluctant; she did not talk freely about it—what she said I took down carefully: whether it was in Pollard's favour or against him it did not matter to me—I took care to preface it by telling her that she must adhere to the
truth, and it did not matter whether it was for Pollard or against him; she only had to say it, and if she wished to make a statement., make a truthful one—the material that I had there was a transcript of the short-hand-writer's note of the original trial—Pollard having, of course, told me that 'he did not know anything about the woman, I wrote up and asked, would they give me any materials at all as to what was given against the man; he could not tell me, and I did not know—I got that transcript, and I had the copy of the letter which Pollard had addressed to the King's Proctor—when. I spoke to this woman first, she began to tell me all that had happened, that Mrs. Pollard had said in the box what a wretched state she was in, and so on, and I said: "Now, let me' read this to you, this is Pollard's side of the story"—I had Pollard's letter—I do not know that I road the whole; I read a part of it—I read particularly what she was referring to; it was certain acts that Mrs. Pollard had stated; about being starved, and never 'having any money—I read the parts of Pollard's letter where 'he said he had made over his money to his wife—I did not know that Pollard's allowance had ceased—I read it to her carefully so that she could follow what it was I had taken—I asked her whether it was correct, and I asked her to sign it—all that occurred at 3, Summerland Place—the statements read to her in cross-examination yesterday were statements actually made by her which I reduced to writing; many of them were answers to questions—if her statement prompted a question, I put it; as, for instance, when she said on March 27th: "Afterwards I heard nothing more until Mr. Bray came to me and asked me if I would identify the man in the photo. Looking across I saw. the man; I was not sure then, as his 'back was toward me. I said I would go on to the Hoe, where the man was going, and see his face"—those are her own words—Summerland Place is within five minutes' walk from our office—I did not take the statement of May 13th; it was taken by a Mr. Hogbin—he was in the King's Proctors Department 'here—I was not present when it was taken—I do not know when it was taken—ft was not taken at our office—I should know the person who took it; he is one of the inquiry officers of the department—I think it is the practice for the King's Proctor to send inquiry agents to inquire with regard to cases in London—in the country I think it is always done through solicitors; I mean our instructions are not to have a private detective—the King's Proctor has inquiry agents of 'his own—the person who was taking these statements was an inquiry agent of the department—I saw him on his arrival in Plymouth, but he was acting quite independently of me—on May 13th, I was an communication with Nellie Bell—I do not think I saw Maud Goodman between March 27th and May 13th—I made a note from the call-book; she called on March 30th at the office—that is the day after she had Osborn's letter—after I had taken that statement, I said, "Supposing you are wanted to see Pollard, would you be willing to do so?" and she said at first, "I should 'be afraid of him"—finally, after a little hesitation, she said yes, she would see the man—I think I next saw her on May 13th—I do not remember any interview between us—I remember seeing her on the morning that Mr. Hogbin was down; she had not called at the office am that day—I had gone to Summerland Place to
see her—on May 11th I was taking from her a receipt in which she spoke of receiving 15s. for loss of time in several attendances on me—as far as I remember, May 14th would! be the third occasion; she had been at the office most of the day waiting about for Mr. Stredwick from the office of the King's Proctor—the inquiry agent was in Plymouth; he was not at. the interview—on May 13th he had got from her a statement in which she says: "I believe, now, that in identifying Mr. Pollard I have made a great mistake"—I did not see that on May 13th—the appointment far her to come an May 14th was made on the morning of the 14th—I had not seen her statement on the morning of the 14th; the inquiry agent had not brought, it. to me—I believe he posted it direct to the Treasury the same night he got it; I never saw it—he saw me the first thing on the morning of the 14th, having seen Maud Goodman some time on the 13th—having seen him, I sent for Nellie Bell—I did not send her for Maud Goodman or go for her myself—I know Nellie Bell and Maud Goodman came together—it was upon; that day that she saw Pollard—between March 27th and May 14th I had seen Nellie Bell on four or five occasions; I cannot say precisely; she called! at. our office—I saw Louie Ford probably three times at, Trafalgar Street—between March 27th and May 13th I saw Nellie Bell I should think five or six times at our office—it is during that time that I had seen Louie Ford—I went to see her at Trafalgar Street—on May 14th Mr. Stredwick took the second statement from Maud Goodman—I was present when it was taken—I think she was pretty nearly all that day in the office—there were several statements taken whilst Mr. Stredwick was there, and she had to wait about, say between 10 and 4—I should think Pollard was brought upon: the scene between about 12 and 1, but I am not very clear about the precise time—Pollard was there the greater part of the day in another room—at some given time he was brought into the same room—Nellie Bell and Mrs. Ford were there during the day, but not at the interview—Maud Goodman and Nellie Bell sat together in the waiting-room—no one spoke to Maud Goodman! before the interview—I am not positive as to what time Pollard came into the room—Goodman's statement was taken after she saw Pollard—I should think Pollard was shown to her about 12 to I; I am not very clear about that—I am not sure whether one or two statements were taken from her—she did not call at the office often after that—Nellie Bell came most frequently; I think she came more often than Maud Goodman—I remember Louie Ford coming on one occasion, but not again—I took five or six statements from Nellie Bell, but. they were not all signed—she was the witness who came up to town with me when—I came up with the King's Proctor's witnesses: they came up in their own; compartment—I took all their tickets; I think it was sixteen or seventeen:—I came up to town, with them in the same train, But not in the same compartment—the female witnesses were all in the same compartment—we did not go all to the same hotel; we had to break up—the female witnesses went to the same hotel—I went to that hotel—I have heard since that that was the hotel that they had been to before—I have not subpœnaed the Thompsons in this case or at Bow Street—I have had nothing to do with the conduct of the case.
MR. ISAACS submitted that there teas no evidence against Scott except that of Morrison, who had given evidence directly opposite to what he gave in the Divorce Court. Mr. Campbell submitted that there was no evidence of conspiracy against Smith, and that the sole evidence against him depended upon certain documents, but that there was no evidence to show that he was sent to Plymouth to get Pollard to commit adultery. MR. JUSTICE DARLING said that he would not trouble the Solicitor General to reply with regard to Smith, as he considered there was evidence against him which should go to the Jury. The Solicitor General contended with regard to Scott that he was holding himself out by advertisement to be responsible for Slater's business, that he went to the office as principal whenever he liked, that he received the profits of the firm, and drew out money for expenses, that reports were sent to him that Knowles had called at the office, and that the letters to him showed that he must have known about the Pollard matter, and he submitted that the sums Knowles was charged proved that Scott was either defrauding him or he charged him such large sums because he thought he was justified owing to the dangerous and illegal character of the work. MR. JUSTICE DARLING said that whatever he thought of Scott, once he had arrived at the conclusion that there was no evidence against him, he ought not to leave the case to the Jury. That although many of the facts alleged against Scott gave rise to the gravest suspicion against him, he did not think they were, of such a character as to justify him in allowing the case to go to the Jury, and he therefore directed them to return a verdict of
NOT GUILTY against Scott.
HENRY, BRAY, DAVIES and SMITH GUILTY . The Jury could not agree as to Osborn, and were discharged without giving a verdict HENRY- Twelve months' hard labour. DAVIES and SMITH— Six months' hard labour each. BRAY— Three months' hard labour.
Before Mr. Recorder'.
789. STEPHEN KINGSTON (40) , Feloniously causing grievous bodily harm to George Dale, a Metropolitan police constable; also causing him grievous bodily harm with, intent to resist and prevent his lawful apprehension.
GEORGE DALE (374 N.) On September 3rd, at 2.10 a.m., I was on duty at Forest Rise, Walthamstow—I heard the barking of dogs and saw the prisoner come from a roadway at the back of the house where the barking was—I watched him—the night was very dark—he came a few yards from me, and I asked him what he was doing there—he said, "I have come from Wanstead"—I. said, "Well, you are acting in a suspicious manner, and I shall search you"—he made no objection to my searching him, and I found a pair of pincers on him—I told him I should take him to the station on suspicion—he struck me, saying he would not d——well go, and ran into the Forest—I gave chase and caught him—he
struggled for some few minutes and managed to break away again and run further into the Forest—I pursued him, blew my whistle and caught him; he snatched my whistle away—I drew my truncheon, but he seized that, caught me by the throat, and threw me to the ground—I regained my feet and he endeavoured to kick me several times—at last he caught me in the pit of my stomach with his knee; we both fell to the ground—I struck him with my truncheon—we were then both completely exhausted—I shouted for help and a Mr. How and two more men came to my assistance—I asked them to get the prisoner out to the road for me—I vomited a quantity of blood, and fainted, and was taken on an ambulance to the police station—I was in bed for ten days, and have been off duty for six weeks—I am still on the sick list.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not attempt to assault me till I told you I should take you to the station—I did not hit you on the head with a stick; I had no stick—I drew my truncheon when I felt myself being overpowered.
DANIEL KAY . I live at 16, Forest Rise, Walthamstow—on September 3rd I was awakened by a cry for help—I opened my window and asked who was there, and had the reply, "Come at once"—I got up, and went across to the Forest, and found Dale—he was kneeling down, and seemed much exhausted—the prisoner was lying on the ground in charge of Mr. How—I took Dale and the prisoner to my house, and got more help, and then sent for a constable—Dale was in a very bad state—I got him a chair and some water—he swooned three times and fell out of the chair the first time—I went for a doctor—the prisoner seemed dazed—I did not notice that he was bleeding.
Cross-examined. Dale was not on the top of you when I first saw you; he was kneeling and you were on the ground.
GEORGE BURRELL . I live at 18, Forest Rise, Walthamstow, and am a railway guard—on September 3rd, about 2 a.m., I was awakened by a disturbance—I went out into the road and found Dale sitting on a chair and the prisoner being held—I saw Dale fall of! the chair—I remember Mr. Kay went for a doctor—while he was gone I picked the policeman's helmet up, when the prisoner said, "I wish I had given him more"—Dale was very much injured.
Cross-examined. You made no resistance when I came up.
JOHN HUTTON (95 N.) I was on duty in Walthamstow, about 2 a.m., on September 3rd—I heard a police whistle and went to the Forest—I there found the prisoner detained by Mr. Kay—Dale was lying on the ground groaning—he said, "I saw the prisoner acting in a suspicious manner; I went to arrest him when he kicked me in the stomach with his knee"—the prisoner said, "I put my knee in his stomach whilst he was struggling on the ground"—I took him to the station, where he was charged with being a suspected person loitering with intent to commit a felony, and also with this offence—he replied, "I cannot see how that comes in, Sergeant"—nothing was found on him—before he was charged he said, "I was going to see my sister, but I altered my mind and was going back home "
Cross-examined. I did not see anything of a pair of pincers.
CHARLES JULIAN HORNER , I am a registered medical practitioner at Walthamstow—on September 3rd, about 4.45, I saw Dale at the Lea Bridge police station—he complained of great pain in the abdomen, and was suffering from nervous shock—he is still under my care on the sick list—he was in bed ten days—I did not form an opinion as to the cause or nature of the injury—I thought he had received a very severe internal injury, but there were no symptoms of what organ was damaged—a blow would cause the injury from which he suffered.
Cross-examined. I found no marks of violence upon him, and no bruises whatever—I have had cases of ruptures of internal organs without any external bruises.
By the COURT. I examined the prisoner—he had a scalp wound as if there had been a struggle—that might have been caused by a truncheon.
The prisoner in his defence said that the constable struck him without any provocation; that he (the prisoner) did not strike him at all; that he struggled with him, but never attempted to strike him.
GUILTY . He then
790. WILLIAM TOWNSEND (22) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining from Louise Williams a jacket and other articles; from Henrietta Carl a coat and waistcoat and other articles; and from Ethel Eleanor Salmon a suit of clothes and other articles by false pretences with intent to defraud; having been convicted of felony on December 28th, 1903, at the Worship Street Police Court. One other conviction was proved against him. Four months' hard labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. JENKINS Defended.
GEORGE THOMAS EDWARDS . I am a potatoes merchant of 126, Jedbury Road, Plaistow, and am agent to Mr. Armstrong, a hay and produce merchant—in July I met the prisoner working on a building as a carpenter—he was helping to build a stable—I discovered he had been a carpenter on board ship, and had some knowledge of shipping and so on—he was practically starving—I had not known him before—I decided to start him as my canvasser in connection with my potatoe business, and I set up the business of George Thomas & Co., for which he was to get orders—the business was mine entirely—he had to buy the potatoes to sell afterwards—on September 6th I gave him four guineas to go to Stratford market and buy a ton and a half of potatoes and deliver them to an order that he had already got in the Barking Road, and to collect the money and hand it to me—I hired a van and engaged a man to go
with him—I heard no more of him till the 13th, when I saw him in the Barking Road, near Chalk's place—he caught sight of me and bolted through the shop and out at the back, and I saw no more of him—I received no return of my money—on September 7th I received a letter from him, saying, We waited for you this morning at the Three Nuns. Did you 'get my letter that I left?"—I had not then received any letter—(The letter went on to state that he had not done much good, as the profit was only 15s., but that he would call)—my reply was that I did not understand his note, and asked him to see me that night or in the morning; I did not see him—I got no satisfaction for my four guineas—on the 15th, the day he was taken into custody, I met him in Barking road; I said, "You bounder, where have you been to?"—he said, "I made a fool of myself, I made a mistake of half a sovereign in my change; I lost half a sovereign, and I was ashamed to come and see you"—I said, "It would have been very much better to have brought me the £14 10s."—he said he had given £12 to his cousin to hold till Saturday; that he would be able to get another £6 on Saturday, and he would pay all the money—he had collected other monies, and there is another charge for embezzlement—I said it would have been very much better to have brought what he had, and I might have given him the half sovereign he had lost had he not gone away for ten days—a warrant had at that time been granted, and he was taken into custody within a quarter of an hour.
Cross-examined. Besides being agent for Armstrong I have traded as George Thomas & Co. at my private house since the end of last August—I had bill heads of "George Thomas & Co."—that is not the prisoner's business—I started it as an independent business with a view of helping this man—he was not to be the George Thomas—I did not give all the conversation before the Magistrate—I did not think it was necessary, and I had to answer quickly; I cannot explain more—I have charged the prisoner with embezzling £7 17s. 6d.—he was to sell, take half the commission, and pay his own expenses out of it, because it is difficult to fix the commission, not knowing the man's abilities and what is likely to take place—I gave him half the profit to encourage him to work up the trade—he sold to Mr. Martin and others—Martin's was his first transaction—he gave me that receipt—I did not make out the bill to the prisoner as "George Thomas & Co."—the prisoner lives near me—his letter was handed to me by a little girl the third time I went to his house—the prisoner was not in; I wanted to see him—I called at his house between 8 and 9 a.m.—I left word two or three times I wanted to see him—when I got the letter I went back home and wrote a reply.
GEORGE READ (Detective.) At 11.15 p.m., on September 15th, I saw the prisoner at 94, Jedbury-Road, Plaistow—I said to him, "I shall take you into custody for stealing £4 5s., the monies of your master, Mr. Thomas Edwards"—he said, "All right"—I took him to Plaistow police station—he was charged—he made no reply—upon him I found the letter from Edwards: "I cannot quite understand your note"—on October 7th he was again charged—he said, "All right."
The COMMON SERJEANT held that as there was no evidence as. to what the
prisoner did with the £4, or what happened, it was a matter for a Civil Court, and directed the Jury to find a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Bigham.
MR. MEDCALFE Prosecuted.
HENRY ROUTLEDGE . I live at 5, Outram Street, Plaistow, and am foreman to Frank Levitt and others, trading as Levitt, Frank & Co., at 24, Tidal Basin Road, where they have a warehouse—at 6 p.m., on September 28th, I saw the warehouse properly fastened up, the windows on the top floor were closed and fastened—there was a quantity of property belonging to the firm upon the premises—when I left there was nobody there—when I went on September 29th, at 7 a.m., I found that somebody had got through an upper window into the shop, broken open the partition and got into the offices; the window had been forced—about six dozen pocket knives, some razors, port wine and other articles had been stolen, their total value being about £10—I have only seen two or three knives since, which Detective Reed had—I recognised them as some of the stolen property—the razors were in cases wrapped in paper—these cases (Produced) are similar to them; they are made for us, and only supplied to us—these paper wrappers are only supplied to us; they have the mark of the "Cannon Brand"—these knives are in wrappers of a different kind; this bone handled knife is worth 2s. 6d., and the pearl one 3s. 6d. cost price.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. We lost some razors in cases like this.
FERDINAND LANG . I am a hairdresser at 35, Dock Road, Tidal Basin. which is only round the corner from Tidal Basin Road—on Friday, September 30th, the prisoner came into my shop between 8 and 10 p.m.—I had seen him before—he offered me two razors for 2s. 6d., and he had an old box in his pocket full of pocket knives and wrappers which were similar to this (Produced)—the razors were in wrappers like this, only a, little bigger; they were in boxes something like this one—I tried the razor; he said, "You need not try them, they are good; you can have two for 2s. 6d."—I said I did not want them; he offered me the knives too; I did not buy them; I knew they could not be bought for the money; I knew they were stolen property because I know the value of them things—the prisoner was in my shop about five minutes; he offered me the knives at 6d. each, I did not buy none.
prisoner came in; I was in the bar; he asked me if I wanted to buy a pocket knife—he showed me two; one was a pearl handled one, which I gave him 9d. for, and this one I gave 10d. for—they were not wrapped up in paper or in boxes—before I bought them I went in and saw Mr. Salmon, and then I came out and gave the prisoner the money and took the knives—Mr. Salmon then came in and said, in the prisoner's hearing, "I know that face somewhere"—he looked at the prisoner from the side—I handed the two knives which I bought to Detective Reed.
JOHN WATSON . I am a barman at the Clarendon public house, at Tidal Basin—between 9 and 10 p.m., on September 30th, I was at Lang's in Tidal Basin Road—the prisoner came in and offered me this pocket knife, which I bought for 6d.—it was not wrapped up—I saw two or three knives and two razors—the razors were not wrapped up or in boxes—I handed this knife to Hutton on October 5th.
GEORGE REED (Detective Sergeant K.) At 9.30 a.m., on September 29th. I went to Levitt, Frank, & Sons' warehouse in Tidal Basin Road—I examined the premises and found an entry had been effected by climbing on a small hand crane in front of the premises getting to the loft, pushing two bars out into the passage, and then going into the office, and leaving by the same way—I found marks upon the window; there was an impression probably caused by a blunt instrument—at 9.30, on October 2nd, I went to Dock Road, Tidal Basin, and found the prisoner at a common lodging house—I told him I was a police officer and should take him into custody for stealing and receiving knives and razors from Messrs. Levitt & Frank's—I do not think I mentioned the day—I said, "Which is your locker"—he pointed to one, and in it I found this steel and two dusters—I told him I should take him to the station—at the station I searched him and found on him this table knife and two paper wrappers, one for a razor and one for a pocket knife, both marked with the "Cannon Brand"—I found nothing else upon him—he was detained—Mr. Routledge handed me some knives and razors as samples—I showed them to Lang—on October 10th I charged the prisoner with breaking and entering; he said, "You are both on the wrong lay"—on October 8th Penny handed me two pocket knives.
CHARLES HUTTON (Detective Sergeant.) On October 3rd Reed gave me a broken table knife and a steel—I went with them to the office of Levitt, Frank & Co., and compared them with the marks on the window—the marks were made by them—I found white paint on the knife.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that on September 28th he was washing two shirts and a jacket, which kept him busy till late in the evening; that he went to bed about 8.50, and did not leave the house till 6 next morning; that the things found on him were given to him on September 30th by a man who is now in prison, and whose name he did not know, except that he was called "Fatty" that he had given him (the prisoner) 18 razors and one dozen knives which he had sold for 1s., 1d., or 1s., 2d., each.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Worcester Quarter Sessions on December 31st, 1889. Twelve months' hard labour.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted.
JAMES DAVIS . I am the manager of the Railway Tavern. Bridge Road, Stratford, of which my mother is now the proprietress—my father, who died on August 21st, was the former proprietor—his funeral was on August 25th—on—that day the prisoner, whom I had never seen before, called upon me at my house, saying that he was a reporter from the South, Essex Mail, and he gave me a card similar to this one (Produced)—he had been down to the cemetery, and he handed me a report, asking me to correct a list of the donors of wreaths and mourners—having corrected it, he asked what other papers we should like it in, and we told him the Morning Advertiser and the Licensing World, which he said he represented—he then said there would be a small charge of £1 11s. 6d., and I authorised Mr. Salmon, my brother-in-law, to pay him that sum, which he did—I thought that he was authorised to receive that money on behalf of the South Essex Mail; if I had known that he had nothing to do with the paper I should not have paid him—he sent us four papers, in which was included the South Essex Mail—the Stratford Express was one of them, and contained a report—he sent no trade papers whatever—the Morning Advertiser was not cent, but I have seen a copy of it since, and it contains no report.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You had a conversation with two brothers-in-law of mine before I saw you—you did not say anything about Salmon asking you to put "Mr. W. Fredericks" in the list instead of "Tiger Fredericks," which had appeared on one of the wreaths—you suggested that my mother should return thanks for the sympathy she had received—your card made no mention of the South Essex Mail—I may have said that I knew there would be a charge for inserting the report in all the local and trade papers, but you fixed what it should be—I will not swear I did not say, "I will give you a receipt, and if the reports do not appear, you will be entitled to have your money back "; but I do not remember your saying it—you made me out a receipt on one of your cards—at 6 p.m. that day Mr. Waddle, a reporter of the South Essex Mail, called—I did not see him in the morning—as a result of my conversation with him, the following Wednesday I applied for a warrant for your arrest—I did not do so before because I was busy—I have seen reports in the South Essex Mail, the Stratford Express, and the Leytonstone Independent; they do not seem to me to be very much alike, but they are all true reports—the reporter from the South Essex Mail told me it was not your report that appeared in his paper—you said
it would be too late to appear in that week's trade papers—Mr. Salmon may not have heard you mention about trade papers or the Morning Advertiser.
HORACE CHARLES SALMON . I live at 249, Romford Road. Forest Gate, and am Davis's brother-in-law—I was present at my father-in-law's funeral at the Railway Tavern on August 25th—about 3 p.m. the prisoner wanted to see me, and I told him to come back at 6 p.m., after the funeral, but he said that that would be too late—I then asked him in, and he said he was a reporter—we asked him for which papers, and he said, "The Stratford Express, South Essex Mail, and all the morning and evening papers"—Davis, who was fetched, then asked him what moraine and evening papers they were, and he said the Morning Advertiser and the Licensing World, but that he was sorry he could not get it into that week's editions of those papers, but would in the next—he then showed us a piece of paper on which there was a list of wreaths and mourners, which we corrected—he then said there would be a small charged of from a guinea and a quarter to a guinea and a half—I eventually paid him £1 11s. 6d. for Davis, and he handed Davis a receipt on the back of his card as follows: "August 25th. Attending and reporting funeral of Mr. W. Davis £1 11s. 6d. Received with thanks, B. Friedburg."
Cross-examined. I had never seen the report which you showed me on the occasion before—you asked me if a reporter from the Stratford Express had called, and I said 'No"—I do not remember your mentioning the Leytonstone Independent, or the Leytonstone District Times—I asked you to alter one of the names of the gentlemen who had given wreaths from "Tiger Fredericks" to "Walter Fredericks"—I did not say when you said there would be a small charge, "I know that; how much will it be?"—you did not say that you wanted the money first, because in the event of a misunderstanding after the reports had appeared you would not be able to prove that we promised to pay you, nor did you say that we could have our money back in the event of the reports not appearing—reports appeared in the four papers you sent to the house, which seemed to me to be rather alike; in none of them does the name "Tiger Fredericks" appear, and in three of the reports Mrs. Davis returns thanks for sympathy received—you distinctly said you represented the South Essex Mail, the Stratford Express, the Morning Advertiser, and the Licensing World.
CHARLES ALFRED RANDALL . I am a district superintendent of the Great Eastern Railway at Liverpool Street, and live at 21, Norwich Road, Forest Gate—on September 24th my wife's funeral took place; the prisoner culled upon me at mid-day and said, "I have been sent by the Stratford Express, and the South Essex Mail to make a report of your wife's funeral," and he asked if I was willing to give him particulars—I had previously sent a death notice to the Stratford Express, and I thought he had come because of that—I told him the names of the mourners and of the donors of the wreaths, of which there were about sixty or seventy—he said in consequence of the extra space that would be taken up by
mentioning all the donors of the wreaths, there would be a charge of one guinea, which I paid him—for that he promised to insert—reports in the South Essex Mail and the Stratford Express, and to send me copies of those papers—I did not receive any papers from him at all, and on buying thorn I found no reports whatever, neither in that week's issue nor in the next—I noticed in one of the papers a warning to the public against a man who was going round the country making money as the prisoner was doing—I identified the prisoner when he was arrested on the other charge—I gave him one guinea with the express idea that I was paying him on behalf of the Stratford Express and the South Essex Mail.
Cross-examined. You may have sent in a card to me, but I never saw it—nothing was mentioned about the Forest Gate Gazette—I did not ask you for a receipt, neither did you give me one—I applied to the Stratford Express for an explanation and they told me they knew nothing about you—I did not apply to the South Essex Mail—I do not know if a report appeared in the Forest Gate Gazette.
ANNIE JOSEPHINE MALTBY . I keep the Ruskin Arms in High Street, East Ham—on September 13th my husband died and on September 21st his funeral took place—on the morning of that day the prisoner called just as the funeral was at the door—he was told he could not see anyone at that time, and to call later on—he called between 7 and 8 p.m., and said, "I am the reporter that has come from the paper"; I said, "Whom do you represent?" he said, the East Ham Echo," and some other paper which I do not remember—the East Ham Echo reported my husband's death the week before—he asked for the names of the mourners and particulars generally, which I gave him, telling him that my husband was a native of Oswestry, in Shopshire, whereupon he said he would send a report to the local paper there—he then said his charge would be £1 14s. 6d., which I paid, believing him to be a reporter from the East Ham Echo and that he was authorised to receive it—he did not give me a receipt—he did not send me the East Ham Echo—no report appeared in the Oswestry paper—I gave particulars to a genuine reporter who called on me afterwards.
Cross-examined. You saw my brother-in-law when you came first—you did not give me a card at all—you were shown into the parlour the second time you came—Mr. and Mrs. Solomons, "neighbours of ours, were there at the time—I do not remember your saying, "Would you like an account in the trade journals," and I do not remember saying, "We are not known well enough in the trade"—it is very likely that you asked me in which papers I should like it to appear, including the Oswestry paper, a Liverpool paper, where my husband was well known as a cotton merchant, the East Ham Echo, and the Ilford Recorder—I suppose the £1 14s. 6d. was for a report to appear in all the papers; it was not for the East Ham Echo only—I had not seen any other reporter that day—a report did not appear in the Liverpool Daily Post, nor did you send me a copy—a report did appear in all the local papers the Stratford Express, the South Essex Mail, and the East Ham Echo—a, reporter-came from the East Ham Echo the next day and said you were not known at
all; that is how I knew I had been swindled—I do not think any of the reports were yours at all.
JOHN HARDCASTLE . I am the sub-editor of the South Essex Mail and East Ham Echo—the prisoner has never been employed by us as a reporter—Mr. Waddle, our reporter, attended at the funeral of Mr. William Davis on August 25th, and he sent us in a report—we received another report (Produced) at 7 p.m. that day, which had no signature to it, and therefore we did not put it in—I conclude it came from the prisoner—we should not for a moment authorise our reporters to receive money for reports that are inserted in our papers—our reporter did not attend Mr. Randall's funeral—we authorised no one to go to him, or to receive money from him—there was no report in our paper at all of that funeral—I went to the funeral of Mr. Maltby, as I knew him when he was alive—Mr. Foyle, another of our reporters, reported it—we did not authorise anyone to demand or receive any money from Mrs. Maltby.
Cross-examined. There may be many funerals in the locality which we do not hear of—we never put in any report unless we know the sender, and what his bona fides are—we only pay our staff for reports—I did not receive a report from you of the funeral of Mr. Walter Massey of the Peacock, Freemason's Road—I first got on your track when I received a report from you of the funeral of Mrs. Eiliston, Customs House Hotel, on August 20th—I had been looking for you for twelve months—your card does not represent that you come from our paper—I sent Mr. Waddell to see Mr. Elliston, and he was shown a receipt for 12s. 6d. that you had given him—we like our copy in early on Thursdays, but we do not, as a rule, get it—we received the report of Mr. Davis's funeral at 9 p.m.—at 7.30 p.m. we received a telephonic message saying that a report was coming in, but while asking the name we were rung off—I thought I had got on your track then—our reporters have cards with the name of the newspaper on—I have heard it said that reports did appear in other papers—I should not call a man of five years' standing as a journalist a "sham newspaper man"—it was our reporters report that we used of Mrs. Elliston's funeral, not yours—it is true that your name and address were on the receipt, but Mr. Eiliston would not prosecute, and it is not my place to do so, and I also did not believe it was your correct address.
FREDERICK WADDELL . I am a reporter for the South Essex Mail and the East Ham Echo, and live at 62, Ormond Road, Upton Park—I have been on their staff for eighteen months—on August 25th I went to Mr. Davis's house, where I collected the facts as to the funeral that had taken place, and wrote a report, which I sent to my papers—I also gave the particulars to the Stratford Express reporter—Mrs. Davis asked me if I would mind saying that she returned thanks for sympathy received; it is the usual wish on such occasions—I take it the alteration of "Tiger Fredericks" to "Walter Fredericks" was mentioned to me if it appears in the report.
Cross-examined. I went to Mr. Davis's house, whom I know personally, at 11 a.m.—I got the particulars about 5.30 p.m.—I had a note book and I wrote down what they told me about the wreaths—my
employers, as a rule, like reports early on a Thursday—I saw a report of yours; it was only a few notes, and could not have been put straight into the paper—I saw it after I had written my report.
EDWIN CHARLES DAVIES . I am the chief reporter of the Stratford Express, and live at 69, Hand Park Road, Stratford—the prisoner was not employed to report the funeral of Mr. Davis in August, 1904, and we have never employed him, or authorised him to collect money—we never make any charge for reporting—we did not receive a report of the funeral of Mr. Davis from the prisoner; Mr. Gardiner, our reporter, did that—we received from Mr. Randall a notice of the death of his wife, which we inserted at the usual advertisement rates, but we never had a report, nor did we send a reporter to the funeral.
Cross-examined. If we received a report of public interest from a man we knew well we should insert it—it is most unlikely that we ever received a report from you of Mrs. Randall's funeral, because it being such an important matter I should have made enquiries as to the authenticity of the report—I cannot remember whether you have sent us and reports—we received a report of Mrs. Elliston's funeral on August 3rd, and it was discovered that the person who sent it in had made a charge for it.
GEORGE SCRIMSHAW (Detective K.) I went with another detective to 20, Patteson Street, Stepney, and saw the prisoner, to whom I said, "I am a police officer and I am going to arrest you for obtaining £1 11s. 6d. by false pretences from Mr. Davis of Bridge Road, Stratford"—he said, "I deny the charge"—I conveyed him to the West Ham police station, where he was placed with some other men and identified by Mr. Davis—on being charged he said, "I deny it."
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he was a journalist of five years' stand-ing; that he had been previously charged on a similar conviction, but had been discharged; that it was his custom to go round to where funerals were taking place, and offer his services as a reporter for all the papers, and not for any particular paper at all; that Mr. Davis had admitted he paid him (the prisoner) for his services for attending and reporting; that he could not guarantee the reports appearing, so he always stated he would return the money should they not appear; that he could prove reports of his had appeared in the "Stratford Express" and the "South Essex Mail" and that he always gave receipts on his cards containing his name and address.
GUILTY . A similar conviction was proved against him. Eighteen months hard labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BODKIN and MR. SYMMONS Prosecuted; MR. LEYCESTER Defended.
Hotel, 166 to 168, Westminster Bridge Road—they are in part used as coffee house, also as a hotel—I know the prisoner; I have seen him at the premises on several occasions—he is the proprietor of the establishment—I kept watch with another officer on the premises from August 22nd to 28th. between 8 p.m. and 3 a.m.—I made notes of the couples I saw entering—I saw 11 couples enter and 21 leave—"by couples" I mean a man and a prostitute, known to me as such—several of the women entered on different nights with different men—none of the 41 couples took any luggage; they pushed the private door open and were received—the door is left ajar most of the time, but about 12.30 it is closed, and to gain admittance it is necessary to ring or knock—I saw the prisoner open the door at times, and also a man in his employment—some of the couples I saw go in remained less than an hour, and when they came out they separated—I was stationed sometimes on the opposite side of the road, and sometimes on the same side—on looking at my note made at the time I find on the night of the 22nd and early morning of the 23rd, six couples entered and three left—the prisoner's servant admitted them—on the 23rd and 24th, five couples entered and two left, admitted by the servant—on the 24th, seven couples entered and three left—on the 25th, six couples entered and four left—on the 26th, five entered and three left—that night I saw the prisoner receive two couples and let one couple out, the first at 9.30 and the second at 12.14, leaving at 12.41—on the 27th I saw eight couples enter and four leave, received by the servant—on August 28th four couples entered and two left, that was up to 12 o'clock—that night the prisoner received a couple at 11.33, and he was at the door when a couple entered at 11.48, and another couple left at that time—during this time I saw other men and women going into the premises but I have not included them, as I did not know the women as prostitutes—on September 6th I went with Inspector Spencer to search the premises—four couples there, whom I found in bed, made statements in the prisoner's presence—one of the women was known to me as a prostitute.
Cross-examined. I found several other people there whom I should not describe as couples—there were three women occupying rooms by themselves, respectable people as far as I know—there were also six men in the house, not sleeping with women, three of them occupying one room—there was a large coffee house business carried on at the premises—they are opposite the Canterbury Music Hall—I said at the police court that it was a difficult matter for people to carry on the business respectably—there are 32 bedrooms there—the premises are four houses in one—there may have been 12 or 13 couples refused admission during certain nights.
Re-examined. There may have been between 12 and 20 refused during certain nights; that is an average of two or three a night—I should say they were refused because they were unable to pay the price of the room—they were rough sort of women.
from August 22nd to 28th—during the nights I was there I saw 41 prostitutes accompanied by 41 men enter—I knew the women as prostitutes—some of them came on different nights with different men—they were all without luggage—I saw the prisoner there on some of those nights.
Cross-examined. I took a note by Sergeant Bonner's instructions—we had been working together on this particular work for three years—the women's faces become very familiar to me.
FREDERICK SPENCER (Police Inspector.) I went with Bonner on September 6th, at 1.10 a.m., to these premises—I read the warrant to the prisoner—he said, "I do not confess to keeping a brothel; I am a respectable hotel keeper and have too much respect for my wife and children to keep a brothel"—I went over the premises—I found 37 rooms, of which 32 are bedrooms—in different bedrooms I found four couples—I spoke to them in the prisoner's presence—I asked if they had paid for coming there and whom they had paid, and they told me, also the amounts, some 4s. and some 6s.—I asked each couple if they were man and wife in the prisoner's presence, and they said they were not—they had no luggage with them—one woman gave the same name as the man, but a different address—in other rooms I found three women alone and six men alone—there was an extensive coffee shop business carried on there—when the prisoner was charged he said, "Not knowingly."
Cross-examined. I should say there is respectable hotel business carried on there—I found several respectable people lodging there—I found a quantity of food, cooked and uncooked, on the premises—I should not say that 4s. to 5s. was an extravagant price to pay for the accommodation.
WILLIAM WRIGHT . I am a clerk in the employ of the Lambeth" Borough Council—I produce the book which contains the list of rated occupiers in the Westminster Bridge Road—on turning to the entry relating to 166 to 168, Westminster Bridge Road, I find that George Herbert is the rated occupier; he is rated at £200 gross and £168 rate-able for the four houses.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that he purchased the lease of Piqgott's Hotel in 1898; that he had since resided there and conducted the business; that middle-class people came to the hotel, he charging 2s. 6d. for bed and breakfast; that some of the best rooms are let at 4s. to 6s.; that he kept a book in which he entered the names of the persons taking rooms; that there are a great number of prostitutes in the neighbourhood: that if they came to his premises he turned them away; that when people came without luggage he charged 10s. deposit that he was summoned in 1902 for keeping a brothel and fined, which made him careful; and that he had done his best to keep the place respectable.
Evidence for the Defence.
ALFRED DUNKLEY (Cautioned by the Court. See next case.) I have been employed as night porter at Piggott's Hotel for 2 years and 10 months—it is a fact that prostitutes come with men and ask for rooms—I turn them away—I never admit them if I suspect what they are—the same room has never, since I have been there, been let twice in one night to
different people—I did not go on duty till 10.30 p.m.—when people come I ask for their names and write them down.
Cross-examined. I do not think 41 couples entered and 20 left during the time the officers were watching—I think they have made a great mistake—I say I may have made one or two mistakes, but not in 41 cases in one week—we have been trying to keep the place free from prostitutes—the women know it is no use coming, but they come all the same.
FRANCIS MACARTHY . I am a registered medical practitioner at 138, Westminster Bridge Road—I am about the neighbourhood at all hours—I know the premises in question quite well—I have always attended the prisoner and his family, also lodgers in the house—I do not think the people I attended were of immoral character.
ALBERT WARRALL . I am a tobacconist at 119, Westminster Bridge Road, almost opposite Piggott's Hotel, and I know the house very well—I keep my shop open till 12.30 at night, sometimes later—I have been to the hotel on many occasions, and so have my friends—I have never seen anything objectionable at the house.
Cross-examined. I have never noticed any prostitutes go there from time to time, not even to ask for rooms.
MARY TYSON . I am employed at Piggott's Hotel as chambermaid—there is a new proprietor there now—I have been there eight months—I remain on duty till 11 p.m.—I have never known a double-bedded room let to more than one couple on the same evening—I have never known it happen that people take a room and then leave after a short time—they have always stayed the night—there, have not to my knowledge been any prostitutes using the house.
Cross-examined. I was there during the week, on August 22nd to the 28th—the prisoner decides whether the rooms shall be let or not—the people who occupied the rooms during that period were respectable people—I did not know all the women that came there—there are two housemaids kept.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a summary conviction for keeping a brothel. (See next case.)
HARBERT, Fined £40; DUNKLEY, Fined £5, both to be kept in prison till the fines are paid.
797. JAMES LEONARD BROWN (53) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully converting to his own use and benefit £50 entrusted to him by Sophia Knorzer, for certain purpose. He received a good character, and re-paid the prosecutrix £15. Three months in the Second Division —
(798). JAMES LEONARD BROWN was also indicted for Fraudently converting to his own use £25 entrusted to him by John Honing for a certain purpose. Mr. Fitz Gerald for the prosecutor offered no evidence, and the Jury returned a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .—
(799). WALTER SIMPKINS (18) and EDWIN ALBERT MICO (22) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the church of the Cheltenham College Mission at Nunhead, and stealing a chalice and other articles and 7s., the property of Reginald Waterfield and others. MICO having been convicted of felony at Lambeth Police Court on March 4th, 1903— Twelve months' hard, labour. SIMPKINS— Six months' hard labour. —and
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
801. ARTHUR HINES (31), WILLIAM HUGHES (22), and WILLIAM FITTS (21), PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully possessing eighteen counterfeit florins, knowing them to be counterfeit, with intent to utter them; also to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin. HINES, having been three times convicted of felony— Three months' hard labour HUGHES had been twice convicted, and was stated to be an associate of coiners; and FITTS, stated to be an associate of coiners— Nine months' hard labour each.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
MARIA TAYLOR . I am the wife of Alfred Taylor, and now live at 10, Ontario Street, London Road, Southwark—in March and April I lived at 223, Southwark Bridge Road, when I had a machine on the hire purchase system from the Singer Company through a collector whose name is in my book, but he is not one of these men—Godby also collected—I saw Cowell three times, once with Godby, and once when he took machines away—whilst I was paying for my machine Godby asked me to take in another machine, because he had an order and the people were out all day; I agreed—I did not give the order for that machine—there is no Mary Taylor at 223 that I know, who is tall and of fair complexion—I know Minnie Taylor, aged 16, who lives at Surbiton—I know nobody called Milton of 202, Camberwell New Road—a machine came when I was out—a person named Keelson lives upstairs—the machine was put in the kitchen—I got no hire agreement for that machine—I never signed one for it in the name of Mary Taylor, nor authorised anybody to do so—Godby told me a superintendent was coming for the money in the afternoon, and he gave it me in the morning—I paid the 1s. 6d. in the afternoon back again to Godby in the presence of the superintendent—another machine was mentioned after Cowell had taken that one away—the hair was not then on Cowell's face, only a moustache; he is now growing a beard, but I picked him out at Southwark Police Station from a number of others—he said he had come from the Singer Co. for the machine; I let him have it—I had seen him with Godby before that—afterwards Godby came and asked if I would take in another machine,' as
he could not get to see the people, and if I would do him a good turn he would do me one—I asked him if I would get into any bother, he said, No, no bother whatever"—I did not know Sarah Amery, but my maiden name was Maria Amery—Godby called sometimes the worse for drink and in talking with him I brought out ray maiden name, and I had also told my maiden name to Bradbury—I had not authorised him to order a machine in the name of Sarah Amery, nor had I sighed an agreement to pay instalments of (is. on one and 7s. 6d. on the other machine (A juryman was here taken ill and had to leave the Court, and after being attended by a medical man. who staled that he was not likely to be able to continue to hear the case, another juryman was substituted, to whom the foregoing evidence was read and confirmed)—I paid the instalments on this third machine, having previously obtained them from Godby—it was taken away three days afterwards by Cowell—I cannot write—I signed my cross for the delivery of the last machine—a man named Cranch delivered it—I signed no agreement for it—the agreements came in a large envelope through the post—Godby took them away after the machines had gone—I told Godby the machines had been taken away; he said he knew about it—he took away the books—the present collector called upon me in September and spoke to me about those machines.
Cross-examined by Cowell. I am not mistaken—you are the man who came to me.
Cross-examined by Godby. My daughter cannot work a machine—she was only 16 when you called—I did not order the machine for her—I did not pay regularly—I lent you 1s. 6d. to make up 6s., which you said you would put on the books, and I said you could do as you liked—that was that you might get your commission—I thought you were acting fair and square, and that all the Singer's machine men were honest, as you were a collector—I did not give you the order for the second and" third machines—you wrote something down in the passage—my husband is in an asylum—I mentioned that my son was going away, but not that my daughter was going to work at home.
HARRY CRANCH . I am a carman employed by the Singer Manufacturing Company—I delivered the machine, the receipt for which is signed by E. Coulson, and witnessed by me on March 31st, at 22., Southwark Bridge Road—also the machine for Sarah Amery at the same address, the receipt for which is marked with a cross, to which I added "Mrs. Amery"—I thought the person I delivered it to was Mrs. Amery.
Cross-examined by Cowell. I got the name Amery from the delivery note—Mrs. Taylor answered to the name and took the machine in.
JAMES ROBBIE STEWART . I am the managing salesman at the Newington Causeway office of the Singer Manufacturing Company—the prisoner Godby was under me for six months ending July 25th, 1904—Cowell was in the same office—he was discharged at nearly the same time—he had also been there about six months—in March and April they were both servants of the Singer Company, who—are
Frederick Gilbert Bourne & Company—in the ordinary course we get orders for machines upon what is called an information form, upon which the collector supplies information—upon that being checked and verified we give out the machine—I got this information form from Godby on March 30th; it is in his writing—the references are stated to be satisfactory—upon that I allowed the machine to go out—this agreement form is signed "Mary Taylor," of 223, Southwark Bridge Road, and is witnessed by Godby—it is dated April 11th and she agrees to pay 3s. and afterwards 1s. 6d. weekly—I also received this information form in Godby's writing for another machine at the same address for Sarah Amery, and upon the references being stated to be satisfactory I allowed the machine to go out—the agreement is signed "Sarah Amery" in the presence of Godby—6s. was paid on this machine and 7s. 6d. on the other, and Godby would get 2s. 6d., and 3s. 9d.
Cross-examined by Cowell. You were a collector and salesman—I do not remember any dispute with you—I dismissed you about August—you were afterwards put on the staff on your appeal to the manager.
Re-examined. I knew nothing against his character at the time—he was ultimately dismissed about the beginning of September.
Cross-examined by Godby. I was satisfied when my assistant Emerton said the orders were bona fide—the hirer of Mrs. Taylor's machine removed before your resignation—the machine was traced about three weeks ago, when I did not know your address—I believe, you have removed twice since you were with us—I told you 13s. 6d. would be paid to you if Clement's machine were sold, the instalments not having been kept up—this letter from James Stewart, of September 9th, stating "Please call here and see me with reference to G. F. and C." refers to the Guarantee Fund and Commission—I do not remember your calling in answer to that—I did not know then that any machine was stolen.
HENRY WILSON . I am a canvasser and salesman employed by the Singer Co.—I knew Cowell while he was employed at the Newington Causeway office—after he left I entered into this agreement with him of July 21st, 1904, that if he got an order and passed it on to me, I should enquire into it, get the machine delivered by the Company, and pay him 50 per cent, of the commission—I got this order for him of Henry Thomas Sims—I saw Sims at 148, Westmorland Road, Camberwell Gate, who satisfied ms that he wanted a machine, which was delivered to him—this is the delivery note—he paid me 3s.—on Friday, August 19th, I met Cowell in the street at Bow, when he said Sims had moved—I asked if the machine was all right, he said, "No,"—I asked him what was the matter, he said somebody had stolen it from Sims; I told him I did not believe him—I met him the next week, and on August 22nd we went to Sims' new address, 58, Neale Street, Camberwell—Cowell told me the address, but we got no answer when we got there—I went with the superintendent, Mr. Diamond, and saw Mrs. Sims—we took a statement from her—I tried to find Sims and failed—I saw no more of Cowell till 'he as in custody—I traced the machine by the number to Mrs. Bilton, who
is now in Court—I had collected 3s. from Sims—nothing more was paid—I paid Cowell 10s. commission as his share—I got £1 from the Singer Co.—I had to pay it back—I was out of pocket 10s.
Cross-examined by Cowell. I did not see the agreement signed; I did not say I did—I saw the delivery note signed—I witnessed the signature to the agreement, because an outside man must not do it or it would not have been passed.
MARY JANE BILTON . I am the wife of John Bilton, a stoker, of 154, Union' Street, Borough—I know the prisoners—Cowell called first with this card of the Singer Co. about the first week in August, with his address on the book, 21, Falmouth Street, Borough—he called again and asked if we had made up our minds to have a machine—I told him my husband would not let me have a machine on the hire system, and he said he had a second-hand one, and would I give him an order—my husband told him he was willing to go to £2 or £2 10s., and Cowell said he would let me have one at about that price if he had got one in—about August 17th he came with Godby, whom I had not seen before, and said he had come to his promise, and that he had a machine—I said I would rather he see my husband, who was at work—Godby offered a machine at £4—I told him I could not pay £4—Cowell asked if could manage £2 10s.—I said yes, I dare say I could manage that, but that we were going away on our holidays, and could not manage it all at once—Cowell asked me to pay a sovereign down, to which I agreed—I paid 5s. that day to Cowell, and said I would rather see my husband, but he said it was to make the machine Secure—Godby said he was agent for the Singer Co., and showed me a £50 bond, which he said was necessary under the Singer Co.'s Act; under which Act if he could not sell the machine it was the agent's own property—he said the machine was in good condition, and if he did not get paid for it it was thrown on his hands, that it had only been five weeks out, that I should never regret having a machine, and that his wife had had one for nine years—the next day Cowell called; he promised to bring the machine when my husband was at home—he called again and said he was sorry he could not bring it, as he had been to Old Ford, and could, not get the man to bring it, but the people were removing at night and he would get the carman to bring it that night—the machine was brought about 8.30 or 9 that evening by Jenner and Gordon Smith—my husband was not at home—I have the machine still—Mr. Key from Singer's saw it—I paid 15s. to Cowell—this is the receipt, "Received by W. P. Cowell on G. Godby's account at £2 10s., £1 cash now paid off the price"—he preferred to leave the £1 10s. till we came from our holidays before that somebody came from Singer's and identified the machine—when Cowell afterwards came about September 8th to collect the balance. I accused him of having sold me a stolen machine—I said I had been let in—he said he was innocent, and that if I had been let in he had been let in too—he asked me who had given me the information—I told him one of the Singer Co.'s people had been—he said he had been over to Old Ford that morning, and Singer's people had not said anything to him about it, and that he would see Godby about it, as he had paid him the sovereign and half a crown for the
order, and that he would refund me the money—I never saw him again till he was in custody.
Cross-examined by Cowell. You called first in June—I told you to clear off; you said, "What is wrong, Mrs. Bilton?"—I said, "You know what is wrong, you have sold me a stolen machine; I have been let in"—it is a different machine to that that I ordered—my husband was at work on the afternoon "shift" when it came.
Cross-examined by Godby. Cowell assured my husband the machine was all right, and that it was not the property of the Singer Company—my husband gave Cowell 1s., who said, "I beg your pardon, I am a teetotaller, Mr. Bilton, but I will drink your health; I will have a port wine."
ELEANOR SIMS . I am married and live at 58. Neate Street, Camberwell—in August, I was living at 148, Westmoreland Road, Walworth—as a canvasser of the Singer Company I ordered a sewing machine from Cowell—my husband signed the agreement—I was present and also Cowell—I was out when the machine arrived; I found the machine there when I got homo—I paid Cowell 3s. deposit about nine weeks afterwards—about a fortnight afterwards I told him I wanted a larger, a Jumbo machine—he said he had one at Boyson Road that could not be paid for, and was going to be returned—this happened in the Westmoreland Road—we moved to New Street on a Wednesday, about the middle of August—I told him I was going to move—he said he would take it there and then instead of moving it to the depot to save shifting—on a Wednesday in September my goods were removed by Jenner—I saw the machine in the road at the side of Jenner's van when the furniture was' moved in—I saw it put in the van as I went in—that was the last I saw of it—I never got the Jumbo machine—I had paid 3s.—two or three days after Cowell called—he said he had been to see about the Jumbo machine, and that if anybody called from Singer's I was simply to say that a carman had taken the machine away, but not to say who it was, and that he was going to bring tie Jumbo the following Saturday—two or three days after he called and I told him two of Singer's men had called—Mr. Wilson had come for his first month's money, with Mr. Diamond—I told him I had not the machine—Cowell asked me to describe the men—I said they had questioned me as to where the machine was, and that I had told them it was not in my place, and that they had said it remained to be proved—I said, "If you go to the shop my husband works at he will give you the agreement"—Cowell said he would call in the evening—I never saw him again till I saw him in the Police Court about three weeks afterwords.
WILLIAM JENNER . I am a carman in the service of Mr. White—I moved Sims' goods from Westmoreland Road to Neate Street on a Wednesday about 7 p.m.—there was a sewing machine—I saw Sims and Cowell on arrival at Neate Street—Cowell asked me to take the machine to Union Street, which is about a mile—I said yes, and drove my van, with the machine in it, to Union Street—Sims, Cowell,
Smith and another young fellow wont with me—I saw the machine carried into a house by Smith, the young fellow, and Cowell—I left Cowell at the house, and went with Sims, Smith, and the young fellow to a public house to have a drink—Cowell joined us a quarter of an hour afterwards—Sims asked Cowell how he had got the machine—Cowell replied that he had better call the next day for the money.
Cross-examined by Cowell. Sims did not say. "I expect you have done a fine thing out of this"—he gave me 2s. at the public house, and said 1s. you had given him, making three shillings for the job.
GORDON PATERSON SMITH . I am Mrs. Sims' brother—I helped Jenner to move the Sims' furniture on a Wednesday about 8 p.m.—I saw the sewing machine at Neate Street—we put it in the van—Cowell asked us—he said it was to go to Union Street, Borough—my brother-in-law. I and my mate Charman went with it, and took it into a house in Union Street to Mrs. Billon—we left Cowell in the house—four of us went to a public house, where Cowell joined us about twenty minutes afterwards.
GEORGE KEY . I am a supervisor to the Singer Manufacturing Company—my duties are to check the business of the various branches in the division, and general supervision—on September 12th I was making enquiries about the sewing machine which had been hired by the Sims, and called at Cowell's house—I did not see him, but left a message—the next day he came to Chiswell Street, where he saw me and Mr. Speese, the general manager for London—Speese asked him to give an account of the machine—he said he knew nothing about it, and that what he had done had been at the instigation of Godby, and all the money had been given to him—I produced the receipt from Mrs. Bilton—he said he would endeavour to find Godby, so that the money could be returned to Mrs. Bilton that had been received for the machine—we communicated with our solicitors, and left the money in their hands.'
Cross-examined by Cowell. You admitted you had received the money and handed it to Godby—you did not say there were money transactions between you and Godby—you said that Mrs. Bilton, being a poor woman, should have the return of the money—you never told me about moving the machine from one place to another for safety—you and Godby were in the Company's service about six months—I do not know that you have traced any machine—you were dismissed on the introduction of new terms into the Company.
Cross-examined by Godby. The interviews with you and Cowell are so long ago I do not remember the details—you said you were starving and were re-instated—afterwards we could not find you—I went to investigate the case of a machine that had been supplied to a public house some weeks before you left—sometimes a machine comes back when the purchaser does not pay and the machine is sent out again, but it would have two different numbers—we discovered about Bilton's machine and then about the other two machines—machines are not always recovered, but we can trace them within a month if they are delivered according to our programme—we check the whereabouts of machines at intervals to see if they
are at the place where the orders are brought from—in some cases we ask to see the machines, and check it with the account. Ralph Paddan. I am managing salesman at the Bow Office of the Singer Company—Cowell was employed by me in June and July for about five weeks as a canvasser—he came from Newington Causeway Office—he left on July 15th—since that date he has not been in the service of the company.
Cross-examined by Cowell. I recollect the time of your calling on Mrs. Sims—Williams was the collector before you—your orders were fairly good.
PHILLIP WILLIS (Detective-Sergeant M.) On September 27th I arrested Cowell on a warrant in the early morning at 27, Falmouth Read, Borough as he was going indoors, for stealing some sewing machines, the property of the Singer Manufacturing Company, on August 18th; 1901—when I read the warrant to him he said, "This is a mistake; it has been done in spite"—I took him to the station—he made no answer to the charge.
FREDERICK PUSEY (Detective-Sergeant M.) On September 27th I arrested Godby at St. Thomas' Road, Old Kent Road—I read the warrant, which is similar to that of Cowell—he said, "It is a mistake; I can prove everything I have had from the Singer Manufacturing Company; I have not done them for one halfpenny"—I took him to the station—he made no reply to the charge.
Cowell, in his defence, said that he did not understand the charge from the first, but that he did his best for the Company, assisted in moving one machine for safety and succeeded in receiving machines by tracing where the hirers had moved, and that he had previously been in the Metropolitan Police and had a good character.
Godby, in his defence, said that he was surprised at the charge; that he was not a servant but an agent of the company; that Mrs. Bilton's order was never executed, but another machine was sent; and that the Taylor's machines were ordered as stated; that he was no party to stealing any machine, but worked hard with his wife to keep their home together.
MARIA TAYLOR (Re-examined). I did give an order for one machine—when Cowell took the second away he said he was-taking it for Godby to the Singer Company—he fetched the third separately-in about three days—the second remained about three weeks—the first machine was mine—I kept it in my front room.
GODBY then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Bristol Quarter Sessions on June 26th, 1896, as James Johnson Godby. Four other convictions were proved against him. Three years' penal servitude.
COWELL, who received a good character— Six months' hard labour.
MR. DUCKWORTH Prosecuted.
who got away, caught hold of me and hugged and pushed me against a wall in the Kennington Road—they held me by the arms, pushed my throat, and held me back against the wall—the woman put her hands in my pockets—I had about 14s.; a half sovereign, some silver and some coppers, some in one pocket and some in another—I had money in my trousers pocket—the woman put her hand in my trousers pocket and was very rough—a policeman came up while they actually had hold of me—I had never seen the man or the woman before.
Cross-examined by Osbourne. I had been to a coffee stall in the Kennington Road, where a man spoke to me, but I did not understand what he paid—I was not drunk—I cannot swear it was you at the coffee stall—I know you held me against the wall—it was close to where I live, the same side of the road as Brooke Street—I told the officer I had been robbed, and he took me in charge and blew his whistle—he caught you while you had hold of my shoulders and the other man had hold of my throat and nearly choked me—my hat did not fall off—it did not roll away, and you did not pick it up and put it on my head—I did not have my arms round the woman—you had hold of me before the woman came up—on the way to the station the officer did not say, "Look after him, he will be down in a minute"—the policeman did not suggest what I should say.
Cross-examined by Barry. I did not put my arms round your waist, nor try to cuddle you.
WILLIAM TAFT (L. 147.) I was in the Kennington Road about 1.50 on Friday, September 23rd, with Parker—we watched two men and a woman—I saw Adams coming along on the opposite side—he was stopped by the prisoners and another man and hustled against a fence—the other man hit him with his left hand; the woman rifled his pockets—I ran across the road and asked the prosecutor what was the matter—he said, "They have robbed me of my money"—the other man got away—the other officer ran across the road and took the woman—I blew my whistle, but it was too late too get assistance to catch the other man—we took the prisoners to the station—they made no reply to the charge—when searched 8s. 6d. was found on Osbourne and 3s. 5d. on Barry—this gilded Jubilee sixpence was found in Osbourne's mouth—they had hold of the prisoner when I ran across the road.
Cross-examined by Osbourne. I arrested you in the act—the prosecutor did not come in front of me and say, "There they are"—on the way to the station I did not say to the officer, "Look at him, he will be down in a minute"—I only had you in custody—the prosecutor went with us to the station—he was sober, but he was dazed from the assault; he did not smell of drink—the charge sheet does not say he was drunk.
Osbourne, in his defence on oath, said he had returned from the Standard Music Hall; that he had left his friend and saw the prosecutor standing against a coffee stall drunk; that he met the woman who he did not know, when the prosecutor wanted to embrace her, and as he pulled him away the policeman
came up, and the prosecutor said, "I have been robbed" and he thought he was going to be arrested for indecency; that the prosecutor was so drunk as to be held up on the way to the station, but that he (Osbourne) had the best of references, and that he put the gilded sixpence which his sister had given him into his mouth, as he knew it was false money and he might be prosecuted for having it.
Witness for Osbourne.
FLORENCE LARRY . I am married, and live at 89, Brook Street—Mrs. Smith, my brother Osbourne's late employer, gave me 8s. for Osbourne, to help him, and I gave him 7s. (6d. and the gilded 6d., as it was no use to me.
Evidence in reply.
CHARLES PARKER (L. 65.) I was in plain clothes in company with Taft on this night, 30 to 40 yards from the Lambeth Baths—all of a sudden, Taft ran across the road. I followed—Adams and the woman were taken into custody—the prosecutor said, "I wish you had been here sooner, we would have caught the other man who hit me on the head. the prosecutor had hold of my arm"—I took the female to the station—I saw the other man disappearing round the corner of Brook Street—the prosecutor was not drunk, but he was dazed and frightened.
Cross-examined by Osbourne, Taft blew his whistle as soon as I told Barry from him—I had the woman's arm, not your right arm—I never heard Taff say, "Look after him one of you, he is as drunk as he can be"—I took the woman into the station first.
OSBOURNE, NOT GUILTY .
BARRY, GUILTY — Six months hard labour.
803. JAMES MARLOW, the elder (48) and JAMES MARLOW, the younger (22), Conspiring together to cheat and defraud Morris Joseph and others of divers valuable securities. Other Counts, for obtaining by false pretences cheques for £141 11s. 10d., £81 11s. 8d., £20, and £287 13s. 9d., with intent to defraud.
JAMES MARLOW (the elder) PLEADED GUILTY to the conspiracy Judgment respited.
MR. MUIR and Mr. Leycester Prosecuted; Mr. Dickens, K.C., and Mr. Drake appeared for James Marlow (elder); and Mr. Marshall Hall, K.C., and Mr. Arthur Gill appeared for James Marlow (younger).
No evidence was offered against JAMES MARLOW (younger).
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Bigham.
MR. W. B. CAMPBEAL, Prosecuted.
married close on four years—I have two children, and am expecting another next month—the prisoner is a provision dealer's assistant at Harrod's Stores—I thought he went there on August 11th, but I do not know if he went—he has to be there at 7 a.m.—I was in my kitchen at 12 a.m.—only my little girl was with me—the prisoner was in the front room, but I did not know it until he came into the kitchen—he asked me who had been speaking to me; I said no one—he had asked me to go out and send a telegram to his uncle that morning, and he told me what time to go—while I was out I suppose he got into the house—when I told the prisoner no one had been with me he said, "Very well," and walked up into the bedroom—he was up there for a few minutes—I was putting on my things to go to the landlady, and he came back and put me on the floor and cut my throat—I felt him doing it—I did not see anything—I put up my hand and got hold of the razor—I fought with him until I got it away from him—I threw it under the table—he went and took a knife and cut his own throat—I got my hand cut in trying to get the razor from him—I cannot use two fingers of my right hand yet—when I saw him cutting his throat I smashed the window with my elbow and ran down stairs—I fell in the street exhausted—my throat and chin were bleeding—the police came and took me to the hospital—I was there until August 29th, and I remained under the doctor's care after I came out—on February 29th the prisoner was taken to the infirmary at Kennington—three doctors had seen him before he went there—I called. in one of them, Dr. Rusby—he was kept there for eleven days—before I called in Dr. Rusby the prisoner thought I had wronged him by the delusions he had in his head—the first time he accused me of it he begged me not to say a word about it, and asked me to forgive him—he was very excited; he went and took a razor and said he would do for himself—'I got the razor away from him—that was in February, when he accused me of being with his own brother—when he came back from the infirmary I went to Bexhill with him for a week, and when we came back he rushed in and said I was going back to his brother.
AMELIA HARRIS . I live at 43, Mayall Road, Brixton—on August 11th. I was living at 23, Pulross Road, which is nearly opposite where the prisoner lived—on that day I was in my parlour and I heard a loud screaming—I went to the front door to see what it was—I saw Mrs. Williams run out of the house covered with blood—I went into the garden to call my husband, and when I got back again she was sitting on the ground by the railings near her house—I did not see the prisoner—I asked Mrs. Williams what I could do for her; she said her husband was indoors cutting his throat and she was sure he was mad.
WILLIAM ETCHES (663 W.) At 12 a.m., on August 11th, I was on duty in Brixton Road—in consequence of what I heard I went to 56, Pulross Road—I went to a back room on the first floor—I saw the prisoner lying on the bed, his throat was very badly cut; I pulled his head forward and bandaged his throat; I put my finger down his throat, pulled the blood away, and waited until a doctor came—he was practically unconscious when I got there—while I was looking after him for about two
hours he said, "Is the missus alive"—his throat was in a very bad state, and perhaps I made a mistake, but that is what I understood him to say—afterwards he said, "Where is my little boy; how is the missus"
Cross-examined, by the Prisoner. I dressed your throat to a certain extent, but you said this before the doctor came.
THOMAS BROWN . I am a greengrocer of 2a, Pulross Road—on August 11th, about midday, I was cleaning my shop windows—I heard screams; I ran out and saw Mrs. Williams on the pavement, bleeding from her throat—I afterwards went into a back bedroom on the top floor of the house outside which she was—I saw the prisoner on the bed and a baby in the cot—the prisoner was bleeding very much from his throat, which was cut—he saw me but did not speak to me—I took the baby down and then went back and remained until the police came.
Cross-examined. I was in the room when the police came—I did not hear you speak at all.
WILLIAM PARKS (Inspector W.) At 12.10 p.m., on August 11th, I went to 56, Pulross Road, Brixton, with Dr. Scott, the divisional surgeon—I saw Mrs. Williams on the footway with Mrs. Harris—she was supported by her chair—her throat was cut and bleeding as well as her chin and thumb—Dr. Scott attended to her, and she was taken to the hospital—I entered the house and went into a back room on the top floor—I saw the prisoner lying on the bed on his back with a very deep wound in his throat; a large pool of blood was underneath him—Bownand Thomas were with him; he was not conscious—there were blood marks on the cot at the end of the bed, and bloody foot prints from the room to the kitchen or from the kitchen to the room; they were not so distinct that you could tell which way they were going—Dr. Glasgow attended to him, and he was taken to St. Thomas' Hospital—he did not say anything in my presence—he was in such a condition that it was impossible to say if he was sober or not; he was nearly dead—it was nearly two hours before he could be removed—I found a razor in the kitchen on the floor, with the handle broken and covered with blood—under the table I found a table knife, with a jagged edge, with a hair four or five inches long adhering to the blade—there were two other blood stained knives and a hair on one of them about the same length as the other—all the blood was wet—on September 7th I arrested the prisoner at St. Thomas' Hospital upon a charge of attempting to murder his wife—he made no reply then, but when he was charged he said, "So I understand now."
CYRIL BURT . I am a fully qualified medical practitioner and house surgeon at St. Thomas' Hospital—on August 11th the prisoner was brought in; I saw him—he had a gash in his throat 3 or 4 inches long just above the larynx—there was also a slit in the osophagus—he was unconscious when he was brought in; there were no big arteries cut—the wound might have been inflicted by one of these knives—I think it was certainly self-inflicted: it was a dangerous wound—he was kept in the hospital till September 7th—he had then a granulated wound in his throat, but he was out of danger—he was not under my charge, but I talked to him on one or two occasions, but he made no communication to me—I examined
Mrs. Williams; she was brought to the hospital—she had a skin wound across her throat and chin and one on her right hand, dividing the tendons—the wound in her throat was in a dangerous locality, but it was not a dangerous wound; it was not deep—I should think the wounds on her fingers were caused by grasping a sharp knife or razor—she was discharged shortly before her husband.
Cross-examined. I should think it was quite possible for you to make a statement to the police before you left the house—when I saw you you were suffering from loss of blood—soon after the injury you would not have lost so much blood, and would not have lost consciousness.
The prisoner, in a written statement, said that he suffered from severe headaches; that previous to August 11th he had had no sleep for five nights; that on August 11th, while on the way to his work, he felt unable to go on, and after resting for a time he returned home; that his wife was out, so he laid down in a lounge chair; that he felt himself coming over faint, and then lost control of himself; that the next he remembered was seeing a policemen and finding his throat cut, and that the reason of his health giving way was his wife's adultery and drinking habits.
GUILTY on the Second Count. Twelve months' hard labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 14TH, 1904.