CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 16TH, 1905.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORTHAND BY
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
(For many years with the late firm of Messrs. BARNETT & BUCKLER, Official Shorthand Writers to the Court.)
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the King's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY WITHIN THE JURISDICTION OF THE
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, October 16th, 1905, and following days.
Before the Right Hon. Sir JOHN POUND , Bart., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ARTHUR RICHARD JELF Knt., one of the Justices of His Majesty's High Court; Sir WALTER WILKIN , K.C.M.G.; Sir MARCUS SAMUEL , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., K.C., Recorder of the said City; Sir GEORGE WYATT TRUSCOTT , Knt., THOMAS BOOR CROSBY, M.D., W. MURRAY GUTHRIE , Esq., M.P., and FRANCIS STANHOPE HANSON , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; FREDERICK ALBERT BOSANQUET , Esq., K.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; and His Honour Judge RENTOUL, K.C., Commissioner, His Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
THOMAS VANSITTART BOWATER, Esq., J.P.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
POUND, 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 16th, 1905.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Ferrai, continuing her evidence on oath, said that on August 19th when they came out of the shop they only walked; that she did not know a word of English; that she sold towels, and things of that kind, travelling with Patrach about the country with a barrow; that during April, May and June she was not away from Dieppe, and had not been away until she came to London on August 18th; that she did not know the name of the man she was with when she was arrested; that he was waiting outside the shop round the corner; that she did not know Hudson Brothers' shop on Ludgate Hill; that she had not been there on May 25th; that she did not know Hudson Brothers' in Bishopsgate Street, and was not there on May 26th; that she did not know Miss Dora Lowton, and Miss Taperell, who were called into Court; that she was not in the Civil Service Stores, Queen Victoria Street, on May 23rd; that when she was arrested she was only walking; and that during May she was living with her husband in Dieppe.
Evidence for Patrach.
ANTOINNE PATRACH (Interpreted). I am Patrach's husband, and live at Dieppe—I used to be a horse dealer, but now I do other business—in May I lived at Jarnac, Charente, near Bordeaux—my wife was living with me in May and was not away from home for one day during that month—we have been married for thirty-five or thirty-six years—I have known her since she was about fifteen years old—she does not speak any English—we left Jarnac in July, before the feast of the Republic, which is on July 14th—we went to Dieppe—my wife
went by train and I by coach—I arrived at Dieppe about July 23rd or 24th—my wife was there then; she never went out of France before August 19th.
Cross-examined by MR. LYONS. Ferrai is my sister-in-law—I have known her ever since I have been married—she does not speak a word of English—she has never been in England before this—I cannot read nor write, nor can my wife or sister-in-law.
Cross-examined by MR. LEYCESTER. I knew my wife was coming to England this time—Ferrai had a quarrel with her husband, and my wife accompanied her to England to bring her back as soon as possible—I now sell sheets and towels, and things of that sort—I travel about the country with a caravan—my wife sometimes stops at home for the children, and as soon as they are satisfied she joins me—I know St. Jean Angouleme; I was married near there—it is fifty or sixty kilometres from Jarnac—from St. Jean I went to Jarnac and then to Dieppe.
Re-examined. I have not brought over other witnesses, because I had not the necessary money—I was here last Session—I have been to Dieppe since.
By MR. LEYCESTER. I came over here when I received a telegram from Mr. La Roche—I know that an application was made to a judge to get my wife out on bail—I made the application—I said then that on May 25th, 26th, and 27th my wife was with me at Rouen—to get from Charente we must go through Rouen—I have a brother in Rouen, and perhaps somebody misunderstood me if the application says that I was in Rouen then—my statement was taken down and translated to me—when I am at Rouen I stay at the Boulevard Croisy, which is where my brother lives—I swore that my brother, who has the same name as myself, was there in May—I could not have sworn that I and my wife were there together then—it has been badly translated—I did not understand the interpreter properly.
JESSIE BERTHA DAVIS . I am a wardress in the infirmary at Holloway prison—the prisoners have been there for about a fortnight—mostly I made them understand by signs—I can speak very little French—as a rule they understood very well—the doctor thought they would be happier in the hospital; they were very miserable in prison—I tried to communicate with them in English, but I could not make them understand—they made various attempts at speaking to me in French—occassionally I tried to make them speak in English, but never succeeded in getting them to understand.
Cross-examined. They never had occasion to ask me to change a sovereign for them—I do not remember their having saying "No, no."
[MR. LEYCESTER wished to call a witness from the High Court to produce the original affidavit sworn to by Antoinne Patrach. MR. O'CONNER submitted that the evidence could not be given, as rebutting evidence could not be permitted except where the Crown said they had no opportunity of putting the whole case, and quoted Rex v. Frost, Archbold, page 212. The RECORDER ruled that the evidence was admissible.]
JAMES CAMERON WATSON . I am a clerk in the Crown Office, and produce an affidavit sworn on August 24th on the hearing of an application for bail on behalf of Patrach and Ferrai—it is a joint affidavit of Joseph Ferrai and Antoinne Patrach—one paragraph sets out where the prisoner Ferrai was in May, and reads: "The 25th, 26th, and 27th May my wife was with me at Boulevard Croisy, Rouen. She has never previously been in England since we were married"—on the face of the affidavit there is, "Sworn at Broad Court Chambers, Bow Street, in the County of London, on the 24th August, 1905, through the interpretation of Jules Renancalf, of 15, Store Street, Tottenham Court Road, in the County of London. The said Jules Renancalf, having first been sworn, said that he would faithfully and truly translate the contents of this affidavit to the deponents, Joseph Ferrai and Antoinne Ferrai, and that he would faithfully and truly interpret the oath about to be administered to them."
AUGUST JENTEHON . I am the proprietor of a restaurant at 16, Greek Street, Soho—this summer there have been some French gipsies visiting my cafe—they were rather dark—there were some there in May for about a fortnight—neither of the prisoners have ever visited my cafe.
Evidence for Ferrai.
JOSEPH FERRAI (Interpreted). I am a pedlar in and around Dieppe—I lived with my wife and family at Dieppe—I never left Dieppe after the beginning of March—I was there every day during May, my wife and three children being with me—she came over here when she was arrested, but I do not write or read and I have not got a good memory, and I do not exactly remember the date when she came over here—she does not read or write, nor speak English—she has never been in England before—I have always lived with her—she came to England because I had a quarrel with her and I struck her twice—I saw her last month; since then I have left to see my children in Dieppe—I could not bring the witness I desired because I had not the necessary money.
Cross-examined. I do not know what month we are in; I do not know the months of the year.
Re-examined. I think there are three or four weeks in a month.
Evidence in Reply.
Cross-examined by MR. LYONS. I saw the woman for about fifteen minutes—they were about 2 feet from the desk—there were other people in the shop—we were very busy at the time.
Cross-examined by MR. O'CONNER. I am not certain if the woman with her was Patrach.
GUILTY . It was stated that the prisoners came to England at different periods to commit like offences on tradespeople. One previous conviction for a like offence was proved against them. Nine months' hard labour each.
MR. BODKIN, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
725. HENRY BROCKWELL (56) PLEADED GUILTY to fraudulently converting to his own use and benefit a sugar dredger and other articles entrusted to him by D. George Collins, Ltd., in order that he might sell the same to a customer; also to fraudulently converting to his own use certain articles entrusted to him by John Barker & Co., Ltd., for the purpose of selling the same to customers; also to converting to his own use certain articles entrusted to him by John James for the purpose of repairing them, and returning them to him; also to unlawfully and fraudulently converting to his own use a watch entrusted to him by George Butters for the purpose of selling the same; also to fraudulently converting to his own use and benefit certain property entrusted to him by the Civil Service Co-Operative Society, Ltd., for the purpose of selling the same. It was stated that he was of good position and had lost £20,000 at the time of the Jameson Raid. Judgment respited.—
(726.) ALFRED WILSON (20) and DENNIS CRAWLEY (18) to breaking and entering the counting house of John Redwood and stealing a jacket and other articles, his property, Wilson having been convicted at this Court on September 13th, 1904, and Crawley at Westminster Police Court on June 15th, 1904. Four other convictions were proved against Wilson, and three against Crawley. WILSON— Three years' penal servitude and CRAWLEY Twelve months' hard labour.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(727.) WILLIAM WARDROP (23), JOHN JOHNSON (23), and JOHN WOOLLEY (20) to stealing a watch chair and pendant, the goods of Henry Robert Murrell from his person. JOHNSON also to stealing a watch and chain, the goods of Walter Francis Reckitt from his person; also to stealing a watch, the goods of Aaron Hond, from his person; and WOOLLEY to stealing a brooch and a chain, the goods of Rebecca Cohen, from her person, Wardrop having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell Sessions on September 23rd, 1902, as William Bennett; Johnson at Clerkenwell Sessions on August 23rd, 1904; and Woolley at Worship Street Police Court on January 13th, 1905. Four other convictions were proved against Johnson, two against Woolley, and three against Wardrop JOHNSON and WARDROP— Eighteen months' hard labour each, and WOOLLEY— Twelve months' hard labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 16th, 1905.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
GEORGE PRIDE (Sergeant J.) In company with Sergeants Hook and Crookshanks on the afternoon of September 8th I kept Watch on 3a, Shandy Street, Mile End, when I saw Gunchman come out—we followed him to 2, Globe Road, about a quarter of a mile away—Hook stopped him and said, "We are police officers, and we have reason to believe you have counterfeit coin in your possession"—he said, "You have made a mistake"—Hook and I then searched him, when he said, "I have got nothing"—nothing was found upon him and I went to 3a, Shandy Street with Crookshanks, Wallace, and Hook, bringing the prisoner up afterwards—I went up to the first floor front room without waiting for them—the door out into the street was wide open; children were playing in the doorway—Crookshanks, Pye and I went into the front room, where we found Waller and a woman, who subsequently said her name was Mary Gunchman; she was discharged when before the Magistrate—she was sitting with a child in her arms and Waller was sitting at the table with a file in his right hand and a counterfeit shilling in his left—in front of him on the table were these eleven other counterfeit shillings (Produced), this electric battery at work (Produced), and these small pieces of silver (Produced), which were suspended in this cup (Produced), which contained acid—Waller dropped a counterfeit shilling on to the pile of others as I went in—I found on the table with the others this good shilling (Produced), which had been silvered by the battery, and which was evidently the pattern shilling—there was also this packet containing twenty counterfeit sixpences found—I did not touch a thing until Gunchman was brought in by Hook—I then told Waller he would be arrested for feloniously possessing the moulds and other implements for the manufacture of base coin—he said, "All right; I shall say nothing"—Gunchman, who could hear that, said nothing—I asked Waller for his name and address and he said, "William Waller, of no fixed abode."
ERNEST HOOK (Sergeant J.) According to instructions received, at 12.25 p.m. on September 8th I watched 3a, Shandy Street, Mile End, when I saw Gunchman come out—I followed him to 2, Globe Road, where I said to him, "I am a police officer and believe you have counterfeit coins upon you"—he said, "You have made a mistake"—I searched him—he said, "I have not got anything"—I found he thing—I said, "Where do you live?"—he said, "Across the way"—I said, "You live at 3a, Shandy Street," and I took him there—in the first floor front room I saw Waller and Mary Gunchman—on the table I found twenty counterfeit sixpences in paper; in the cupboard a saucepan containing
one piece of white metal, also a plate brush and two cloths—Wallace, on searching Gunchman, found a packet of counterfeit sixpences in his trousers pocket which was not there when I searched him in the street—on the table there were twelve counterfeit shillings, and there were two moulds for making shillings and sixpences on the hob before the fire—I also saw a bottle containing acid that had been used for cleansing—there was only one lot of counterfeit sixpences on the table, all dated 1901, each coin separately wrapped in tissue paper—the twelve shillings were dated 1898—the shilling moulds were dated 1898—I took Gunchman to the station, where he was charged, to which he made no reply—there was another sixpenny mould also found in a box under the bed.
STEPHEN CROOKSHANKS (Sergeant J.) With Hook, Pride and Wallace I watched 3a, Shandy Street, on September 8th, and I was present when the search was made and Waller was arrested—I found this antimony (Produced) in a box underneath the bed with some white metal I found this copper wire on a table (Produced) with this battery (Produced)—I found one lot of hydrochloric acid also on the table and another lot just under the foot of the bed, where there was also a bottle of vitriol—on the side—board I found this rent book (Produced): "Mr. Gunchman, rent, front room with Mr. Pike at 3a, Shandy street, 4s. per week," beginning December 24th, 1904, ending August, 1905—a frame mould, fitting with one of the shilling moulds, and a sixpenny mould were also found.
GEORGE WALLACE (Inspector J.) I was with the other officers when Gunchman and Waller were arrested on September 8th—I searched Gunchman and found in his left-hand trouser pocket one loose counterfeit sixpence, dated 1901, and a packet containing nineteen counterfeit sixpennies, dated 1901, with tissue paper between each, and one dated 1896—I said, "What are these?"—he said, "You know. That is all I have got"—I then said to one of the officers, "What is under the bed?" and Gunchman said, "There is only a tin box"—he went to the bedstead and from underneath pulled out a tin box from which he pulled a sixpenny mould which corresponded to the counterfeit sixpences found on him.
WILLIAM PIKE . Till a fortnight ago and at the time of this occurrence I was landlord of 3a, Shandy Street, Mile End, and lived there—I let Gunchman my first floor front room on December 17th or 19th last at 4s. a week—he came into occupation then with a woman whom I believed to be his wife, and they resided there till September 8th—he sometimes paid me the rent and sometimes his wife, but I put the rent book in his name—on September 6th Waller came and knocked at the door while I was in the passage—he called for Gunchman, who came down to him—I cannot say where they went—Waller came the next day, Thursday, with Gunchman, I think, and they went upstairs—I saw nothing more of him until he was arrested.
Cross-examined by Gunchman. You paid me 6d., 9d. and 1s. at a time off your rent; the most I ever received from you at a time was 2s.—I credited you with amounts and put "Paid 4s." in your rent book each week.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin at His Majesty's Hint—I have seen two moulds for a shilling, and a lot of bad shillings—of the forty-one bad sixpences forty were made from the sixpenny mould which was found—I have seen also a good shilling—there was no object in silvering it; it has been used as a pattern to make the bad shillings—as to the other articles found, they are all such as are found in the stock-in-trade of a coiner.
Evidence for the Defence.
Gunchman, in his defence on oath, said that he was introduced to Waller by a friend named Bush; that Waller wished to use his room for silvering plate, mentioning the word "snide"; that he (Gunchman) refused to allow this, as he had already been in trouble for that sort of thing, but owing to having no money with which to pay his rent, he eventually consented; that two days before the arrest Waller came, bringing his outfit in a black canvas hag, and commenced making counterfeit coins on the following day; that he did not assist in any way, but only watched; that the packet of counterfeit sixpences found upon him he found on the table and put in his pocket in the excitement of the search, not having them in the street when he was first searched; that as to the sixpenny mould found in his box under the bed he put it there at Waller's request; and that the moulds found were made by Waller in his room that morning.
Evidence in Reply.
ERNEST HOOK (Re-examined by the JURY). I searched him in the street—I felt in his right-hand trouser pocket, his two jacket pockets, and his two waistcoat pockets—he said, "Look at all the people coming"—I said, "All right, I will take you to your address"
GUILTY . Two previous convictions were proved against WALLER. It was stated that he was a dangerous burglar, who had long been suspected of making counterfeit coin, and that his wife had been convicted at this Court last year for uttering— Five years' penal servitude. A previous conviction of possessing counterfeit coin with intent to utter was proved against GUNCHMAN. Five years' penal servitude.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
for three-halfpenny worth of gin and a halfpenny worth of milk—I asked him if he would wait whilst I rang for the milk, and he said he would drink the gin neat—I served it him, and he gave me this florin (Produced)—I did not like the look of it, and tried it with my teeth—I recognise this florin by the little mark I made on the edge—I gave it to him back, saying it was bad, and he said he would wrap it up in paper, and put it in his pocket, which he did—he then gave me a good florin, for which I gave him change and he left the house—on the Friday following, I think, I was taken to the police station, where I saw several men, from whom I picked out the prisoner.
JOSEPH ASHTON . I am a house breaker, of 106, Mare Street, Hackney, which is opposite the Warburton Arms—on the morning of September 13th I was standing outside my yard when I saw the prisoner come out of the Warburton Arms and approach a lady and gentleman, who were standing on the kerb, near enough to speak to them—he stopped with them about ten seconds, when he left them and went towards the Flying Horse—the lady and gentleman walked over to where I was—about three or four minutes afterwards a crowd assembled outside the Flying Horse, which is about thirty yards from the Warburton Arms; it lies in a recess at the back—the man and woman disappeared—about a week afterwards I went to the North London Police Court, where I saw fifteen or sixteen men, from whom I picked out the prisoner as the man whom I saw come out of the Warburton Arms—I am positively sure he is the man.
By the COURT. I saw him turn down the recess in which the Flying Horse is.
HARRY HORTON . I am manager of the Flying Horse, Mare Street, Hackney, and was on duty at the bar on the morning of September 13th, when at 8.35 a.m. the prisoner came in and ordered a glass of mild and bitter, price 1 1/2 d.—I served him, and he tendered me a florin; he pushed it along the counter like this (Illustrating)—I examined it and after testing it with aqua fortis found it was counterfeit—I went and stood at the side of the prisoner for about half a minute, saying nothing—he then said, "What about my change?"—I said, "What! out of this?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "You will not get it"—with that he left the house and started walking down the street—as he was going out of the door I told the potman in his hearing to fetch a policeman—I went after prisoner and stopped him—he said, "You don't want to lock a poor man up," and offered me 6s. to let him go, which I refused—I brought him back to the house, and detained him until the arrival of the constable, to whom I gave him in charge.
CHARLES GILLIS (54 J.R.) I was called to the Flying Horse, when I saw Horton and the prisoner—I took the prisoner into the back part of the premises and searched him, when I found 29s. 6d. in good silver, made up of 2s. pieces, but shillings and sixpences principally (Produced), and 4s. 6d. in coppers (Produced)—he also had this box of studs (Produced), which he said he was offering for sale—in answer to the charge he said, "Is it likely if I went out to pass bad money I should carry these papers with me?"—Horton gave me this counterfeit shilling.
The 'prisoner, in his defence, said that while hawking jewellery he received the bad florin; that he tendered it, not knowing it was bad; that for the put two and a half years he had been reporting himself to the police, being on ticket-of-leave; that the police would never have arrested him but for that fact; and that he never went into the Warburton Arms at all.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on September 11th, 1893, of feloniously possessing counterfeit coin. A large number of previous convictions were proved against him dating from 1854, a number being for uttering counterfeit coin, showing that he had spent forty odd years in prison— Nine months' hard labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 17th, 1905.
Before Mr. Justice Jelf.
MR. J. P. GRAIN, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. C. MATHEWS, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. A. GILL, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. FITZGERALD Prosecuted.
WILLIAM INGRAM (741 N.) About 7.15 p.m. on September 7th I saw the prisoner at a fixed point in Green Lanes—he came up to me and said, "I wish to give myself up for sending threatening letters to Mrs. stokes and a man of my regiment"—I asked him if he meant the threats—he replied, "Yes, I do"—I took him to 65, Riversdale Road, where the prosecutrix lived—before that he gave me this, little piece of paper wrote in pencil: "I, George Simms, wish to give myself up for sending threatening letters to Mrs. Stokes, 65, Riversdale Road"—I did not see him write that—he said he had just wrote it, and that he meant to carry out what he said—he gave me the paper—at 65, Riversdale Road, I asked Mrs. Stokes if she had received any letters and she said, "Yes"—she did not at once identify the prisoner as being a man she knew, but she did within a few minutes, and said he was a brother of the young lady that she had brought up from a baby—she did not give her name—I asked Mrs. Stokes would she prosecute and she said she would, and that she was in danger of her life—that was in the prisoner's presence—I took: him to the station, where he repeated in the presence of the inspector a
statement that he would kill Mrs. Stokes if he did not receive the money—he was then charged and said, "Right."
MARY ANN ELLIZA STOKES . I am the wife of George Stokes, a compositor, of 65, Riversdale Road, Highbury—I know the prisoner—he is the brother of the young woman who has been my help for over thirty years—her name was Amy Clifton, but she is now Mrs. Colling—on "September 5th I received a letter, on September 6th a second, and on September 7th a third (Ex. B., dated September 5th): "Mrs. Stokes, Don't forget the money to-night, because if you do you must put up with the punishment; I am starving; that is what makes me desperate, so don't forget. I was watching all your movements last night. I saw you go in the grocer's shop, then along of some man to post a letter in the pillar box. I walked the side of you last night down Riversdale Road, and you did not know me, so it will be easy for me to do what I want to do if you don't send me some money to-night. G. S. Bring some money outside Surrey Theatre, Blackfriars Road, to-night"—the envelope is addressed, "Mrs. Stokes, 65, Riversdale Road, Highbury"—I also received this letter, dated September 6th: "Mrs. Stokes, you have not sent me any money, so look out. Revenge is sweet, and my knife is sharp"—I think all the letters came by post, but the first one was not paid for, and we had to pay 2d.—we sent two letters to the police station, the third we had sent to the prisoner's sister at St. Albans—it was the one dated September 5th.
SAMUEL SCARFF (Inspector N.) I took the charge against the prisoner when he was brought to the station on September 7th—he said, "I sent some threatening letters to Mrs. Stokes; if she don't send me some money I intend to kill her"—I gave him an envelope and asked him to address it to Mrs. Stokes—he did so in my presence—I compared it with the letters produced by Mrs. Stokes, and in my opinion the handwriting is the same—I was afterwards shown another letter by Mrs. Stokes, which appeared to the in the same writing—it was dated September 5th.
The prisoner's defence. "I have suffered with my head a lot and I have "been put away in an asylum once, and I have been under observation, I should like my stepmother to speak for me."
Evidence for the Defence.
ANNIE CLIFTON (By the COURT). I am the prisoner's stepmother—I married his father in September, thirty years ago—I took the prisoner as a baby—he lived at home until he was thirteen, when he was sent to a school at Redhill—I used to visit him every six months—it was a philanthropic or truant school—he got on pretty well, but suffered cruelly from his head, and he always has done at times since he was a child—he stayed at the school for three years—when he came out he did a little work as a labourer and then went into the Army—at times he was sensible, but he had to lose many days on account of his head—he could not bear any noise; he used
to sit very quiet as though he did not want anyone to speak to him; at other times he was all right—he was like that nearly every month; sometimes it would last a couple of days, sometimes not more than a day—I do not know what regiment he went into—he was away from home for over twelve months, and I did not see him—he wrote to me now and then, but not very sensibly at times—at other times he would write sensibly—he was discharged from the Army and was in an asylum at Dublin—they sent home to me to see if I would have him as a harmless lunatic and I took him home again—then he enlisted in another regiment—he was in the Army for over four years; he was in the South African war—from there he went to India, where he was for two years—it was ten or eleven years ago that he was in the asylum in Dublin—he was in Netley Hospital for three months after he had been in India—I did not see him there—then he came home, two years ago last July—he has been at home ever since—he was discharged from the Army owing to a little trouble, but I do not know what it was—that was two years ago—he was discharged from the Army to Wandsworth prison; I think it was for losing his kit—eleven months before that he was in Canterbury—he had two years there—I went to visit him there—I asked him how his head was then, and he said it was very bad—he came home last May and has been home chiefly since then—he has been helping me, turning the mangle and looking after the place when I was at work—I used to leave him in charge with his father—I never left him in charge alone—he has had ever so many attacks with his head—I have known him lie in bed for two or three days—when his mind was bad he never wrote letters—I cannot call it to mind that he has been under observation since he was in Dublin—he was in Southwark Infirmary for a fortnight and then they asked me to have him home again, which I did.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Newington Sessions, on December 10th, 1895. Four other convictions were proved against him. Three years' penal servitude.
NEW COURT, Tuesday and Thursday, October 17th and 19th and
OLD COURT, Monday, October 23rd, 1905.
Before Mr. Recorder.
734. JOHN GEORGE ELLIS (50) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering an endorsement to a bill of exchange for £50, with intent to defraud. It was stated that £35 would be recovered. Judgment respited for that purpose. —And
(735.) THOMAS CHAPMAN (25) to feloniously marrying Elizabeth Ann Tapling, his wife being alive. It appearing that in the event of his not being sentenced to imprisonment he would rejoin the Army, and in consideration of Elizabeth Ann Tapling not desiring him to be punished, the Court discharged him on his own recognisances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
736. FREDERICK YOUNG (19) and MORRIS FREEDMAN (35) , Stealing sixty gross of hair nets and eight stocking suspenders, the propertyof James Edward Brandon and another, the masters of Young YOUNG PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. LEYCESTER Prosecuted; MR. DRAKE Defended Freedman.
JAMES EDWARD BRANDON . I am a member of the firm of Wagner & Brandon, manufacturers and agents, of Aldermanburv Building, E.C.—Young had been in our service as porter for four years, carrying goods from one place to another—he had nothing to do with buying or selling—at the annual stocktaking on June 20th we missed about 100 hair nets—at the end of July we missed about six gross in one number, And when we took the stock at the beginning of October we missed thirty odd gross—in consequence of that on October 2nd I had a conversation with Young, and he made a confession to me—I sent for the police and gave him into custody—I afterwards went with the police to Freedman's small draper's shop in Crystal Palace Road, East Dulwich where I saw in the window some fringe nets—I spoke to a little girl who was passing, and after giving her some money she went into the shop—she brought out two hair nets in an envelope (Produced), one of them wrapped in this piece of tissue paper (Produced)—they are of the kind missed by me—she handed them to me—with detectives Marriott and Board I went into the shop—Marriot told Freedman that they were police officers; that they had the lad Young in custody, who had made a voluntary statement that he had taken a lot of nets belonging to Messrs. Wagner & Brandon; that Young had also made a confession that he had sold the goods to him (Freedman)—Freedman denied having had any hair nets from Young, but said that he had met a lad about ten months ago, he thought it was in Milton Street, and had had some conversation with him, but he had had no dealings with him since—the detectives said they would search his shop and see if he had any goods—we went through several boxes and in one of them I picked out eighteen hair nets which I identified as mine, principally by the packing and the length, which is a little longer than is usually made in this number; they are made abroad specially for me—according to my direction the mesh is a little larger than usual, and that is what makes it longer—also one of the nets is darker than is usual—I also found some tissue paper which is similar to the tissue paper in which one of the nets obtained by the little girl was wrapped—it was tissue paper that came over with the hair nets which I ordered from abroad—it has little squares in it which I have never seen in any other tissue paper—I had not used any of it, and no goods of mine which left my premises properly were wrapped up in it—he also produced these three stocking suspenders (Produced), which I identified as mine, as the attachment to the corset is my patent—when suspenders are properly sold from my premises they are wrapped up like this—when found in Freedman's shop they were loose—there is nothing to stop the purchaser unwrapping them—we had only sold three dozen of that particular number of suspender from March to June in London, and there was one house who put them on their pattern card last July; they sold a few dozen, but I feel sure they went to the country,
because only country travellers came—we sell our hair nets at about 32s. to 35s. a gross wholesale, getting about 10 per cent, profit.
Cross-examined. We have a very large business in these nets and we sell large quantities of them—I would not like to say we are the only makers of the particular length of those nets the little girl purchased—one of these nets is 63 to 64 centimetres and 40 to 42 meshes; you can get various quantities of meshes into 64 centimetres—40 to 42 meshes is not the universal length—I am not sure that that other net is ours—I do not identify them by the colour—I am not at all doubtful about the ones found in Freedman's shop; I only took those which I thought I could absolutely identify as my property—we sell about 200 or 300 gross in six months; we are wholesale and sell them to retailers in London, and they undoubtedly sell them to men in Freedman's position—we sell stocking suspenders to Rotheran's—I know there is an auction room in Milton street and it is possible that men in Freedman's position would buy job lots of haberdashery there—our customers employ Button's, the carriers, to fetch goods; they pay carriage—I know that a quantity of goods was lost by Sutton which was afterwards sold by Fryer & Cooper, but they were not nets—we employ a good many men and women workers in the factory and warehouse—I do not know of any other loss in hair nets but through Young; I can put my finger on no one else and we have dealt with it in every way possible—we suspect no one else—we had full faith in Young and he had the keys of the warehouse—when we went to Freedman's shop he had some of the nets in the window, "which we asked him to produce—he said he had bought the goods at an auctioneer's; I think he mentioned the name of Fryer & Cooper, and he gave a catalogue to the detective—I have the particulars of what we lost through Sutton, and I have every reason to believe Young when he said he lost them—he lost them in Button's yard—we communicated with Sutton and they tried to trace them—it may have been that Young stole them—amongst them were twenty "Trixy" suspenders—I do not know whether the goods were sold; we have not recovered them—we might have sold 150 to 200 dozen of these suspenders in the country; they run from 4s. 6d. a dozen upwards—they are not articles that can be purchased on a barrow from a hawker; it may be possible, but I should say it is most exceptional—I cannot get hair nets at 14s. to 18s. a gross; you are thinking of the silk nets—I know Jacobs & Wolf, of Hounsditch, and I think they are in a large way of business—I should say the price of these nets which you say have been bought at their place (Produced) is from 24s. to 27s. a gross—ours are larger and of much better quality than these.
FREDERICK YOUNG . I am nineteen years of age—I have pleaded guilty to this indictment and am ready to tell the truth about the matter—I was a porter in the service of Wagner & Brandon and I took out parcels and goods for them—about fifteen months ago I was going along Milton Street from Featherstone Street with a parcel that had printed on it "Ladies' fringe nets" and the name and address of certain customers, when I met Freedman in company with two gentlemen outside
the auction rooms—he left them and stopped me as I was going along—he said, "Does your master sell job lines?" and I said, "No, we sell to all the big firms in the City," and pointing to "Tubbs & Hiscock's" I said, "We sell to that firm"—he said, "Can you get any?"—I asked him what he meant, and he said, "You know"—I said, "All right; I will try"—he gave me his card, which had on it, "Mr. Freedman, 112, Crystal Palace Road"; I am not quite sure whether it said what he was—I afterwards showed it to Mr. Hodson, and then tore it up—the prisoner promised me 10s. for one gross—the parcel I was carrying hat not the name of the firm on it—he asked me where I was employed and I told him "Wagner & Brandon's, I, Aldermanbury Buildings"—he said, "I will be here next Tuesday. Do not forget to meet me"—between that and the next Tuesday I got a gross of hair nets from the governor's drawer, of which I had the keys—I had stolen nothing before then—I met Freedman on the Tuesday at the same place and we both went to Basinghall Street, where I handed him the goods—he gave me 4s., and I said, "Is this all?"—he said, "I will give you the rest next time, as I am very short of cash. Do not forget to meet me next Tuesday, if you can"—the next Tuesday I met him at the same place with one more gross—we both went to Paper Street and he gave me 7s. for it—after that I took him some every other week—some weeks he gave me 5s. and some weeks 4s. 6d. and 4s.—on one occasion I got him two gross, when he gave me 10s.—the highest I have got for a gross is 7s.—I spent the money in getting good dinners and backing horses—I lost except once or twice—on the Tuesday before I was caught he said, "I have got a special order for three gross, one light colour, one mid colour and one dark colour," and I told him I could not get him too many—the gross that I gave him that day was the last he had—I was caught on the next Monday, October 2nd—he never had the three gross—about three months ago he asked me once if we sold anything else and I said stocking suspenders, and he told me to fetch him a sample—I met him at Fryer & Cooper's and gave him eight, for which he gave me 3d. and Is. for myself—they are sold by my master at 4s. 6d. a dozen—at his request I went to his shop in Crystal Palace Road with nets about four times—Arthur Wadsworth, a friend of mine, came with me two or three times—I asked him to lend me 6d. for riding money, which he did, and when I got the money from Freedman I paid him Is., 6d. his expenses and 6d. I had borrowed—I asked him to come as a favour—he is eighteen years old and helps in a glass beveller's shop; I believe he is out of work now, but he was at Newton's then—we went by a train from Ludgate Hill—when I borrowed the sixpence it was eight or nine months ago—he has been with me since—we used to go on Thursdays, and the last time he came with me was about six weeks before August Bank Holiday—on Monday, October 2nd, I made a full confession to Mr. Brandon and since then I have been in prison—Wadsworth came to see me once in prison—I had 15s. wages—I sold Freedman about sixty gross altogether—six or seven weeks ago I sold about seven gross of nets to another man who had nothing to do with Freedman.
Cross-examined. I knew the difference between right and wrong when I met Freedman first; I had been three and a half years in Wagner & Brandon's employ—I believe that morning I had called at Tubbs & Hiscock's to see if they had any orders—the man whom I sold the other nets to was called Strutt—I made the statement before the Magistrate that I had sold Strutt seven gross, but that was not accepted and he was discharged—sometimes Strutt gave me 2s. 6d. and sometimes 3s. a gross, but they were only small nets—I am certain I sold to nobody else but him and Freedman—I lost two parcels at Button's—I do not know what they contained; I do not think it was suspenders, but haberdashery of some kind; I know there were some steels that go into ladies' stays—I do not know that they were afterwards sold at Fryer & Cooper's—as far as I know, there were no other goods lost through any other employes—I do not know that a great many other goods were lost and can be traced besides those that I was dealing with—I first told Wadsworth all about this two months ago, and he said he would not do it if he was me—I told no one in my master's employ till I told Mr. Brandon—I did not mention anything about Wadsworth in my statement, because I never thought of him until I saw him in the Police Court—I was not present when Freedman told Mr. Brandon and the detective that he had had no dealings with me; he once said to me, "You have made a nice mess of it"—they did not say that if I made a statement I would notget much imprisonment—my master asked me to make it before I went to the detectives at all.
Re-examined. Wadsworth came to see me at the prison before I came up at the Police Court, to bring me some grub.
EDWARD MARRIOT (Detective, City). On October 2nd Young made a statement to me which I wrote down and he signed—in consequence of what he said on that day, I went to Freedman's place in Crystal Palace Road with Mr. Brandon and another officer—outside Mr. Brandon sent in a little girl, who brought out two nets in a little parcel—we went in and saw Freedman—I told him we were police officers and that we had got a lad in custody in the City who had made a statement in which he said that he had been in the habit of supplying him (Freedman) with a quantity of fringe nets—I then gave him an outline of the statement, in reply to which he said, "I did speak to a boy in Milton Street. I noticed he had a large envelope with 'Fringe nets' on it. I asked him where he worked and he told me some name, but I forget. I then asked him if his master had any job lots"—I told him we were going to search his shop and he assisted us by fetching down some boxes—Mr. Brandon picked out eighteen hair nets and three stocking suspenders from various boxes—I asked Freedman how he accounted for the possession of the fringe nets, and he said, "I bought them under the hammer either in Milton Street or Hounsditch a few months ago"—he said that he had bought the suspenders in a job lot at Fryer & Cooper's sale on July 11th this year, and at the same time he handed me this catalogue, dated July 11th (Produced)—there is no mention of suspenders in it and I have been right through it—Mr. Brandon said, "These are my goods, and I am
going to give you into custody"—I asked Freedman if he had got any invoices for the fringe nets, and he looked through his papers—he showed me lots of papers, but nothing relating to fringe nets or suspenders—I took him to Moor Lane police station, where he was confronted with Young, whose statement was read to him, to which he said nothing (Read): "I live at 25, Ashford Place, Walthamstow. About eighteen months ago I was in Milton Street with a parcel of fringe net envelopes. A man I know now by the name of Freedman and living at 152, Crystal Palace Road, stopped me and asked me if my governor sold any job lines. I said, 'No.' He then said, 'Can you get any?' I said, 'I will try.' He said, 'I will give you 10s. for a gross.' He then gave me his card with his name and address on. In a few days I got a gross, met him in Milton Street, and gave them to him. He gave me 4s. for them and promised me double the amount next time. The following week I got another gross, met him by arrangement at the same place, gave them to him, and he gave me 7s. I have given him a gross every other week since, the last time being last Tuesday. About seven weeks ago I took eight suspenders, for which he gave me 3d. On three occasions I have taken them (the nets) to his shop in Crystal Palace Road. I should think he has had about sixty gross altogether and has paid me at the rate of about 5s. per gross. About three weeks ago I was in conversation with Harry Strutt, who lives in the third house on the right in Hartley Crescent, Walthamstow. I told him I was working in the fringe net trade. He said, 'I know where to sell some if you get any.' I have got about seven gross at different times. He has paid me 3s. or 4s. a gross for them. F. YOUNG."
Cross-examined. I did not warn Freedman before I asked him anything—I went with Young's statement, which is in my handwriting, in my pocket—I wrote it down from what he told me at the station—I made out a rough draft and then wrote it out fresh—I warned Young before he made it; I had had no conversation with Mr. Brandon then—I did not warn Freedman, because he was not in custody; I simply went to make inquiries—some hair nets were in the window—there were a very few nets indeed in the shop—there were eighteen identified and perhaps another eighteen which were not—there were only three suspended there—I did not hear him say in the presence of Brandon that he had had no dealings with Young—if I had heard him say it, it would have been in the note which I made at the time—it might have been said to Mr. Brandon at the other end of the shop; I put down everything I heard—I have made inquiries about Freedman and find that he has been carrying on an honest business; I cannot say for what length of time; we found nothing against him—my inquiries go back for three or four years—he took the catalogue from his jacket pocket, in which he had a number of other catalogues—I did not ask him for any accounts—I saw a number of slips like this (Auctioneer's account slip, produced)—I believe he has purchased goods from Fryer & Cooper; in fact he purchased two lots out of the catalogue of July 11th—I only made inquiries about the sale on July 11th.
Re-examined. He bought lots 205 and 211 in the July 11th catalogue—205 is "Large box of sundries, a quantity of hoops, and a pair of stays," And 211, "A tin trunk and contents, and a silk lamp shade."
ARTHUR WADSWORTH . I am a labourer in a glass beveller's, but I am out of work at present—Young is a friend of mine—I have been to Crystal Palace Road with him three times, the first time about twelve months Ago—we went from Ludgate Hill to Peckham Bye and then got out and walked to 152, Crystal Palace Road, Mr. Freedman's place—Young paid the fares; he borrowed the money from me—he had a parcel with him—when he went inside the shop he gave it to Freedman, who put it under the counter—I was standing outside looking in at the window—Freedman paid Young some money at the door, but I could not see what it was—Young gave me the 1s. I lent him—this was on Thursday evening after I had done work—I left off at 7 p.m., and I met him about 7.20, getting to Crystal Palace Road at 8.15—each of the other two times I went with him he had a parcel which he gave to Freedman—it was only the first time that he borrowed money from me—the other two times were on a Thursday evening, and Freedman always paid him at the door; his shop was open.
Cross-examined. The last occasion I went was eight months ago; I cannot tell you the month—he always met me at 7.20 p.m.—I went with him a month before that and the first time was a month before that—I saw Young for the last time about two months ago at Walthamstow, standing at a greengrocer's stall in High Street; I did not speak to him—I went out with him as a friend two months after the last time I went to Crystal Palace Road—it was a small brown paper parcel tied up with white string—I never went into Freedman's shop—I could see through the window there were some goods in it—the first time I went Mrs. Freedman came and spoke to Freedman—I did not notice any customers in the shop on any of the occasions—I was asked last Thursday by Mr. Marriot to give evidence here—I visited Young in prison last Wednesday—I heard that he had been arrested on the Monday evening a fortnight ago; his sister came and told me—I took him some food—I did not mention this to anybody from the last time I went to Crystal Palace Road until that Wednesday—Mr. Marriot asked me to go to Mr. Myers to give evidence against the prisoners—I read about it in the paper—Marriot said, "Be careful and speak the truth"—I only knew from the papers that Young was charged with theft.
Re-examined. I made a statement to Mr. Myers, which was taken down in writing—it was read over to me and I signed it.
EDWARD MARRIOT (Further cross-examined by MR. DRAKE). I visited Freedman's shop on two occasions—I do not know whether it is possible to see through the window of the shop into the shop—there were a large number of articles of wearing apparel hanging in the window.
Freedman, in his defence on oath, said true it was true he had met a boy,
whom he supposed was Young, about a year ago, and had asked him whether his master had any job lots to sell, but that the rest of Young's statement was totally untrue; that he had not bought any hair nets nor suspenders from him and had not met Young since that day at all; that he had been in business as a small draper for over eighteen years and had not had any charge made against him; that it was his custom to buy haberdashery in job lots at Fryer & Cooper's auction rooms and at the Milton Street auction rooms; that he had bought the hair nets found in his shop at a sale at Fryer & Cooper's of goods unclaimed at carriers, Suttons being one, on August 12th; the catalogue made no mention of hair nets, but they, being of such small value, were not catalogued as a separate article; that it was impossible for anyone to identify hair nets as their own, as he could procure them of the same size and colour as the prosecutors' at any wholesale shop; that he had bought the suspenders from Rotheran & Company, it being possible to obtain similar articles at any wholesale shop; that he had never seen Wadsworth in his life; that he and Young never came to his shop, nor did he pay Young anything on any of the occasions alleged, and that it was his custom to close his shop at five on Thursdays.
Evidence for the Defence.
ELIZABETH COLLINS . I reside in East Dulwich and have five daughters—I have been a customer of Freedman for some eight or nine years—I purchased these five pairs of suspenders (Produced) in the Westmoreland Road, Camberwell, giving 3d. a pair for them.
JOHN RAWSON . I am manager of the auction company that carry on business at 48, Milton Street, our principal business being in haberdashery and soft goods generally—we hold auctions every Tuesday and Thursday—Freedman has been attending them for seven or eight years, buying haberdashery mostly—we sold fringe nets when such stocks came by containing them—if there were not sufficient nets we would not specify them—Freedman has purchased pretty largely of that kind of goods—we have always given him accounts, which he has paid—the average price of hair nets is about 3s. or 3s. 6d. a gross—it is possible to get any quantity required in our rooms.
By the COURT. Customers have to pay before clearing the goods—we give them two days in which to clear them.
Cross-examined. I have a full knowledge of drapery—I know that a silk or hair net is different to a cotton one—nets vary in quality and some are very much more expensive than others—it would not matter whether they were cheap or otherwise; if there were not sufficient for one lot we should put it with other articles and call it "A quantity of haber dashery"—we generally get bankrupt stock, but we buy salvage at times—we could not possibly sort hair nets out into their different qualities; they would all go in together.
SAMUEL BURDEN (By the JURY). I am a warder at Brixton prison—when a prisoner is awaiting trial he can be visited any day—a warder is present to keep order, but not to listen, and there are too many talking to enable him to hear much that is said.
FREEDMAN GUILTY — Twelve months' hard labour. YOUNG— six months, hard labour.
MR. MATHEWS, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HARRY THOMPSON . I am reception clerk at the Midland Grand Hotel, St. Pancras—I produce the Reception Book for April 12th last—I was acting as reception clerk when the prisoner came that day—I saw him write this: "Sir Francis and Lady Hamilton, Lyndhurst"—there was a small amount of luggage—so far as I know, I never saw him before—a great many people come to the hotel.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I saw you write that name in the register—the only luggage I saw of yours was a bag and a portmanteau—I did not see five trunks of baggage, nor as much as a four-wheeler would carry—I said before the Magistrate that your luggage could be carried by hand, what I saw of it—you did not tell me you were a baronet—I cannot say whether you have been in the hotel before; I have only been there six weeks—if a man comes without luggage I ask for a deposit—I do not give credit only on the name—if a man uses different names I should say it was wrong—possibly people assume names—I should say this is a Midland Hotel bill (Produced)—it is not my writing—it is made out to Sir Francis Hamilton, and the dates are March 10th to 14th—I do not see any year—the amount is paid—the hotel account books have nothing to do with me.
GEORGE HENRY JAMES KIMPTON . I am cashier at the Midland Grand Hotel, St. Pancras—on April 12th the prisoner and a lady arrived—by the Reception Book I knew them as Sir Francis and Lady Hamilton, Lyndhurst—we accepted them as such—they were allotted room 202—they remained till the afternoon of April 20th—the practice is to send in the bill on the fifth day unless there is a special arrangement—following that practice, the bill was sent in on April 17th—the prisoner came to me that day—I requested payment and he said he would get a cheque cashed and he would pay us on the 17th—on that, day he said he would get a cheque cashed and would pay us—we did not get payment on the 18th or 19th—on the 20th he said he was leaving the hotel that he had not had time, or that it was not convenient to get his cheque cashed and in a conversation I had with him he regretted that he was regarded with suspicion—I said I was not able to find his title in "Burke," or in the "Red Book," and he explained that he had come into the title in February of this year—I think I said, "I do not know whether you are a knight or, a baronet, "but I will not swear to that—he gave his address as Lyndhurst, new forest—he said he was known there—he gave another address at Leeds—he
offered to leave his luggage, and considering, as he suggested, we had cast suspicions on him, and regarding him as an influential man, a knight or a baronet who might get me into trouble, I desired to conciliate him and consented to cash the cheque—he then gave me this cheque on the Yorkshire Penny Bank for £11 15s. 9d.—the cheque was paid into that bank in Leeds—we had already a Leeds address as well—we have cheques on that bank sometimes, which is a large bank, although it originated as a Penny Bank—the cheque was returned marked "R.D." as it appears now—I reported the circumstances and swore an information on May 19th—I next saw the prisoner before the Magistrate at Clerkenwell—I produce a similar copy of account to that supplied to the prisoner—it shows apartments, 10s., dinner each night, 10s., and an account of wines, etc., to the amount of £11 15s. 9d.
Cross-examined. In consequence of our request for payment you came to the office and saw me on April 16th or 17th—letters came addressed to you and to Lady Hamilton from Lyndhurst—I did not look at your luggage in your room because of what your dog might do—I should say it was a cross between an Airedale and an Irish terrier; I should not have taken it for a pure Irish terrier which had won the prize at the Dublin Show—you offered to leave your luggage—you obtained credit before you brought the cheque—I am aware that you have stayed at the Midland Hotels—I have been told so; at Leeds, for one, but I do not know how many.
EDGAR QUAGLIA . I am head waiter at the Parisian Restaurant, Midland Hotel—I recognise the prisoner as having stayed in the hotel, and I have seen him in the restaurant, in which there is a system of checking, and I produce my duplicate for April 18th, on which day the prisoner had his meals in the restaurant at the table d'hote.
JOHN ARTHUR GREEN . I am chief cashier at the Midland Penny Bank Head Office at Leeds—this is the certificate of the bank's incorporation under the Companies' Acts—it has a capital of about £15,000,000—the prisoner opened an account at that bank in the name of Francis Hamilton on April 17th, 1904—that account was operated on till November 22nd—the prisoner's balance was £1 4s. 7d. on January 1st last—a cheque was presented for £10 8s., which made an overdraft of £9 3s. 5d., and, the usual course being adopted, the prisoner was written to on January 30th, February 3rd, and February 9th, and by our solicitors on February 13th the address on February 8th was 25, Earl's Court Gardens—the pass-book was not made up—nothing was paid in since January, 1904—six other cheques have been presented to the amount of about £63, and marked, "R.D.," one on April 11th, and re-presented on April 13th, for £10 7s. 4d., another for £5, and another for £6 5s. 9d., and on April 26th the cheque for £11 15s. 9d., one on May 13th for £8 0s. 8d., and May 15th for £2, all after a letter of February 5th, which we received from Francis Hamilton, of Earl's Court Gardens.
Cross-examined. There was no introduction—the account was opened with h cash, £5—altogether about £145 was paid in—fifty seven cheques were cashed—I do not know William Bird," of Leeds, as a customer.
ARTHUR HOWLETT EGGETT . I am a clerk in the department of the Home Office, which deals with honours conferred by His Majesty—amongst the baronetcies created this year the name of Sir Francis Hamilton does not appear—the prisoner is not known to me—I have not heard of him before—I have been in the Home Office twenty-five years.
Cross-examined. A complete list is kept—we only deal with carrying out the King's wishes with regard to the creation of baronetcies—baronetcies of 100 or 150 years old are recorded in the Peerage, and at the College of Arms—baronetcies created in the reign of James I are recorded else where, and claims as to dormant baronetcies have to be submitted to, and established to the satisfaction of, His Majesty.
CHARLES GOODCHILD (Sergeant Y.) From information received, on September 20th, about 11.15, I stopped the prisoner in Hargrave Road, Holloway—I asked him if his name was Hamilton—he said, "No"—I said, "I am a police sergeant, and hold a warrant for the arrest of a man of the name of Sir Francis Hamilton for obtaining credit under false pretences on the 10th of April last, to the amount of £11, at the Midland Grand Hotel in the name of Sir Francis Hamilton; you will have to go to the station"—he said, "Very well"—I got a cab, and conveyed him to the station—on the way he said, "May I speak to you in the manner of a conversation, or will what I say be given in evidence?"—I said, "You had better not say anything till you get to the police station"—he also asked me if he could return to the Grand Hotel, and settle the matter—I said, "No, you will have to go to the police station—at the station the question was asked by the inspector, and the name given as the man referred to in the warrant, Sir Francis Hamilton, and he was charged—when the charge was read over he made no reply—when searched at the station £4 10s. in gold was found upon him, and a few shillings, and two visiting cards, with "Sir Francis Hamilton, Bart." upon them.
Cross-examined. You did not say, "I shall not tell you whether I am or am not Sir Francis Hamilton."
The prisoner, in his defence, produced a number of Midland and other hotel bills which he said he had paid, and stated that he had reason to believe his cheque would have been met; that he had no intention to defraud, and that he offered to leave his luggage. He also complained that he had not had an opportunity of procuring witnesses. The case was therefore adjourned till Monday next.
Old Court, October 23rd.
The prisoner stated that he was not able to produce any witness. He then added upon oath that he expected money from a bill of sale for £90 on his horse and trap, silver, and furniture and effects at East Barsham Holly a house which he rented; that he did not say he was a baronet, but what he did say, when told the title could not be found, was, "You will find my name in your books," and not that he came into the title in February, as stated in the evidence. He admitted that several of his cheques had been dishonoured; that he had dealings with pawnbrokers; that the title was dormant, and that he was not now claiming it, but denied any intent to defraud, or that he had done more than incur a debt.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at the Manchester Assizes in November, 1893, in the name of Francis Miles. Another conviction was proved against him. It was stated that he bore a bad record. Twenty months' hard labour.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, October 17th, 1905.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Three months' imprisonment without hard labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
FOURTH COURT, Tuesday, October 17th, and
Wednesday, October 18th, 1905.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
742. JOHN DONOVAN (34) and JOHN DUTTON (22) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously breaking and entering the shop of Charlotte Aronson and stealing therein six watches, her property, Donovan having been convicted of felony at this Court on September 11th, 1900, and Dutton of felony at the North London Sessions on January 19th, 1901. DONOVAN, against whom five other convictions were proved— Five years' penal servitude. DUTTON, against whom three other convictions was proved— Three years' penal servitude.—
(744.) ARTHUR LOWE (40) to feloniously marrying Mary Ellen Robinson during the lifetime of his wife. He received a good character. Twelve months' hard labour.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(745.) WILLIAM FOWLER (28), CHARLES WHITWORTH (28), and ARTHUR WEST (27) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Barnet Davis, with intent to steal therein, Fowler having been convicted of felony at the Guildhall, Westminster, as Arthur Skinner on January 22nd, 1904, and West of felony at the North London Police Court on May 28th, 1904. FOWLER, against whom seven other convictions were proved, and who was stated to be a most dangerous man— Seven years' penal servitude. WHITWORTH, against whom two convictions were proved— Three years' penal servitude ; WEST, against whom two other convictions were proved— Three years' penal servitude.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
(746.) ARTHUR CRISP (28) and ALFRED CHARLES DEARLOVE (31) to unlawfully conspiring together by false pretences to cheat and defraud the Commissioners of Inland Revenue of divers valuable securities, with intent to defraud. DEARLOVE also to forging and uttering acquittances and receipts with intent to defraud, and forging and uttering requests for payment, and feloniously endeavouring to receive and obtain valuable securities by virtue of certain forged instruments. CRISP who was stated to be the tool of Dearlove— Six months' hard labour. DEARLOVE— Five years' penal servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. OLIVER Prosecuted; MR. ROOTH Defended.
JAMES LAING (Sergeant G.) On August 25th, at 8.30 a.m., I went to 4, Upper Lurline Gardens, Battersea, and saw the prisoner there—I told him I was a police officer and that I held a warrant for his arrest—I commenced to read it to him—he then made me believe that he could not understand English properly—it was then interpreted to him—he said, "It was a bill of sale I had on some furniture I was expecting from Germany, but it did not come"—he was then taken to the station and charged—nothing further was said by him—it was a Mr. Krause who-interpreted.
Cross-examined. The warrant contained legal language; I did not read all that.
Re-examined. He understood I was a police officer—he understands a certain amount of English.
WALTER HENRY MILLS . I am a solicitor of the Supreme Court and Commissioner for Oaths at 5, Finsbury Square—this bill of sale was signed in my presence on April 11th, 1905—I cannot identify anyone in connection with it; all I can say is that a male and a female came before me and I administered the oath to them properly—if the declaration does not say that I read it over and explained it to him, then I did not—looking at this attestation, I can say that I did explain this bill of sale to the man.
Cross-examined. Possibly hundreds have signed declarations before me since that time—I have no doubt that I explained it in general terms and that he fully appreciated the purport of the document—I do not remember that the man who came before me was a German who did not understand English—I do not remember that the document was translated to the prisoner—if it had been translated there would be a special attestation showing that it had been translated and I should have to get somebody to translate it and to administer the oath to him as well.
Re-examined. Before the document, was signed I satisfied myself that he understood what he was doing—in the ordinary course of declarations and affidavits we are not supposed to look at the body of the document.
ERNEST CHARLES GREY . I reside at 32, Dynham Road, West Hampstead, and am a purchaser of book debts—early in April this year a man named Krause approached me with regard to the prisoner—I went to 55, South Molton Street, alone in the-first instance, and saw the prisoner's, wife—I had a conversation with her to the effect that she wanted £20 or £30 temporarily, that her mother, who was coming over from Germany, had got the proceeds of certain stocks, and shares which she had given orders to sell, by which she had not then got, that it took a long while in Germany to get the proceeds and that she only wanted the loan for six weeks or perhaps two or three months—further conversation took place and as the result I went on April 7th with Mr. Krause to Frithville Gardens, where I saw the prisoner—I had a conversation with him partly in English and partly translated by Mr. Krause—the prisoner repeated what his
wife had said—he said he was carrying on business as a dressmaker at South Molton Street, that it was his business, although his wife carried it on in her name, that they wanted to take in lodgers and wanted £36 to buy furniture with, and that they only wanted it till his wife's mother had got the proceeds of the stocks and shares which she had given orders to sell in Germany—he showed me certain furniture there—I said there was not enough to lend money on a bill of sale—he then said, "Oh, there is a lot more now on its way from Germany, particularly two large wardrobes similar to the one you see now, and my wife's mother is coming over and she will bring over a large amount of linen, china, glass and cutlery, and that can be included"—I said I would wait to see what came over—the furniture that I saw there included two mirrors, a large wardrobe, some engravings, two superior lounge chairs and settee, a large Brussels carpet and other things that I cannot now recollect—on April 10th I again went to Frithville Gardens—I saw the prisoner there—Krause went with me—I was shown a considerable amount of china, glass and cutlery, also two large wicker baskets containing linen and in particular two absolutely new bedsteads—I said to the prisoner, referring to the bedsteads, "I suppose these are not on hire?"—he said they had come over from Germany—his wife's mother was there then—I did not speak to her, as she was supposed not to be able to speak English—I took measurements of the furniture which Krause gave me and made an inventory of it—as a result I had a bill of sale drawn up and a statutory declaration—Krause translated both of them to the prisoner in my presence, and the prisoner's wife, who speaks perfect English, also read it over and told him the purport of it and the declaration—I thought as he was a foreigner it would be advisable, although not necessary, to get the bill of sale taken before a solicitor, so I took the prisoner and his wife over to Mr. Mills, whom I did not know, but who was a Commissioner a short distance away—Mr. Milk explained the effect of the bill of sale to him in English—the prisoner said, "Yes, yes, I understand"—it was then executed by the prisoner in Mr. Mill's presence and he attested it, and the prisoner and his wife also made the declaration before Mr. Mills—I then handed over to the prisoner in the presence of Mr. Mills £30 in bank notes—I took this receipt—the first instalment of the repayment and interest was due on May 11th and the others monthly—I called on the prisoner and asked him about the payments—he said he was expecting money from his brother in Germany, who was worth £35,000, and as soon as he got it he would pay me—I did not receive the June instalment—I called on him at Frithville Gardens in June, but found the house empty—I made enquiries and went to Lurline Gardens, Battersea—whilst trying to find the prisoner I met Krause—from what he told me I returned—next morning I received a letter from the prisoner's wife, and as a result I instructed a bailiff to seize the prisoner's furniture—it was put up to auction and realised £7 10s. gross And £5 10s. nett—I did not get the whole of the furniture seized, as prisoner's wife claimed all the linen, china, glass and cutlery, and Mr. Symons, of the Uxbridge Road, claimed the two bedsteads which were included in the bill of sale—if I had known the bedsteads were hired
and that the linen, etc., were not the prisoner's, I should not have lent the £30.
Cross-examined. I am not a moneylender—I have lent money to three or four persons introduced by Krause, but in none of the cases have I got my money back, nor am I likely to—I carry on my business at my residence—Krause was not my "tout"—this is the only bill of sale transaction I have had—it was registered—I knew I could not get a bill of sale for less than £30—I applied for a warrant, which was granted on my information, but the Magistrate committed the prisoner for perjury only—the case was so mixed up that one point bore on the other—I do not know why the Magistrate did not commit on both charges—my complaint here is that certain of the property included in the bill of sale which the prisoner swore, was not his, but belonged to someone else—I tare no corroboration here of my story—Krause will not be called as a witness by me—I should say his evidence would be utterly unreliable—he has been walking about with the prisoner for the last three days—the linen is not specifically described in the bill of sale—I say the bill of sale is perfectly good against the grantor—the goods were sold by my order on August 1st—we seized two old faulty bedsteads which fetched 5s.—the prisoner put them there as things to be seized—he said they were the two bedsteads—I did not accept them as those included in the bill of sale—I say those two old bedsteads were put there between the seizure and the removal, that the two bedsteads on hire were seized and that the two removed were old ones bought cheap for the purpose of removal—I was taken in by the prisoner's plausible manner and by his false pretences—I do not speak German—I thought it necessary to have the documents translated to the prisoner for his protection and for mine—before I advanced the £30 I did not get £4—I swear that—I did not get £4 from Krause—it is impossible to get money out of him.
Re-examined. There were no preliminary fees of any kind paid me.
FREDERICK SANSOM . I am employed by Mr. Symons, of 134, Ux-bridge Road—he is a furniture dealer—on April 8th last the prisoner and his wife came to our shop—he wanted two bedsteads complete—he paid a deposit of 15s. and arranged to pay for them by weekly instalments—they were sent to 76, Frithville Gardens—I delivered them—my firm afterwards seized them.
Cross-examined. It is usual on the hire purchase system to pay a deposit—there was nothing irregular or improper in the way it was done.
EMILY HYDE . I was a Miss Symons, employed at 134, Uxbridge Road—I remember the prisoner coming to us on April 8th last—I served him with two bedsteads complete on the hire purchase system—he signed an Agreement—we have had no dealings with the prosecutor.
Cross-examined. One bedstead was described in the agreement as being 3 ft. 6 ins.—that was a mistake and it was altered by Mr. Symons at the time to 3 ft. 0 ins.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, stated that he came to England last November; that he saw an advertisement of Krause & Co., and through Krause was introduced to the prosecutor, as he (the prisoner) wanted to
borrow some money; that the prosecutor came on April 7th, and took the measurements of the furniture; that he wanted to have £4 first, and then to hand him the advance afterwards; that he (the prisoner) handed the £4 to Krause, who gave it to the prosecutor; that nothing was read over to him, but that he understood if he did not pay back the money the furniture would belong to the prosecutor; that all Mr. Mills stated that he had to do was to sign; and that the two bedsteads seized were the same as those included in the bill of sale.
GUILTY . Discharged on his own recognisances in £10 on condition that he left the country within a week; if not, to be brought up for sentence.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 18th, 1905.
Before Mr. Justice Jelf.
SOLOMON ABRAHAMS . I live at 65, Wellesley Street, Mile End, and am a tailor—on July 18th the prisoner came to my house—I had never seen her before—she said she was my niece—she said she was the daughter of a brother of mine whom I have never seen, and I have not heard from him for about eighteen years—she said she had two brothers in New York and had been there on a steamer, but was not allowed to land; that she had been sent back to Hamburg and had come from there to London—I agreed to let her live in my house until she could hear from her brother in New York—she occupied a room in which my daughter and Sarah Herman slept—I did not notice anything about her figure or condition—on August 4th I got up at 7 a.m. and about 9 a.m. I went to the water closet in the back yard—I found the pan was blocked and I first used a poker to try and clear it, but it was too short, so I took a stick which was also too short—I then put my band down and pulled up a child's head—I put it down and went and spoke to my wife, who went to the prisoner's room—my wife and I then went to the wash-house together, where we found the trunk of a newborn dead child—it was behind a box wrapped in two dusters which the windows are cleaned with—it was near the wash-house door—when I went in I saw the dusters lying, and my missus opened them and I could see them—as I went into the wash-house, looking round I could see the dusters—the box was by the door and about half a foot from the wall—the dusters were between the box and the wall—the box was not in a corner; it was the middle of the wall—I went there knowing I was going to find something as I had heard something before I went there—if I had gone there without knowing anything, I do not think I should have noticed the dusters.
Cross-examined. When I went into the wash-house I at once saw the dusters with the body in them—there was up blood on them or on the floor or in the water closet—all the dusters were clean and without bloods—there were no signs of blood has been wiped up—I saw no knife or razor or instrument
with which the head might have been cut off, and none has been found since—I searched the house as well as the police—I prodded the obstruction which I found with the stick several times—these (Produced) are the stick and poker—I gave the obstruction several hard blows and tried to push it down—I could not get it away, but I prodded it as hard as I could—I could not bring the head up on the stick or poker; it was fixed so hard because the pipe is wide at the top and narrow at the bottom—I had to use my hands to get it up as well as the poker—the outlet of the pan is about as big as my hand—the head was tightly jammed inside the hole—the prisoner was brought to me by two women, Phoebe Hyman and Rachael Cockle, from the same village I come from—I knew the women before and they introduced the prisoner to me as my niece—I am not a rich man and was not pleased to have an additional mouth to feed—at that time I did not believe that she was my niece, and my missus asked her a number of questions—I do not know that she answered "No" to almost everything—she was only to stay with me until the ticket came from New York, and she said that in a fortnight she would go back—I was anxious that the ticket should be sent, because I could not keep her—I wrote to the people who she said were her brothers, and got a letter in reply, and I have no doubt as to the prisoner's identity—my name was Bolker and I changed it to Abrahams to make it more English.
KATE ABRAHAMS . I am the wife of the last witness—I remember the prisoner coming to live with us—after she had been with us about a fortnight I asked her if she was engaged, because I noticed her condition—she looked as if she might be going to have a child—on Thursday, August 3rd, she went to bed between 9 and 10 p.m.—Sarah Herman and my daughter Sarah occupied the same room—up to that time the prisoner had said nothing about expecting a child, and I saw no preparation for the birth of a child—next morning my husband made a statement to me and I went down to the lavatory—I went and spoke to the prisoner and asked her, "Whatever have you done?"—she did not answer—I said, "Did you have a child?"—she said, "No"—I said, "How can you say 'No'? Your uncle picked the head out of the lavatory pan"—she did not answer and I said, "What have you done with the body?"—she said, "It is in the wash-house"—she told me that at once—I went there and found the trunk of a child behind a box on which I kept my washing tub—it is an egg box about 2 1/2 feet high—it was just a little way from the wall—there was just room for the body of the child, but none to spare—I just looked round and I could bee it—I moved the box a bit, when I saw it, to get at it—when I went into the room I looked round because I did not know where she had put it—I had to look behind the box before I could see the body—it was a small wash-house and has in it a wringer, a few boards, a pail and a washing tub—it is not a place where we sat; there are no chairs or tables—I do the washing and mangling every day if it is necessary, and sometimes on Sundays—there may be times when I do not go into the wash-house all day—we have water in the kitchen as well—if I do not go into the wash-house perhaps my daughter does—the wash-house opens into the yard—there is no way into it except by the yard—the w.c. adjoins it,
the two together forming an outbuilding, the two doors coming together—there were some dusters with blood on when I found the body, but not much—directly the prisoner told me that she had had a child I knew when I saw the bundle that it was the body—I was so excited that I do not know whether I saw the blood when I first saw the body—I cannot remember if I saw the blood before I opened the bundle—I think the body was wrapped in two or three dusters—I had had them in the wash-house hanging on the line when the washing was done on the Monday or Tuesday—they had been hanging on the line ever since in the wash-house—we might not have wanted those dusters for some days—after I had found the body I went and said to the prisoner, "What do you come here to disgrace me and disgrace my family for?"—she did not answer—I said, "Why did you not tell me you were bad?" and she told me it was not her full time yet—I said, "How comes the head off?"—she said her bowels did not act for a few days, then she said she went to the lavatory and dropped it in the pan—I said, "How come the head off?"—she said she wanted to pull it up and the head came off—she said her age was twenty-one—I sent for Dr. Harman and he sent to the Coroner, who sent for the police.
Cross-examined. I went into the wash-house after the prisoner had told me the body was there—I did not go right round, looking behind one place and another before I saw the body—apart from the dusters there was no blood anywhere—the prisoner never made a confidante of me; she was rather sulky and always said "No"—all this time she was waiting for a letter from her brother, and when it came she expected to go to New York—she only speaks Yiddish—only I and my husband in the house speak Yiddish—my daughter could understand a very little—my daughter and the other young woman objected to sleeping in one bed with her, and I then gave the prisoner a chair bed—on the morning of August 4th when I went to her room she was not in great pain and discomfort—I asked her if she had a child and she answered, as she always had done, "No"—she told me she had not gone her full time.
By the JURY. When the prisoner came to my place she had three roubles—she did not work, and, as far as I know, spent no money—she did not appear to be in great poverty—she had no box; she only had a change and what she stood up in.
SARAH HERMAN . I am a tailoress and live with Mr. and Mrs. Abrahams at 65, Wellesley Street—on the morning of August 4th I was asleep in the same room as the prisoner—I first got up about daybreak—I saw the prisoner go out; she had on an overall and a pinafore—after she went out of the room I heard her unbolt the yard door—I got out of bed to close the window and then went back to bed again and went to sleep—I did not hear anything afterwards—I next woke up about 7—I then saw the prisoner in bed—I do not think she was asleep, but I am not quite sure—I did not notice anything suspicious about her condition or any disturbance in the room or any signs of blood.
Cross-examined. The prisoner wore a chemise and a white blouse in bed, but I do not think they were the same that she wore in the day time—
I did not see her get up or go to bed—she was put to sleep with me at first and I objected—we could not speak together, as I only speak English—she never made a confidante of me—on this morning, from what I could see and hear, I thought she was going to the water closet—she had been down on other nights—I see her a couple of times in the yard—I only see her get up once that night—when I woke up in the morning I do not know if she had a skirt on, because she was covered up with the bedclothes.
LEONARD HARMAN . I am a Bachelor of Medicine, and practice at 24, Ben Johnson Road, E.—on Friday, August 4th, about 11.15 a.m., I was called to see the prisoner—I found her sitting on the bed with, I think, a skirt on—I saw the trunk and head of a newly-born male child—on examining the prisoner I found that she had been confined within a few hours—there was dried blood on the underclothing which she had on—I examined the child and inferred that it was a full-timed child, but I cannot say definitely—I found there was about 19 inches of the umbilical cord attached to the child's body; the end of the cord was ruptured—the average length of the cord would be about 2 1/2 or 3 feet—there was some wet paper attached to the child's headland some water in the ears and mouth—I held a post-mortem on the following day—I found that there was a fracture of the skull—there was a bruise on the skin corresponding with the seat of the fracture—the skin was not broken—I removed the skin of the scalp, and examined the fracture—I found an extensive fracture of the right frontal bone about 3 inches long, and there were two separate detached pieces of bone—I opened the skull and found that there was a considerable effusion of blood in the fissures and on the surface of the brain, particularly on the right side—the injuries were inflicted before death—that was shown by the existence of hemorrhage on the surface of the brain and in the fissures which showed the blood was in circulation at the time of the injury, in which case the child must have been alive, but it need not have been separated from the mother; it might not have been born—I formed the opinion that the injuries could not possibly have been caused during birth or by accident on account of their serious nature, and they would require great and severe violence to cause them—such, great and severe violence could not be used while the child was being born—if the child's head had been hammered with a blunt instrument while it was being born that would be consistent, but it could not have been done by the person who was having the child, or by anyone during birth—when I said the injuries could not have been caused by accident I meant accident in the natural course of labour or by the child falling from the mother while she was in any position—the most extreme position would be a standing one and the most extreme violence would be caused to the child if the mother was delivered while standing, but in my opinion even that would not have caused the injuries I found even if the child fell on the stone floor—I formed the opinion that the severing of the head had been done with a knife—assuming that the head had been jammed in the pan of the w.c., pulling the body would not have severed the head in the way that I saw it—I have a clear opinion upon that—that is after an examination of the trunk and head—I found signs of cutting on both the head and trunk—I formed
the opinion that the head had been severed from the body after death, and I can give reasons for that opinion if required—I formed the opinion that it had been born alive, but there was no evidence that the child had had a separate existence; that opinion I formed upon the examination of the body alone—I formed that opinion because the lungs partly sank—taking the head and the body together, I formed the opinion that the child had had a separate existence—on the trunk alone 1 could not form the opinion—I tested the lungs to see if they would stand the water or hydrostatic test—first of all I put both of the lungs and the heart into water; they floated as a whole—I then cut off the left lung and found that it floated—the heart and the right lung together sank—the left lung supported the rest—I cut the left lung into twelve pieces—I did not proceed with my test of the right lung—I found that seven pieces of the left lung floated and five sank; that is, 7/24 the of the two lungs floated, but I do not think that that is any criterion, because a child can live for twenty-four hours without the lungs floating at all—I cannot explain that, except that the heart will continue beating, and it gets enough air to keep it alive, without sufficient to make the lungs float after death, so I cannot say for certain one way or the other from the state of the lungs and the post-mortem whether the child had a separate existence or not.
Cross-examined. I am quite certain that the cause of death was the fracture of the skull—there are higher degrees in medicine than mine, but mine are very good ones—I do not remember attending the Abrahams before—on August 4th I was called about 11.15 and went almost immediately—I could not understand what the prisoner said—I inferred that she had been delivered from two to ten or twelve hours; that is the limit—the placenta was still in her body—I removed it—about 8 inches of the cord was attached to it—both ends of the cord had been ruptured—if Professor Dixon Man says that the cord may be from 6 inches to 70 inches long I would accept it—I did not examine the two ends of the cord—if the cord had been broken by the child falling from the mother's body I think it would have broken nearer to the child—in those cases which I have read of, where the cord broke through the child falling from the mother there were only 2 or 3 inches attached to the child—the ends of the cord were torn, not cut—if the head had been cut off with an instrument, that instrument had not been employed to cut the cord—there were no signs of the cord having been twisted round the child's neck, but if the head had been severed the signs would not be very clear—I cannot say if the prisoner had been in great pain, but she was when I saw her—it may have been a difficult delivery—I did not find the uterus ruptured—I have heard that the perineum was stitched up at the hospital—it is very often ruptured—I do not think there was more blood on the underclothing than I should expect to find in a difficult delivery where the perineum had been ruptured—I was not told that this was the prisoners first child, and I cannot tell if it was her first—the opinion may be formed as to whether a child is a woman's first or not—a difficult delivery where the perineum was ruptured would be more likely to make the woman not unconscious; it would be more likely to prevent her being unconscious;
the more difficult the delivery the more pain—it might possibly make her delirious—she would not be likely to swoon on account of the sudden birth or on account of the pain caused by it; she might swoon on account of the haemorrhage—I cannot say how much haemorrhage there was here—for all I know she may have become unconscious during the delivery—Dr. Grant was present at the post-mortem; I principally conducted it—the child's body was white, but not particularly livid—I weighed it and came to the conclusion that it was a nine months' child—possibly it was only eight and a half—I examined the femur and found ossification present in the epiphysis—the bone consists of a shaft and at each end at birth there is grissel, but after birth new bone is formed in those ends which ultimately become joined to the shaft—I told the Magistrate that I formed the opinion that the child was probably born alive—I fully appreciate the difference of the sense of the biological and legal phrases of being born alive—in a medical sense "born alive" means the child has breathed, but in the legal sense it means it has breathed after it was wholly separated from the body of the mother—before the Magistrate I said, "I formed the opinion that the child was probably born alive," and I do not go further than that now—in my opinion the child may have been born dead in the legal sense—if there were any breathing after the child had left the mother's body the respiration was very partial and momentary—there may be partial and momentary breathing in a child before it becomes perfectly Separated from the mother and possibly even when still in the uterus—I cannot say for how long this child lived—the circumstances are consistent with its only having lived a very short time—I did not apply any other test besides the hydrostatic test as far as the body was concerned—I do not know the bowel test—I did not apply the middle air test—the test for the lunge is not a conclusive one—the colour of the right lung was dark red, like liver—part of the left lung was light red and part mottled with a purple mottling-there is undoubtedly circulation in the head of a child before it is born—the fractures on the head were far neater than were necessary to cause death—if a child has been killed by a fracture of the head and other fractures are afterwards inflicted in the same place, it is impossible to tell by which particular fracture the child was killed—in this case there may have been a number of blows—the fractures which I saw might have been caused by this poker—if the head was severed from the body and then put into the water closet, and blows given with a poker, none of them could have caused the extravasation of blood, but they might have caused the additional fractures; there might have been additional blows after death—there was haemorrhage in the brain which might have been caused by a comparatively light blow—it could not have been caused before birth by the pressure of the pelvis, and I do not think it could have been caused by the body falling from the woman standing—a severe blow is necessary to cause hemorrhage on the surface of the brain—there were no signs of asphyxia—there was water in the child's mouth and ears—assuming that the child had been born when the mother was standing or sitting on the water closet and had fallen down and not been taken from the closet for
some time, if it had been alive it must have perished from drowning or asphyxia, that is assuming there was water in the closet—if there had been no water it would certainly have died eventually, but how soon would depend on circumstances—if the mouth were resting against anything preventing respiration it would be soon—if the skull had a severe blow it would probably have had a mark—if the prisoner was standing over the opening and the child had fallen from her in delivery it might have made some mark on the head—in a case of precipitated birth there might be greater violence to the child falling in that way—I do not think there would be more likelihood of precipitated birth if the prisoner had been more costive beforehand, but on the contrary—it is often the case in precipitated birth that a woman feels costive, whereas it is not really that, but the child coming, which occasions that feeling—the elusion of blood on the brain could not have been increased by the suction of the water closet when the plug was pulled—I do not think a fall into the pan could have produced the effusion of blood.
Re-examined. If the child had been delivered into the pan and there were water in it it would have died from drowning, if it had been alive at the time—I found no signs of drowning—those signs are well marked and we can always discover them in a body—one end of this poker is pointed—I think the flat end of it could have caused the fracture of the child's skull without breaking the skin—I should say the pointed end would in all probability have torn the skin—I do not think this stick could have caused the wounds under any circumstances—if the decapitated, head were in the pan neck upwards the violence described by Abrahams might have been given without showing any signs—if the head had been the other way up the stick might have been used without leaving signs but it all depends on the degree of violence used—it either of these instruments had been used to cause the fracture of the skull I think it must have been the flat end of the poker.
CHARLES GRAHAM GRANT . I am divisional surgeon to the H division of police—with Br. Harman I made a post-mortem upon the head and trunk of this new-born child—I formed the opinion that the child had had an independent existence—the cord may have been intact as far as I know, but the child may have had an independent existence which is consistent with a non-severance of the cord—I base my opinion principally upon the presence of the large quantity of haemorrhage upon the surface and in the interstices of the brain, which had above it a splintered fracture of the skull which corresponded with a bruise upon the scalp—in my opinion that bruise was inflicted during legal life according to the definition given in our medical text books—I arrive at that conclusion by experience—a little blood effusion on the brain is not of moment, but a lot of blood is—if the child were being born alive and received a blow with a blunt instrument, one would find, I think, a considerable quantity of haemorrhage—if the child were protruding there would be circulation, but not so much as after it is born—we are taught to gauge the circulation by our experience by the quantity of haemorrhage and the severity of the injury—if the prisoner were able to give the child a blow on the head directly it
presented itself the results might be the same, but I cannot say positively—my opinion is that the blow was given during legal life—the hemorrhage extended over a considerable part of the surface of the brain—I have seen one case very close upon this, although not quite, but I am going largely by the books—this child's lungs were partially inflated, which is consistent with the child having had, or not having had a separate existence—there was no evidence in the body that the child had a separate existence—I do not credit that the child's head was severed from the body by pulling it—I have myself pulled a head off a body in the course of my business, and by the time the neck gave way it was 9 inches long—then was no extension of the neck in this case—the incision was absolutely circular and symmetrical and was obviously done with a sharp instrument—the body of the bone of the spinal column was cut through and not between the joints—in my opinion it is not possible that the head could have been severed from the body in any way except by cutting.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner and directed her removal to the infirmary—I did not examine her—I agree with Dr. Harman that the cause of death was fracture of the skull, and not decapitation—I have no suggestion to make as to what instrument it was done with—it may have been done with a knife or scissors or any cutting instrument, although I do not think you could cut through the bone with scissors—I saw no instrument—the bone would be much softer than in a grown-up person—if it had been cut with a knife, there would not have been a large flow of blood, but there would have been some—it could not have been cut off and leave no sign—I do not think the sharp edge of the pan would cut through the bone—I hold the degree of Licentiate of Medicine, Edinburgh—there are higher degrees; I am quite ashamed of mine—I have had twenty years' experience in my business, and have been in the police force about ten—I do not come here as an expert—I get £1 1s. a day, and an expert gets £10 10s.—if a child is killed inside the womb I think there may be traces of haemorrhage—if the prisoner had sat down heavily on the seat while in the course of labour, I do not think that would have caused the splintered fracture, and I doubt if that would have caused a fracture sufficient to cause death—I think there was a blow sufficient to produce hemorrhage after death, but in that case we should not have found so much haemorrhage as we did—if there was some initial haemorrhage caused by a blow, a passive haemorrhage would have gone on after death, but not a violent haemorrhage.
Re-examined. If the injury had been inflicted to the head while the child was partially born I think it could have lived long enough afterwards to account for the blood on the brain—the injury might have, been caused before complete separation, resulting in death after complete separation.
THOMAS DIVALL (Inspector H.) On August 4th I went to 65, Wellesley Street, about 4 o'clock and searched the house—I found no bloodstains—I saw the body with Dr. Grant, and I searched for a knife, but could find none—if one on the knives in the house had been used, it must have been washed—I saw a box in the wash-house—it stood about 2 feet high—
it was facing me when I turned the door and was a few inches from the wall—I examined the pan of the w.c.—I should think it would retain a little water—it was not a new-fashioned pan which holds 4 or 5 inches—it; was perfectly clean—the wash-house was very small, much smaller than the solicitor's table here—only about 6 feet by 3 1/2 feet—I think it had an ordinary wooden door—it was an out-house and about 4 feet from the w.c.
Cross-examined. When I saw the box you could not hide anything much larger than an apple behind it, but I believe it had been moved then—I saw only those dusters which were round the body.
BETSY NIEBERG . I am married—I know Russian, Polish and Yiddish—on September 1st, at 7 p.m., I went to Mile End Infirmary with some police officers and saw the prisoner—I interpreted to her what the officers desired me, and interpreted her reply—I told her my name and said, "This is Inspector Divall; he is going to charge you with the wilful murder of your newly-born male child on August 4th"—she said, "I did not kill it; I did not want to kill it. I am very costive. When I went out"—she meant to the water closet—"everything came with it"—she was taken to Arbors Square police station, where she was charged, and where I told her that she was charged with the wilful murder of her newly-born baby, and she replied again, "I did not kill it and I did not mean to kill it. I am costive. When I went out everything came when the child was born. I was frightened and excited at the time and tried to take it out, and somehow the head came away from the body."
Cross-examined. The prisoner had no difficulty in understanding me.
THOMAS JOHN PRICE JENKINS , M.R.C.S. I am the late medical officer of the Mile End Infirmary and attended to the prisoner when she was admitted on August 4th—she had recently had a child and was suffering from what we call incomplete rupture of the perineum—a rupture is inevitable, but it is generally slight with the first child—this was more than usual.
Cross-examined. The laceration was from the orifice of the vagina to the external part of the rectum—I had to put in two stitches—she was susceptible to pain during the operation, and after it she became restless and apathetic and subsequently showed signs of emotional disturbance, crying for hours at times and becoming stupid and stubborn—I could only understand her through an interpreter—she remained in the same position for a length of time, not wishing to be moved or spoken to—I was told on one occasion of her being inclined to be violent—such pain as she had had might make her temporarily insane and unconscious—I do not say irresponsible, but unconscious—it is quite possible that she became delirious through pain, because she was melancholic—I do not think the pain would make her unconscious, but it might make her delirious—severe haemorrhage would produce unconsciousness—if in a case of precipitative birth a child had its head fractured on a hard surface, death would be produced by it, and in those cases there would be signs of haemorrhage in the brain—they do not die immediately from the fracture of the skull.
Re-examined. I was not at the post-mortem—I had nothing to do with the case except to see the prisoner.
[MR. JUSTICEFELF ruled that the evidence of murder was not sufficient to go to the Jury. MR. HENRIQUES submitted that there was no evidence at all, but MR. JUSTIE JELF ruled that there was evidence of concealment, which must go to the Jury.]
GUILTY of endeavouring to conceal the birth of the child. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. One month hard labour.
MR. MUIR, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NEW COURT and
THIRD COURT, Wednesday and Thursday, October 18th and 19th, 1905.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
750. CHARLES HENRY WELLING (42), alias EDWARD WILLING , MAUD WILLING (31), and MABEL CLARA HUGHES (55) , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of £150 with intent to defraud. CHARLES HENRY WILLING and MAUD WILLING PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted; MR. HUMPHREYS Defended Hughes.
ARTHUR FOLEY-WINNINGTON INGRAM, BISHOP OF LONDON . I have a banking account at the National & Provincial Bank of England, Bishopsgate Street branch—this cheque (Ex. 29), dated August 13th, on that bank was written by myself at Kilmarnock—it is made payable to "M. Hughes" and is endorsed "M. Hughes"—I sent it in consequence of a letter written me by Mrs. Hughes—I am not quite certain whether I sent it to her address, Ethelden Road, Shepherd's Bush, or Southsea; my impression is I sent it to the former—I have not got the letter in response to which I sent it—the cheque was paid through the Capital & Counties Bank, Southsea Branch, On August 18th—it was paid on that date by the National & Provincial—this cheque (Ex. 2), dated August 16th, signed "A. F. London" for £150 is not signed by me, nor with my authority, or with my knowledge—it is on a piece of note paper, and is made payable to "Mrs. Hooper" and endorsed "Winifred Hooper"—I know nobody of that name—the signature resembles mine—this is a piece of tracing paper on which is "A. F. London"—that is also how I sign my letters—I know nothing about the tracing paper—I received this letter dated September 8th from Holloway prison, purporting to come from Mrs. Hughes.
Cross-examined. I got that letter by post from the prison and I sent it to my solicitor—she asked for £5 first to send her son to the seaside—I have helped her and her family before, and have sent other cheques—I sent this cheque, dated May 10th for £5, to her daughter (Ex. 15) to the same address at Shepherd's Bush—I sent this cheque (Ex. 16), dated June 1st for £1, to her son, R. C. Hughes—I sent
this cheque (Ex. 18), dated June 28th for £10, to Mrs. Hughes—each cheque would probably be accompanied by a note from my secretary or myself—I must have written myself with the cheque of August 13th; it was a Sunday—I did not post it myself; I gave the letters to be posted with others—no doubt it went on Sunday evening—I have no recollection of getting an acknowledgment; I was travelling about—I have seen Mrs. Hughes' husband, and I saw her son once before; I helped him first by giving him his fees at Kings'—her husband was a clergyman in my diocese, but he has not any cure now—I do not remember ever seeing Miss, Hughes; I may have.
Re-examined. The husband made no applications to me, and I knew nothing of Mrs. Hughes except what she told me in her letters.
MARY LEACH . I am the wife of James Leach, of 18, York Road, Worthing, where I let lodgings in the summer—on August 2nd last Edward and Maud Willing came and took a sitting room on the ground floor with two bedrooms on the first floor—on a Saturday early in August Mrs. Hughes came to see them, Mrs. Willing telling me that she had come from Southsea—she stopped to lunch—on August 16th and 17th Mrs. Willing was away all day, but she did not sleep out of the house, leaving the house on August 17th, some time after 9, giving her time to catch the 9.40 train to London—she came back between 9 and 10 p.m.—the next day she went with Willing to Brighton, having ordered a carriage—the next day, Saturday, August 19th, Mrs. Hughes came down and stayed as the guest of the Willings till Monday—on the 30th Sergeants Burch and Fowler and Inspector Ottaway came and arrested the Willings—I pointed out to the police the rooms they had occupied.
Cross-examined. Mr. and Mrs. Willing occupied one bedroom and Mrs. George Willing the other—I understood Mrs. Hughes was connected by marriage with Mrs. George Willing, so she was connected in some way with my other two lodgers—Mrs. George Willing was still there when Mrs. Hughes came on August 19th—Mrs. Hughes stayed till the Monday to go with Mrs. Maud Willing to the dentist; I heard that in general conversation—I cannot tell you how long it would take from Southsea to Worthing.
Re-examined. Mrs. George Willing's name is Sybil.
Cross-examined. I have no idea how long it takes from Southsea to Worthing; I have never been there—the grocer that Mrs. Hughes went to, was Frank Whitcomb, of Palmerston Road.
JOHN EDWARD MALLLINSON . I am employed in the Accountant General's Department of the Post Office and am subpoenaed to produce these telegrams—this is a telegram (Ex. 10) addressed to "Willing, 18, York Road, Worthing"—it was sent off from the Southsea office at 11.52 a.m. on August 15th and says, "Can you come to-day. Cheque with proofs received; cheque received. Leaving early to-morrow"—that is how it was transmitted—it reads: "Can you come to-day?" then "signed document" is struck
out and above it is put in pencil, "Cheques with proofs received"—on the back is "Reference to address; Hamilton House, Palmerston Road"—that is the original message, and this (Ex. 10a) is the copy delivered at Worthing office at 12.9 a.m.—this is another original telegraphic message (Ex. 11) sent off from the Worthing office at 1.11 p.m., August 15th, addressed to "Hughes, Hamilton House, Clarence Parade, Southsea. Will arrive Portsmouth Town 5.45, Charlie"—I produce a third original telegraphic message (Ex. 12) sent off from the Railway Approach, Worthing, at 9.46 a.m., addressed to Mrs. Hughes, 4, Ethelden Road, Shepherd's Bush, London: "Meet me Victoria Station 11.30. Very urgent, Maud."
CHARLES EDWARD CRAWLEY . I live at 24, Battledene Road, Highbury, tad am a salesman in the employ of Messrs. Hope Brothers, of 34, Cannon Street—Maud Willing came to the shop about 11 a.m. on August 17th and purchased a bag similar to this (Produced), the price of which was 17s. 9d.—she paid 5s. and said she would either call or send for it later on in the day, when she would pay the balance—later in the day a messenger boy came the presented a receipt for 5s. deposit, and I gave him the bag.
JOHN ADOLPH SAUER . I am head porter of De Keyser's Hotel, Victoria Embankment—between 1.15 and 1.30 p.m. on August 17th Maud Willing came in and sat in the lounge and asked for a messenger boy—about half an hour afterwards Mrs. Hughes came in, sat three or four yards away from Maud Willing, and asked for some refreshment—she had no conversation with Willing, and, as far as their conduct went, they appeared to be strangers—I took the messenger boy, Springham, to Maud Willing, and she gave him a letter—I did not see her write any letter—this (Ex. 1) is dated from our hotel, and is written on our printed stationery—there is no stationery in the lounge; there are writing rooms for that on the other side of the lounge—you go from the hall into the lounge and then into the writing room—Maud Willing remained in the lounge the whole time—an assistant pointed her out to me as wanting a messenger boy—Mrs. Hughes stopped about half an hour after the messenger boy had gone, and then went into the office and asked for a tariff—Maud Willing want out afterwards—they appeared to be strangers all the time they were there.
Cross-examined. I take notice of everybody that comes in—the lounge has a lot of seats with small tables in it—the hotel has a licence—there is nothing very remarkable in a woman sitting down and having something to drink—this was lunch time, and there are a good many people who loach there that do not sleep in the hotel—there was nothing suspicious about Maud Willing, but my attention was drawn to her through her wanting a messenger boy—when Mrs. Hughes came in I walked behind her, thinking she had come to make enquiries, but she did not—I did not keep my eyes on Maud Willing the whole time—she may have written a letter—I should say Maud Willing went out half an hour after Mrs. Hughes; it may nave been about thirty to forty-five minutes after.
Re-examined. I took enough notice of them to identify them afterwards from a number of other women—not a great many people come into
the lounge who are not living in the hotel—I did not see them having lunch.
ERNEST APPELT . I am a waiter at De Keyser's Hotel—between 1 and 2 p.m. on August 17th I saw Mrs. Hughes in the lounge of the hotel and served her with Chartreuse and a biscuit—I saw a messenger boy come in and speak to a young lady, whom I do not recognise now; she was sitting about four yards away from Mrs. Hughes—there were a lot of seats vacant and they could have sat together had they desired—I did not see them talking together at any time, and, as far as I saw, they appeared to be strangers.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Hughes sat in the lounge about twenty minutes; I do not know much about the young one.
Re-examined. I saw Mrs. Hughes come in, and I saw her in the office afterwards.
JOHANN VALENTINE GAERTNER . I am assistant manager at De Keyser's Hotel—on August 17th, in the middle of the day, I saw Mrs. Hughes and Maud Willing in the lounge, sitting at different tables, and, as far as I remember, opposite each other—I should say they were there about half an hour—I saw Mrs. Hughes leave the hotel, and crossing towards Blackfriars Station, when about half-way she was joined by another woman—I am not able to say for certain who the other woman was.
Cross-examined. The other woman was in a light cloak, blue dress, and dark straw hat—the woman who was sitting opposite Mrs. Hughes was dressed in the same sort of way, and, to the best of my belief, it was the same woman—I cannot identify Mrs. Willing, but I believe that the woman sitting in the hotel is the same woman who afterwards met Mrs. Hughes—if such were the case it would have been impossible for Mrs. Hughes to have stayed in the hotel half an hour after Mrs. Willing left.
Re-examined. I did not see Mrs. Willing leave—they were in the lounge about half an hour, and during that time they never spoke to each other or altered their position at all.
By the COURT. There were very few people in the lounge at that time—there were one or two women there, but not near the prisoners.
WILLIAM SPRINGHAM . I am a district messenger—on August 17th I was on duty at Chancery Lane, when I was sent from there between 12.30 and 2 p.m. to De Keyser's Hotel, where I saw Maud Willing sitting at a table—she gave me a letter and told me to take it to the National & Provincial Bank, Bishopsgate branch, where I was to get some money—she gave me also a paper and told me to go to Hope Brothers and get a bag, for which I was to pay 12s. 9d. out of the money I got from the bank—I was to take a cab from the bank to Hope's and from there meet her at St. Paul's station; she told me to go by train to the bank—she appeared to be alone—I never saw Mrs. Hughes—I went by train to Mansion House station, and from there to the bank, where I presented the letter and got some notes and gold—I went to Hope's, in Queen Victoria Street, and got the bag and then went to St. Paul's station, where I met her just inside—I gave her the bag and the money, when she gave me 2s. 6d. for myself—Mrs. Hughes was not with her.
JAMES HENRY SIVYIER . I am a cashier in the employment of the National & Provincial Bank of England, Bishopsgate branch, where the Bishop of London has an account—on August 17th Springham came and presented a letter over the counter—I opened it, and found in it a letter (Ex. 1) and a cheque (Ex. 2)—the letter was dated from De Keyser's Hotel to the "Cashier" and said, "Please hand bearer ten £10 notes, five £5 notes, and £25 in gold in exchange for enclosed cheque and oblige, Winifred Hooper"—the cheque was apparently from the Bishop of London for £150, payable to Mrs. Hooper—I believed it was a genuine cheque; it is a very good imitation indeed—I cashed it in accordance with the direction in the letter—I produce an extract from one of our books regarding the numbers of the notes that I gave (Ex. 3)—the ten £10 notes are dated April 15th, 1904, Nos. 12410 to 12419, and the five £5 notes, February 24th, 1905, Nos. 34421 to 34425.
FRANK HAROLD CANEY . I am a jeweller, carrying on business at 72, Regent Street—Mrs. Hughes and Maud Willing, whom I recognise, came into my shop on August 17th—Maud Willing bought a watch, the price of which was £3 15s., for which she gave me a note for £10—Mrs. Hughes bought a wedding ring, price 35s., paying with a £10 note—I bank with the London City & Midland Bank, into which bank I paid those two notes.
JOSEPH WILLIAM BINDER . I am a clerk in the London City & Midland Bank, Old Bond Street branch—Mr. Caney keeps an account there—on August 19th there were paid into his credit two £10 notes—I produce a copy extract from the waste book and find the numbers of the notes were 12410 and 12413, both dated April 15th, 1904.
CHARLES DARLINGTON . I am an assistant to J. E. Thomson, pawnbroker, of 195, Uxbridge Road, Shepherd's Bush—this wedding ring (Produced) was pledged on August 23rd by Mrs. Hughes in the name of Phillips for 16s.
Cross-examined. It is not an unusual thing for people when pawning things to give a name other than their own—I knew Mrs. Hughes as a customer; we are not far from where she lives—the fact of her giving me a wrong name did not deceive me in any way.
Re-examined. I knew her as Mrs. Hughes.
By the COURT. She gave different names at different times.
LUCK ANNE HALL . I am an assistant at Messrs. Robinson & Cleaver's, drapers, of 156, Regent Street—Mrs. Hughes, whom I recognise, called alone at our premises on August 17th and bought two pairs of gloves, price 6s. 7d.—she gave me a £10 note in payment, which I sent to Miss Bevan, the cashier, and I got back the change, which I handed to Mrs. Hughes.
MADGE BEVAN . I am a cashier at Messrs. Robinson & Cleaver's, 156, Regent Street—on August 17th a £10 note was handed to me to give change for a 6s. 7d. bill—that note was paid in the ordinary course into our account at Messrs. Barclay & Co.
RICHARD CHARLES BROWN . I am a cashier at Messrs. Barclay & co.'s Bank, Pall Mall, where Messrs. Robinson & Cleaver have an account—I produce an extract of the entries in the waste book (Ex. 6) of August 18th, which shows a payment into that account by that firm of a £10 note,. No. 12411, dated April 15th, 1904.
JAMES ALFRED TWORT . I live at 165, Cecil Road, West Croydon, and am the manager of S. Smith & Sons, umbrella makers, 1, Fouberts Place, Regent Street—in the afternoon of August 17th two women, one of whom was Maud Willing, and the other to the best of my belief Mrs. Hughes, came into the shop—Maud Willing bought an umbrella, a gentleman's walking stick and a purse, for £20s. 6d.—she tendered a £10 note in payment, No. 12415, dated April 15th, 1904, which I endorsed—I gave her the change.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Hughes was with her all the time.
NETTIE ROBERTS . I am in the employment of Messrs. T. J. Harries & Co., drapers, of 254, Oxford Street—on August 17th Mrs. Hughes and Maud Willing came into the shop—I served Maud Willing with some articles of ladies' attire which came to £1 13s. 10 1/4 d., for which she paid with a £10 note—that note would in the ordinary course be paid into the National Bank, Ltd., where Messrs. Harries have their account.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Hughes also bought a pair of corsets, price 5s. 11d.
Re-examined. She had a separate bill, and she paid me with half a sovereign.
KATE FLORENCE EVE . I am an assistant in the employment of Messrs. T. J. Harries, drapers, of 254, Oxford Street—on August 17th two women came in, one of whom only I recognise, Mrs. Hughes; the other was a younger woman, whom I served with two white lace skirts, price 18s. 10d.—she paid me with a £5 note, of which I made a note of the number, No. 34423.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Hughes did not purchase anything in my department.
ROBERT CARROLL . I am a clerk at the National Bank, Ltd., Oxford Street, where Messrs. T. J. Harris & Co. keep an account—on August 18th they made certain payments in, and I produce a copy of the entry in the waste book showing the particulars of that payment in, being a £10 note, No. 12416, and dated April 15th, 1904, and a £5 note, No. 34423, dated February 24th, 1905.
ERNEST ALFRED CHESWORTH . I am manager to Mr. Percy Lawrence, jeweller, of 14, Wilton Road, Pimlico—on August 17th two women came into the shop, one of whom I recognise as Maud Willing; I was unable to identify Mrs. Hughes as the other woman—Mrs. Willing purchased an 18-carat signet ring for £3, tendering in payment a £10 note—we thought we had not sufficient change, so she went out elsewhere to change it, leaving Mrs. Hughes in the shop—she came back with the note, which I asked her to endorse, and she endorsed it, "Mrs. Hooper, 11, Second Avenue, Hove"—I fancy Mrs. Hughes was at her side looking on—I changed the note, which was No. 12417, dated April 15th, 1904.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Willing did not mention any name to me—to the best of my belief, Mrs. Hughes did not see her endorse it.
Re-examined. I do not think Mrs. Hughes was looking on at the time.
By the COURT. I did not mean to say that she was looking on, but there was nothing to prevent her seeing.
ALBERT FRANCIS DANVERS . I am manager to Mr. W. S. Bond, undertaker, of 336, Uxbridge Road—about May 11th Mrs. Hughes brought me this cheque (Ex. 15), dated May 10th, drawn by the Bishop of London for £5, and I cashed it for her.
Cross-examined. I cannot remember the exact date—I knew her quite well.
JOHN PATTISON . I am cashier to the London & South Western Bank, 302, Uxbridge Road—on June 3rd, 1 believe, Mrs. Hughes called and asked us to cash this cheque (Ex. 16) of the Bishop of London, for £1, dated June 1st—I cashed it for her—on June 30th a person called with this cheque (Ex. 18) from the Bishop of London for £10, made payable to "M. Hughes" and endorsed "M. Hughes," dated June 28th," with a request in Mrs. Hughes, handwriting (Ex. 19), saying, "Mrs. Hughes, being ill, cannot come herself to cash cheque. Kindly oblige bearer. It is the Bishop of London's cheque"—I cashed it.
HENRY FOWLER (Sergeant, New Scotland Yard). On August 30th I went with Sergeant Burch and Inspector Ottaway to Worthing, where I arrested Maud Willing, and Burch and Ottaway arrested Edward Willing—a search was made at 18, York Road, and they were conveyed to London.
WILLIAM BURCH (Sergeant, New Scotland Yard). On August 30th with Sergeant Fowler and Inspector Ottaway we arrested Edward and Maud Willing—I went to 18, York Road, where I made a search of the rooms on the first floor and the ground floor—in a drawer in a chest of drawers, in the first floor front bedroom I found this tracing paper (Ex. 5) bearing the impression of "A. F. London"—in a dressing bag in the same room I found this telegram (Ex. 10a), dated August 15th, addressed to "Willing, 18, York Road. Can you come to-day? Cheque received. Leaving early to-morrow"—in Edward Willing's coat pocket, which he was wearing, I found this letter (Ex. 32) on blue paper, beginning, "Dearest Charlie," and signed. "Yours, M.," dated August 28th, in an envelope bearing the postmark of Shepherd's Bush—in the dressing bag I also found a letter (Ex. 33), dated July 31st, saying, "Dear Madam,—I am directed by the Dowager Lady Pearce to forward you the enclosed cheque for £5. Kindly acknowledge to 1, Hyde Park Gardens, W. Yours truly, F. Prescott, Secretary, in an envelope (Ex. 33a), addressed to "Mrs. Hughes, 4, Ethelden Road, Uxbridge Road"—it was written on a piece of greenish blue paper, from which the heading seems to have been out off—the envelope bears the postmark "Hungerford, July 31st"—in the same place I found this letter dated August 25th (Ex. 34), with a printed.
heading of an hotel at Colwyn Bay, North Wales, saying, "Dear Madam,—I have not been able to answer your letter sooner. It is indeed a very sad story of suffering which you write me. I am sorry that, having many similar applications, I cannot do so much as I would. I enclose you £5, and I trust that others may be able to do more in the sad case of your son. Believe me, Yours sincerely, D. Elizabeth Pearce"—it was enclosed in an envelope (Ex. 34a) addressed to "Mrs. Hughes, 4, Ethelden Road, Uxbridge Road, London, "bearing the postmark of" Colwyn Bay, August 25th"—in the same place I found this cheque (Ex. 36), written on a piece of plain paper, dated August 31st, 1905, drawn on Messrs. Coutts, 440, Strand: "Pay Mrs. Adams or order £600," and signed "D. Elizabeth Pearce"—I found another cheque also drawn on plain paper on Messrs. Coutts' Bank, 440, Strand: "Pay Mrs. Adams or order, £350. D. Elizabeth Pearce"—it has a printed address on it of "Chiltern Lodge, Hungerford, Berks" and the paper on which it is written is similar to that on which Lady Pearce's secretary wrote, of which the top is missing (Ex. 33)—I also found a similar piece of paper bearing that address with the word "August" written on it a great many times—I found several sheets of paper of similar colour bearing the printed heading, "I, Hyde Park Gardens, W." (Ex. 39), and this tracing (Ex. 37) with these words, "July 31st, Rev.—Hughes, £5 sterling. D. Elizabeth Pearce"—this cheque (Ex. 41) is one dated July 31st, 1905, "Pay to Rev.—Hughes £5 sterling. D. Elizabeth Pearce"—I have compared the tracing (Ex. 37) with that cheque and it agrees with the part that is written with the pen.
By the COURT. Mrs. Hughes lived in Shepherd's Bush with her husband.
JOHN OTTAWAY (Detective-Inspector, City). On the afternoon of September 2nd I arrested Mrs. Hughes in Uxbridge Road—I said to her, "I am a police officer and arrest you on a charge of being concerned with Edward and Maud Willing, in custody, in forging on the 17th of last month a cheque for £150 drawn on the National & Provincial Bank of England, Bishopsgate Street"—she said, "I expected you to call upon me at my house to make enquiries, but I did not expect to be arrested. I know nothing of the forgery"—I took her to the Cannon Road police station, where she was formally charged, in reply to which she said, "You do not accuse me of having the money? I could not forge a cheque"—I searched her house at 4, Ethelden Road, and found a letter addressed to "Miss Hughes, Ethelden House, Uxbridge Road," signed "Mother," in one of the drawers in the front room downstairs in an envelope bearing the postmark "Portsmouth, August 11th" (Extract read): "Dearest May,—Can you manage for a few days with 10s.? Don't pay Mrs. R., and provide very little, just sufficient, one bottle of beer a day, etc. How is poor Jack? I am terribly sorry. What was the matter?—haemorrhage, I suppose. I am tired this morning. Will tell you all later on"—I produce a letter written by Mrs. Hughes at the Cannon Road police station.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Hughes said that she had seen the case in the newspaper—I arrested her within 3 yards of where she lived—we did not know the woman we were looking for; we had a description of her, but
we did not know it was Mrs. Hughes—I cannot say whether she had been away from the time the Willings were arrested up to the time she was arrested; I do not suggest that she was.
ALICE ANNIE CHEESE . I am a wardress at Holloway prison—Mrs. Hughes was under my care at Holloway—I am not positive as to having received this letter, but it has the registered number, and my initials are on it—any letter she wrote would pass through my hands.
Cross-examined. All letters are read before they go out, but copies are not kept of them.
FRANCES MARY PRESCOTT . I am secretary to the Dowager Lady Pearce, of l, Hyde Park Gardens, and Chiltern Lodge, Hungerford, which is her son's place—I wrote this letter (Ex. 33), dated July 31st, enclosing a cheque for £5 of the same date to Mrs. Hughes, according to the directions of Lady Pearce—the cheque is endorsed "A. Hughes"—the letter bore the heading, "Chiltern Lodge, Hungerford, Berks," when I sent it off, which has since been cut off—this is a piece of note-paper bearing the heading (Ex. 40), but the printing on Lady Pearce's is embossed, whereas this is quite flat; it is the same coloured note-paper—I produce this letter (Ex. 42), dated August 8th, from Mrs. Hughes (Asking for a further £5 for rent, and stating that one of her sons, a lad of nineteen, had developed epileptic fits from over study, signed "M. Hughes")—this letter (Ex. 34) was written by Lady Pearce to Mrs. Hughes; it boars date August 25th, and is written from Colwyn Bay—this cheque (Ex. 35), dated August 31st, drawn on a piece of note-paper for £600, made payable to "Mrs. Adams," and purporting to be signed by "D. Elizabeth Pearce," is not in Lady Pearce's handwriting, but is something like it—this cheque (Ex. 36), drawn on Coutts for £350, on the same sort of paper, headed "Chiltern Lodge, Hungerford," signed "D. Elizabeth Pearce," is not in Lady Pearce's handwriting, but is something like it.
THOMAS HENRY GURRIN . I am an expert in handwriting and have given a great deal of attention to the subject—I have had placed before me a letter purporting to be written from Holloway prison by Mrs. Hughes to the Bishop of London and also a letter beginning, "Dear Sybil," and another letter beginning, "Dearest May"—I have compared the handwriting of those letters with this telegram (Ex. 10), and to the best of my belief they are in the same handwriting—I cannot speak as to the endorsements on this cheque (Ex. 15) for £5 and this cheque (Ex. 16), but the endorsement on this cheque (Ex. 29) is to the best of my belief in Mrs. Hughes handwriting—the letter (Ex. 32), on blue paper to "Dear Charlie" is in her handwriting and the same remark applies to the envelope in which it is enclosed (Ex. 32a), but that is not in her ordinary handwriting—the endorsement on the cheque (Ex. 41), drawn by Lady Pearce for £5, "A. Hughes," and the letter (Ex. 42) signed "M. Hughes" are to the best of my belief in her handwriting.
Cross-examined. I do not recognise the endorsement "M.P. Hughes" on this cheque (Ex. 15) as her handwriting; I have considered it, but I consider I am not justified in saying one thing or the other—the endorsement on this cheque (Ex. 10) made payable to "R. C. Hughes" and endorsed
"R. C. Hughes" bears no resemblance to her handwriting—the writing on this envelope (Ex. 32a) is more of a scribble.
Hughes, in her defence on oath, said that within two hours of receiving the Bishop of London's cheque for £5 at 5 p.m. or 6 p.m. at Southsea on August 15th, it having been redirected to her by her daughter in London, she cashed it; that she mislaid the letter accompanying that cheque, as she did also a letter from Lady Pearce enclosing a remittance; that Edward Willing must have extracted those letters from her bag and copied the signatures; that as regards the telegram (Ex. 10) it had no reference to the Bishop's cheque, but to a cheque received from Edward Willing, and that she meant to say "bring proofs" that the cheque would be honoured, a cheque of his having been dishonoured; that as regards the £10 notes she had cashed, she received three from Maud Willing in payment of the balance on an old debt that Edward Willing owed her; that as regards the incident in De Keyser's Hotel she did not speak to Maud Willing because she (Willing) desired to speak to a gentleman privately; that she had informed her solicitor of all the facts in the case and she was not responsible for the line he took up in her defence at the Police Court; that as regards the letter she wrote to Edward Willing. I can get some paper addressed similar to the Wales address," it had no reference to Lady Pearce's address in Wales, but was in answer to a letter from Edward Willing, asking her to get some such paper for a lady named "Minnie"; that the letter found in which she wrote to Willing that a messenger boy was to be sent to the Mal Bureau to get a parcel was with reference to a scheme by which Edward Willing should free himself of an entanglement with a "Miss Sutton," and was in answer to a letter written by him to her (Hughes) (Produced and read), which she thought she had destroyed; and that at no time had she been charged with forgery in Colonel Gascoigne's case.
Evidence for the Defence.
MAY HUGHES . I am the daughter of the prisoner and live at 4, Ethelden Road, Shepherd's Bush—while my mother stayed at Southsea I forwarded her letters on to her—a letter arrived by the first post on Tuesday, August 15th, from Scotland—I remember the beginning of the word "Kil" on the back of the envelope—I can fix the date by the fact that it was the day before my father and mother and brothers were returning from Southsea—about 10 a.m. I redirected it to my mother, as I wanted her to receive it before she left on the following morning—from the address on the back of the envelope and the handwriting I gathered it was from the Bishop of London—I am generally out between 10 and 6 p.m.
Cross-examined. I sent a good many letters to the family in general—I was first asked to recall this almost immediately after she was arrested—my mother, whom I saw in Holloway, asked me if I was perfectly certain of the time; she said, "Can you remember when you posted that letter to me from London?" and I said, "Yes, I suppose it was August 15th, because I wanted you to get the letter before you left Southsea"—this conversation took place soon after her arrest; that would be the following Tuesday or Wednesday—I think I have been to see her every day—it was the first interview I had with her.
GUILTY . Charles Henry Wetting then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Bristol Assizes in July, 1898, in the name of Charles Wells. Maud Willing to a misdemeanour at Clerkenwell Sessions on March 17th, 1903, in the name of Margaret Hanson. Inspector Charles Arrow then proved two former convictions against Charles Henry Welling, and stated the facts of a case at the desire of Maud Willing, where a cheque for £900 was forged on May 30th. 1905, but of which Maud Willing and another man with whom she was associated failed to obtain the proceeds. He stated that Hughes had been under the notice of the police for some years in connection with begging letters in different names, and obtaining furniture by false pretences, the former facts being proved by Christopher Finch White, an official of the Charity Organisation Society. He also stated the facts of other forgeries carried out in a similar manner, in which the services of an expert forger had been obtained. CHARLES HENRY WELLING— Seven years' penal servitude. MAUD WILLING— Five years' penal servitude. MABEL CLARA HUGHES— Three years' penal servitude.
751. BEATRICE RUBY SHANNON PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously obtaining a Post Office savings bank Depositor's Book, with intent to defraud. She received an excellent character. Discharged on recognisances.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 19th, 1905.
Before Mr. Justice Jelf.
MR. MATHEWS and MR. BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. JENKINS Defended.
AMELIA FRANCE . I am the wife of George France, an undertaker, of 28, Union Street, Marylebone, where we let the top part of the house—the prisoner and a woman, who passed as Mrs. Butler, occupied two rooms on the second floor—up to September they had been there nearly four years—the prisoner was a working shoemaker—they both worked at the business at home; she worked the boot sewing machine—there was a young man named George Melhuish living with them—he was Mrs. Butler's son—he left about the beginning of August to get married and then the prisoner and Mrs. Butler occupied the front room only—they paid their rent regularly every week—occasionally friends came to see them, but not very often, when there may have been beer sent out for, which always meant a little trouble, as they were not in the habit of drinking during the week—they seemed hard-working people—I never saw them the worse for drink when they were by themselves—if they had beer, they used to get badtempered and quarrel together—except when they had beer they seemed to be happy, and to get on nicely together—I know the prisoner's son, George Butler—he came to the premises sometimes, but not very often—the prisoner and Melhuish seemed very comfortable together until about two months ago, when there was an extra quarrel, and the prisoner and Mrs. Butler seemed to be more bitter, and Melhuish was called in from the back by his mother—he had a separate room, which, I believe, he paid
for—I let the two rooms to his mother, and her son occupied the back room as a sleeping room—the quarrelling took place in the second floor front room—as far as I know, Melhuish went in there—I did not go in—I did not see Melhuish go in, but I heard him answering his mother—there seemed to be as though there was a scuffle up above—I thought the thing had gone on long enough and I went up with my husband to ask them to be quiet—I saw Melhuish and the prisoner on the landing outside the prisoner's room, quarrelling—they were speaking to each other, but I cannot say the words—I saw no blows or damage done—when Mrs. Butler called her son she said that the prisoner was cutting up her boots and had got the knife in his hand—they were not the ones she was wearing—I spoke to them, and they went into their room and were quiet—that was after the public-houses were closed and the streets were quiet—I should think it was after midnight—the next night, about public-house closing time, the prisoner knocked at the door—my husband and I had just come home, and we opened it to him—he was intoxicated—it was a Sunday or Monday, I cannot say for certain—he went up to the second floor—we were in a room below—he knocked at the second floor front door, but I do not think ho could get in—he kicked at the door and splintered the panel—the next I heard was a scuffle in Melhuish's room, which was above ours—the sounds were as if two people might be fighting—my husband and I went up and asked them to stop, and told them that there were other people in the house who had to be studied besides them—they went into the front room—they had been on the landing—my husband said to Melhuish, "Go into your own room and lock the door, and no trouble can come of it"—the prisoner went into his room all right and quiet, and Melhuish into his—the prisoner did not say anything about having an injury then—I did not hear him say anything to my husband—the next thing I heard was about 3 a.m., when we were awakened by Mrs. Butler knocking very hard at the door to bail her son George out—my husband went to the police station and bailed Melhuish out—between the scuffling in the back room and the prisoner and Melhuish going into their rooms I heard nobody go out or come into the house—I next saw the prisoner at the foot of the stairs in the passage about middle day—his face and mouth were very much swollen and he had a black eye—I said, "Whatever is the matter?"—he said, "Look what he has done to my face"—he could not speak properly—I knew he meant Melhuish had done it—he did not say Melhuish, because we only knew him as George, but he said, "George has done it"——he could not open his mouth at all—I have only heard him refer to it once—that night he went to the hospital and was there about ten days—when he returned he showed me a piece of thick wire which had been put into his jaw at the hospital—he said that Melhuish had broken his jaw, and he would do for him yet, and get his own back—the prisoner remained at home after his return from the hospital, and tried his best to work up to September 23rd—on that day Mrs. Butler brought down the rent about mid-day—from the time the prisoner came back from the hospital up to Saturday, the 23rd, he and Melhuish seemed to be getting on all right together—I heard no quarrelling—on the Sunday, about 3 or
4 a.m., we were waked up by some noise—I do not know what it was—the first words I heard were, "Mrs. France! Mrs. France! Come up for God's sake; he is killing me this time"—it was Mrs. Butler's voice—I got up to her as quickly as I could—I found her sitting on a chair inside her own room—she seemed to be in her night attire—I think she had a nightgown on—I pushed the door open and said, "Good God! Butler, what is the matter?"—the prisoner was in the room—Mrs. Butler said, "Oh! Mrs. France, he has done me in this time"—I made a step forward into the room, and put my foot into something very sticky and wet, I looked, and it was a big pool of blood—I looked down the opening of something which Mrs. Butler had on and saw the blood was teeming all down the front of her body—the prisoner was on the other side of the bed—I went across to him and said, "What did you do it for?"—he said, "I do not know"—he was standing up—I cannot exactly say how he was dressed—he had his trousers on, and I suppose he had his shirt on—the bed had been slept in; the sheets were thrown back—I wrapped a sheet round Mrs. Butler and called for help—one of the other lodgers came in, and I left her winding the sheet round Mrs. Butler—I went to the window and whistled for the police—two officers were just opposite and they came to my assistance.
Cross-examined. During the tune the prisoner has lived with me he did not quarrel with the deceased except on Saturday nights—it was not an every week occurrence—on the nights they got drunk they usually finished up with a quarrel—they very seldom went put, but beer was brought in; as much as a pint and a half at a time—they would get the jug filled two or three times—I never interfere with my lodgers—I never know their conversations or anything else unless I am called to them—I cannot say that the prisoner and Mrs. Butler had a lot of friends—a very little extra beer meant trouble and quarrelling—the deceased did not always complain—she used to put up with it sometimes—I do not know if she was the beginning of the quarrelling—she had a black eye about twice—when they quarrelled they were never quiet until I went up, and then they were drunk, but not too much to know what they were doing—this was generally a Saturday night occurrence, after the work was finished—when Mrs. Butler called out, "He has cut my boots up, he has got the knife in his hand," she said it as if she was frightened—Melhuish went to quiet them—I think it was the following night that the prisoner came in drunk when his jaw was broken—when the deceased complained of his having the knife in his hand it was before the prisoner's jaw was broken—on the Sunday or Monday night I let the prisoner in because he could not find the keyhole—I had had to let him in before when he was intoxicated once or twice—if he had not much work I believe he went out for a stroll and met friends and had a glass or two more than he usually did—after he came back from the hospital he seemed quite friendly with the deceased—he did not seem to resent as regards her when he was sober, the fact of his jaw being broken.
Re-examined. The night I let him in because he could not find the keyhole was the night before the boots were cut up.
evening, September 17th, I was in my room, which was next to Mrs. Butler's Melhuish having left them—Mrs. Butler came to my door and knocked, and in consequence of what she said I handed her some smelling salts—she smelt them and went back to her own room—that was about 10.15 p.m.—later she left the house, and after she had gone I spoke to the prisoner, who was in his own room—I was at his door when the deceased went to get a glass of beer—the prisoner said, referring to her, "She is not my wife; her and her son has broken my jaw and I will do for the two of them "—I did not see any difference in the prisoner then, but I had not seen much of him—I did not notice that he was the worse for liquor—on Sunday, the 24th, between 3 and 4 a.m., I was in bed and asleep and was awakened by a noise in the next room—I heard the deceased call out, "Mrs. France! Mrs. France! do come up; he has stabbed me. Murder! Murder!"—I heard Mrs. France come up—I got up, and by the time I got to their room the police had arrived.
Cross-examined. On the 16th I only saw the deceased and the prisoner for a few minutes—I do not know whether they were drunk or sober then—I do not know if they usually quarrelled when they were drunk—I have only been there eight weeks last Monday—I only said, "Good-morning," or "Good-evening" to the deceased—I did not have a glass of beer with her—on the 17th, when the deceased went out to get her beer, the prisoner was sitting up in bed—he talked with great difficulty and very huskily—I have never seen the prisoner or the deceased drunk—I should say it would be difficult to say if a man was drunk if he was in bed speaking with difficulty and huskily—when the prisoner made this threat I said that he must be in great pain, as my husband met with an accident at his work and it took six months before his jaw was better—the prisoner appeared to be in terrible pain—I did not take it seriously when he said he would do for the two of them—I thought it was the silly observation of a man suffering great agony.
Re-examined. I am certain of the words the prisoner used on that occasion.
VIOLET THOMPSON . I am a dressmaker, and have lodgings at 28, Union Street—prior to September 23rd I lived there for about four months—I knew the Butlers through living in the house—my room was on the top floor over theirs—sometimes I went down to their room—on September 23rd, about 10 p.m., I was in their room for about ten minutes—they were both there and also Melhuish and the prisoner's son—the prisoner and the deceased appeared to be very friendly as far as I could observe—I went up to my own room and went to bed—about 12 o'clock the deceased came to my room and spoke to me and then left—it was a little after 12.30 a.m. that I went to bed—after I had been to sleep I heard a noise of bumping against the door, which woke me—I thought it was in the Butlers room—I think I heard screams of murder in the deceased's voice, and immediately after that I heard Mrs. France come up to the Butlers room.
Cross-examined. When I was in their room at 10 p.m. I saw some beer there which they were all drinking as far as I can remember—the deceased
did not go out while I was there—they were drinking beer all the time I was there and seemed quite friendly.
GEORGE WILLIAM MELHUISH . I live at 83, Clipston Residences, Cleveland Street, and am a bootmaker—the deceased was my mother—she was first married to Mr. Melhuish, who was my father—he died and she married Mr. Allen—I believe he is still alive, but I do not know—he has not been with my mother for quite ten years—for about four years the prisoner has been living with her and I lived with them at 28, Union Street, for nearly three years up to about August, when I left to get married—I occupied a back room and the prisoner and my mother the front room—the back room had a separate doorway—the prisoner's room was used for taking our meals in, and he used it to do his work in—he and my mother lived on very friendly terms, bar when they had a little drop too much to drink, when they used to quarrel, which generally happened on Saturdays when they finished work—the rest of the week they worked together and got on well—friends came to see them now and again, but not very often, occasionally on Sunday nights—sometimes a little extra drink was then, I believe, consumed—my mother used sometimes to call me into their room when there was a quarrel, and it was generally stopped, but I was not indoors much; I was out at night time for a walk—when my mother called me I went in and stopped the quarrelling by speaking to them, when they would go to bed and would be all right next, morning—sometimes Mrs. France came up to quiet them—I never saw any violence by the prisoner to my mother—I remember on one occasion, the day before I had this fight with the prisoner, when he and my mother were shouting at one another and mother holloaed—I went in and as soon as I got in, he closed up suddenly and got me on the floor—I had to give in and went back to bed and they seemed quiet after that—when I went into their room he was on the other side of the room not doing anything; they were jawing at one another—I did not notice anything in the prisoner's hand—late the next night he came in worse for drink—I heard him stumbling upstairs—he went to the front room door, and kicked or knocked and splintered it—then he went into the front room and sat there for a few minutes and then came into my room with a rush and said something about "Now I can have all I wanted"—I cannot remember exactly what he said—I had just got my trousers on as he was coming in and then, of course, I hit him and there was a scrummage—I hit him with my fist, I believe, in the face several times—he did not strike me—I stood a decent distance away from him and at the finish I think we both went down—he got up and went into the other room—when he came into my room he was going for me—Mr. France came up and told me to go to bed and lock my door, or perhaps he might give me an unlucky blow—I locked my door and went to bed—I noticed that the prisoner's mouth was bleeding as he went away—soon after I had gone to bed I fell off in a kind of sleep—I do not know how long it was, but somebody knocked at the door and I found it was two constables and the prisoner, and they took me to the station—I was bailed by Mr. France about fifteen minutes afterwards—I appeared at Marlborough Street the same morning, but the prisoner did not appear and I was discharged—I
did not see him again until late that afternoon—nothing took place between us then—he was with my mother—I was looking for rooms—he stood two or three steps away from me, but did not speak—my mother told me he was going to the hospital—he was away from her for about ten days—when he came back I was having my dinner and I used to meet him in the house, but we were on very friendly terms—he told me I had broken his jaw—I said it could not be that, and we talked about it just ordinary, but he never said much about it—up to the time I left the house there was no further quarrel between us—since I left we have been very friendly together—after I ceased to live there I generally called there on a Sunday morning—I have not heard on any of those visits any quarrelling between the prisoner and my mother—on Saturday, September 23rd, I went to my mother's house between 9 and 10 p.m.—I found the prisoner, his mother and his son George in the room—my mother had gone to the Meat Market—the prisoner seemed all right—I did not notice that he had had too much to drink—I believe there was a jug of beer in the room, and I sent for some beer myself—I daresay I was there half an hour—I had not been there many minutes before my mother came in—she and the prisoner were all right—I do not think she had had anything to drink—I expect sometimes she would have too much to drink if she was at home with the prisoner on Saturday—the next I heard of this matter was on the Sunday morning, that my mother was at the hospital—I was with her when she died.
Cross-examined. While I lived with them I had to stop the quarrelling a few times, and on those occasions they were drunk—at other times they were perfectly happy and seemed fond of one another—when the prisoner said to me, "Now you can have all you want," there was no reason why he should say it, except that he was drunk—that threat was made before his jaw was broken—I have been out with him very often—we went to public-houses—sometimes my mother has been out with us—I did not generally stop with them—when I went into the room on September 23rd I think the prisoner was standing up doing something to the lamp; then he sat down in his chair—I noticed there was a glass and a jug there—I did not notice that the prisoner was drinking through a tube, but I know he had one—when my mother came in, the prisoner's son went for the beer, which I paid for—my mother did not go out again while I was there—I think I sent out for a pint of bitter and half a pint of stout—sometimes the prisoner and my mother would abuse one another and call one another objectionable names, and were very angry—as soon as the effects of drink had worn off they were all right again—when the prisoner came out of the hospital he did not seem to have any animosity against me—I have not been out with him since then, but I have visited there—I do not think he has been out since he came from the hospital—he did not seem to resent my visiting there—he has been nice to me and to my mother, excepting when he was drunk.
GEORGE WILLIAM BUTLER . I am the prisoner's son and live at 9, Marshall Street, Soho—I have not been living with my father for some time—I visited him occasionally and saw him with the deceased—they seemed to be on pretty fair terms—on September 23rd I visited them about
6.30 p.m. and stayed there until midnight—my father was complaining about his face, and said he was in terrible agony and could not stand it, and that when he got better he would go out and buy a revolver and blow out their brains—he did not refer to anybody before saying that, but I knew he meant the deceased and her son—he was telling me about the son breaking his jaw—he said that the son had punched him in the jaw and broke it on one side, and that as he fell he up with his foot and broke it the other side—he did not mention anyone else in connection with the breaking of his jaw—it was then that he mentioned the revolver, and I said, "If you are going to do them in, Dad, don't forget to do yourself in as well"—I did not take his remark about the revolver seriously, but as a sort of joke—I was used to those silly signs, as he used to talk all kinds of silly things while I was at home about two years ago—on September 23rd, about 7.30, my grandmother came in and the prisoner told her about his jaw and told her not to be surprised to see him charged with murder—he said that Melhuish had caused the injury to his jaw and that while he was doing it the deceased said, "Go on, George, give it to him"—the prisoner was then in pain and half drunk—he made funny signs and was shaking his head in his hands and putting his head on his hands and putting it on the table—he said the pain was running up the sides of his jaw—before the deceased went out on September 23rd she brought the prisoner half a pint and I got him a pint and a half—there was only himself and my grandmother to drink it—one pint had been drunk before my grandmother came—I do not know if the prisoner drank all the pint and a half, which was all that was brought in between 6 and 7—Melhuish came in about 8 o'clock—the deceased had not returned then—my grandmother was still there—when the prisoner was telling us about his jaw he was half drunk, but he had the signs of being drunk when the deceased went out; he had just finished up a glass when she went out—before Melhuish came in the prisoner was in about the same condition, not quite half drunk—they seemed on friendly terms—I went out and got a pint and a half of bitter, which Melhuish paid for, and which the prisoner, my grandmother and Melhuish drank—after that was drunk Melhuish's friend named Arthur came in and paid for three pints—the prisoner, my grandmother, Melhuish and Arthur drank it—the deceased came back just after Melhuish's friend came in about 8.30 or 9 and after I had gone for the pint and a half and the three pints—by the time the deceased returned the prisoner was a little worse—he was not properly, he was just over the half drunk—my grandmother, Melhuish and Arthur were none of them drunk—when the deceased returned she seemed a bit miserable and showed the signs of drink—when she got back she had some bitter—I do not know what she was miserable for; she may have had a row, before she went out—she did not say anything when she came in—I was there until 12.5 a.m.—conversation was going on, and while the prisoner was drinking beer the deceased told him not to do so, as it would not do him any good—about 10.45 I paid for another pint of bitter, and later on a pint for the deceased and my grandmother—I did not drink any of it—my father made me some lemonade—it was just after 11 that
the deceased said to the prisoner, "You had better not drink any more, as it won't do you any good"—my father said he could drink it, but I must not—he went on drinking and the deceased said, "Well, all right, go on drinking it"—the prisoner was not able to put his glass to his lips, but had to put a red hot poker into the beer to warm it, and then drink it through a tube—when the deceased was remonstrating with the prisoner she was half drunk—I told my father several times not to drink—the deceased, after she had seen my grandmother home, said to me, "George, you had better sleep here to-night"—I said, "All right, I will make a bed on the chairs"—the prisoner said, "No, you won't. He has got a home of his own to go to; let him go"—he was well drunk then—that was about 11.55—I did not help to get him well drunk—I had got the beer, and, if he wanted it, let him have it—nobody came down to see me out—the deceased was in the room and heard what I said to my father, which was, "Don't get quarrelling to-night, Dad. If you do you will put your jaw out and it will never set"—he said, "No, no, that is all right, cock. God forbid I shall not touch her"—as far as I could see he understood what I said to him—there were no words, shortly before I left, between him and the deceased—I gave evidence before the Coroner—I did not say anything about something happening before I said that I advised them not to quarrel—I advised them because he was drunk—the only slight row that night was about the beer, when the deceased told the prisoner not to drink it—I left at 12.5 and told the prisoner I should come up to dinner next day—when I left he was well drunk and the deceased was half drunk—this is my signature (Coroner's depositions produced): "Mrs. Allen was more than half on and my father was worse"—that was read over to me before the Coroner, but I did not hear that part—Melhuish left about 10 p.m.—when I left, the prisoner and the deceased were alone.
Cross-examined. When the prisoner spoke about buying a revolver, only I and my grandmother were present—when I first got to the house the prisoner was just finishing his glass of beer—he was quite sober then, but showed signs of drinking—I did not take what he said seriously—when I lived at Fulham with him he used to say all kinds of things like that—he used to come home at night and walk round the room with a poker and look under the bed to see if anyone was there and say he would kill them if they were—I say on my oath that when I left the house on September 23rd my father was well drunk—the deceased was then sitting on the bed—the prisoner did not speak to her—when there was the dispute as to whether he should go on drinking or not he seemed to be friendly, but she seemed to holloa about it—they did not speak to each other for the rest of the evening—with the rest of the company my father was all right.
WILLIAM CLARK (80 d.) I was on duty on the night of September 24th near Union Street—I went to number 28, with Glendinning, and into the room occupied by the prisoner and the deceased—I found the deceased was there, and the prisoner and a woman named Trekoff—the deceased was sitting on a chair in a pool of blood, and she had been stabbed in the abdomen—she was wearing a white chemise, and a sheet was wrapped
round the lower part of her body—the prisoner was standing on the opposite side of the bed—he had on his trousers, his waistcoat and a shirt—I said to the deceased, "What is the matter?"—she said, "He stabbed me," and looked in the direction of the prisoner—I went to him and said, "I shall arrest you for stabbing the woman"—he said, "All right; you know your business"—afterwards he said, "Her son broke my jaw," and he repeated that several times on the way to the station—he appeared to have been drinking—he seemed to understand what I said to him—at the station he was charged, and on the 25th was brought before the Magistrate—the woman was then alive, and the charge against the prisoner was wounding with intent to murder—I saw him on the 25th at the Police Court and he said to me, "How is she?"—I said, "I think she is getting on all right"—he said, "A good job too, for her and me. I was a b—fool."
Cross-examined. He gave me the impression that he was glad she was getting on all right.
DAVID SEWELL (Inspector D.) On September 24th I went to the Middlesex Hospital and saw Mrs. Allen, who was then alive—I saw that she was still bleeding from her wounds—I had some conversation with her and then went to the Tottenham Court Road police station, and saw the prisoner in custody—I told him he would be charged with causing grievous bodily harm to his wife—when the charge was read over to him he said, "I want to correct that; she is not my wife, but the woman I co-habit with"—about 3.50 on the Sunday morning I found two knives on the table in the house and five on a bench—they were the sort of knives used in the shoe-making trade—these two (Produced) are larger than the other five—when I found them, one of them had stains on it—I took possession of them and afterwards gave them to Dr. Rose for examination—I also found at the house these shoes (Produced), which had been cut up.
Cross-examined. Two knives were on the table, and five lying loose on the prisoner's work bench on the opposite side of the room to the bed—they are all ordinary shoemaker's knives.
LEONARD BOYES . On September 24th I was house surgeon at the Middlesex Hospital when the deceased was brought there in the early morning—I saw her shortly after her admission—she was then in a collapsed condition, due to loss of blood—I examined her and found that there were two punctured wounds on the chest, two in the abdomen, a bruise on the right side of the forehead, and one on the left hand—the wounds in the chest were not so grave as those in the stomach, which were each about 1 inch long, one situated 1 1/2 inches from the middle line of the body on the left side, and both penetrated right into the abdominal cavity—they were dangerous wounds—on the Sunday morning and Monday she got a little better and the improvement continued throughout the Sunday morning and afternoon, but on the Monday morning she began to sink again and weakened gradually—at 2.55 a.m. on the 27th,
shortly before her death, Inspector Lewis attended at the hospital-at that time the woman was in a very collapsed condition indeed, and it was determined to take a statement from her—in the inspector's presence I told her it was impossible that she could recover—the first time I told her she seemed to put it off and said, "I shall be all right"—I then told her plainly that she was going to die and very soon—as far as I can say, she seemed to understand what I said to her and seemed to accept the situation [MR. JUSTICE JELF ruled that the statement was not admissible, as the evidence of expectation of death was not sufficient]—a statement was taken from her, which was read over to her, and she signed it—next day I, assisted by Dr. Rose, made a post-mortem examination, and found that the wounds in the chest did not penetrate the chest cavity, but the wounds in the stomach had penetrated the abdominal cavity quite 3 inches, and as a result of the lower of the two wounds in the stomach the intestines had been wounded in two distinct places, and pus had collected in one of the two wounds—inflammation had followed, setting up peritonitis, which had resulted in exhaustion and death—either of the graver wounds could have been occasioned by either of these two larger knives—I do not think it is possible that they were self-inflicted.
THOMAS ROSE . I am assistant police surgeon of the D division, residing at 60, Bloomsbury Street—I was present at this post-mortem examination and have heard Dr. Boyes speak of it, and I entirely agree with him—I examined these two larger knives—either of them would have caused the injury—there was a bloodstain on this one about 2 inches from the point, and there was just a little on the handle—I tested the marks microscopically and chemically.
JOHN KANE (Inspector D.) This woman having died, I went to Marlborough Street police station on October 2nd—prior to that there had been an inquest, which the prisoner had attended, and the Coroner's jury had returned a verdict upon the facts submitted to them in his presence, the effect of it being a verdict of wilful murder against him—when I saw him at the station on October 2nd I said to him, "You know I am Inspector Kane; you saw me at the Coroner's Court on Saturday last, when the Jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against you"—he said, "That is right"—I said, "I will now charge you with the wilful murder of Mary Allen, otherwise Mary Butler, on the morning of September 24th at 28, Union Street, Marylebone"—he said, "Yes, that is right"—I was not at the station on the morning of September 24th when the prisoner was brought in.
EDWIN LEWIS (Inspector D.) I was at the police station when the prisoner was brought there on the early morning of September 24th—he was not drunk—he appeared to be recovering from the effects of recent drinking—I was present when the charge was made against him—he corrected the description of the deceased and said she was the woman he co-habited with.
GUILTY . DEATH .
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, October 19th, 1905.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
754. SOLLY GERSHENOVITCH (51) , Having been entrusted with a money order for £25 for a certain purpose, unlawfully and fraudulently converted £8 103. 4d., part of the proceeds of that property, to his own use. Second count. Being entrusted by the same person with 300 roubles in Russian bank notes in order that he might apply part of the proceeds to a certain purpose, unlawfully and fraudulently converted the sum of £15 6s. 8d., part of the proceeds, to his own use.
MR. MUIR, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON and MR. LYONS Prosecuted; MR. CURTIS BENNETT Defended.
GUILTY . Two years' hard labour.
756. ELLEN YOUNG (30) , Feloniously altering and uttering a security for the payment of money; that is, a Post Office Savings Bank Depositor's Book, with intent to defraud. Second count. Inciting and procuring the commission of that offence by a person or persons unknown. Other counts. Feloniously demanding and receiving money under, and by virtue of, certain forged and altered instruments.
MR. CHALMERS Prosecuted.
MARY BUTCHER . I am an assistant at the Fulham Post Office, 132, Lillie Road—this book was issued to the prisoner on August 2nd last—the account was opened by a payment of 3s.—I wrote in this amount of 3s.—the words as I wrote them are not here in this book now; they have been inked over—they were written first of all with a fine pen—the name of the depositor was written at the time by the prisoner.
LUCY HARRIET BUTCHER . I am sub-postmistress at the Fulham Post Office, Lillie Road—on August 16th the prisoner came into the Post Office and produced her book—she wished to make a deposit of 3s. only.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not see you put an extra 4s. down on the counter.
BEN POTTER . I am sub-postmaster at the Northfleet Lane Post Office, West Ealing—I remember the prisoner coming in and saving she wished to withdraw some money—this withdrawal notice was handed to me—the amount is 10s.—that was signed by the prisoner—the book when I received it showed 16s. to her credit—I entered the 10s. on the debit side—according to the regulations the prisoner would sign her name on an envelope for the return of the book, which has to be sent to the General Post Office—it was signed by the prisoner—I did not at that time notice any change in the writing in the book—I can see now by looking at it closely that there has been an alteration.
The prisoner. "I did not sign the envelope; some little girl addressed that. I got the 10s. from that gentleman."
JOHN DUNCAN . I am a clerk in the Secretary's Department at the Post Office—I investigated this matter—I spoke to the prisoner about the withdrawal of 10s.—I cautioned her beforehand—I asked her what amount she had deposited on August 16th—she said, "I put 3s. in first and then I got 3s. or 4s. afterwards to make up a little more"—I then asked her if she had made the withdrawal of the 10s.—she said "Yes, I did; the gentleman gave me 10s.; it was all I had but 1s. I left in the account"—I showed her the book and asked her if she had altered the entries—she said, "Me? Oh, no, I never touched the book; I never did such a thing in my life. I would have been too frightened to do such a thing"—she said the writing on the cover was hers, but not the signatures on the form; a little girl who was with her wrote the signatures—she said the little girl was a stranger to her—she said, "I don't know her; she is in the country now, but I do not know where; she was only staying at Ealing, where I was for a week, a few doors away from the house where I was staying, at No. 16, Trent Avenue"—I asked her if she asked the little girl to write the signatures on the form—she said "No," but the little girl had said to her, "Shall I write it for you?" and she had said, "I don't mind"—that was all that took place.
The prisoner. "Every word that he says I said to him is correct."
The prisoner's defence. "I never altered the book and I will take my oath I put that money on the counter, as I had to go away for a fortnight."
Evidence for the Defence.
MRS. RUBLEY. The prisoner lived with me for about four years—she was in my service as servant for about two years, and after that I let her a room for about two years—I became in straightened circumstances and could not keep her any longer—I always found her honest and hard-working—she has always been in service.
Cross-examined. She was living in my house in August last—I believe she did have money in the savings bank—I have always found her very quiet and very sober—I never saw her intoxicated.
GUILTY . Discharged on her own recognisances in £5.
OLD COURT.—Friday, October 20th, 1905.
Before Mr. Justice Jelf.
MR. MUIR and MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
—he took lodgings at our house on August 21st—I remember Inspector Crouch coming on September 6th, and going to the room the prisoner had occupied—he took from there a bag which had been there since August 21st—it was locked—I did not see the prisoner on the evening of September 6th—he did not return home at all—he went out in the morning between 8.30 and 9—I did not see him again until September 14th, at the Mansion House, on the second remand—on September 6th he said he would be home to dinner that night—this (Produced) is the bag.
REGINALD VETCH . I am a clerk employed by Mr. Kennedy at 35 and 36, Imperial Buildings, Ludgate Circus—I have known the prisoner since February last—he was in the habit of visiting Mr. Kennedy's office pretty often—on September 5th I saw the prisoner in the evening, when some friends of ours and the prisoner went for a walk—the prisoner asked me to enquire of Schwartz whether he and Mrs. Franks were attached to each other—he said, "Has Schwartz been with Mrs. Franks?"—I enquired of Schwartz, who told me something, and I told the prisoner that it was not true that Mrs. Franks had been with Schwartz—I do not know what the prisoner meant by Schwartz "being with her"—I asked Schwartz exactly the same question put to me—the prisoner laughed, but said nothing—I am quite sure of that.
Cross-examined. I have heard the prisoner say something about committing suicide on more than one occasion—I remember when he came back from travelling in Europe—he was then depressed and afterwards again threatened to commit suicide—on September 5th, when I had the conversation with him, he again mentioned suicide, and he appeared on that evening to be very much depressed—that night I, Schwartz and the prisoner went out to supper together—he was perfectly friendly with Schwartz.
HENRY ERNST GREGORY . I am manager of the gun department of Messrs. Gamage, in Holborn—I know the prisoner—I saw him a little after 10 a.m. on September 6th—he said he wished to purchase a revolver—I said, "The law compels us to have a licence, which we must copy"—he said he would get one, and left the shop—he returned shortly afterwards, bringing this licence (Produced), with him—I showed him half a dozen revolvers, among them being this one (Produced), which he purchased for 14s. 6d.—at the same time he bought this box of fifty cartridges (Produced) for the revolver—there are forty-five still here—they are loaded with black powder—after selling the revolver and taking the money I suggested this case (Produced) for the revolver—the total amount was 16s. 3d.—the case was 9d.—this (Produced) is the receipt I gave him—I took a note of the name on the licence—it was "William Rety," which I took for "Retz"—he seemed perfectly self-possessed and quite sober—he asked me to show him how to use the revolver, how to put the cartridges in and extract the cases—I showed him how to do it—I should say he was away for a little over ten minutes between his first and second visit.
10.10 a.m., a man called at the Post Office—I received this card from him (Produced): "Mr. William Rety, 20, Burton Road, S.W."—I issued this licence to him—I did not take much notice of him—he came in a hurry.
CHARLES WODS (Constable, City). I am accustomed to drawing plans—I made this plan, which contains several sections of Mr. Kennedy's office on the second floor—if you go along the passage you get into a lobby, then you go in and facing you there is a barrier with a rising flap, and where there is a place for enquiring—on the right there is a room, No. 36, and on the left an outer office, No. 35—I made my measurements on the day of the shooting, September 6th—I have marked, just as you get into No. 35, a packing case standing against the partition between No. 35 and the lobby—the partition is partly of wood and partly of glass—in one of the glass panels I found a hole with shattered glass round it—the hole was about 1 inch in diameter—I measured from the center of the hole to the floor, the distance being 4 feet 7 inches—I measured the height of the packing case; it is 1 foot 5 inches—I sat on the packing case to see how high I should sit—I am a trifle taller than Mrs. Franks, when sitting; I measured her sitting height—to the bullet mark on her neck it would be 2 feet 1 inch up the panel when sitting on the case, and that would be about 14 inches below the beginning of the glass—if she had been sitting when shot, the bullet would have had to go up at a very sharp angle—I found the bullet mark on the opposite side of the lobby—it was 4 feet 7 inches from the floor, so the bullet travelled straight across—the course of the bullet is shown by a dotted line marked "Course of bullet"—the hole in the glass and the mark in the opposite side of the lobby were not exactly opposite one another, the one in the lobby being a little further into the house—if you produce that line in the opposite direction you get to the corner of the room by the mantelpiece—there is a letter-press shown on the plan with the word "tumbler" in blue on it and about arms' length from the corner of the packing case—anybody sitting on the packing case could easily put a tumbler down on the shelf—I noticed the condition of the two desks in No. 35—they were quite parallel and slightly apart—I noticed the condition of the floor—the desks looked as if they had been moved—there were marks in the dust on the floor—a gum bottle had been spilt on the floor by the further desk—I asked Sergeant Hollick on one occasion, and Inspector Crouch on another, where the revolver had been found, and the spot pointed out to me was 6 feet 4 inches from the partition—the place was also pointed out to me where an overcoat was found, upon a box in room 36; I saw it there myself—when you pass from the door of No. 36 you are in the other office, which includes a space at the back of the lobby—there is a partition to prevent inquisitive people looking into the room, otherwise it would be all one—the partition on the right is a party wall with a door in it, communicating between 36 and 35—I have marked on the plan a purple line which I called bloodstains, and I followed a trail of blood round the corner to where the stairs go up—I found a quantity of blood which I have marked with a blue cross—that is where Mrs. Franks was found—there was blood on the packing case—the stairs going down are close to those going up.
GEORGE SCHWARTZ . I am a junior clerk to Mr. Kennedy, who has offices at Imperial Buildings—I went there on June 24th—I have known the prisoner since June—he came there for the purpose of his correspondence; he got letters which came for him there—Mrs. Franks was employed in the office—she and the prisoner knew one another—I remember the prisoner coming on September 6th about 10 a.m.—he came into my room, No. 35, where he generally sat—that is the outer office—Mrs. Franks was in the inner office, No. 36—the prisoner went into 36 that morning—Mrs. Franks was there—I went in and had some conversation and then went out to my work—about 12.30 I told them I was going out to lunch—they were then still together—they had been together since some time after 10—I did not notice anything while they were together—they spoke together, but I did not notice anything particular—I could hear no sound in the room at all—they seemed to be friendly—I went out, leaving them together—I came back about 2 o'clock—there are two desks in room 35—the desks were close together when I left, and when I returned they were not quite in the same position—there was a gum bottle on one of them when I left, and when I returned it had fallen—the police were then in the office—I noticed some blood about.
Cross-examined. Before I went out to lunch I heard them talking and laughing in a low voice in the next room—up to the very last moment before I left they appeared to be on friendly terms—I had never quarrelled with the prisoner, and had always been friendly with him—on September 5th I and Vetch and the prisoner went out to supper together and had parted on excellent terms—the next time I saw him was in the morning when he came to the office.
KATE MARION FRANKS . I am the wife of John Franks—we have been married about eighteen months—I was employed by Mr. Kennedy at 35 and 36, Imperial Buildings, as manageress and typist—I have known the prisoner for about a year—these letters (Produced) are written or typed by me and sent to the prisoner, and these others (Produced) are letters which I received from him (Portions of the letters were read): "At last he is beginning to get jealous, not that he mistrusts you, but he says he is a fool to be so greedy and jealous. I said, "Yes, so you are.' S. and M. everything is all right as usual." "How do you feel this morning? Do you feel very fit, sonny, I must say you feel with your hand as usual, I should very much like to come out with you this morning, but I know jolly well I shall not be able to." "F. came in the other day. I showed him your postcard and he inquired so kindly about you. Does he know anything about us, boy? I did not go to K.'s on Sunday, and K. was rotten with me for it on Monday. I will not write more now, as I am rather afraid you will not get this, but will you give me your new address, I will write you a nice long letter. Cheer up, my pet. Try and be happy. Such lots of love and kisses from your loving Kitty." "My dear darling, I do not think it would be advisable to go there to-night. First of all for your sake, and then it would hardly be the right thing to have a young thing like me in your virtuous bug walk." "June 10th, 1905. Dear old boy, How are you to-day, dear? You see I am sending a little note, I did not
forget my boy. I enjoyed myself so much with you last night. Say, Retey, why don't you go down to K.'s for the holiday and enjoy yourself. (No news to-day at all). I do hope you slept better, dear, and don't worry your dear old self. I want to see you looking well and perky on Tuesday (by the way I hope you did not forget the arrangements) because I feel very. but as I promised I must be good and wait until Tuesday. Good-bye, pet, much love and heaps of kisses, Yours, Kitty." "How is business, boy, I hope it is good, I miss you fearfully, dear, and J. and I have been having such tiffs (even to-night). I went round with Ma for a little while to-night, so John got a fit and called me the usual pet names." "Do write me soon, pet. I would give much to have your lovely strong arms round me now. Oh, my darling, I must not think too much about those days because. Yi Yi, Retey." "Do be good, my pet; don't go with the girls. Perhaps I ought not to ask or expect you to keep away from them; but Retey, my boy, I do love you so much. I never realised how much you were to me until you were away. Now, my Darling, I must bid you Good-night, I will try and write you again to-morrow. Much love and hundreds of kisses. Always your own loving Kitty." "I do so hope you are good, dear; so often I think about you, darling, and wonder if you are true. I trust you, of course, but you are only a man, and when men are tempted they cannot always resist, they are not so strong as women." "Mrs. Kennedy has taken a baby to adopt, rather much, is it not. You ask me what I do in the evenings. Well, I will tell you (I just pulled the letter out of the machine. I thought it was John coming). Sometimes I go home, or go to mother's, or to John. I have not been anywhere else, you see how true I am to you, pet, so don't forget." "I must bid you good-bye now, my boy (I have been very good, darling, but oh! my pet, I do feel so.) Think of me, boy; you are always in my thoughts and dreams." "Don't be jealous, old boy, you know that no one can take your place, I love you too well, my darling, my own love. Good-bye for the present, my pet. Much love and lots of kisses, always your own loving Kitty." "Don't think I flirt or ever see anyone else. I have only seen Vetch once and White twice at the office. No one else, So buck up boy, be sensible, and write to me soon." "I am afraid to write letters in the office now; John is always in and out. I wish I could hold your dear face in my hand and kiss it like I used to. I seem to have no news to tell you pet, but as soon as I can I will write you a nice long letter. Good-bye, my darling boy. Be good, and you know I am true to you. Lots of love and kisses." (From the prisoner): "I must tell you that lately I have very often thoughts of jealousy, and the idea plagues and haunts me that you may forsake me for some other chap, and I can't find a bit of consolation in your maxim that 'Women are stronger than men.' Women may become just as well victims to temptation, as men. So, my dear, do love me, for without you and your love my existence would not be worth a rap. I fully realise the obstacles which stand between our definite union, and I shall wait for you ever so long, my darling, but some kind word of encouragement would help me such
a lot to keep up my spirits. Do you have any shindies with J.? So much I should like to have detailed account of all your doings, pleasures, pastimes and little troubles, if any. Do write me, darling, a nice, long letter as soon as you get this. With fondest love and many many kisses, from your ever loving R." "The wildest and silliest thoughts are crossing my mind. Perhaps you are ill, perhaps John found you out and prevents you from writing, perhaps you got tired of me, or, again, somebody has been telling you something and you condemn me without hearing a word from me. Oh! Kitty, Kitty, I am a boy no more, and should not like to appear ridiculous, but for goodness' sake, what is the reason of your mysterious silence? Do you want to get rid of me, and am I tiring you? Was it only pity you had for me or even fear which made you say that you love me? Forgive me, dear, if I am hurting you, but it is eight long days since I have heard of you and I am at a loss to explain your delay in replying. I know you were all right on Sunday at Kennedy's, so why don't take the trouble and send me a little message? I can assure you I had no rest for two days, neglected everything. My dearest own girl, you know well what you are to me; you know how I love you; you know a word of you is enough to make me happy, so why do you torture me and don't write to me more often? Will you be a darling good girl and write to me a nice long letter, and go every second day to 57? My dear, sweet little Queen, how miserable I am without you; how much more miserable I am from even not receiving a line from your dear hand or has your silence a meaning, a significance? I Excuse a poor miserable fellow, and, believe me, I shall never cease to leave you. Yours for ever, Wm. R." "As regards your remark concerning No. 1, I guess you mean myself by it, but you know, dearest, that No. 1 to me is my darling little grass widow, which I should so much like to embrace and give her a good hugging and a nice long kiss (none of those seven for 1s. sort, you know). I hope I shall not have to leave you for a long long time. How did you manage not to flirt a little at K.'s christening, or rather Jewing party? Was it against your nature or was it J.'s lynx eyes? Why, Kitty, a little flirt (but only a little) does not hurt anybody, and a young, little girl, like you must have a little amusement, even if it takes the shape of fooling." "It will hardly be a fortnight and I shall hold you in my arms once again now will you believe me, darling, that I have been as virtuous as any saint you will choose of the Calendar, but you shall soon see yourself, my little Queen. Now I must bid you good-bye, darling, and hoping to hear soon of you, I remain with millions of kisses and heaps of love, Ever truly yours, W. Rety."—I remember the prisoner going on the Continent in the summer—I am sorry, but I cannot tell you the date; my memory is very defective since this accident—I believe it was in June—I think it was before August 21st—I cannot tell you what time he came back in August—the last of my letters may be dated August 19th and sent to him at Strassburg, but I cannot tell you where I sent the last letter—I received a number of letters from him while he was on the Continent and after his return—I gave them back to him at the office—I cannot tell you the date; it may have been at the
same time as the accident; just that week or the week before—I do not think I said anything particular to him when I gave him the letters—he asked me for them and I told him he could have them—he gave no reason for asking for them, and I gave him none—I did not ask for mine back—that is all that took place at the time the letters were handed back—I left the letters I had from him in a drawer in the office, not locked up—I had had no difference with him after he came back from the Continent, and our relations after he came back were exactly the same as they had been before he left—on September 6th I remember him coming to the office—it may have been the middle of the morning, I cannot exactly say the time—Mr. Schwartz was in the office when he came—I do not think anybody else was there—Schwartz left for lunch, I think, about 12.30—the prisoner remained—in the morning I generally had a glass of stout—I had not had it, and the prisoner offered to fetch it for me—he fetched it and I had it, and then the accident happened—I remember hearing a noise and finding myself on the landing and going to the hospital—I do not remember anything else of what happened between 12.30 and 1.30—during the morning we had a conversation, but not while I was having the stout—he said he was miserable and asked me to go away with him—he said he felt as if he could commit suicide, but he did not say he would; that is all—when he asked me to go away with him I only said it could not be—I am endeavouring to tell you the whole of the truth as far as my memory will carry me back—I remember nothing more about it.
Cross-examined. The conversation we had that morning was friendly—we were on good terms that morning—not a single angry word had been uttered by him or by me that morning, and on the days previously when we had seen each other we had always been on friendly terms—I noticed latterly that he had been rather depressed—he had on more than one occasion threatened to take his own life—he had never threatened me in any way, but had always been kind and considerate—he never expressed any feelings of jealousy except in his letters—on September 6th he did not express himself in any way jealous.
By the COURT. Before the accident he was sitting on a chair by the side of the two desks which were together, and I was sitting on a packing case by the partition—after drinking the stout I remember putting down the glass and I remember a noise, but I can remember nothing further—I thought the noise was a gas explosion or something—I did not feel myself hurt then—the last time I remember seeing the prisoner, he was sitting in his chair with his hands quite empty in his lap—I cannot recollect going out of the office, but I remember being on the landing—I cannot remember the prisoner leaving, or which of us went first—when I was on the landing I found blood was coming from my mouth—to the best of my recollection I was sitting down when the explosion took place—I cannot tell you if I was just rising or not, but I thought I was sitting down—we had each got letters from the other—there was no explanation given, why the letters which he had written to me should be given up by me, and he should keep the ones I had written to him, only that I did not want to keep them in my possession, and I might have destroyed
them; I did not say anything about destroying them—I have a faint recollection of his asking for them back, but I cannot be sure—I remember he asked me where they were and I told him, and he said, "Don't leave them there"—he did not say why.
H. E. GREGORY (Re-examined). When I sold the pistol to the prisoner and he took it away it was in the case buttoned up—it is easy to open it—the pistol was not loaded.
GEORGE GIBBONS . I am an accountant and have offices at 25 and 26, Imperial Buildings, which is on the same floor as 35 and 36—on September 6th I was in my office shortly after 1.30 p.m., when I heard a noise like a bag full of air being exploded—I went into the passage and saw a man, whom I afterwards identified as the prisoner, running towards me, and just disappearing down the stairs—I saw Mrs. Franks reeling backward, bleeding from the throat—I informed the police—I had heard Mrs. Franks screaming immediately after the explosion—she was eventually taken in charge by a police officer.
JOHN HENRY VAGG . I am an accountant and have offices in Imperial Buildings, in the same building as No. 35 and 36—between 1.30 and 1.40 p.m. on September 6th I noticed a man running out of the street door—I afterwards identified the prisoner as the man at the Mansion House—I saw Mr. Gibbons, who made a communication to me—I went upstairs and saw Mrs. Franks lying on the ground at the foot of the stairs, which led to the part above 35 and 36, bleeding from her mouth and throat—she was shrieking very loudly—I assisted her as best I could, and afterwards the police came.
ALEXANDER SMITH (208 City). I was on duty in Ludgate Circus on September 6th, when I was called by Mr. Gibbons at 1.35 p.m. to where Mrs. Franks was lying on the stairs in Imperial Buildings—with assistance I took her to St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
HAROLD PACE GIBB , M.R.C.S., L.R.C.P. On September 6th I was house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital and saw Mrs. Franks when she was admitted, suffering from a bullet wound in her neck—in my judgment the bullet had entered on the right side and gone out on the left—the hole of exit was slightly higher than the hole of ingress—I observed the skin round the wounds—there were no marks of powder round either of the wounds—I did not notice whether she was wearing a blouse—I have seen these sheets of paper at which shots have been fired at various distances (Produced)—looking at them, I should think that if the pistol had been fired at Mrs. Franks within a radius of 3 or 4 feet there would have been powder marks on the skin—she made a steady recovery—besides the wound on the neck, there was one on the right hand, just above the little finger, on the inside of the palm—it was a very shallow graze and was not blackened at all—I cannot say how it was produced—it might have been produced by the graze of a bullet—if it was the same bullet which had entered the neck, her hand must have been held more or less on the same level at the time, but it may have been caused in a variety of ways such as a fall on a jagged surface or something with a jagged end passing through the hand.
Cross-examined. I said at the Police Court, "I can only say the shot was not fired point blank, and it might have been within 2 feet"—I do not adhere to that now, since I have seen these papers—in my opinion it was not fired point blank.
Re-examined. By point blank I mean within a few inches.
EDWARD HOLLICK (61 City). On September 6th, shortly after 1.30 p.m., I was in Bridewell police station when Gibbons came to me and I went to 36, Imperial Buildings, Ludgate Circus, and afterwards to the same premises with Woods, where he made a plan of the inside of the offices—I pointed out to him the position of the broken glass panel, the blood marks, the gum bottle, the desks and the place where the revolver was found—I have seen the plan, and those positions are correctly shown—on September 6th I found on the premises a revolver, but the case was found afterwards—the revolver was loaded in four chambers, one being discharged—these (Produced) are the four cartridges I took out—the empty shell is now in the revolver—it has been used since, but I put the discharged cartridge back again—I was not present when Inspector Crouch found the overcoat—I found a bullet below the spot marked on the plan in the outer lobby wall—it had gone in and then fallen down—the plan correctly shows the course of the bullet.
JESSE GROUCH (Detective-Inspector, City). I first heard of this shooting about 1.35 p.m. on September 6th, and I went at once to Mr. Kennedy's office—I found this overcoat (Produced) in room 36 on the box inside the door, on the right as you go in—in the pockets I found this revolver case and a packet of forty-five revolver cartridges—the revolver was shown to me—it was then loaded in four chambers besides one discharged, which, with the forty-five I found, made up fifty—at that time only one had been discharged—I made inquiries with the result that I set a watch for the prisoner at his address within an hour or an hour and a half of the shooting—by means of the overcoat, and so on, I had made up my mind who it was—the same evening I went to his address at 92, Stockwell Park Road, when I saw Mrs. Chaloner, whose husband pointed out the prisoner's room to me—I took away this black bag (Produced)—it was then locked—I forced it open and found in it all Mrs. Franks' letters, which have been produced, as well as the prisoner's letters and others—a watch was kept on his lodgings the whole night and the next morning—next morning I was at Bridewell police station when he walked in about 11.20 and said, "I am the man who shot Mrs. Franks"—I said, "We are police officers; is your name William Rety?"—he replied, "Yes, that is my name"—I showed him this overcoat, and he said the clothes, the revolver case, and the box of cartridges were all his property—I found in his possession a gun licence and a receipt for the revolver and cartridges—I showed him the bullet which had been found—he offered no explanation—I found on him a steamboat ticket and a railway ticket for a short journey of that morning's issue—they had not been used—I caused to be fired a number of shots from this revolver with some of the cartridges out of this box and I stood by while they were fired—the exact measurements were taken from the muzzle of the revolver to the surface of the paper and each paper is marked
with the distance upon it—there are a few shots of powder on the paper at each distance until you get to 60 inches.
Cross-examined. I examined all the prisoner's effects—I found a small diary amongst his books and papers—I think I went through it—I did not find stated in it words to the effect that he was going to take his own life.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that he was a Hungarian and travelled for a steel file company; that he had used Mr. Kennedy's office for about twelve months; that he there met Mrs. Franks about thirteen months ago and saw her almost every day; that a sincere attachment sprang up between them; that in June he had an engagement with a Mr. Myer to travel in Europe; that he returned about eighteen days before September 6th, and went to Imperial Buildings and saw Mrs. Franks; that while he was away his business had not succeeded and it pressed very much on his mind; that on September 6th he went to Gamage's and purchased a revolver, as he wanted to commit suicide owing to his business failure and as he regarded his whole life as a perfect failure; that he had often asked Mrs. Franks on other occasions to go away with him, but that she refused, and more often than not laughed at his suggestion of putting an end to his life, and even on September 6 th said, "Tut, tut"; that he asked her that morning to go away with him, and that if she had gone he would not have attempted to commit suicide; that when he had that conversation with Mrs. Franks the revolver was in his righthand coat pocket, not in its case; that he had loaded it in a lavatory opposite Ludgate Circus before he went into the office; that when Mrs. Franks said she would not go away with him he was looking other; that he told her it was the last time he would ever see her; that he putted out the revolver; that he was trembling and shaking all over; that she was turning towards the door and rising up from the box; that no sooner had he pulled the revolver out than it went off; that he was terrified and ran towards the door; that he ran after her; that when he saw her bleeding and heard her shrieks he could not stop longer in the place, and rushed out; that he had not pointed the revolver in her direction, as he was too fond of her to do so; that when he bought it and went to Imperial Buildings he had no intention of injuring her; that when he rushed out he only remembered being at the corner of Queen Victoria Street, by Blackfriars Bridge. In cross-examination he said that when he asked Vetch to ask Schwartz if he had been with Mrs. Franks he meant that she was in the habit of flirting, but that he made no special point of it; that the had been in the habit of having connection with him (the prisoner) from time to time, but that he did not mean Vetch to ask Schwartz if he had had connection with her; that he went into the office after loading the revolver, as he wanted to see Mrs. Franks once more, and as he was a bit sentimental he wanted to commit suicide in her presence; that on September 6th he paid two visits to Mrs. Franks, as he went out to get her a glass of beer; that when Schwartz went out to luncheon he (the prisoner) was facing Mrs. Franks in the large office, he being by one of the desks and facing the packing case; that after the shooting he did not go home, partly because he was afraid the police would come and ask him questions, and he wanted a few hours to think the matter over; that he knew he was suspected, although this was a pure
accident; that he spent the night at Horrex's Hotel and next morning walked up and down the Embankment, and then took a London County Council boat; and that he gave himself up, as he was then prepared to meet justice, as nobody would believe his story if Mrs. Franks was not alive.
GUILTY . He received a good character. Five years' penal servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, October 20th, 1905.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
MAUD PYKE . I am an assistant in a confectioner's shop at 341, Harrow Road—on Monday, September 18th, about 8 o'clock, I served the prisoner with a pennyworth of sweets—she asked if I could give her change for half a sovereign—I looked at it when she gave it to me, and gave her the sweets—this is the coin she put on the counter—it is marked 1903—when I looked at it I found it was a gilded farthing—it was put head up, but "Farthing" is marked on the other side—I told her it was a gilded farthing—she said she was very sorry; she would hurry back to her landlord, who had given it to her in change, with stamps—she gave me 6d.—I gave her 5d., and let her take away the sweets, and the gilded farthing—I spoke to someone about it, and was asked to go to the police station on the following Monday, and there I picked out the same woman from a number of others—I read a report in the newspaper, in consequence of which I made a communication to the police—I have no doubt the prisoner is the woman.
ETHEL BLACKABY . I am an assistant in the shop and a clerk at the Post Office, at 438, Harrow Road—on Tuesday, September 19th, about 9.15 a.m., I was serving a child at the counter, when the prisoner came in hurriedly and asked twice for a 10s. postal order—I left off serving the child with stamps to attend to the prisoner—she pushed this coin across the counter, snatched the order from me, and ran out of the shop, having put what was apparently a half-sovereign on the top of a penny—I turned it over, and saw it was a farthing—I called the manager, who went out with me, but we could see hardly anybody in the street—after waiting we saw the prisoner run out of a gateway about 20 yards away—I pointed her out to the manager, and went back to look after the shop—he brought her back to the shop, and I said to her, "This is what you gave me for half a sovereign"—she said, "I do not care; I got it from a Post Office"—a constable was called, and she was given into custody.
CHARLES ATTWOOD (177 H.) About 9.15 a.m. on Tuesday, September 19th, I was called to this Post Office in the Harrow Road, where I saw the prisoner with this gilded farthing in her hand—I asked her if she had heard what the prosecutor had said, and how she came by the coin—she said she thought it was a good one—I took her to the station, where she was formally charged—she made no answer.
THOMAS HUTT (Detective X.) I was at the police station at Westbourne Park when the prisoner told me she had obtained this coin in change for a sovereign at the Royal Oak public-house, Porchester Road, on the night previous, about 9 o'clock.
The prisoner, in her defence on oath, said that she obtained the coin at the Royal Oak in change for a sovereign; that she had to recollect where she got it, but that she did not know it was bad; and that she had not been into the other shop at all.
GUILTY . Six months' hard labour.
MR. JENKINS Prosecuted.
HORTENSE LAVENER . I am French, but I understand English—I live at "The Rookery," Barking, and am a lady's maid—I have an account at the Post Office—this is the book—on August 12th I withdrew £1 at the Church Road, Willesden, Post Office—I signed a demand note, and left it with the Post Office clerk, with the book and an envelope, which is lost, but which was addressed to 4, Church Villas, Church Road, Willesden, where I was lodging—I have not seen the envelope again—I left it so addressed in order that the book when it had been to the head office might be returned to that address—the prisoner lodged in the same home at 4, Church Villas—I did not receive the book, and I gave my new address, 2, George Street, Portman Square, London, W., to the landlady with some instructions—on August 23rd I received the book in this envelope—I looked at it and found there had been a withdrawal of £4 on August 19th—I did not make that withdrawal nor authorise anyone to make it—this demand note and receipt (Produced) are not in my writing—I have not received that money, nor any put of it—the signature at the bottom of this book is mine—the one at the top is not mine.
GEORG SHUTTER . I am the wife of Robert Shutter, of 4, Church Villas, Church Road, Willesden—the last witness lodged with me for about a week—she left on August 15th—the prisoner lodged with me for about six weeks—she left on August 21st—I received this deposit book on the Wednesday in the week the prisoner left—on August 19th she owed me 16s. 9d. for board and lodging—I had to ask her for it twice in that week—I asked her first in the middle of the week, when she said she would write to her mother-in-law for it and that she would pay me—on August 19th she said she had got to so out—she went out about 10 and paid me about 11.30, when she came back—on August 21st she left the house, saying she was going to Bournemouth—this envelope arrived on Wednesday, August 23rd, and I addressed it in accordance with Miss Lavener's instructions to the address she had given in Portman Square—I have seen the prisoner write—these three letters produced are in her writing—the wrote them for me at my request.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I was ill the week Miss Lavener left—I cannot recollect your asking me to re-direct a letter, and the
boy posting it—you came to me on a Sunday—I did not ask you to keep the money you owed me, and pay it in a lump—on the Saturday, when you came in late, you told me you were going away by the 12 train in the morning, then you said the trains did not run right, and you went on the Monday.
HARRIET ELIZABETH SMITH . I am assistant to the postmistress at 58, High Street, Willesden—on August 19th, some time in the morning, the prisoner came in and asked for £5 out of her Post Office savings by telegram—I told her she could not have £5 out by telegram there—I paid her £1 on demand and she took the telegram out for the £4—looking at this book, which she produced, I noticed there was no signature in the proper place—there was a signature in the wrong place, which I did not see till afterwards—I asked her if it was her book—she said "Yes," and I told her she had better sign her name in the book—then I asked her how it was the writing was different from the writing at the bottom—she said she had asked somebody in the same house to write the name at the bottom, as her writing was not good enough—I told her to come back in about an hour's time, and I sent a telegraph boy off for the £4—I next saw her at Willesden police station about a month afterwards, and identified her from about ten women as the person who called on the morning of August 19th—I saw her write two forms: the demand note, and the receipt.
ANNIE CLARE SMITH . I am assistant postmistress at 58, High Street, Willesden—on August 19th, in the afternoon, the prisoner came in and said she wanted £4, as she had sent off in the morning a notice of withdrawal by telegram—I took the book out of the drawer, with the demand note, which was already made out, and she signed this receipt for £4—I put them back in the drawer ready for forwarding to the Head Office, in the ordinary course, which is to send up the book the next day, after which the book goes to the depositor at the address given—I next saw the prisoner at Willesden Police Court when I gave evidence before the Magistrate, and picked her out from eleven or twelve women.
EDWARD WHITE BRUCE . I am a clerk in the Secretary's Office of the General Post Office—I have had considerable experience in the examination and comparison of handwriting—looking at the exhibits produced, including the Post Office Savings Bank Book, the signature, the letters, the demand note, and the receipt, I say they are the prisoner's writing, and are similar to the three letters in her admitted handwriting.
Cross-examined. [In reply to the prisoner's question, "How do you know?" the witness pointed out the similarities, which included the capital "W" in "Willesden," the capital "H" in "Hortense," the capital "S" in "Street" and "Sinclair" the figures "4" in one letter, and in the demand note, and the capital V's]—to the best of my belief they are the same writing.
DENIS SPENCER (Detective-Sergeant X.R.) About 7 p.m. on September 8th I saw the prisoner at the corner of Brook Street, Kennington Road, in company with a man—I said to her, "I am a police officer; your name is Howell, I believe?"—she said "Yes"—I told her she
answered the description of ft woman wanted for forging a £1 postal order, and a telegram for £4—shhe said, "I was living there at the time." and on the way to the station she said, "Can I have bail?"—I had not then mentioned the address, nor even the Post Office—I was present at the identification—Smith said, "This is the woman, I think, but I would not like to swear to her"—then she said, "To the best of my belief that is the woman," and touched her—both witnesses picked out the same woman from about ten others.
Cross-examined. You asked where I was going to take you, and I said to Willesden police station, but you had made the remark about living there at the time previous to that—I told you you would have to come with me at once, as we could not waste time—your principal concern seemed to be about bail.
Re-examined. I had no warrant.
GUILTY . Twelve months' hard labour.
MR. WING Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CADIGAN . I am a ship's fireman, and live at 34, North Road, Poplar—on September 28th, about 11.30 p.m., I was in Limehouse—I had been drinking and was the worse for drink—I met three or four people, and went with them into a house, which I believe was a lodging house—when I got into a room they knocked me about, and hit me in every direction—they took what I had off me, and I do not remember any more—I had about 30s.—I remember they knocked me down and put their hands into my pockets—when I became conscious I found myself lying in the street—I saw a woman standing at the window when I went in, whom I now know to be the keeper of the lodging house—when I was able to get up out of the gutter I went to the police station, where a doctor attended me—I was "cut up" and my face was badly cut—the doctor put plaster on my bad places.
Cross-examined by Hawkins. I am not sure, but to the best of my belief you took me into the lodging house—I met you in the street, and you went in with me—I could not tell the others.
ANNIE BALL . I am the wife of James Ball, and keep the lodging house at 22, St. Ann's Street, Limehouse—Hawkins lodged with me for about a fortnight, about a month or three weeks ago—he lodged with me the night before the robbery took place—Lawless had lodged with me for about six weeks, and was still lodging with me on September 28th—about 11.20 p.m. I heard rather a commotion at the door, and looked out—I saw some men coming in—Hawkins came in first—he opened the door, and I saw three or four men dragging the prosecutor in—they opened the kitchen door—Hawkins and Lawless were two of the men—I saw them enter the kitchen—I could not see what happened there; the door was shut—they pushed the door open, and the prosecutor was brought out bodily, and they laid him across the pavement, his feet being on my step, and his head in the gutter—Hawkins
ran away—I saw that Lawless's mouth was bleeding—I opened my room door, and came out, and when I saw Lawless bleeding I said, "My God! what have you done to the man?"—Lawless said, "Look what he has done to me"—Lawless lifted the man from the pavement, and carried him across the street; then he ran away—I next saw Hawkins at the Police Court—the prosecutor showed signs of having been hurt on the nose, and his eyes were black—Lawless's mouth was bleeding a little.
HENRY KAMPKIN (Detective K.) On October 4th I saw the prisoners in the Commercial Road in company with some more men about 11.30—when they saw me, Brown, and another officer approach, Hawkins ran behind a van—I met him on the other side, and said, "I am going to arrest you on suspicion of robbing a man at St. Ann's lodging house on the 28th of last month"—he said, "I was never in St. Ann's lodging house in my life"—he was identified by Mrs. Ball from amongst others—I saw Lawless between 12 and 1 the same day in Dock Street, Stepney, in company with two other men—he ran down a little street and went through some houses, and I lost him, but I saw him later, and another officer arrested him.
WILLIAM BROWN (Sergeant K.) On October 4th, about 11.30 a.m., I saw the prisoners outside the Star of the East public-house—when I went towards them Hawkins separated, and Lawless ran away—I went after and arrested Hawkins—the same day about mid-day I went to Beccles Street, Stepney, and saw Lawless with two or three other men—he went through some houses, and I did not see him again till October 7th at a coffee house in the Mile End Road—I said, "Lawless, I want you"—he said, "What is it for, a pull?"—that means snatching—"let me finish my breakfast"—he finished, and I took him outside, out him into a cab, and then told him I was arresting him on suspicion, with Hawkins, who was in custody, of assaulting and robbing a man on the 28th of the previous month—I took him to Lime Street police station, where he was identified later by Ball from amongst others—when he was charged he said, "All right.
Hawkins, in his defence, said that these sea-faring men come ashore, mix with prostitutes, and get the worse for liquor, and then they are robbed; that they become quarrelsome, get a punch in the nose and go off to the police station and report that they have been knocked about and robbed; and in this case he got the blame, but he was innocent, and had no need to rob, as he had a good character; that he belonged to the Royal Naval Reserve, and produced good discharges.
Lawless, in his defence, said that he was sitting in the lodging house when he heard a disturbance, and he and Hawkins jumped up, and a man's elbow caught him in the nose; that Hawkins helped him to bathe it, but the landlady would not answer him when he asked for a bed, so he walked up the street, but he did not know the prosecutor till he was in the police station, when he was accused of robbing him; and that there were thirty men in the kitchen at the time.
GUILTY . Lawless then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in June, 1902, in the name of Edward Jones. Two other convictions were proved against him and it was stated that he was a dangerous man, and
an associate of bad characters, who used prostitutes to decoy seamen and rob them. There were four convictions against Hawkins, and he was also shown to be an associate of bad characters; his later record at sea had been bad, but he had destroyed his later discharges. Five years' penal servitude each.
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, October 20th, 1905.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
761. ARTHUR FRANCIS HOBBS , Unlawfully, wilfully and with intent to defraud, omitting material particulars from a book belonging to James McCombie, his employer. Other counts. Making false entries in documents belonging to his employer.
MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted; MR. J. P. FRAIN Defended.
ERNEST LIDSTONE . I am a clerk at 4, Jewry Street, Aldgate—I ordered goods of Messrs. Johnston & Laird,.37, Fenchurch Street, to the value of £1 17s. 6d.—I paid on the order a deposit of 10s.—on June 23rd I paid the balance of £1 7s. 6d. to the prisoner—he gave me this receipt.
WILLIAM BENNETT . I am a clerk at 19, St. Dunstan's Place—I ordered goods from Johnston & Laird in May, 1906—I paid a deposit of 10s. a week and paid 5s. a week up to June 24th to the prisoner—he gave me this receipt.
JOHN NICHOLL COOK . I am an engineer at 64, Mark Lane—I ordered goods from Johnston & Laird, 37, Fenchurch Street, for £4 2s. 6d.—I paid that account on July 4th to the prisoner—he gave me this receipt.
ALFRED BATES . I am a clerk at 22, Virginia Road, Bethnal Green—I ordered clothing from Johnston & Laird in June last for £2 5s., which I paid to the prisoner—he gave me a receipt—it was paid by cash.
FREDERICK GEORGE PAINTER . I am a chartered accountant at 19, Coleman Street—the prosecutor and the prisoner both attended before me with the prosecutor's books upon, I think, four occasions—the prisoner pointed out to me accounts which have been paid, and which he had not accounted for—the total sum which he admitted had been paid and not accounted for by him was £111 16s.—he admitted that wages had been drawn by him to the amount of £24 6s. 3d. in respect to what have been described as bogus orders—I went into the question of the bogus orders and the prosecutor and the prisoner agreed that £97 11s. was the amount of the fictitious orders—upon that state of the account it would show that the prosecutor had lost £38 11s. 3d.—there was a claim made by the prisoner that there was a further sum of £53 11s. 6d. of bogus orders, which claim the prosecutor refused to admit—if that had been admitted it would have shown he had paid money out of his own pocket to the employer—upon the state of accounts set up by the prisoner he has overpaid the prosecutor £15 0s. 3d.
Cross-examined. I have had considerable experience as an accountant—I knew that some charge was pending at the Mansion House—I was
selected by the Alderman who heard the case to go in the ordinary way into the accounts between the prosecutor and the prisoner—there was a solicitor on both sides present—I treated it as if it were an ordinary commercial dispute between two merchants—the prosecutor attended as a sort of plaintiff, and the prisoner as a defendant—the witnesses were not sworn—there was evidence on both sides—having got the figures and the statement of each party, I drew my deductions in figures—I was called as a witness for the prosecution at the Mansion House.
Re-examined. There are two wars, no doubt, of arriving at the balance due to the prosecutor of £38 11s. 3d.—I think the result is the same.
JAMES MCCOMBIE . I am a tailor, trading as Johnston & Laird at 37, Fenchurch Street—the prisoner has been about four years in my service at various branches—in September, 1904, I appointed him manager of the 37, Fenchurch Street, branch—it was his duty to keep the Cash Book and to enter in it the amounts received from customers, and to send me a daily sheet containing various matters, and amongst them orders received from customers—on looking at the Cash Book I find on June 23rd, 1905, that there is no entry of £1 7s. 6d. paid by Mr. Lidstone—the prisoner has never accounted to me for that money—on July 7th there is no entry of £7 3s. paid by Mr. Sawyer—the prisoner has never accounted for that—on July 4th there is no entry of £4 2s. 6d. paid by Mr. Cook—the prisoner has never accounted for that—I have searched the Cash Book and do not find anywhere the name of Alfred Bates—the prisoner has never accounted to me for £2 5s. paid by Mr. Bates in June—I find an entry of 5s. received on June 3rd from Mr. Bennett, but no entry of the balance of £1 7s. 6d. received—the prisoner has never accounted to me for that money—on looking at the daily sheet for June 23rd, which is in the prisoner's writing I find no entry of £1 7s. 6d. paid by Mr. Lidstone—I find no entry in the sheet of July 6th of £4 2s. 6d. paid by Mr. Cook, no entry in the sheet of July 7th of £7 3s. 6d. paid by Mr. Sawyer—it was the prisoner's duty to enter all payment upon these sheets—there is no entry in the daily sheets of £1 7s. 6d. paid by Mr. Bennett on June 24th—there is no entry in the sheets of the name of Bates nor of the moneys paid by Bennett—in sending in the sheets it was the prisoner's duty to send in the cash as well, also to send in a statement of the amount required for tailors' wages required from time to time—on looking at the sheet for April 10th, 1905, there is an order on it, No. 3056, and against that is 11s. 6d. wages required—on June 17th there is a statement upon the sheet of wages required to pay on order, 3718, of 9s. 6d.—in those cases and in other cases where tailors' wages were called for, I sent the money to pay them—I had stock taken on the last day of July, and a few days afterwards found a state of things which called for inquiry—I found, for instance, a number of persons to whom credit had been given, who had no addresses in the book, and that there was a good deal of money outstanding apparently due from customers—I asked the prisoner to explain—on August 12th he showed me a book called the Outstanding Debt Book—my business is a cash one and there should be on the premises goods representing the orders which have not been paid for and not delivered—
I took the Outstanding Debt Book and went through it item by item with him—I asked him to account for so many outstanding debts, and he said he had put through false orders—to prove that, I went to the Tailors' Wages Book, expecting to find them not paid for, but I found they were paid—he said, "I drew the tailors' money only to help to pay these false orders"—I asked him to give me a list of what he said were false orders, which he did—he also gave me a list of the customers' payments—it shows a total of £98 2s. 6d.—underneath is written, "To the best of my knowledge the above is an accurate record of the customers that have paid me for goods supplied by Johnston & Laird"—I do not know what the object was of sending bogus orders—he could only receive the tailors' wages on them—it would make the business appear bigger than it actually was—Bennett's order was claimed by the prisoner as a bogus one—Gurney was another—Vernon is another—they are both here as witnesses—Redgrove is another—he is in Court; also Turner—the goods have gone out in respect of £53—I have suffered a loss in consequence of the prisoner's conduct.
Cross-examined. I have ten tailors' establishments, of which I am the sole proprietor—eight are earned on in the name of McCombie—I trade in Kilburn in the name of Bradshaw—I am finishing nine months of a lease under that name—my name there of McCombie was taken down, and then I found I had to go on and put up the name of Bradshaw—I have another shop in Fenchurch Street in my own name—it is very near the other one, which is in the name of Johnston & Laird—it is not quite the same class of business—I did not want the books at No. 37 to show as much turnover as possible—I can see no benefit to the prisoner from the bogus orders—I have never had a dispute with a fellow tradesman referred to arbitration—I should think my solicitors had the result of Mr. Painter's investigation—the prisoner was originally charged with embezzlement, but was not committed on that—the indictment here has to do with my counsel—I am the prosecutor and responsible for the prisoner's arrest—I dispute the bogus orders—I do not dispute Mr. Painter's figures.
Re-examined. As to the £53, the goods have gone out of my establishment in respect of it—I know that the £97 claimed as bogus orders was not, in fact, bogus orders—I have never been convicted of burglary or any other offence—I am the unfortunate person who is an employer—my lease at Kilburn had expired and everything was taken down, including the name; I then found I had to go on because I could not get a tenant oft the premises, and so continued the business for a short period under another name to cover my loss—the matter when at the Mansion House Police Court was in counsel's hands.
WILLIAM NEWELL (Detective-Sergeant, City). I arrested the prisoner on September 14th at Yukon Road, Balham—I showed him a receipt for £4 2s. 6d. and asked him if it was in his writing—he said, "Yes"—I told him he would be charged with stealing and embezzling that amount—he said, "I have received the money, but I explained all that to Mr. McCombie"—when charged he made no reply.
Cross-examined. I had no difficulty in finding him.
GUILTY . He was given a good character. The Jury added, "We think that the Prosecution is somewhat to blame in allowing books to be kept in such a dilapidated condition." Judgment respited.
NEW COURT.—Friday and Saturday, October 20th and 21st, 1905.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HEMMERDE Prosecuted; MR. HOLLWAY Defended.
LEANDER PORRO . I am a dentist and manufacturer at 33, New Cavendish Street, W., and have been a customer to Dr. Bengue & Co., who supply anaesthetics—in March, 1902, I received an account, I think, from the prisoner which I paid by this cheque payable to him on May 9th (Ex. R) for £6 2s. 8d., and this is the account receipted by him (Produced)—I received another invoice on July 31st, 1902 (Produced) which I paid by this cheque for £3 9e. 4d., made payable to him, dated September 2nd, 1902 (Produced) on the London City & Midland Bank—I believe we made the cheques payable to him to his order at his request—there was a third invoice for £9 10s., dated December 31st, 1902, which I paid by this cheque (Ex. M), dated January 2nd, 1903, made payable to him as before—it was receipted by him on July 1st, 1903—there is an invoice for £13, which I paid by a cheque, which I have not got—it is receipted by the prisoner on July 18th—I do not remember seeing him after I settled the account of July—the invoices would not necessarily go through my hands.
FRDERICK CHARLES TUCKER . I live at 16, Poland Street, W., and am the manager of the American Dental Manufacturing Company of that Address, who are customers of Dr. Bengue & Co.—on April 30th, 1902, we received an invoice from them for £9 9s., which we paid for by this cheque, dated May 23rd (Produced), made payable to the prisoner, and the invoice is receipted by him (Ex. O)—the next we received was an invoice for £12 13s. 11d. on July 30th, 1902, which was paid by the firm's cheque, dated September 2nd, 1902 (Produced), made payable to the prisoner—the invoice is receipted by him (Ex. P)—an invoice for £5 8s. on August 31st, 1902, was paid by a cheque of our firm dated September 25th, made payable to the prisoner, and the invoice is receipted by him (Ex. Q)—on October 31st, 1902, an account for £7 7s. 10d. was paid by a cheque of our firm, made payable to the prisoner, and the invoice is receipted by him (Ex. R)—an invoice for £110s. 1d., dated December 31st, 1902, was paid by a cheque of our firm for £11 on January 7th, 1903, and the invoice is receipted by him (Ex. S)—subsequent to that I did not see him with reference to those accounts to my recollection, nor did I hear from him—in payment of subsequent accounts on May 8th, 1903, I sent a cheque for £12 3s. 11d. made payable to Dr. Bengue & Co., the invoice being dated March 1st—I paid a cheque for £13 17s., made payable to Dr. Bengue & Co. on May 21st for the account ending April 31st—both those
accounts are receipted by the prisoner—on July 20th a cheque for £17 5s. was paid, made payable to Dr. Bengue & Co., settling the account to the end of June—a month or two after I came into the business cheques were made payable to "Dr. Bengue & Co."—they supplied us with anesthetics—after June, 1903, we did not get an account until the middle of 1904—the last three cheques were made payable at the Societe Generale—we asked the prisoner verbally for accounts after June, 1903, but we did not get any till 1904.
MATIN EDWARD SHUFFLE . I am a clerk in the employ of the London City & Midland Bank, of 237, Tottenham Court Road, in which there is an account in the name of Bengue & Co., and also one in the name of the prisoner—I produce a certified copy of an entry in our books relating to the prisoner's account (Ex. U) and of Dr. Bengue's account, and of the waste and counter cash book entries relating to the account U—I produce a list of nine cheques (Ex. V) paid into the prisoner's account to January 18th, 1903—they are endorsed by him, and have been credited to his account—he has drawn against them, and his account is now overdrawn.
By the COURT. They were made payable to his own order.
Cross-examined. Dr. Bengue's account was low sometimes; on May 20th the balance was £3 8s. 2d.; on June 30th, 10s. 2d.; on September 25th, 1902, 13s. 3d.; on November 15th, £2 5s. 9d.; on February 10th, 1904, the account was not overdrawn; there was a balance of £23 1s.—on February 9th there was not sufficient money to meet a cheque for £18 odd, so we sent a memorandum to Dr. Bengue—he provided for it, and the cheque was honoured.
Re-examined. Dr. Bengue's account was generally depleted towards the end of the month, but it was kept alive by a monthly payment in of £100, which was more or less regular.
ROY PEKINS . I am a clerk to the Societe Generate, who carry on business at 53, Old Broad Street, E.C—I produce copies of entries of an account in the name of Dr. Bengue for the years 1901-2-3-4 (Ex. W) and the bank pass books and paid cheques—there were a number of cheques drawn payable to the London City & Midland Bank, for £100 and £200, of which I produce a list—as far as I know, that account was always in funds.
JULES BENGUE (Interpreted). I am a manufacturing chemist and carry on business in London at 91, Great Titchfield Street, W., under the style of "Dr. Bengue & Co." and in Paris as "Dr. Bengue"—the prisoner was formerly in my employ as manager of the London office, which was for the sale of my special goods—this is a contract I entered into with him dated May 16th, 1901 (Ex. A. translation read, in which it was agreed that the prisoner should manage Dr. Bengue's business in the United Kingdom under his (Dr. Bengue's) control and direction, subject to conditions: Art 1: Rent, publicity and all such expenses to be paid by Dr. Bengue; that all banking accounts shall be in Dr. Bengue's name, the prisoner acting as his attorney; that the prisoner should send monthly accounts of sales and returns, and a stock account. Art. 2: That Dr. Bengue should restrict or suppress, if he chose, his business in the United Kingdom without the prisoner
being able to claim any indemnity, but that three months' notice should be given and trifle salary for last month; that the prisoner should be prohibited from occupying himself in any other business than that of Dr. Bengue's, unless authority were given by Dr. Bengue, when in such case the profits should be equally divided; that when he ceased his functions he should be prohibited from occupying himself in similar businesses throughout the United Kingdom; that the prisoner should receive a salary and 2 1/2 per cent on the sales. Art. 5. That the contract was to run from January 1st)—I opened a banking account at the Societe Generale for the purpose of receiving all the cheques, money, and postal orders, and gave the prisoner formal instructions to pay all such moneys into that account—I also opened an account at the London City & Midland Bank—I wrote to the prisoner on January 29th, 1902, with reference to that account (Ex. G read: Stating that he (Dr. Bengue) had opened an account at the London City & Midland Bank, in which he would always leave £100, from which the prisoner could pay all expenses of the office without delay; and that he made it an absolute rule that the prisoner was to pay in all cheques and postal orders received into the account opened at the Societe Generale)—I again wrote to him on February 1st, 1902 (Ex. G read: Stating that he again repeated his 'demand that the prisoner should send him an account of the expenses; that henceforward the cashier should send him that account of receipts and expenses since he (the prisoner) would not do it; and that he made it a cause of instant dismissal if all cheques and postal orders were not remitted to the Societe Generale.)—I paid in money to the London City & Midland Bank account to pay all the expenses, and no one had a right to pay anything into that account—I find on looking at my pass book for 1904 that certain cheques were paid in; I always paid in by £100 or £200 cheques—Porro and the American Dental Company are customers of mine—when I came to London in May, 1904, with my nephew Frederick, I found that some invoices of 1902 and 1903 to those customers had not been paid—on drawing the prisoner's attention to it he said that these two firms were rather hard up, and were not paying their bills very easily—I wrote to them and received replies—I received a letter from the prisoner dated June 28th (Ex. B, Extract read): "I have taken the invoices to the American Dental and Porro to-day. I am going again to-morrow for payment"—the replies I received from these two firms I sent to my nephew in London—I did not receive from the prisoner any moneys whatever, except those that he paid into the Society Generale—he had no authority to pay customers' cheques direct in payment of accounts that we owed; I do not know if it was done previously to 1902—on June 27th, 1904, received this telegram from the prisoner (Translated),. "Send funds bank, urgent," and I sent this cheque to the bank (Produced)—on July 1st the prisoner left my service, saying that he was going to his home in France to arrange some matters because his father was dead—on his not returning on July 31st I went to Ribemont to his parent's house—when he saw me he went as pale as the dead—he did not let me go anywhere near his parents; he took me out somewhere where his conversation would not be heard by them—I reproached him that the cheques of
Porro and the American Dental Company had not been paid to me—he said that those cheques had been paid into the Societe Generale—I said, "I am going to examine the books," and he said, "I am innocent, and I am coming back to London to exculpate myself"—I said, "I shall be very happy if you can prove your innocence"—I did not know then that those cheques had been paid into his own private account—I have not said anything about this conversation before, because I have not been asked—I then wrote to my nephew [MR. HOLOWAY objected to the letter being read, and it was excluded]—I subsequently instructed my nephew to take criminal proceedings against the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I am the prosecutor in this case—at the last Sessions in this Court the Jury disagreed as to this case—the only reason why I prosecute the prisoner is because he owes me some money—the prisoner is only a student in chemistry; I do not know that he is clever in his business—he has invented an inhaler—he and I were not in partnership as regards the inhalers—he printed those books (Produced), "Published by Dr. Bengue and J. Lobjois, Paris and London," without letting me know, and without my authority—I paid for them—he sold the inhalers and I got the money—we did not do a large business in his inhalers—Coxiter made them; if it is said that £1,394 was paid for them, it is so—I supplied the money to make them, and allowed him 2 1/2 per cent, on those that were sold, as well as on the general takings of the business—on the business of the inhalers we lost £60 according to the auditor—eighteen inhalers were sold—I was not afraid of his setting up in business against me—I am not prosecuting him because I am afraid he will—I wrote to my nephew on July 7th, 1904 [Ex. C, translation read: Stating that he (Dr. Bengue) estimated the prisoner's thefts to be pretty high; that he had no right to cash the cheques, but should have paid them into the Societe Generale, and drawn money for business purposes from the London City & Midland that on writing up the books they would be able to ascertain a good many things; that for fear of being arrested possibly the prisoner had not returned to London, and, "Do not do any filling up work before Lobjois, if by chance he returns. The fear of seeing him set up in business against me made me delay matters, but I think we hold him well, and we shall not have any fear on this point")—I never feared his setting up in business against me, but I thought he might do it—I wrote to my nephew in London on July 9th to inform the police of the prisoner's disappearance, because I did not know where he was—I thought he would seek to set up in business against me, although it is against our contract—I was expecting him to come back to London—it is true that I wrote to my nephew, "It will, therefore, be necessary to get him convicted, and pursue him like a red hot bullet"—we found out some more embezzlement, and I thought we ought to prosecute him—I wrote to the prisoner on January 29th, 1902, that I would always keep £100 in the London City & Midland Bank to pay the expenses with—I did not know what was going on in the bank, so I did not know what the state of my account was—no sooner did he ask for money than he always got it—at the last trial I said I always put sufficient money in the bank to pay the expenses; the prisoner always let me know
when he was short of cash—as soon as one £100 was exhausted he wrote me and I paid in another, but untill he communicated with me I did not send it—the arrangement was not that I should pay in £100 on the 1st of each month—every end of the month the prisoner wrote to me saying that the bank was short of money—it is possible that he wrote to me in Monte Carlo for money—I do not know that it was in May, nor do I remember my reply—it was in March—to furnish the petty cash with money by using customers' cheques, postal orders and stamps was absolutely prohibited, and I know nothing about it being done—there was enough money supplied to him to pay all the expenses—I never knew that before 1902 he was so using cheques and postal orders—about the end of 1902 some cheques were paid into the London City & Midland Bank against my orders—I know that my account at that bank on September 25th, 1902, was 13s. 3d., and it is possible that I left the prisoner to carry on the business with that sum for a month—if he had written to me for some more I should have sent it—the prisoner had to pay duty on things I sent from France on June 2nd—I know I have paid him more money than was required—he did not tell me that he had used the four cheques amounting to £32 2s. received from Porro, and three cheques amounting to £27 10s. 11d. from the American Dental Company in the business, nor that it was Miss Stamp's fault if they had not been entered properly—Miss Stamp is my book-keeper—she told me that she never received any of those cheques—she will be able to explain the entries in this ledger made by her, which show that those accounts have been paid; it was made in August, after the prisoner fled the country—the prisoner said at the end of June that he was going to France for eight days—I knew he had inherited money and I wrote to my nephew, "Lobjois has inherited, and probably I shall be able to get paid in that way"—he should have returned before the end of July—when I wrote that letter I did not know for sure where he was, so I went to Ribemont to see if he really was there—he was there with his grandmother.
Re-examined. I had accounts from him like this one (Produced) irregularly, and they would state what I had in the bank—this account in his writing shows in August, 1902, a sum of £290 10e. 5d. in arrear.
FANNY NAOMI STAMP . I am a book-keeper employed by Dr. Bengue & Co. at 91, Great Titchfield Street—this account of 1902 is made up from the ledger—I posted the ledger from the day book which I kept—after the prisoner had opened the letters he would hand me the cheques, and I would enter them into the receipts book, and afterwards into the ledger—in this account of August, 1902, the amount owing by the American Dental Company is £22 12s. 10 1/2 d.—that entry I would make from the ledger, which shows that that company owed that amount at the end of July—had I had the cheque I would have entered it in the receipts book, but there is no entry of such cheque in that book, so from that fact and looking at the ledger and this account, which shows that amount outstanding, I can say that no such cheque was handed to me—that amount of £22 12s. 10 1/2 d. is made up of the following invoices: April, £9 18s. 11 1/2 d.; May, £2 17s. 7d.; June, £2 8s. 4d.; and July, £7 8s.—
I did not receive any of those cheques from the prisoner—on looking at the ledger, folio 196, I see Porro's cheques £62 8s. and £3 9s. 4d., and the American Dental's cheques, £9 10s., being the cheque for £9 18s. 11 1/2 d., less discount, and £13 are entered by me as having bee a received by the prisoner—that was done by Mr. Frederick Bengue's instructions in July, after the prisoner had gone—the prisoner did all the paying in and only did the entering when I was away, but when I was there I was the proper person to enter the receipt of the cheques—on my return from my holidays in July, 1903, I found in Porro's account in the receipts book, an entry, in the prisoner's writing, of a receipt from Porro of £27 6s. 3d.—I could scarcely mike the figures out because they had been altered again and again—I was never handed a cheque to correspond with that amount—I crossed the entry out—I had no conversation with the prisoner about it—I once found an account in the prisoner's writing to the American Dental Company for one month when I had already made out one and given it to him, which proved that mine had been torn up—I thought from that that the account had been paid by the American Dental Company—I was in the habit of sending out accounts, and made out accounts to the American Dental Company and Porro, but the prisoner would not let me post them, but always delivered them himself—this paying-in slip (Produced) is in his writing and shows a payment in of £12 10s. 11d.—there is no entry of any cheque for £12 13s. 11d. being received from the American Dental Company on May 8th, 1903—I produce other paying-in slips to show some amounts had been paid into the Societe Generate without corresponding entries in the receipts book—on returning from lunch one day in July, 1903, I found a slip of paper on my desk in the prisoner's hand-writing saying that the American Dental Company had settled their account up to the end of June—I saw no cheque of any sort, nor did he mention the matter further.
Cross-examined. The account I made out to the American Dental Company included the items prior to July, and I found an account in the prisoner's writing excluding those items—I ignored the slip of paper left on my desk and sent in an account for the full sum to July; I did not feel justified in entering a cheque unless I had seen it—I did not ask the prisoner for an explanation; I did not like to; I rather thought things were not going right in the office—I did not ask the prisoner anything about this entry that I had crossed out in the receipt book; I thought he would question me—the books were always open there for him to see—I am confident I never saw the American Dental cheques—I never had the bank book and I never saw the paying-in slips—the cheques received were actually handed to me on every occasion—I have known postal orders sent by customers to be cashed and used in the business in 1900 and 1901—it was not necessary to do so in 1902 because we usually had enough cash—when we did not have enough cash we had to make use of postal orders—I can find no entries of postal orders having been cashed—the prisoner cashed customers, cheques to use in the proceeds of the business, but not at the time we are speaking of—I can find no trace of a cheque or postal order having been so cashed in 1902—the money handed
to me by the prisoner was always put in the cash book—I hope I always did my duty—whether a cheque was used in the business or not, it was always entered in the receipt book—I know it was done at the commencement of the business—if there had been a cheque cashed and the proceeds given to me, I should have put it as cash received—on May 16th, 1902, the prisoner gave me £10, out of which I paid £6 2s. 8d. customs duties—on June 2nd, 1902, the prisoner handed me £1) 10s.—the customs duties, £9 10s. 6d., were paid on that date—I see that the petty cash book on September 11th, 1902, is not balanced, but it was impossible for me to keep a correct balance, for the prisoner would take sums from the cash box in 1902 and 1903 without informing me—he instructed me not to enter them—I see it is not balanced for seven weeks—I was not allowed to put the sums he took in the expenses, otherwise I could have balanced—I know something about the inhalers being there, and I was called on the last occasion to give evidence with reference to them—when I said last time that I had found four dozen had been bought I did not know you were referring to the four different patterns of inhalers; I was referring only to the glass inhaler—there might have been 100 dozen inhalers ordered altogether—when I answered you, I had only looked through the books for orders for the glass inhaler—I cannot tell you how many inhalers were sold.
Re-examined. On May 16th I paid the £6 2s. 8d. customs duties out of £10 the prisoner gave me—on looking at Dr. Bengue's pass book at the London City & Midland Bank I found that on May 16th the prisoner took from Dr. Bengue's account the £10 which he handed to me.
WILLIAM THORNTON . I am a member of the firm of Thornton, Wood & Co., of 17, Philpot Lane, and I have investigated the books of Dr. Bengue & Co. to discover the result of the trading in the prisoner's patent inhalers and the state of the account between Dr. Bengue & Co. and himself—I find that there has been no profit on the prisoner's three patent inhalers taken together—I am told there is a fourth inhaler to which there is no patent attached, and is sold by other chemists—one patent inhaler, with the glass bottle, is made in parts, and consequently it is impossible to say exactly how many were made—I find as regards the inhaler, which I will call No. 1, that 206 were purchased, and of the modification of that one, No. 2, eight were made—188 of the inhalers, No. 1, were sold, and of the No. 2 four were sold—I am told that the glass inhalers still in stock are worthless—on the three inhalers taken together there was a preliminary profit of £15 13s. 7d., but there were certain charges to come off which it is impossible to discover absolutely—there would be £7 10s. to come off, the prisoner's 2 1/2 per cent, commission—the amount of establishment charges of the carrying on the business I estimate at £25 8s.—there is nothing possibly that can come to the prisoner—I have all Coxiter's receipts here referring to inhalers—I cannot say what the amount paid to Coxiter for inhalers altogether is—I have examined the account between the prisoner and the prosecutor and find there is a balance of amounts overdrawn by the prisoner over amounts paid to petty cash,
salary and commission of £357 1s. 8d.—I find that he had overdrawn £26 17s. 8d. on June 1st, 1904; June 30th, £16 2s. 7d.; December 31st, £32 18s. 7d.; June 30th, 1903, £63 7s. 11d.; December 31st, £163 4s. 6d.; June 30th, 1904, £357 1s. 8d.—I have prepared a statement showing the amount banked from January, 1902, onward.
[The COURT. suggested that if MR. HEMMERDE were to go into the question of general deficiency, it might open a very wide enquiry which might confuse the Jury. MR. HEMMERDE decided to ask no further questions.]
Cross-examined. I have not taken any particular part of the glass inhaler and endeavoured to and how many were ordered—I found 149 of the bottle part had been ordered—the first Coxiter invoice for inhalers that I can find is dated December 3rd, 1902, for £2 9s—I have not one for December 18th, 21st, 28th, nor 30th, 1902—I have been through Coxiter's invoices in Titchfield Street not more than a fortnight ago and have selected all those that had reference to inhalers and I have brought them here—I have twenty-three connected with the glass inhaler, about thirty-six with the No. 1, and three with No. 2.
ELIAS SEXTON (Inspector, New Scotland Yard). At 6 a.m. on July 1st I received the prisoner from the captain of the steamship Brooklyn Castle, at Bristol, he having been sent on this charge under the Extradition Treaty from New York—I asked him his name and then told him who I was—I read the warrant to him and he replied, "Yes, sir, I know all about it"—I conveyed him to London, where he was formally charged at the Tottenham Court Road police station—when charged he made no reply.
Cross-examined. I was not surprised to hear him say that he knew all about it.
Re-examined. The reason for the delay in New York was that he did not want to come back and he was defended by counsel till the last.
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, said that owing to being nearly always kept short of funds he had to use cheques and postal orders of customers to pay the expenses, which not only consisted of expenses in the office but large amounts he incurred in travelling and pushing trade; that he did not on all occasions render accounts in which these expenses were detailed, but that he kept a special expense book in which he entered all sums spent on travelling, which book had been left in the office with the others; that he had always informed Miss Stamp when he had used cheques in that way, of which fact the prosecutor always knew; that the prosecutor's account of the conversation in Ribemont was absolutely false; that the prosecutor had endeavoured to ascertain how much money he had inherited; that he told him he was going to America; that he had never used any moneys received, for his own purposes, nor had he intercepted any letters nor taken books from the office prior to his arrest; that 3,000 of his inhalers had been ordered, and that he believed the prosecutor was in his debt.
GUILTY . Three months in the Second Division.
Before Mr. Justice Jelf.
old Court, October 18th, 1905.
763. THOMAS SHANNON (45) PLEADED GUILTY to committing an unnatural crime with James Fox, having been convicted of felony at Newington Sessions on February 13th, 1894. Ten other convictions were proved against him. Fifteen years, penal servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Third Court, October 17th, 1905.
MR. FITZGERALD Prosecuted.
(The evidence was interpreted when necessary.)
WILLIAM NELSON . I am a quartermaster on the steamship Manilla, at present lying in the Royal Albert Docks—on Sunday, September 24th, about 10 a.m., I was on duty in the gangway when I saw Yusuf Abdula, a fireman, going ashore with his stick, on to the wharf—the prisoner, a trimmer, went ashore with a stick in one hand and a naked sheath knife in the other, I think the left hand, with a yellow handkerchief thrown over the knife, but I could see the naked knife quite plainly—as soon as they reached the dock they rushed together and began to fight with their sticks—they made two or three attempts to throw each other on the ground—they left off and started again fighting with the sticks—I saw the prisoner use his knife—it was a rough and tumble fight—after they separated the prisoner came aboard—he had the same knife in his hand, still uncovered, and the stick as well—the prosecutor came aboard three or four minutes afterwards, bleeding from a large cut in his temple—he went to his quarters, and in about five or ten minutes came to the gangway and complained that he had been stabbed.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I saw nothing of what happened before you went ashore—I did not see you strike the prosecutor with the knife.
YUSUF ABDULA . I am a fireman on the steamship Manilla, lying in the Albert Docks—I knew the prisoner at Calcutta—he had a row with the cook; it was not my row, and I went to part them: to stop it—on Sunday, September 24th, about 10 a.m., I was going off the ship—the prisoner asked me to wait for him—he said, "Do you remember what you did in Calcutta?"—I said, "What do you want?"—he became very angry and used his stick to fight me—I knocked his stick down—he hit me with a knife under the eye and in the left breast—the knife was sharp, and when I tried to pull it out, it cut my hands—when I came on shore I did not see the knife; it was under a handkerchief—I pulled the knife out and left him with it in his hand, and he ran on board—I went after him and said, "What have you done?"—he said, "I have done what I have done; you have got to report me or what you like"—I reported him to the quartermaster and to a policeman, who took me to the hospital, where I
remained five days—this is the shirt and the dungaree I was wearing—I did not have any conversation with him about going ashore—these are the cuts in my clothes.
Cross-examined. You were not sitting at your food—you were in the galley—the serang, or native officer, had given orders for the native quarters to be cleaned, and after that the serang called for his food—we had finished cleaning the quarters—I did not pass you when you were eating your food—I told the serang you had called me to go ashore, and that I was going ashore to another ship—he was not willing.
ALBERT WILLIAM CLIFTON (Detective, Royal Albert Docks). On Sunday, September 24th, about 10.30 a.m., the prosecutor complained to me, in consequence of which I went with him to the Seaman's Hospital—he was suffering from a wound under the left eye and one on his left side—there was blood on his clothing, shirt, and hands.
Cross-examined. I saw no knife—I made a thorough search in the ship.
Re-examined. I saw the prosecutor within half an hour after the fight.
ALFRED ENNIS (Policeman, Royal Albert Docks). On Sunday, September 24th, about 10.30 a.m., I saw the prisoner on the ship in the Albert Docks—he had blood on both hands, but they were not cut—I said in his language, "Where is your knife?"—he said, "I have no knife."
Cross-examined. I saw no knife in your hand.
EDMUND GEORGE HARRISON WEIR . I am house surgeon at the Seaman's Hospital, Royal Albert Docks—the prosecutor was brought into the hospital on September 24th, about 10.50 a.m.—I examined him—he had two wounds, one over the left eye and one below the heart—both were stabs and were inflicted by a sharp instrument—the wound over the eye was 1 1/2 inches in length, and the point of the instrument had passed in about 1 inch—the wound below the heart was about 3/4 inch long between the cartilages of the sixth and seventh ribs—both blows were horizontal, from left to right, and then turned perpendicular—they were not dangerous, but they might have been, being very near dangerous parts—the knife struck against the rib.
Re-examined. The wounds were not consistent with having been inflicted with a stick.
The 'prisoner's statement before the Magistrate; "I have only this word to say: I did not strike him with a knife, and I did not strike any blow. In wrestling we both fell. In falling Abdula was underneath, then the seedee serang came and took me to the quarters, and the seedee serang said to me, 'Why did you strike Abdula?' and he said to Abdula, 'Why did you strike?' and after that Abdula, with a stick in his hand, got up, and they began striking one another till the serang stopped him. Then he caught the serang and wanted to fight with him. The serang told me to sit down, and him to go ashore."
Evidence for the Defence.
on shore—I did not see anything of the row—I was within my quarters and did not see who went on shore first—I saw Yusuf when he came back from shore—I saw no one was hurt—they were both going into the quarters after the fight—I did not see any knife in Mahomed's hand.
The prisoner's defence. "I do not mind being sworn, but all I have to say is, it was a wrestling fight. I did not use the knife, and I did not strike first."
GUILTY . Six months' hard labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
New Court, October 19th, 1905.
Before J. A. Rentoul, Esq., K.C.
Fourth Court, October 17th, 1905.
766. FRANK JONES (31) PLEADED GUILTY to attempting to have unlawful carnal knowledge of Eva Mary Wynder, a girl under thirteen years old; also to indecently assaulting her. Six months' hard labour. —And
(767.) FRANCIS JOHN BRISTOW (47) to forging and uttering five promissory notes with intent to defraud, and receiving and obtaining upon, and by virtue of those forged instruments, divers sums of money. Eighteen months' hard labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Fourth Court, October 19th, 1905.
768. ALBERT GRIFFITHS (21) , Feloniously breaking and entering a warehouse of the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Commonalty and Citizens of the City of London and stealing therein a set of firebars and other articles belonging to the Corporation.
MR. CLOSE Prosecuted; MR. COHEN Defended.
SEPTIMUS REED . I live at 48, Lavington Street, Deptford, and am a crane-driver at the Foreign Cattle Market, which belongs to the Corporation—on Friday, September 8th, last, between 3 and 4 a.m., I went to the warehouse and took a bit of pipe out and locked the door after me with a padlock—it was in thorough repair—I next went to the warehouse on September 13th—I found the lock broken, the door open, and some gear missing—before going there I saw the prisoner and another man carrying the stuff away—when I came back I saw a barrow covered with mud—I went into Phillips' yard, close by, and found the stuff lying there—I informed the police—I have known the prisoner for six or seven years—there are pigeons all over the market—I value the stuff taken at 30s., or possibly more.
Cross-examined. It is usual to leave the warehouse unvisited for days together—we keep there spare machinery for the crane in case of anything breaking down—the warehouse has a wooden door—there is no other protection but the padlock—I saw the prisoner and the other man taking the things off the shore—I recognised the stuff, but I did not challenge them at the time, as I wanted to see what was missing—I have never missed things before.
WILLIAM PHILLIPS . am a marine store dealer at 140, Watergate Street, Deptford—on September 13th the prisoner and another man came to me—the prisoner said he had some old iron to sell—I asked him where he got it, and he said, "The bed of the river"—it was covered with mud—I bought it for 3s. 1d.—I am in the habit of buying old iron that is picked up from the liver—the mud on it was wet.
Cross-examined. I am very cautious in my business—it is common down there to find old iron in the river—3s. 1d. was a fair price for it as old iron—30s. would be an absurd price.
WILLIAM SERGEANT (Police-Sergeant). I arrested the prisoner on September 13th at 2 p.m.—I told him I should take him into custody for breaking into the warehouse in the Cattle Market and stealing a quantity of fittings—he said, "I admit I had the iron, but you have got to prove that I stole it"—when charged he said, "I never broke the lock; that has been broken some time. The people who broke that are the ones that went after the pigeons."
The prisoner, in his defence on oath, stated that he was a labourer who did odd jobs about Deptford Market; that he did not break into the warehouse or have anything to do with it; that he found the iron in the mud and sold it; that there are a lot of pigeons about the market and they get into the ware-house; and that the lock must have been broken by the people who went after them.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ALEXANDER Prosecuted; MR. COHEN Defended,
AGNES FLORENCE COOPER . I live at 2, Armada Street, Deptford, and am the prisoner's wife—on September 18th last, about 11 p.m., my husband came home with his dulcimer under his arm—as he came through the passage he fell—he got up and came into the kitchen—I said to him, "Where have you been all day?"—he said, "Never mind; give me my supper"—he sat down to the table and I got his supper—I said to him, "Why have you been out all day drinking?"—he had been out since 10.30 a.m.—he said, "Never mind"—I kept on, as I was upset about his drinking all day—he got up all of a sudden to push me down—I got up in a temper—he had a knife in his hand, which he was using for his supper, and we both fell together against the wall—he stumbled on the mat—I sat on the floor, feeling faint, and felt the knife go into me—I got up quick and said, "Good God! George, you had the knife in your hand you were eating your supper with"—he turned almost like a stone and said, "Good
God! Flo, I don't know how I came with the knife in my hand"—I rushed out in the passage with my husband after me—he was going to get a doctor—a policeman was outside on duty—he came up to me and said, "What is the matter?"—I said, "I don't know; I think it is my hand"—he called the person next door and asked her to come into the kitchen and see what was the matter with me—the wound I received was under the left breast—I was then taken to the station and the wound was dressed by the doctor there.
Cross-examined. I have been married ten years and have four children—the prisoner has been a good husband and always kept me and the children—he is a strolling musician and generally plays outside public-houses—if one gets his living outside public-houses he has to go inside—the prisoner is a perfectly sober man when not at work and he is a religious man and goes to missions—he has become demoralised since he took to playing music for a living—when he is not tipsy there is not a better man—I can now see my folly in wrangling with him while he was drunk—the hurt he inflicted was not intentional; it was an accident—I said that from the first moment—I said it before the Magistrate—it was all over in a minute—I bled a lot—I was numbed—I went on with my household work afterwards.
Re-examined. During the altercation I suppose he thought I was going to hit him, so jumped up and then fell over the hearthrug—he did not push me, he stumbled against me—he was going to push me.
DUDLEY BURNEY . I am Divisional Surgeon of Police, living at 327, New Cross Road—on the night of September 18th I examined the prosecutrix and found a wound two inches below the left nipple over the apex of the heart—it was a wound about one inch in width and had penetrated the deeper tissues beneath the skin—on examining the dress I found that the knife had gone through all the clothing that she wore, including a thick corset—the direction of the wound was upwards and backwards—in my opinion some considerable force must have been used to cause a knife of this kind (Produced) to have penetrated the clothes and the corset and then to have made such a wound—this knife could have made such a wound—I do not think it could have been caused by an accident through falling—I think it was caused by a blow because of the direction of the wound.
Cross-examined. I let her go home the same night that I saw her.
WILLIAM THOMPSON (530 R.) On September 18th I was in Armada Street, Deptford—I heard a noise at No. 2 and went there—I heard some quarrelling and heard the prisoner shout out to his wife, "I'll do for you"—he then jumped from the table, where he was sitting, and rushed across the room—his wife ran out of the door, shrieking—I caught her by the waist and found she was bleeding—the prisoner rushed out—I told him he had stabbed the woman—he said, "No, she has cut her hand"—I told him to stand back and called two women who were standing about—I carried the prosecutrix indoors and they examined her—I sent for the Divisional Surgeon, who immediately came and found she was stabbed in the left breast—in the prisoner's presence she said that
she had been stabbed in the breast—he said, "Yes, I done it, guv'nor"—she was taken to the station and I detained the prisoner—I took him to the station—he was charged and made no reply—he was sober.
Cross-examined. I have been fourteen years in the force and have given evidence on many occasions—I am very careful—I said at the Police Court that I heard quarrelling—the words the prisoner used were, "I'll do for you"—they may not be on the depositions.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I had no intention of doing it at all; I did not know I had the knife in my hand."
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Jelf.
Old Court, October 17th, 1905.
MR. MUIR and MR. BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON and MR. CURTIS BENNETT Defended.
HELENA FRANCIS MORRIS . I am the wife of Frederick Morris, a clerk, of 62, Ormeley Road, Balham—from about the beginning of February last I have done some house work for the deceased at 44, Honeybrook Road, and afterwards at 45, Honeybrook Road—she and her husband moved from one house to the other—I last did work for her about a fortnight before August 24th—I was told to go back there on the 24th—I saw the prisoner while I worked there—he and his wife appeared to be on very affectionate terms—as far as I noticed, they appeared to be sober people—on the morning of August 24th I went to the house according to appointment—I knocked at the door, but got no answer, so I waited—Mrs. Mackintosh lives opposite—I had not done any work for Mrs. Mackintosh before that—there are flats there—Mrs. Mackintosh occupied the flat over the one previously occupied by the prisoner and the deceased—I did some work for Mrs. Mackintosh on that day—I wrote this note (Produced) and put it in this envelope (Produced)—it has no address upon it now—I addressed it in pencil and put it into the letter box at No. 45 (Read): "Mrs. Morris called at 10 o'clock, as promised, but will call at 1 o'clock to see if Mrs. Stephens is in. Mrs. Morris"—the address on the envelope is now rubbed out, but an just recognise the writing—it is very faint—I put on it, "Mrs. Stephens, 45, Honeybrook Road"—I went back at 1 o'clock and tried to get in, but there was no answer—when I went home in the evening I wrote another note (Read): "Dear Madam,—I came this morning at 10 o'clock and then at 1 o'clock. Will you kindly let me know if I am to come tomorrow, and what time, and oblige, Yours respectfully, H. Morris"—the envelope is, "Mrs. Stephens, 45, Honeybrook Road, Cavendish Road"—I sent it by a messenger after tea.
ANNIE ROWLAND . I live at Tranmere—the deceased was my sister—she was about forty-five years old and had been married to the prisoner for about twenty years—I saw something of them up to about two years ago—up to that time I thought they were very fond of each other—they were very happy—I have not seen my sister for two years—after her death I came up to London and got from the cloak room at King's Cross station a bag belonging to her—I found that it contained some clothes of hers, a card of a lodging house keeper at Yarmouth, "Miss Huke, Ferndale House, 43, Princes Road, Great Yarmouth. Apartments, or board and residence. Two minutes from sea"—on the back is, "Pepper, salt, onions, vinegar, milk, dogcakes, butter and custard"—I got the bag on the Tuesday following my sister's death and paid 8d. on it—I think it was for four days at 2d. a day.
Cross-examined. From what I saw and heard they appeared to live very happily together.
WILLIAM ROWLAND CLIVE . I am manager to Mr. Greener, gun maker, in the Haymarket—on August 24th, between 2 and 3 p.m., the prisoner came in to purchase a revolver—he came to the desk where they are displayed—he looked at several—I asked him if he wanted a small pattern or a military one, and if he wanted it for abroad or one for holster use on horseback—he said he wanted it for house protection—I think that I may have suggested the words "house protection"—he selected one at £3 3s.—he thought that was rather high and I showed him one at £1 15s. 6d.—I then asked him if he had a gun licence—he said he had not it by him or with him—I said it would be necessary for me to see it before I sold him a revolver—he said he supposed he could get one—I said he could get one at a Post Office—he left the shop—I think he was away about an hour—when he came back he produced a licence (Produced): "Cyril A. Desparde, E. I. and S. Laundry, Limited, 36, Osborne Road, Acton, W."—it is granted at Charles Street, Haymarket, at 2.55 on August 24th, 1905—I asked him for his name and address and he produced this card, which has the same name on it—the writing on the back is written by me and is of no account—it was used as a piece of waste paper on my desk—on his second visit, when he produced the licence and selected the revolver, he said he wanted come cartridges—I said, "How many do you want?"—he said, "A box"—I said, "Do you want bulleted or blanks?" because sometimes blanks will answer the purpose for house protection—he said, "Oh, bulleted cartridges I will have"—I sold him a box of fifty for 2s. 6d.—this (Produced) is the revolver and this box of cartridges is similar to the one I sold him—the revolver has one barrel and five chambers—these five empty cartridge cases correspond with the cartridges I sold to him—this (Produced) is the bill, "Cash. £1 18s. received."
Cross-examined. After he had gone I said in the hearing of my assistant that I thought the man seemed strange, and that he had shaken hands with me for rather a long time—customers who are strangers do not shake hands with me—he looked at me a little vacantly—I think he said, "I am absolutely certain I want bulleted cartridges."
Re-examined. The prisoner seemed perfectly rational—he answered me straightforwardly, and was apparently a reasonable man—he was not excited, and seemed perfectly sober.
JOHN BAVOILLOT (263 W.) On August 24th, about 10.15 p.m., I was on duty near Honeybrook Road, when I heard about five revolver shots, and I saw the flashes—I ran to the spot and saw the prisoner standing in the centre of the roadway—I went up to him and he said, "Yes, here I am. I done it; I will give myself up. The revolver is over there," at the same time pointing to a low wall—I told him I should take him into custody—when I first saw him he was about 150 or 200 yards from me—as I was covering that distance to come up with him, he moved from the footpath to the centre of the road and then stood—he was then about 20 to 25 yards from 45, Honeybrook Road—I did not see the deceased at all—I took him towards the police station, and as we were passing 44, Honeybrook Road, he said, "Mrs. Mackintosh, you are my murderer"—he stopped and turned towards No. 44 to say that—he spoke in rather a loud tone—that is the only thing he said—I took him to the station, where he was charged.
Cross-examined. I did not see Mrs. Mackintosh there—there was no woman there who could hear what he said—when he said that, I did not ask him what he meant—it seemed strange to me.
FREDERICK SMART (855 W.) At 10.15 p.m. on August 24th I heard some revolver shots in Honeybrook Road—I went in that direction and saw the last witness and the prisoner there—in the prisoner's hearing the constable directed me to search for a revolver in Knight, the builder's, yard—I searched there and found this revolver—I took it in the condition I found it to the police station—I saw the chamber opened—all five cartridges had been discharged.
ARTHUR JOHN SPENCER . I live at 42, Honeybrook Road, and know the prisoner and his wife by sight—I do not know upon what terms they were—I saw them in the street, but that is all—on August 24th, about 10.15 p.m., I heard something come against my street door—I opened it and saw the prisoner firing at his wife on the opposite pavement—I recognised the prisoner in the dim light—the deceased was about 10 feet, at the outside, from the prisoner—I heard her say nothing to the prisoner, but to me she said, "Help me"—I went into the street and assisted her into my house—she could walk quite well—I took her upstairs into the kitchen—I have a flat—I assisted her into a chair and gave her some brandy—she was bleeding, but otherwise she appeared to be scarcely injured—I went downstairs for assistance, and found some constables at the gate, and they came up and took charge of the lady—a doctor came and she was taken in a cab to St. Thomas's Hospital—she had a small basket bag, a sunshade in her hand, and a coat over her arm—next morning I found a bullet lying in some blood on the floor of my kitchen—I handed it to the police—it was similar to this one (Produced).
Cross-examined. When I saw the woman she ran towards me—the prisoner did not do or say anything, but stood quite still.
HENRY WORLOCK (511 W.) At 10.15 p.m. on August 24th I went to Mr. Spencer's house and saw the deceased upstairs suffering from wounds—Dr. Edwards arrived, and by his directions I went with the lady to St. Thomas's Hospital—I took a blouse and a skirt, which the doctor had removed, with me, and afterwards gave them to the police inspector.
HENRY HERBERT JOHNSON EDWARDS . I am a registered practitioner, of 1, Poynder's Road, Clapham Park—on August 24th, at 10.15 p.m., I was called to 42, Honeybrook Road, and found the deceased sitting in a chair suffering from four injuries in the throat, one just to the right of the middle line, one on the left elbow joint 4 inches above it at the back of the arm, a third 1 1/2 inches in front of the elbow, and the fourth on the right buttock—from the position I judged there were three shots—one had gone through the arm—the woman did not at that time appear to be dangerously injured, but it is difficult to say from bullet wounds whether a person is dangerously injured or not—I sent her to the hospital in a cab, accompanied by one of the officers—there appeared to be slight marks of burning near the wounds in front; her clothes were burned at the back—the revolver would have to be about 4 feet off to produce that effect.
BERNARD HYAM , M. R. C. S. I have other degrees, and on August 24th I was casualty officer at St. Thomas's Hospital when I received the deceased woman there about 11.15 p.m.—I found the wounds described by Dr. Edwards—at that time the woman did not seem to be dangerously wounded—she first exhibited dangerous symptoms the following morning, Friday, and she died on the early morning of Saturday—a post-mortem examination was held upon her, when it was found that a bullet had entered her chest, struck her spine and lodged in her left lung and was the cause of death.
JAMES SAVAGE (Inspector W.) I was in charge of Balham police station on the night of August 24th, when the prisoner was brought in by Bavoillot, who said in his hearing, "This man has shot a woman in Honeybrook Road with a revolver"—I said, "Where is the revolver?"—the prisoner said, after a pause, "I threw the revolver away"—I went to Honeybrook Road and made some inquiries, returned to the station and told the prisoner I should charge him with attempting to murder Edith Eliza Stephens, his wife, by shooting her with a revolver—he made no reply—I asked him his name and he said, "Walter Stephens," and his address 45, Honeybrook Road—he said, "I am also known as Cyril A. Desparde"—he did not give me the address of where he was known as Desparde—I asked him his occupation—he said he was a commission agent or theatrical agent—Constable Smart handed me a revolver and I extracted five cartridges from it—these other forty-five were handed to me by the prisoner—he produced them from his coat pocket in a box—they are the same kind as the others—I found a licence on him, a bill for the revolver and a pawn ticket for a chain pledged in Wardour Street—I also found a bottle containing nearly a quartern of brandy with a very small proportion taken—I also obtained an envelope which had not been opened—it was found on the prisoner and he opened it in my presence—it
contained the second of Mrs. Morris' letters—the prisoner appeared to me to have been drinking for several days, and appeared to be sodden with drink—I should not describe him as drunk—he understood perfectly well what I said to him and stood erect—his answers were quite sensible—I thought it desirable that the Divisional Surgeon should see him and I sent for Dr. Needham—the prisoner appeared to be dazed.
Cross-examined. We do not always send for the Divisional Surgeon—if there is something strange about a prisoner we think it best to have the Divisional Surgeon or any medical man to express an opinion about him—it is not because of the gravity of the case—I thought a medical man should see the prisoner because of his condition—I thought there might be something up with his mind which I could not observe.
TOM ANDREWS (Detective-Sergeant). On August 24th I was at Balham police station when the prisoner was brought there in custody—after he had been charged he said in the charge room, "I want a letter produced by Mrs. Mackintosh, 44, Honeybrook Road, because I want to see the contents; it was addressed to Mrs. Stephens, 45, Honeybrook Road, and delivered by hand. I do not know the contents of that letter, but I want it produced in evidence at my trial. The letter I put two halfpenny stamps on and posted it to the address mentioned on the letter. It was printed on the back of the flap. I rubbed out the address in front"—next morning I got this letter in the envelope marked "H" from Mr. Mackintosh, who brought it to the station—it was then closed, and so far as I could see it had never been opened—I could then read what had been the address on the front of the envelope—it was, "Mrs. Stephens, 45, Honeybrook Road"—that appeared to have been erased with india-rubber. [MR. MUIR said that the deceased had made a statement at the hospital, but that he did not propose to put it in.]
Cross-examined. The police made every inquiry about the prisoner—I find that he has been in Jersey and that he has had at various times attacks of delirium tremens and that during those attacks he has been more than once in hospital and under restraint—in 1895 he was placed in an asylum in Jersey—it does not say a padded room—I also find that he has been in an asylum at Camberwell.
JOSEPH NEEDHAM . I am police surgeon to the W division—on Augtust 24th I was called to the police station at 11.30 p.m.—I went into the receiving or charge room and found the prisoner standing with a number of officers round the desk where the inspector was engaged and I stood aside, not wishing to interrupt his duties—the prisoner stood at the desk in a careless, indifferent manner, answering the questions of the inspector and the detective-sergeant—the chief thing which struck me then was his vacillating manner, at one moment wishing for certain evidence to be called or produced at the Court, as he called it, then retracting and wishing that to be deleted, then again asking that it should be produced—when the officers had finished the inspector turned to me and said, "I want you to see this prisoner; he has been brought here charged with shooting his wife"—I then commenced to question him and he objected to being catechised much, as he called it, in a public place—
I therefore took him into the corridor of the cells, provided him with a chair and engaged myself in conversation for a considerable time—I noticed first that he had been drinking for a considerable time—he had been drinking that day, but not to such an extent as to upset his steady self-control—he knew what he was saying; he could understand; he could walk—he had all the physical signs of chronic alcoholism, such as offensive breath, furred tongue and general appearance of neglect, but his pulse was not hastened and he was by no means excited—he was very deaf with his left ear and his right was not perfect—I tried to find out if he had been sleeping well—he had nothing to complain of on that score, but said he had taken no food for some days—he was generally bloated with drink—I could not tell if he had had no food for many days, but a man does not generally eat if he is drinking deeply—he then began to narrate his experiences and past life and told me much of his troubles in America and so on, but throughout he referred to his wife only in terms of affection—he said he had lived with her for twenty-one years without a cross word—I gradually led him back to the reason of his being in the position in which he found himself, but could get no reason for his conduct beyond this letter, to which reference has been made—I asked him why he did not meet his wife—he replied that he had intended doing so, but had spent the latter part of the day riding about on tram cars—he was dominated all through the conversation with this peculiar idea about this certain letter, the contents of which he said he did not know.
Cross-examined. That was the only occasion that I saw him—I was then at the station about two hours—from my examination of him I was of opinion that his mind should be carefully inquired into, and I made a statement in the Occurrence Book to that effect—as far as I could judge, I came to the conclusion that there was something decidedly strange about him.
Evidence for the Defence.
THEODORE ADOLPHUS . I am medical superintendent of the Constance Road Infirmary, Dulwich—I remember the prisoner being admitted to the lunacy ward there on August 15th, 1898—he was first placed in the padded room on August 20th at 10.30 p.m. and remained in until 7 a.m. next morning—he was out of the padded room during the day and was again placed in it at 7 p.m. on the 21st and remained until 7 a.m.—on the 22nd he was so bad that we were not able to take him out, and except for two intervals he remained in all day and the whole of that night—on the 23rd he was taken out again at 9 a.m., when he was very much better—that time he was under our care from the 15th till the 29th, when he was discharged against my advice—he was seen by a Magistrate on the 16th, and on the 29th I did not consider he was fit to go out, so I got him seen by another Magistrate and recommended that he should be sent to an asylum—ours is the reception ward of the parish for the observation of lunatics—the Lunacy Act allows them to be detained there for fourteen days to see if they are fit cases—in my opinion the prisoner was not fit to take his discharge, and I marked the register to that effect.
Cross-examined. While under my observation he was suffering from alcoholic mania, which is one of the forms of delirium tremens—that is a kind of mania which, unless the cause is repeated, passes away—a man is not bound to have a second attack if he takes care of himself—a man who has had delirium tremens may become and remain perfectly sane—that a man had delirium tremens in 1898 is no evidence that he was insane in 1905, but there is no doubt that it would affect the mind to some slight extent; some of the finer faculties would be affected, such as presence of mind, self-control, and the power of forming an accurate judgment—those, I am afraid, after a bad attack of delirium tremens would be likely to be permanently affected.
Re-examined. I am of opinion that repeated attacks of delirium tremens are likely to injure the mind—from my experience a good deal of the present insanity is due to drink.
JAMES SCOTT . I am the head medical authority at Brixton prison—since August 25th the prisoner has been under my care, and I gave him my special attention with a view to determining the condition of his mind—when he was received he was suffering from the effects of prolonged excessive drinking, and he showed the physical signs of it—mentally he was slow and dull, but did not talk or act irrationally—I did not find evidence of any actual insane delusions—I would not go so far as to come to the conclusion that no insane delusions had existed, but I could not find direct evidence of it—in my report I said, "It is impossible to deny that the prisoner may have had mental delusions"—that would be due to drinking—I have heard the whole of the case—if the prisoner believed what he said about that letter I should consider it a delusion—I have not been able to come to a satisfactory explanation of the case on any grounds other than that on August 24th the prisoner was under the influence of delusions, the result of prolonged drinking.
Cross-examined. I tried to converse with the prisoner about this case—he stated at first that it was entirely due to drinking—afterwards, when I questioned him on points which appeared to me of importance, he stated he would rather not discuss them with me before the trial—I cautioned him in the usual way that he need not tell me anything, because I might have to use it in the witness box—I asked him about his remarks about Mrs. Mackintosh and he then said he would rather not discuss it, and said he was acting under instructions from his solicitor—I was therefore unable to get any direct evidence of his delusions—I do not think he was able to distinguish between right and wrong to any great extent on August 24th; to a very limited extent, if at all—I cannot say that he did not know the nature of his act in face of his statement to the constable—he appeared to know the nature of the act, and understood the charge, and I think afterwards he understood the quality of it—a letter was sent to me in reply to inquiries, by Dr. Labby, medical superintendent of the Jersey Lunatic Asylum, and he stated that the prisoner was under his care in January and February, 1897, at an establishment called Cranbourne Hall, Grouville, for delirium tremens, and two days after he was there he assaulted Dr. Labby with a heavy bell—Dr. Labby expressed the opinion.
that he was then certainly insane as the result of heavy drinking—if a man has attacks of delirium tremens, the more they are repeated the weaker the mind will become.
LILIAN MACKINTOSH . I am the wife of John Mackintosh, and we live in a flat at 44, Honeybrook Road, Balham—the prisoner and his wife occupied a flat below us from about November last year to February this year—I did not see much of them during that time, and less on account of having an illness in January—I did not leave my own flat much—I never heard them quarrelling, but of course I knew there was drink in the question—I spoke to them as neighbours—I never wrote to either of them or visited them—on Thursday, August 24th, I employed Mrs. Morris for about an hour—that was the first time I had ever employed her—there is not the slightest reason for the prisoner saying, "Mrs. Mackintosh, you are my murderer."
Cross-examined. Mrs. Morris asked me for an envelope, and I am not certain whether she addressed it to Mrs. Stephens—this (Produced) is one of the envelopes I gave her—it has my address upon it, and it came to me next morning with these stamps upon it—it was closed—I did not open it—it was taken straight to the Cavendish Road police station—I had had no quarrel with the prisoner or his wife—we had lived in the same house—neither myself nor Mr. Mackintosh had been in their part of the house, except, I think, on the first day when the deceased asked me to put some nails in, or something like that—the prisoner was not there then—lifter they moved across the road I did not go into their flat—during my illness the deceased came over to inquire—I am quite certain there is no possibility of the prisoner having any grudge against me.
Cross-examined. No reason could exist why the prisoner should have any grudge against me or my wife—I have very little to do with either of them.
Evidence in Reply.
ROBERT EDWARD GOING . I am employed at 36, Osborne Road, Acton, which is the E. I. & S. Laundry—it is a company registered in that name—the prisoner was employed there by me as canvasser; I am the manager—he was in my employment for five or six weeks, I think, from early in March to the second week in April—I do not remember seeing him after that—I did not see him daily during the six weeks—he used to call upon me once a week—he showed no symptoms, to my mind, of unsoundness of mind—as far as I know, he went about my business in a proper way—any good done to the business as far as I could make out had been done by his wife—she was not employed by the company—I never saw her.
Cross-examined. I have never seen him drunk—I cannot say that he gave me the idea of a man who had been drinking for a long time past, but I rather jumped to the conclusion that he had been drunk from his manner, and I thought he was considerably superior to the position he was
then occupying—I thought he had come down in the world and that the reason was that he had been drunk.
GUILTY of the act, but insane at the time. Confined during His Majesty's pleasure.
Old Court, October 20th, 1905.
MR. MUIR and MR. SYMMONS Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
MARION HARMS . I am single, and live at Warner Road, Walthamstow, and am the prisoner's niece—in September last I was living with her and her husband at 72, High Street, Mortlake—they had formerly been at Steins, where they had a small confectioner's business which had not been successful—they moved to Mortlake on a Monday in June—at Mort-lake the business was not a success; it was very bad indeed—about the middle of September they said they were in difficulties about money—I think the rent was £36 a year and they were in difficulties about the September rent—Saturday was their best day—I cannot say for certain what their takings were on Saturdays, but I think about two or three shillings—they were worrying very much about that and spoke to me about it—Mr. Seddon was seventy-eight years old and his health was very bad—during the daytime he used to lie on the couch, but was just able to go out for a short walk in the evening—the prisoner used to get about the house—hex health was better than her husband's, but it was not good—on September 11th Mrs. Barrett came to 72, High Street—the prisoner asked me to write to her and ask her to help them with the furniture—they were going away because they were in difficulty about the rent, and they wanted to get away before quarter day—I do not know whether the furniture was going—Mrs. Barrett was the deceased's sister-in-law—on the night of September 11th Mrs. Barrett and I slept in the same room on the first floor—we went to bed about 11—the prisoner and her husband slept on the same floor in the back room—there was no one else in the house—about 8 o'clock next morning the prisoner came in—Mrs. Barrett was awake and was sitting up in bed—the prisoner said something about 30s.—she was in her nightdress and looked rather unsteady—as she went out of the room she staggered when she got to the door—I got up and went downstairs and made some tea and took it up to the prisoner—when I got to the room I opened the door, but I did not go in because the prisoner waived me away and said "No"—Mrs. Barrett followed me up—after that I went and fetched Dr. Mackintosh—it was about twenty minutes from the time the prisoner woke me until I went for the doctor—he came about fifteen or twenty minutes after I went for him—I had seen this bottle (Produced) in the room about a month before—when I went in with the doctor I noticed the bottle some time after, and while he was there he
showed it to me and asked me if I had seen it before—I do not know what became of it; I did not take it away—the prisoner's mother was with them at Staines and after they moved to Mortlake—she had left the house about a week or a fortnight before this occurrence because the prisoner could not afford to keep her—I have never seen the deceased write—I do not recognise the writing on this letter (Produced)—I saw a paper like this in the sideboard before it was sold and there was no writing on it then—it was sold about a fortnight before this occurred—I remember a pocket letter case which the deceased had—this letter was taken out of it by Mrs. Barrett after the deceased's death—we took it out with some of the other papers—we did not look at it, and they were taken away—the letter case was in the pocket of the coat he used to wear.
Cross-examined. When they went to bed that evening they seemed to be on the same terms as usual.
Re-examined. There was no quarrel between them.
ELIZABETH BARRETT . I am a widow—my late husband was the prisoner's brother—I live at Walthamstow—on September 11th I went to the prisoner's house at 72, High Street, Mortlake—she told me they had been doing very badly in business and had not enough money to pay the rent, and that she had sent for me to get the furniture away before quarter day—the deceased was in very bad health and spirits, and the prisoner looked very ill and worried—that night I slept with my niece, and the following morning the prisoner came into our room and woke us about 8, but I am not sure of the time—she said to me, "Wake up, Lizzie; we have taken poison. I have 30s.; it is all I have. See that we are properly buried, and take that girl home with you"—I afterwards found a sovereign and a half-sovereign on her dressing table—that was all the money I found in the house—the prisoner then went out of the room and tottered as she got to the door—she went to her own bedroom—by my direction my niece went downstairs and made some tea, which I hoped would make the prisoner and the deceased sick—my niece took the tea up to the door and was waived away by the prisoner—I sent for Dr. Mackintosh—I did not go into the front room until after he arrived—I recognise this document (Produced)—I found it in a letter case belonging to the deceased after his death, in the pocket of the coat he was wearing—I do not know the writing—I have never seen the deceased's writing.
Cross-examined. Up to the night of the 11th, when they went to bed, they had always been on good terms with one another, and when they went to bed they were on good terms.
JOHN WILLIAM BURROWS . I live at Albert Road, Kingston, and at the inquest on the deceased on September 21st I was acting for the clerk to the Deputy Coroner, Dr. Goodwin, for the Kingston Division of Surrey—the prisoner was present and heard the evidence given—she was asked if she wished to give evidence and was cautioned that it would be taken down in writing and might be used against her—she was examined, but not cross-examined, and made her own statement—I wrote down her evidence and it was signed by her as correct. (Read): "I am now going to reside at 3, Colchester Road, Southend-on-Sea, with Mrs. Mercer, my sister. I
have only to say that my husband has been in a miserable depressed condition for a long time; for the last two years our circumstances have been getting desperate, and we decided that as there was no means of earning a living, we had better leave the world together. On this morning in particular I had been laying awake and worrying; then I jumped out of bed and I said, 'I can stand this wear and tear no longer; I'll end it.' I took the bottle and the glass and poured out the biggest part of the poison. I said, 'I am going to take this; it will end it at once and for ever.' He just said, 'You won't.' I said, 'I will,' and I drank it off. Then I said, 'I have left enough for you; will You have it? I said, 'It means this or the workhouse.' He said, 'Yes, give it me.' I poured it out and he snatched it out of my hand. I put the bottle and glass back and got into "bed and stopped there for about an hour; then I got up and wakened my sister-in-law and said, 'Wake up, Lizzie; I want you to listen to what I am saying.' I said, 'Listen, because I shan't have long to speak; we have taken poison.' She said, 'Oh! you haven't,' and I said, 'We have, both of us.' Then I told her to bury us quietly and cheaply and make as little fuss as possible. She kept crying and did not pay much attention. Then my niece woke up and began to cry. I said, 'Take this girl home with you and look after her.' I said, "I am sorry to give you so much trouble, but I cannot help it,' and then a pain came in my chest and I got giddy. I went back into my room. My husband was lying just where I had left him, on the edge of the bedstead. He opened his eyes and looked, so I just said, 'I have just been and wakened Lizzie and told her what we have done.' He said, 'Come and get in bed, then.' They were the last words he spoke. I remember nothing more, except the door opening and my niece saying, 'I will go and fetch the doctor.' That is all. I took the biggest portion, as I thought it would take more to kill me. (Signed) Marion Seddon." By the Jury. "The furniture was sent by my orders to Miss Gray. The writing on B is my husband's writing. The allusion is to my mother. He was very spiteful to her. I never saw document B before. It is written on a memorial card that he had in a pocket letter case. (Signed) M. Seddon." [MR. SYMMONS proposed putting in Exhibit B and MR. HUTTON said he would be glad if it was read]. "My last request and Desire is that you should dispose of ail our effects and live on the results as long as it lasts and then Follow me as your case is now Hopeless. Above all pray Don't be ruled by your Demon Mother. Instead of which you by order of your mother are giving all your own goods away and are saving your mothers so that she may bring her Beauty out and plank on you and claim all as hers and make you her Slave. This is all arranged. What a Blind Fool you must be not to see through it and won't listen to anyone else. To ray Wife."
CHARLES BATCHELOR . I am a registered medical practitioner, of Fairfield Road, Stains—I have known the prisoner and her husband for about seven years—they kept a small confectioner's shop—I have attended them professionally, the deceased for diabetes, and the prisoner on one occasion had neuralgia—in 1901 I prescribed a liniment and some mixture, and on November 16th, 1904, she had a repetition of the liniment which contained
one ounce of belladonna liniment, and half an ounce of aconite liniment, and half an ounce of soap liniment, making a total of two ounces—she had about six bottles of that liniment—this bottle (Produced) is mine, because I recognise the handwriting of my dispenser—it has on it "Liniment as before. Mr. Seddon"—there is a poison label on it, and it is a poison bottle.
Cross-examined. Diabetes causes great depression.
ROBERT DUNBAR MACKINTOSH . I am a medical practitioner practicing at the Bungalow, Mort lake—I was called in to see the prisoner and her husband on September 12th, about 8.45 a.m.—I found them in bed together—he was in a comatose state, suffering from collapse, and I diagnosed that he was suffering from belladonna poisoning—the prisoner was suffering from the same poisoning and was in a similar condition—I attended to them for about two hours, administering antidotes and using the stomach pump and every remedy that I possessed—at the end of the two hours the prisoner had improved, but the deceased was weaker—I advised that they should be sent to the hospital and I communicated with the police—I saw this bottle (Produced) on the table on the left-hand side of the bed, empty—it was quite dry inside—I also saw a tumbler there, which was dry—they both smelt of belladonna liniment—I estimated that the poison had been taken about two hours before I went there—I judged that the husband had taken the larger dose.
WILLIAM FRANCIS DAVIDSON . I am a registered medical practitioner, and in September I was the house surgeon at the Royal Hospital, Richmond—the deceased and the prisoner were brought there on September 12th between 4 and 5 p.m.—I saw them—the deceased was in a deeply comatose state, his face pale, and his breathing was very shallow—he was unconscious and remained so for some house, when he became delirious and started vomiting—those are symptoms of belladonna poisoning—he remained in that state until 6.30 p.m. next day, when he died—I made a post-mortem on the 15th or 16th, and what I discovered, confirmed my diagnosis—on the morning of the 14th the prisoner was still in the hospital and gradually recovering—that morning I saw her on my rounds with the nurse and said to her, "This is a sad affair; how did it come about?"—sitting up in bed she said, "About half-past 6 on Tuesday morning I got out of bed and, going to a cupboard or a drawer"—I cannot remember which she said—"I took out a bottle of liniment. I divided it into two unequal parts and drank the larger part myself. I then said to my husband, Are you going to take your share?' He snatched the bottle from my hand and drank off the contents. I then went to an adjoining room and woke my sister-in-law and asked her to settle our affairs for us. Returning to the bedroom, my husband told me I had better get into bed. I do not remember whether I did so or not. The last thing I remember is my niece coming into the room and saying, 'I will run and fetch a doctor'"—at the same time she said her husband had chanced very much within the last few years owing, she thought, to financial difficulties—she did not say that he had changed to her, but said he had become very quarrelsome and irritable lately while normally he was very good and docile and easy
to get on with—she said that on one or two occasions she had taken a knife from his hand; she did not say what he was going to do with it—when she was making this statement to me her husband was dead, but she did not know it.
GOLDEN BARRELL (Detective-Sergeant). At 6.30 p.m. on September 21st I arrested the prisoner at the Coroner's Court after the Jury had given their verdict—I told her I should arrest her for the wilful murder of John Miles Seddon on September 12th by aiding and abetting him to take poison—she replied, "What! after the verdict of the Jury?" and I said, "Yes"—the verdict of the Jury was that he had died from syncope and exhaustion following upon the effects of swallowing a liniment containing belladonna and aconite, and that the deceased took his own life while in a state of temporary insanity owing to financial troubles—at the station the charge was read over to her and she made no reply.
GUILTY. The Foreman: "We wish her to be strongly recommended to mercy; we are unanimous on that point."
The prisoner: "I did not murder my husband."
Old Court, October 21St. 1905.
MR. COHEN Prosecuted; MR. TURRELL Defended.
EMMA PRICE . The prisoner is my husband—we were married in August, 1886—we have one child living—we lived at 129, Southampton Street, Camber well—my mother carried on a laundry—I and the prisoner assisted her—he did no work besides that, except when he was working for my mother—she employed him—on Saturday, July 15th, we were at home between 8 and 9 p.m.—I did not have any words that day, but the prisoner had some words with me in the evening; I cannot say the time—he did not say anything to me concerning my brother, but he and my brother were having a few words; I do not remember what they were—my brother lives in the house; his name is Joseph Kirby—he was not working there at the time—he and the prisoner had these words after my brother came home—I was there; it was in the workroom—the prisoner said to my brother, "I shall be ready for you in five hours," and my brother said, "You had better have a sleep"—I said to the prisoner, "Don't be so silly," and he did not make any answer—I stood where I was with my back to my husband as he was going up the stairs—I was facing the street door—I said, "Don't be so silly; it will end in a bottle of smoke"—he went up two or three steps and came back suddenly, and the next I knew was that I had a cut in my throat from behind—it was done with the left hand—I did not look round or fall down; I walked straight to the street door—I remember opening it, but no more—when I next remembered anything I was in the infirmary—I came out on October 6th—
at times the prisoner and I have quarreled, but when we did not, we were all right.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was employed by Messrs. White & Sons for ten years—I cannot remember when he left them—he had been some time in my mother's service—he is an honest man and industrious—as a rule he is not sober—during the time immediately preceding this Saturday night we were on good terms when he was not drinking—he had been drinking on the Friday night and had been for a week on or off, but he did not really begin to break out desperate until the Wednesday; we were on good terms up to then—this took place in the shop parlor—the words were between my brother and the prisoner and not between the prisoner and myself—I was rather worried at the time about their quarrel and I tried to get between them—they were not fighting and I did not think they were going to, but I tried to get between them because I wanted peace—I thought that if my husband was drunk he might strike my brother—he had been very drunk, and was very drunk when he used these words—I said nothing to provoke him—the quarrel between my husband and my brother was because my husband would not work during the week, and when my brother came home from business he said he would do my husband's work for that Saturday, and that annoyed him—that is how the quarrel commenced—when my husband said, "I shall be ready for you in five hours," I did not understand what he meant—I had my back to the stairs when my husband was going up—he said nothing to me—I remember hearing when I was in the infirmary that my husband had a black eye, and I heard that my brother had done it, but I did not know it—I also heard that his nose was bleeding—between the Wednesday and the Saturday night we had had no quarrel except that he would not get on with his work, and I blamed him for that.
CHARLES SHRIMPTON (249 B.) About 9 p.m. on July 15th I was on duty in Southampton Street, Camber well, when I heard a police whistle—I went along Southampton Street and saw the prisoner detained by Roy, about fifty yards from his own door—Roy said, "This man has out his wife's throat"—the prisoner said, "That is quite right; I have cut my wife's throat with a razor. I hope she is dead—he said it was all through his brother-in-law—I conveyed him to the station, where he was charged, and he said nothing—he had been drinking—he was covered with blood all down the front of his clothes—I cannot say that I noticed anything about his personal state—he had a black eye, recently done, and his nose was bleeding badly and continued to bleed for about two hours.
Cross-examined. The blood which was over his coat had probably come from his nose—he did not appear to be excited or dazed—he was, not drunk—he smelt of drink and had been drinking, but apart from the smell he did not appear to have been drinking—I noticed him at the station—he appeared to know what he was doing, and spoke reasonably—he was not struggling with Roy when I came up—he was standing quite quiet.
Re-examined. I mentioned the black eye and the bleeding nose at the Police Court.
WILLIAM ROY . I am a street keeper for Camber well, employed by the Corporation, and live at 161, Southampton Street—the prisoner lived at 129—I was in my house about 8.50 p.m. on Saturday, July 15th, when I heard several police whistles blowing—I put on my clothes and went into the street and up to a large crowd—I entered the crowd and saw the prisoner and Kirby apparently quarrelling—the prisoner was saturated with blood—I knew him before, but I could not recognise him them—he appeared to be recovering from the effects of drink—his eye and face were in a shocking state—I cannot say that he had a black eye; it was red—I asked him what was the matter and he said, "I have out my wife's throat and I hope that she is dead"—I told him it would be my duty to detain him until the arrival of the police, which I did—a constable came and I went to the station with him—he seemed quite self-presumed and to know what he was doing.
Cross-examined. On this particular night the prisoner was in such a condition that I could not recognise him when I saw him—I knew him well, because he lived in the neighbourhood, and I have spoken to him—I heard persons in the crowd shouting that Bin. Price was dead, and so I knew who the man was—I have never heard anything disrespectful about him before—I have lived there about twelve years and have known him about five years—when I saw him that night, it was light; it was in July—I should say he wan sober then.
JOHN HENRY KIRBY . I am Mrs. Price's brother, and live at 129, Southampton Street—I am a fitter and go out to work—I have been in the Service and have been home from the front for two years last September, and have been living under the same roof as the prisoner and his wife since then—I have been on no terms at all with the prisoner—on July 15th, about 8.45 p.m., I was standing by the side street door outside the house—I did not see the prisoner go in, but one of the friends whom I was talking to, said, "He has gone into the shop"—I went into the shop parlour, where I saw the prisoner and his wife—neither of them spoke to me and I did not speak to them—what took me in was that I heard a scream and when I got in I saw the prisoner had got my sister up against the door leading into the passage, the door being open—I came to the conclusion that he was striking her—his hands were like that (Towards his neck)—I knocked him down and I cannot tell what my sister did, as I was engaged with the prisoner—he got up again and we struggled along the passage and ended in the street—somebody called out, "Look at your sister," and I saw her standing up against the side door with a gash in her throat—I did not notice it when I had pulled the prisoner off her—I called to a man standing there, "Get my sister down to the infirmary"—that was within the prisoner's hearing—I held him—when I knocked him down in the room I heard no noise and I saw no instrument—I and the prisoner had been bickering all the afternoon—on the Thursday previous, the 13th, the prisoner had knocked my mother down and also illtreated my sister, but I was not present—on this Saturday I came home about 1.45 and saw the prisoner about half an hour afterwards and he said, "You are taking over charge"—I said, "I have no occasion to;
I have got my own employment to look after"—I expected he meant that I was playing the master in the house—he said, "You are going to turn me out"—I said, "You won't work; you knock my mother and sister about, and you will have to clear out of it"—he said, "I am going to sleep for a few hours and I will see you all about it. I will do you in at 12 o'clock to-night"—I said, "All right, go away and come back at 12, then"—he kept coming at intervals and said, "I have something in my pocket; you won't last two minutes at 12"—he went out, but I do not know the time, and came back about 8.30—he was away for an hour, I should think—I saw him carrying his four-year old child upstairs; she was crying and I took her away from him and into the workroom—I went back into the passage and saw the prisoner talking to my sister—I asked her what he wanted and he said, "I want a little private conversation with my wife upstairs"—I said, "You told me you were going to settle me at 12 o'clock; why don't you go away and come back at 12? Let me get on with my work I am doing here"—he went out into the street—I went to the side door and spoke to my two friends and then the story goes on as I told you before—I did not hear my sister say to the prisoner, "Don't be so silly."
Cross-examined, I was not in the reserves—I have been home about a couple of years—I was away for eight years in the Army—I was invalided home and was sent back again—this house is my mother's, and we live as one family—on this day it was not noticeable on the floret occasion that the prisoner had been drinking—I took the little girl away from him, not because he was drunk, but he had been drinking and I did not think he was in a fit state—he was not intoxicated; he knew what he was doing—the child was screaming—I do not know if he had been doing anything to the child—I took her into the back room to my sister—he was always knocking my sister about; that is why I interfered, as I was there to protect her—I wanted to get rid of him that day to get on with my work—when he came back the second time he had had no more to drink—as far as I know, when I struck the prisoner no injury had been done to my sister, but I cannot say one way or the other—after I struck him there was a struggle.
By the COURT. There was no opportunity after I struck him for him to cut her throat, as we never parted.
SELBY COPE . I am a messenger and live at Camberwell—I recognise this razor (Produced)—I first saw it on a Saturday night about fourteen weeks ago; I think it was July 15th—I found it in the shop parlour behind the shop at Kirby's—it was covered with blood—one of the work-girls was with me; I behave her name is Ada—I found it about 9.15 p.m.
ALFRED PARKER . I lodge at 129, Southampton Street, Camberwell, and am a railway porter—my room is the back one over the shop on the first floor—I know this razor; it belongs to me—I was in the habit of keeping it in a small dressing case on a table in my room—it was unlocked, but fastened with a clasp—I did not lend it to anybody—the prisoner never asked me for it—anybody in the house would be able to get into my room.
Cross-examined. I never had any use for the razor.
By the COURT. I had it in the case as a present—I last saw it about a month before July 15th.
HENRY HALFORD (Sergeant P.) On Saturday night, July 15th, I was on duty at Peck ham police station when the prisoner was brought, in—he said, "I have given myself up. I intended to murder my wife. I know what I am here for"—he had the appearance of a man who had been drinking for some time and appeared dazed—when the charge was read over to him he made no reply.
Cross-examined. At the Police Court I said he had been drinking very heavily—both his eyes were black and he was bleeding profusely from the nose.
Dr. Keats not being in attendance, the Court was adjourned, and on the doctor's arrival he stated that he was not aware that the case was in the list for to-day, so had not attended. The COURT therefore fined him £10.
WILLIAM JOHN CHARLES KEATS . I am medical superintendent at the Camber well Infirmary—on the night of July 15th the prosecutrix was brought in a cab and I assisted to carry her in—we took her to the operating theatre because her clothes were saturated with blood; there was a blood clot in her lap and I was told her throat had been cut—she was in a dying condition from loss of blood—upon taking her to the theatre and removing a muffler Which had been tied round her neck. I found a wound principally on the left side of her neck, although it extended to the middle line—it ran parallel with the lower jaw underneath the chin, about the leveling of the thyroid cartilage—it was a deep wound, extending down to the sheath of the carotid artery, severing practically the two jugular veins, the external and internal on that side and many small vessels—she was semi-conscious—I performed what is called transfusion at once; that is, injecting into the system a fluid to take the place of the blood which has been lost—sometimes it is other people's blood, but it was not in this case; it was a saline similar to normal blood, except that it has no blood cells—she was in danger of losing her life by the margin of a minute or two—if we had not been ready to take her to the theatre she would have been dead—she was in danger for many days—she remained until October 6th, when she discharged herself against my advice—I have not seen her professionally since—on October 6th I did not consider she was ready for discharge, And the effects of the loss of blood will affect her almost to her last days—the wounds could have been caused by this razor and they could have been caused easily with such a sharp instrument.
Cross-examined. It would require a firm right-handed cut to cause them, but not great force—there was an immense quantity of blood lost, several pints—from wounds such as this the blood would commence to flow almost as soon as the woman was cut, although sometimes in the case of the large Veins of the neck the least little inclination of the head downwards may temporarily close them—the probability would be that the blood would spurt out.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I shall plead guilty to the wounding under great provocation."
GUILTY . Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of great provocation and drink. Five years, penal servitude.
The COURT decided not to impose the fine of £10 on Dr. Keats, but said it was right that he should only receive half his expenses.
Before Mr. Recorder.
New Court, October 19th, 1905.
774. WILLIAM POTTINGER (48) PLEADED GUILTY . to, while being a clerk of the Southward Borough Council, unlawfully, and with intent to defraud, omitting material particulars from the books of his employers. He received a good character. Twelve months' imprisonment in the Second Division.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Third Court, October 17th, 1905.
775. ALICE MANSELL (31) PLEADED GUILTY to Burglariously entering the dwelling house of Elizabeth Morley and stealing a clock and other goods, having been convicted of felony at the North London Sessions on June 20th, 1905. Twelve months' hard labour. —And
(776.) FREDERICK GOWER (19) to breaking and entering the dwelling house of Joseph Deadman, and stealing a jacket and other articles, his goods. WILLIAM HUGH GOWER (20) to breaking and entering the dwelling house of Charles Luxon and stealing a scarf pin and other articles, his goods; the said FREDERICK GOWER and HASTINGS LANGLEY (17) also to breaking and entering the dwelling house of Joseph Parr, and stealing a suit of clothes and other goods, his property; the said WILLIAM HUGH GOWER and FREDERICK GOWER also to breaking and entering the dwelling house of John James Waters and stealing a clock and other articles, his goods, having been previously convicted, William Hugh Gower of felony at Newington on January 17th, 1903, and Frederick Gower at the South Western Police Court on December 8th, 1903 (See next case). [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. LYNE Prosecuted.
HENRY MORGAN . I am a sub-postmaster, residing at 109, Queen's Road, Battersea—on the night of August 12-13th, having gone to bed about 12 or 12.30, the house being shut and closed as usual, about 5.30 a.m. I was awakened by the forcing of the bedroom door, which was not locked, but I had just a heavy chair against it—I looked to see why the door was being opened, when the prisoner forced his way in—he raised his hand with a knife in it in the attitude of striking—it looked to me like a clasp knife—I could see the blade—I twisted my legs out of bed as well as I could, and he made another attempt with the knife—I held the clothes
over my head, pushed them in his face, and raised an alarm to my neighbors—the prisoner decamped—I heard two men go downstairs; then neighbors came in—when I went to dress I missed my waistcoat and watch and chain—the waistcoat had been hanging on a peg behind the door with the watch in the pocket—the waistcoat was thrown down with the remnants of my watch chain when the men escaped over a gateway 7 feet high—this is the watch, which I value at £3—it is a lever double action, and worth £3 to me.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. A table knife of mine was found which may have been used to put back a window catch—you asked before the Magistrate if that was the knife that was held up—I had used that knife for cleaning round the back door and it was left outside, but it was not that knife that was used—my neighbor picked it up and brought it into my kitchen—my neighbors came in not two minutes after I cried out—I was able to describe my watch to the pawnbroker before he produced it, as I had had it fourteen years, and I identified it as the watch that was taken away.
SARAH ANN MORGAN . I am the wife of the last witness, and live at 109, Queen's Road, Battersea—on the early morning of August 13th I was in bed when I was awakened by hearing my husband calling, "Oh! oh!" and thought he was dreaming—I saw two men in our bedroom—I am quite sure the prisoner is one of them—I got out of bed and went round to his side—I saw the prisoner raise, his hand and try to stab him with a knife twice—my husband raised the bed clothes in front of him—the prisoner picked up a chair and it fell on my arm and bruised it—then the prisoner unhooked the waistcoat with the watch in it off the door and ran downstairs—there were two men in the room—both ran downstairs—the prisoner was doing all the mischief—I went to the window and blew a whistle for a policeman—in about ten minutes the neighbors began to come in and a police officer came—I identified the prisoner at the South Western Police Court a fortnight or three weeks ago, I cannot exactly tell the date, when I gave evidence before Mr. De Grey, the Magistrate—this is my husband's watch—I have known it for some years; I am certain of it—this burglary happened about 5.30 a.m. on August 13th—it was quite light in the room, though the blind was down.
Cross-examined. I could not tell what sort of a knife it was; I was too excited for my husband's sake—it was not a long blade like this one—I did not find any cuts in the bed clothes—it was not more than five minutes before the neighbors came in after you had left—I could not identify your feet; I could not see your faces.
CHARLES IMESEN . I am a pawnbroker's assistant at 214, Coldharbour Lane—I produce a watch which was pledged on August 14th with me for 4s. in the name of William Waters, of 31, Widens Road, by a man I do not identify.
ROBERT WHITFIELD (Detective V.) I examined the house and premises at 109, Queen's Road, Battersea—I found that an entrance had been made by climbing a pair of gates about 7 feet high, and getting to the rear of the premises through a smaller gate and through the kitchen.
window on the ground floor, the woodwork had been partly broken away, probably by this knife, which was lying under the window—the catch was back in its place—I made inquiries and found this watch had been pledged at 214, Coldharbour Lane in the name of Waters—the prisoner was placed with twelve other men and identified by Mr. Morgan—when charged he made no reply.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that there was a great mistake in the identification.
GUILTY. He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Newington Sessions on January 17th, 1903. Two other convictions were proved against him— Ten years' penal servitude. FREDERICK GOWER, against whom another conviction was proved— Five years' penal servitude; and LANGLEY— Nine months' hard labour.
MR. HINDE, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
Third Court, October 20th, 1905.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted,
JOHN HARRIS . I keep the Prince George public-house, Hillingdon Street, Walworth—on Thursday, September 21st, the prisoner came in and asked the barman for a glass of ale—I was by his side and saw him tender this florin, which the barman handed to me—the prisoner said, "That is all right"—I said, "No, it is not"—I looked at it and said, "This is a bad 2s. piece"—he said he got it in change for a half sovereign—I told him it was a bad one and gave it him back—he tendered 1d. for the glass of ale—the florin felt greasy—I spoke to a plain-clothes officer.
SARAH ANN HYDE . I am manageress of the Royal Standard public-house, Royal Road, Newington, which is near Hillingdon Street—on September 21st the prisoner came in for half a pint of ale, price 1d.—he tendered this 2s. piece—it had a bad sound, and I told him it was bad—he took it back, and gave me 1d. for the ale—he stood a few minutes; then he said, "Haven't you made a mistake?"—I said, "No"—a policeman came in in plain clothes.
Cross-examined by prisoner. I did not take your beer away and say you had had enough—we were demurring about the 2s. piece, and I said, "Here's your money back," and I took the ale away, and told you to go somewhere else, not because you had had too much—you did not seem to be in liquor.
JAMES SHONHEIMER (23 L. R.) I was in plain clothes near the Prince George public-house on September 21st, about 9.45 p.m., when Harris, the landlord, spoke to me and pointed out the prisoner, who drank his ale and left the counter—I followed him about 150 yards and into the
Royal Standard—he called for a glass of ale, and produced this counterfeit florin and placed it on the counter—the landlady said, "I cannot take this; this is a bad one"—he said, "Is it?"—she said, "Yes"—he said, "Don't you think you have made a mistake?"—she said, "No"—he then produced a penny from his pocket, and paid for the ale—I touched the prisoner on the shoulder—I told him I was a police officer, and that he knew that the florin was a counterfeit one, as he had tried to pass it two minutes previously to the landlord of the Prince George—he said, "No, I did not"—I afterwards searched him and took the counterfeit florin from him—he said, "I did not know it was bad"—I found the counterfeit florin in his waistcoat pocket and 4d. borne—I took him to the station—on the road he said, "I must have got it in change for a half-sovereign"—when the charge was read over to him he said, "I must have got it in change for a half-crown."
The 'prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was not aware in the first instance it was bad. They gave it book and said it was cracked. I was not satisfied, and I was under the influence of drink, or I should not have tendered it again. I did it to satisfy myself."
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he must have got the coin in change, that he had changed half-a-crown the same evening, and as he was not inclined to think it was bad he went to the second public-house to try it; that there was nothing previously against him; and that he was in a serious position, having always had a good character. He received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
Before J. A. Rantoul, Esq., K. C.
Fourth Court, October 11th, 1905.
780. ROBERT HENRY WATERLOO HANNA PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully committing an act of gross indecency with another male person, to wit, Jack Walton Her path. One conviction for a similar offence was proved against him. Three months' hard labour. —And
(781.) ARTHUR CLARKE (26) to unlawfully and fraudulently obtaining by false pretences, with intent to defraud, from Rowland Hill four pairs of distemper brushes, having been convicted of felony on August 5th, 1905. Discharged on his own recognisance's in £5. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
782. WILLIAM BOYD (40) and DANIEL CARNEY (34) , Conspiring and agreeing together to prevent the due course of justice by endeavoring to dissuade Henry Smith from giving evidence in a certain case of felony. Another count. Inciting Henry Smith to compound a felony for money.
MR. BODKIN and MR. FITCH Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL appeared for Carney, and MR. JENKINS for Boyd.
HENRY SMITH . I am an engineer's fitter, living at present in lodgings near Westminster Bridge—on September 21st last I was living at Anderton's Hotel, Fleet Street—I had arrived from abroad about a fortnight before—
I had in my possession bank notes, a gold nugget and some jewellery—on "September 21st I met three men called Murphy O'Reilly and Gillman—I entrusted my property to one of them—I did not see him again till he was in custody—on the evening of that day I saw that the men were arrested—I attended the next day at the Police Court and gave evidence in the hearing of the three men—the case was adjourned until September 28th—I was the only witness to speak as to how the property passed—a day or two afterwards a Mrs. Murphy called on me at the Trafalgar Hotel, York Road—I arranged to see her again next day—she called again and I went for a walk with her, as she said she wished to introduce me to a gentleman—she introduced me to Boyd—he said, "You have got into a bit of trouble"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I am very sorry to hear it, because Murphy is a very old friend of mine and we worked together in Australia for several years"—we then went to my hotel, where we had a drink—he said to me, "Now I am appealing to you on behalf of Murphy and this woman and child. It is very hard for a man to get a living in London, let alone a woman and her child"—I agreed with him that it was—I said, "They served me a very nasty trick and they do not deserve any consideration"—he said, "No doubt they have done you a very dirty trick. I am not pleading for these other two, it is only on account of Murphy and his wife and child"—he asked me if I would make it lenient for them"—I said I did not think I could, as things had gone too far; I could not make it lenient for him without doing it for the others, and I would not do that on any consideration—he said, "I have a friend from Australia, from a place called Gawler, who has some money, and I think we can get sufficient money to pay you for all your losses and what expenses you have incurred since you have been here and a pound or two besides; that is if you will get out of the country and not prosecute those men"—I said to him, "Well, I don't think I can do that very well, because I might be fetched back"—he said, "Well, you need not be frightened of that at all, because I can take you down to my lawyer and you can take advice on that, and you can catch the same boat that you missed on the 22nd at Marseilles, or you can go from Liverpool"—I said I could give him no decided answer—in referring to the three men Murphy, O'Reilly and Gillman, he had said to me, "As a man of the world, what good can it do you to leave those men here behind doing from five to seven years?"—I said, "Well, there is one thing I shall have the satisfaction of knowing; that is, that I have done some good to someone else if I have not done it for myself"—he said nothing to that—I told him I had an appointment at 11o'clock—he said, "I don't want to detain you; on any consideration you won't mention anything to the police or the officers"—I said, "No"—when I met the police I told them all about the interview—I had an appointment to meet Boyd the same night outside the hotel, which I kept—he came up to me and invited me inside to have a drink—I went—he said, "what about those men? I have this friend from Australia. I would like to introduce him to you; he is a gentleman he is stopping at a cafe; it won't take us half an hour to go over there"—I said I had no wish at all to meet the third man, and the appointment was to be here—
previous to that, when we were in the hotel he asked me if I had anyone with me, to which I said no, I was on my own, and I said, "I suppose you are the same?"—he said yes, he was—we went out of the hotel and he said, "Come and have a few words with him, "referring to his friend; "he is a thorough gentleman"—I said, "No, I do not want to go at all"—he caught me by the arm and tried to pull me to a cab—he did it several times—I said, "I won't go if you put a thousand pounds down on the spot"—he said to me, "If you won't go, will you wait here half an hour and I will go and fetch the gentleman?"—I said yes, I would—he said, "On condition you speak to no one while I am away"—I said, "All right; if you are back at 11.20 I will wait till then, but no longer"—he drove away in the cab—he came back in about half an hour with (Carney)—I had not seen him before—he introduced him in the ordinary way—I cannot say by what name, but as the friend from Gawler—Carney suggested going into the hotel and having a drink—he said, "I believe you have got into a bit of trouble"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I have come to see what I can do for those men as I know them"—we had the drink and there was some conversation about friends in Gawler—he then said, "Let us go out of this, as we cannot talk here"—we went to another part of the hotel, where it was darker—we talked about Gawler and just as we were going to start talking about the men, he having said, "Now what about those men, "I the officers came up and arrested them—previous to that Boyd had said, "Come over and see me. I am sure you can get £200 and a few pounds besides, not in notes but in gold; but mind you, I don't think you can get it all to-night, but I guarantee you to get it first thing in the morning if you clear out of the country"—that was in the public-house—as I did not listen to their suggestions, I stayed in this country.
Cross-examined by MR. JENKINS. I think I first saw Mrs. Murphy at the Trafalgar Hotel on the 25th—she came to plead for leniency for her husband—Boyd only suggested Murphy throughout—he said he was not pleading for the others—I had no intention of making it lenient for any of them—it was suggested that the matter should be dealt with at the Police Court, but I would not fall in with it—no money was, in fact, Offered to me—Boyd told me that he knew Mrs. Murphy in Australia, and that he had not seen her for about four years till she casually met him—he said he had come for the sake of her and her child and Murphy, who was an old friend of his, and it was no more than one pal would do for another.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When O'Reilly, Murphy and Gillman were arrested I recovered all my property except two £5 notes and a watch—when they were before the Magistrate I think some solicitor did ask the Magistrate to deal with it summarily, but he said he must send the case for trial—I should think Carney was in conversion with me for about an hour—I have no doubt he knew Gawler and people there—barney did not speak about Murphy only, but, "What will you do for these men, as I know them?"—I could not possibly be mistaken—I do not think I said before the Magistrate that he wanted to see what he could do for Murphy, as he knew him—if it is on the depositions it is a mistake.
Re-examined. I said in cross-examination before the Magistrate that Carney said, "I have come to see what you can do for these men, as I know them"—I did not alter my evidence after hearing what Detective Knell said.
FRANK KNELL (Detective-Inspector L.) From information received I went on September 26th to the York Hotel—I saw the prosecutor meet Boyd in the street and they then adjourned to the hotel—I saw them drinking together—after about half an hour they both came out—they had a conversation outside—Boyd then hailed a cab, got into it and drove towards the City—I followed—I saw him get out of the cab and speak to two men named Ryan and Muller—these two were afterwards arrested, but discharged—I heard Boyd say to Muller, "It is no good; he won't come away. We must have the money"—Boyd went back to the hotel with Ryan—later on I saw Boyd, Carney and the prosecutor go into the hotel together—Carney paid for drinks and cigars—I pushed against him—I heard him say, "I know this men; I have come to see what I can do for them, but we cannot talk here—five minutes after they went out—I followed—I saw Carney, Boyd and the prosecutor conversing outside—I went up to them with another officer—I caught hold of Boyd and said, "I am a police officer and shall arrest you for inciting this gentleman, Mr. Smith, to compound a felony and for trying to dissuade him from giving evidence in a case of larceny against Murphy and O'Reilly, in custody for the confidence trick—Boyd said, "I have only just come from Paris"—I then took them to the station, five of them altogether, and they were charged—on Boyd was found 1s. 6d. silver and 6 1/2 d. bronze, a watch and chain, a solicitor's card and a Bank of Engraving note or a note similar to it.
Cross-examined by MR. JENKINS. This note is a whisky advertisement and says, "When you ask for Dunville's whisky see that you get it"—I found it with two others on the other prisoners connected with these men—on the day Mrs. Murphy called on the prosecutor, I met him in the evening—I did not go to any public-house with him—I did not discuss the matter with him for two or three hours, not more than two minutes.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Carney, in my presence, was in the prosecutor's company for five or six minutes—all I heard him say was, "I know these men; I have come to see what I can do for them. We cannot talk here"—it was nearly said in one breath—those are the words he used—when I was before the Magistrate I did not refer to my note—I had seen neither Boyd nor Carney before that evening.
FRANK PIKE (Detective-Sergeant L.) I was near the York Hotel about 11.30 on September 26th—I saw Rowen, Carney and Muller join Boyd and another man named Ryan in the Waterloo Road—I got close to them and did my best to hear what they were saying—Mailer said, "Where is he?"—Ryan replied, "He is still round the corner," or words to that effect—Muller said, "We have got about £50"—Carney said, "Introduce me to him"—Muller and Carney then joined the prosecutor outside the York Hotel and all three went inside—I did not go in—a few minutes afterwards I arrested Rowen, Ryan and Muller—previously at 10 o'clock
I had seen Boyd, Ryan and Muller in conversation in the Waterloo Road—I heard Boyd say, "We must get him away; I will go and see what I can do with him. You look out, see if he is covered, "or words to that effect—Boyd left the other two and joined the prosecutor outside the hotel and then went inside—the other two remained outside—Boyd and the prosecutor came out—Boyd jumped into a cab and drove towards Waterloo Bridge, followed by Muller and Ryan, and behind them Inspector Knell.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. About 10s. was found on Carney—he gave an address at Agar Street, Strand.
Re-examined. It was No. 12, Agar Street—it is a cook shop; he lived in lodgings over it.
JOHN COSS (Sergeant L.) On September 26th I was with Inspector Knell and saw him arrest Boyd—I took charge of Carney—on the way to the station he said, "You need not hold me so tight, old man; what did you say the charge was?"—I said, "You heard what the inspector said"—he said, "No, but I suppose it was trying to get a pal out of trouble"—I took him to the station—I found 18s. 4d. altogether on him.
Evidence for Boyd.
NELLIE MURPHY . I know Boyd—I first met him in Sydney some five years ago—I first saw him in this country about two weeks ago, accidentally—I told him of my trouble and begged him to help me, as I was alone in London with a baby—I told him ail that had taken place about my husband—I called on the prosecutor and asked him to come with me to see Boyd, as he, Boyd, would explain my position to him—all that took place was that Boyd begged of him to be lenient with my husband for my baby's sake—there was no other occasion when Boyd and the prosecutor had any conversation—I went to a solicitor, Mr. Sydney, with Boyd—Boyd asked him what he thought it was best to do; he wanted to know if it was got over in the lower Court, would it be better for the prisoner—the solicitor's card was found on Boyd—no money matters whatever were mentioned.
Cross-examined. I was at home at Kennington when my husband was arrested—he was a miner in South Africa and Australia—he was not doing anything in London as far as I know—I did not know the other two men, O'Reilly and Gillman—I did not know that they went about together—Boyd I knew as a customer at a restaurant where I worked in Australia—he was not a friend of my husband, but of mine—I do not know Carney—as far as I know, my husband did not know Carney—I heard of him by the papers—I did not know that Carney and Boyd were friends—I saw by the newspaper where the prosecutor was living.
GUILTY . The Jury added that they thought the issuing of imitation bank notes as whisky advertisements was most improper and mischievous, with which the Judge concurred. One summary conviction was proved against Boyd in the name of Mackenzie at Liverpool. The police stated that the
prisoners were members of a notorious gang of confidence trick swindlers. Twenty-one months' hard labour each.
Fourth Court, October 19th, 1905.
MR. LYONS Prosecuted.
HENRY PELHAM . I live in a caravan at Plough Lane, Wimbledon, and am a showman—on October 3rd last, at 5 p.m., I was in Garratt Lane, driving a horse and cart—I met the prisoner—he said, "Hullo, Harry"—I said, "Hullo, Fred"—he got into the cart—we went to a public-house and had a drink—he said, "Your horse is a good one; I will give you 50s. for it"—I said, "No, I won't take it; I will take £3," and drove away—that evening, about 7.30 or 8, I left the horse in a field and locked the gate with a padlock—I next went to the field on the 5th—the horse was missing and the gate had been lifted off its hinges—next day I saw the horse at Mr. Clarkson's, who is a horse slaughterer at Mitcham—I identified it and reported the affair to the police—I charged the prisoner.
WILLIAM LEES . I live at Phipps Bridge, Mitcham, and am manager to Messrs. Clarkson, horse slaughterers—on October 4th, about 9 p.m., the prisoner came to us with a brown gelding and offered it for sale—he asked 25s. and we gave him 22s. 6d.—he said he had bought it for £1—we have bought two horses before through him.
The prisoner. "I sold him the horse."
ROBERT WILLIAMSON (Detective-Constable V.) On Friday, October 4th, I received some information—the next day with Gillan I met the prisoner in Wandsworth and asked him if his name was Stevens—he said, "Yes"—I said, "You answer the description of a man who sold a horse on Wednesday evening to Mr. Clarkson, Phipps Bridge Road, Mitcham, for £1 2s."—he turned to me and said, "You are wrong; I have not been near Clarkson's for about three or four months and I have not bought a horse of any description for a long time. You have made a great mistake; you will have to put lip with it for having me up"—we took the prisoner to Wimbledon police station, where he was charged—he replied, "I did not steal it; I bought it from a man in Garratt Lane, whom I don't know, for £1, and I sold it to Mr. Lees, the foreman to Mr. Clarkson, for £1 2s. 6d.
JOSEPH GILLAN (Police Sergeant). I was present when the prisoner was arrested—he made a statement of which I took a note—I have not compared it with Williamson's—he said, "Me sell a horse at Clarkson's this week! I have done no such thing; I have not been near Clarkson for months and I have not bought a horse of any description for a long time. You have made a mistake; you will have to suffer for this "or" put up with the consequences, "I am not certain which—when charged he said, "I did not steal it; I bought it from a man I don't know for £1 and sold it to Lees for £1 2s. 6d."
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I bought the horse for £I from a man I know by sight, but I don't know his name or where he lives. I am not guilty of stealing it."
The prisoner, in his defence, repeated this statement, adding, "I did not ask him where he got it from."
GUILTY . Six convictions were proved against him. The police gave him a bad character as an associate of horse stealers. Two years' hard labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 13TH, 1905.