Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 6.0, 17 September 2014), May 1893 (t18930501).

Old Bailey Proceedings, 1st May 1893.

CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT

Sessions Paper.

KNILL, MAYOR.

SEVENTH SESSION, HELD MAY 1ST, 1893.

MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,

TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY

JAMES DROVER BARNETT

AND

ALEXANDER BUCKLER,

Short-hand Writers to the Court,

ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.

THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE

REVISED AND EDITED BY

EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,

OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.

VOLUME CXVIII-SESSIONS VIL TO XIL

LONDON:

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THE

WHOLE PROCEEDINGS

On the Queen's Commission of

OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY

FOR

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, May 1st, 1893, and following days.

BEFORE the RIGHT HON. STUART KNILL, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir WILLIAM GRANTHAM , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir JAMES CLARKE. LAWRANCE , Bart., Alderman of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q. C., M. P., K. C. M. G., Recorder of the said City; GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., JOHN VOCE MOORE, Esq., JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Esq., MARCUS SAMUEL , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., other Aldermen of the said City; and Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q. C., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.

JOSEPH RENALS, Esq., Alderman.

WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., Alderman.

Sheriffs.

THOMAS BEARD , Esq.

GEORGE ROSE INNES , Esq.

Under-Sheriffs.

CENTRAL CRIMIN AL COURT.

KNILL, MAYOR. SEVENTH SESSION.

A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.

LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.

OLD COURT.—Monday, May 1st, 1893.

Before Mr. Recorder.

448. ALBERT KUPPER (27) , Stealing five 100-mark notes of Julius Humbel.

MR. BLACK Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended, at the request of the COURT.

JULIUS HUMBEL (Interpreted). I live at 28, Mortimer Market—on the 13th April I was with the prisoner and the witness Bendolf at the Harmonic Club—I was there about half an hour—the prisoner, Bendolf, and I lodged and slept in the same room—I had five German 100-mark notes in my possession—I saw them safe at four the same evening—I had them in a pocket-book in an inner pocket of my coat—when I went to bed I put my clothes on a chair in the same room—I went to sleep—I awoke at two o'clock and went into my own room, and put my clothes on my chair—at six I awoke, and went to the room of my friend Bendolf—the prisoner was then downstairs—I remained in the room two minutes—I then went back to my room and looked at my pocket, and then I discovered that the five 100-mark notes had been taken, and five marks remained in the pocket-book—the prisoner afterwards came into Bendolf a room—I told Bendolf I was robbed, and Bendolf told the prisoner—he said, "You can search me"—Bendolf said I ought to inform the police about it—I then went with the landlady of the house to the policestation, and gave information of my loss; that was about half-past seven in the morning—I have not recovered my money—no one slept in my room but myself—I locked my door when I went to bed—I had been out that evening with Bendolf to different places; he paid for me—the prisoner was not with us—I had not shown the prisoner my notes, but one day I gave him a leaf out of my pocket-book, and on that occasion he saw them—my pocket-book is at home.

Cross-examined. I last saw the prisoner in the forenoon before missing my money, between 10 and 11—I had been out with Bendolf, and met Tryon at the club—I had not been drinking much, perhaps I had a glass more than was good for me—Tryon told me I ought not to live in the

house—it was not exactly a house of bad character, but it is not a very fine house—I came home at quarter-past eleven—Tryon is a friend of Bendolf—he was with me for a considerable time that day—the prisoner offered to be searched.

Re-examined. The prisoner had been downstairs twice before I missed my money.

JOSEPH TRYON . I am a hairdresser, at 68, Cleveland Street—I know the prosecutor and the prisoner—he is a hairdresser; we used to work together two years ago—we had no quarrel, we have been friendly—on the 15th of last month he spoke to me at our club about Humbel's money, that he had from 600 to 700 marks in his pocket, and as soon as he got a chance he would get it—he said he had got a place to bring it to, where nobody could find it—that same night I met him and Humbel leaving together—I did not exactly tell Humbel what the prisoner had said, but I warned him and also Bendolf—the prisoner said at the same time that he took Humbel's money he would take Bendolf a watch and chain; this was the night before at the club—Humbel did not take any notice of it—he had had a glass too much, but Bendolf recollected it.

Cross-examined. This conversation took place at the club between two and three, in the dining-room—there were five or six other persons present, but they could not hear what was said; we were sitting at another table—I did not mention the prisoner's name to Humbel, I only warned him to be careful—I said, "You are living in a very dangerous house, and you had better look out for another room; something might happen in the house where you are living"—I did not know anything about the house; I had been there the day before the robbery with the prisoner; he took me there—I was not at work at that time—I am now.

By the COURT. I was rather astonished at what the prisoner said, and I warned both Humbel and Bendolf.

ALWYN BENDOLF . I am a hairdresser—at the time of this alleged occurrence I lived at 28, Mortimer Market, where the prisoner also occupied a room—on a Friday evening, I don't recollect the date, I was with the prosecutor at the Harmonic Club—Tryon made a communication to me there about the prisoner—I left at half-past eleven o'clock and returned home with the prosecutor, who slept in my bed—the prisoner also occupied the same room—at two o'clock in the morning the prosecutor left and went to his own room—I next saw the prosecutor at half-past six in my room—the prisoner got up at six o'clock; I asked him what was the reason he got up so early, there was no newspaper to be got yet—he said he must go downstairs—the prosecutor had not risen then—when the prisoner came back from downstairs I said I was quite astonished at his coming back already, and then the prosecutor came over to my bed and laid down, and the prisoner said to the prosecutor, "It is too early; don't get up yet"—I presume he went downstairs to ease himself; it seemed to me he was away an unreasonably short time—at seven o'clock he went downstairs the second time to get a newspaper—the prosecutor came and told me his money was stolen, and I said to the prisoner, "We two only know that Humbel had some money"—the prisoner said, "I don't know that the man had any money"—he offered to be searched, because I said nobody should leave the house before he was searched—the prisoner said he had to leave—he was not searched, I don't know why—I suppose he

went to get the newspaper; he used to come back with it, but he did not return—at four o'clock we met him at the Harmonic Club—I then said, "Why did you leave? It is very inconvenient to both of us, because we two were sleeping in the same room with the prosecutor"—then the prisoner and Humbel had an altercation, and Humbel said, "I don't mind losing £5 if I only could get the remainder of my money back"—I asked the prisoner why he did not stay in the house in the morning; he ought not to have gone away—he said, "I have nothing to do with the whole matter"—he said first, "I have to mind my business"—I had a watch and chain—I did not lose my watch on this occasion I was out of employment and had to pawn it.

By the COURT. Seven o'clock was the prisoner's usual time for going out in the morning.

Cross-examined. I was with the prosecutor the whole day till half-past eleven—I was in different public-houses with him—I saw Tryon at eleven p. m. at the Harmonic Club—I had no conversation with him.

WALTER STEED (445 D). I arrested the prisoner on the charge of stealing, five notes of one hundred marks each—he did not say anything—I searched him, but did not find anything.

Cross-examined. I searched his room, but found nothing.

NOT GUILTY .

449. CHARLES EDMUND STANLEY PLOWDEN (22) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from William Robert Rees two rings and a brooch, with intent to defraud— Judgment respited.

450. JOHN WALTER WADSWORTH (32) and WILLIAM I'ANSON (23) , to stealing a Bank of England note for £20, the property of Alfred William Cavalier. I'ANSON— Discharged on recognisances . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] WADSWORTH— Judgment respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

451. CHARLES CAMPION (30) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Akehurst, with intent to steal therein; also** to a conviction in February, 1891, of being found by night with housebreaking implements in his possession— Three Years' Penal Servitude , [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

(452) HENRY OWEN (39) , to stealing a watch from the person of Samuel Kelly, and to six previous convictions for stealing watches— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

453. JOHN RICHARD MORGAN, Unlawfully obtaining money by false pretences. MR. PAUL TAYLOR , for the prosecution, offered no evidence

NOT GUILTY .

NEW COURT.—Monday, May 1st, 1893.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

454. HARRIETT HARRISON PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin— Eight Months' Hard Labour.

455. WILLIAM HAYMAN SMITH (22) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Thirza Price, and stealing a quantity of spirits, her property— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

456. CHARLES BILDERMAN (35) , to stealing on 6th April, 1892, a quantity of furniture, obtained on a hiring agreement— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

457. ALFRED LAWRENCE (18) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Robert West, and stealing a box of cigars and other articles, his property— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.

458. WILLIAM BAYLEY (45) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.

HENRY ROWLEY . I live at 6, Providence Row, Pentonville—on April 15th I was playing near Albion Street, King's Cross, and the prisoner said to me, "Tommy, go and fetch me a loaf over the way; I shall be going up the street," and gave me a half-crown folded up in newspaper—I went to Mrs. Morrison's, asked for a loaf, and gave her the half-crown—she would not take it—I went out of the shop with Mr. Morrison and saw the prisoner outside Applegarth's milk shop, about as far off as the length of this Court—he ran away.

WILLIAM MORRISON . I am a grocer and baker of 35, Albany Street, King's Cross—on the Saturday evening I saw Rowley in the shop—he laid this half-crown on the counter—my wife handed it to me, and I saw it was bad—I had some talk with the boy and went out—a man immediately started running, but stopped before he was caught in Winchester Street, and the boy said, "That is the man who gave me the half-crown"—the prisoner said, "What do you want me for?"—I said, "Wait till the constable comes"—the police came and I charged him—he said at the station that he knew nothing of me or the lad.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. My shop is about thirty houses from where I saw you—you ran, but you were walking before you were stopped—I cannot say whether you were out of breath, as I was excited—nobody was running in front of you, but behind you there was—I kept you in view all the time—I could not have made any mistake after I started chasing you.

WILLIAM RICE (273 G). I was in Wharfdale Road, and saw a crowd—I followed into Winchester Street, and saw Morrison holding the prisoner—he gave him into my custody and showed me a coin—the prisoner said, "You have made a mistake"—I took him to the station—he said on the way, "What am I going to be charged with?"—I searched him, and found a shilling, two sixpences, 71/2d., and a pawn-ticket—he gave his address at a common lodging-house.

Cross-examined. You were out of breath, as if you had been running. WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER. I am Inspector of Coin to the Queen's Mint—this half-crown is bad.

The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that he never saw the boy, and knew nothing of the half-crown.

GUILTY. **— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

459. ABRAHAM COHEN (15) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

FRANK PATCH . I am a wine and spirit merchant, of 165, Tooley Street—on April 20th, just after four p. m., the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of tobacco, and gave me a florin—I told him it was bad, and asked where he got it—he said, "At a fruit barrow in the City"—I gave him in charge, but the inspector on duty at the station refused to take the charge—I handed the coin to the inspector; this is it—I afterwards read

in a paper of the uttering at the King's Arms and went to the policestation—this piece was not cut out of the milling when he gave it to me.

WILLIAM ELLISON (Police Inspector). I took the prisoner at Mr. Patch's shop, and received this coin—I searched him there and found two good florins—his father came to the station—I hear that he has lived twenty-one years in the same house.

JESSIE FARROW . I am assistant at the King's Arms, Bishopsgate Street Without—on April 19th, between six and seven o'clock, I was serving in the bar, and the prisoner asked me for a pennyworth of tobacco, and gave me a florin, which I put in the till and gave him the change and he left—about half an hour afterwards Mr. Burdon went to the till—I had not put any other florin in—he counted the money and took out two bad florins—Miss Carter was also serving, but no one else—I was also serving there next morning, April 20th, about half-past ten, and the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of tobacco—I recognised him—he gave me a florin—I tried it with aquafortis and found it was bad—I asked him to wait for the change and took it to Mrs. Burdon, who gave it back to me—Mr. Burdon came into the bar and examined the coin—a constable was sent for and the prisoner was given in custody—this is the coin; here is the mark I made with aquafortis.

LOUISE CARTER . I am an assistant at the King's Arms—on April 19th, about 6 p. m., I was serving in the bar, and a man, not the prisoner, came in and asked for some tobacco, and gave me a florin, which I put in the till—I did not put any other florin in or take one out—no one was serving except me and Miss Farrow—I saw Mr. Burdon go to the till afterwards.

WALTER JAMES BURDON . I keep the Sling's Arms, Bishopsgate Street Without—on April 19th, between seven and 7. 30, I counted the money in the till, and found these two bad florins—I tried them in the tester—only Miss Farrow and Miss Carter were serving—one coin, that of 1864, is marked with a cross, and the other, that of 1866, is marked "1"—I placed them by themselves at the back, where they remained till the night of the 20th, when I handed one of them to the police—my wife made a communication to me about 10. 30, and I went to the bar and found the prisoner there—I saw a florin of 1866 on the counter; a constable came, and I said, "This boy has given this two-shilling piece for tobacco, and it is bad"—I do not think the prisoner said anything.

FRANK HICKS (City Policeman 960). On 20th April I was called to the King's Arms, and Mr. Burdon gave the prisoner, into my custody with this florin—he said he received it in exchange for 2s. 6d. at a barrow in the City—Mr. Burdon said, "This lad was in here last night and tendered a bad florin"—the prisoner said, "I am not the boy"—the inspector said, "Who gave you the florin you tendered last evening?"—he said, "My father gave it to me," but he contradicted himself at the station after the charge was read, and said that his father did not give it to him—I searched him, but only found a halfpenny and a metal ring—he gave a correct address—Mr. Burdon also handed some other coins to Inspector Fitzgerald.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to H. M. Mint—these four florins are counterfeit, and three are of 1866 and from the same mould."

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his character and his youth. Being over the age at which he could be sentenced to be flogged, his father consented to his receiving twelve strokes with the birch-rod. This having been done, he was discharged next day on his father's recognisances.

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, May 2nd, 1893.

Before Mr. Recorder.

460. NASSIB ABDOOLAH SHIBLEY (27) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining £6 9s. from Margaret Curtis Bevan and others, by false pretences.— Ten Months' Hard Labour.

461. HENRY WHITE (24), CHARLES SMITH (50), and JAMES TOPP (29) , Stealing twenty-three wooden cases, eight pieces of silk, and other goods; a mare, a van, and set of harness, the property of Joseph William Baxendale and others. Second Count, For feloniously receiving the same.

MESSRS. C. F. GILL and E. BEARD Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL appeared for White; and MR. KEITH FRITH appeared for Topp.

CHARLES GEORGE COATES . I am in the employ of Messrs. Pickford and Co., carriers—it is part of my duty to be at London Bridge Station to receive goods sent to our firm, and place them in vans according to their delivery sheets—on 4th April last I was at London Bridge Station—the carman Boyce was there with van No. 385—I received twenty-seven cases—I have the bill enumerating them—they were placed on Boyce's van; he was instructed to deliver four cases at Higgins and Eagle's, in Cannon Street, and some at Cook and Son's, in St. Paul's Churchyard, and other places—the cases contained drapery and silk goods—each case had its own number entered on the sheet—I saw the cases before they were put on the van—I afterwards saw them; they were the same cases.

JAMES BARTON . I am fourteen years of age, and am a van-boy in the employ of Pickford and Co.—on 4th April I was with Boyce and his van, 385 at the station—I led the horse—the van was driven to Cannon Street—we called at Higgins and Eagles' and left four cases there—we then drove to Cook's, in St. Paul's Churchyard—Boyce went in there; while he was there a man came and spoke to me—when Boyce came out I told him what the man had said to me, and he sent me round to Higgins and Eagles'—I did not see the man there that spoke to me; when I came back to Cook's the van was gone—I cannot recognise any of the prisoners.

JOHN BOYCE . I am a carman in the employ of Pickford and Co.—on 4th April I was with van 385 at London Bridge Station—I received from Coates twenty-seven cases—I went to Higgins, Eagles and Co. and delivered four cases, and afterwards to Cook and' Co.—I went in there, and when I came out the boy spoke to me—in consequence of what he said I sent him back to Higgins's—when I came out from Cook's the van was gone—I went back to the head office and gave information—I have since seen the van at the Mansion House—it was the van I was driving—it was about 3. 30 when I missed it.

GEORGE FOALE . I am employed by Pickford and Co. at the Deptford depôt—on Tuesday, 4th April, my business took me to Lewisham High Road to deliver goods—in going along, about ten minutes past five, I noticed one of our vans standing under the trees in the main road, in the gutter at the side of the road—the horse's head was as though it had come from London—it was loaded with cases—I saw a man in charge of it, leaning on the top of the cases—about ten minutes or a quarter, of an hour after I passed again and saw the van, and the man was then getting up on the front of the shafts, and the horse was beginning to move towards Lewisham—I know Friendly Street; it is the third turning on the left from where I saw the van, and about thirty yards from Topp's shop.

Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. Topp's shop is marked on this plan (produced)—if he was going from his stable in Friendly Street to market he would have to pass his shop.

GEORGE WILSON . I live at 21, Friendly Street—I know Topp by name, but I never saw him—my father is the householder of the house and yard, 21, Friendly Street—we have a stable there—Topp or Mr. Pressley occupied the adjoining stable, and kept a horse and van there—on April 4th there was an empty stable to let; there was a notice on the wall that it was to let—about five that afternoon a man came to the door and asked if I had a stable to let—I showed him the stable, and after bargaining with him for it for the night, he gave me 5s.—I had never seen the man before—he went away, and came again in about a quarter of an hour—I then saw a van with some boxes on it—I did not count, them, but I should think there were over twenty—it was a one-horse van of Pickford's—there were three men, and they started unloading the cases and put them in the stable, and left them there, and went away—as a, rule we do not let a stable for one night unless anyone wants it—I am not, sure whether I have ever let it for one night before, I don't know whether my father has—I am a compositor—I was not at work that day—my father came home afterwards, and I believe he went for the police—I do not recognise either of the prisoners.

Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I believe I could recognise two of the men if I saw them—I was taken to the station and shown the prisoners among others, but failed to recognise them.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. The yard is open to all comers at any time; it is not locked.

MARY ANN FOSTER . I am the wife of Henry Foster, and live at 25, Friendly Street—on Tuesday, April 4th, my attention was attracted to a horse and van drawn into the yard opposite where I live—it was a Pickford's van—I saw three men, and I saw George Wilson there—they went into the stable, and I saw the cases taken from the van and put into the stable—the van was backed into the yard; it was drawn straight up to my front window—after it had been unloaded the men went away—I saw one man back the horse out of the yard into the Lewisham Road, and Wilson went out with one or two of the men—I knew White; he is not dressed as he was when he was in the van—I have not good, sight—I recognised him at the station; I was close to him then (The witness was directed to go close to the prisoners)—yes, that is the man, I am sure of it—the next night Wilson spoke to me about the matter—the van was unloaded

close under my window—White held the reins and assisted in the unloading—he put all the boxes out of the van—this is a photograph of the yard, showing my cottage.

Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. They were about ten minutes unloading—I was sitting at my window, and when the van was nearly empty I came to the front door and stood looking at it—I had not seen the three men before—next morning I was taken to one of the cells and shown White—he was washing—Inspector Butcher said, "Can you recognise him?" and I said "Yes"—he was in a cell by himself—Butcher afterwards showed me into a cell where Smith was, and I said I did not know him—he did not show me Topp, because I knew him—I was taken to two cells—White had on a blue handkerchief with white spots—he looks quite different to what he was when I saw him in the cell—I believe he is the man I saw in the cell—I swear to him.

Cross-examined by Smith. I came to see you that morning by Mr. Butcher's directions, and he said to you, "Is this your wife? She wants to see if you are her husband."

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. My cottage adjoins the stable that Topp occupies—I was looking out of my bedroom window when he was arrested—he said nothing, I am quite sure about that—I did not hear him say, "I have come to the stable for the horse, I was going to market"—I knew him as a greengrocer, living in the neighbourhood—I knew him from the time he had the stable—he has a very nice shop—I have never been in it—it was not unusual for him to be at the stable as early as between four and five; he always had a boy with him—I did not see a boy that morning—the boy came in the yard before he was taken away.

Re-examined. He always had a boy with him on market mornings—on this morning I was awoke by the policeman blowing his whistle very loud for some time; so I looked out of my window and I saw Topp come out of the stable, and they said, "That is the man"—that was a "long time after the whistle had been blown—the boy came into the yard afterwards, about half-past five—it was about five when the whistles were blowing—I think Tuesday is market morning—I have heard him very early in the morning—this was on Wednesday morning—I really don't know which is market morning.

By the COURT. At the Police-station I identified White as the man who had held the reins and taken the cases out of the van—I was near enough to see him well at the Police-court—he did not speak to me—he was only the length of the horse from me when I saw him holding the reins; the horse's head was close to my window—he was sitting on the seat of the van.

WILLIAM BUTCHER (Detective Inspector R) I received information of this robbery—about 12. 30 on the morning of the 5th April I went to 21, Friendly Street, and went to the stable—I saw a number of cases deposited there—one was broken open and a bale of silk lay on the top of it, and there was a small box minus the contents—I kept observation of the stable, and about 2. 30 I saw Smith and White come down Friendly Street—they came into the yard on their tip toes—they went round the yard, and White struck a number of matches and looked into the stable—I was in a little recess between Topp's stable and the cottage—Smith went and opened the door of the stable where the cases were, and White

held the door open while Smith went in to examine the cases—he was in there about a minute—they then came out of the yard in the direction of Friendly Street—I went out and went into a front garden in Ashmead Road and kept further observation—about a quarter to five Sergeant Hedge and Constable Bragg came there and kept observation with me—shortly after the three prisoners came up Friendly Street, Topp being on the extreme left of the other two—they turned into the yard—Topp went straight on; Smith and White turned to the right to where the cases were—I then came out of the garden with the other constables, and we went to the front of 21, Friendly Street, and there we could sideways see the van—I saw them put two or three cases in the van—we went into the yard—I made a rush and caught Smith as he was in the act of lifting a case—I pushed him down—he said, "It's all right, you need not fear"—I got him up and held him—White ran back into the corner of the stable—Hedge had a struggle with him—I told him to blow his whistle—he did so for about seven minutes—we had lost Topp all this time—all at once I turned round and saw Topp putting his head out of the stable door—I immediately said, "There is the other man, seize him," which the constable did—we told the prisoners they would be charged with stealing this horse and van and these cases of silk—they said, "It's all right"—Smith said that—we took them to the station and they were conveyed to the City—the charge was read over to them—they made no answer.

Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I did not hear White say anything.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. There is no gate to the yard—I knew that Topp had a stable there—his van was left in the yard at night—the van these things were put into belonged to him, and had his name on it—anyone could go into the yard day and night—I know now that Topp is a greengrocer, and had a shop in the High Road—when he came into the yard with the others he was apparently in conversation with them—I did not hear him say anything.

Re-examined. Market days are Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday—this was on Wednesday—I saw Mrs. Foster there that morning—her husband came and helped Hedge bind up Topp's hands—the whistling went on for seven minutes before Topp put his head out of the stable.

WILLIAM HEDGE (Sergeant 12 R). I went with Constable Bragg to the yard at 21, Friendly Street, and about half-past eleven I saw there twenty three cases; two had been opened, and one was empty—I saw the silk in one that had been opened—I left Bragg there and went back to the station—about 4. 45 I went to the yard again, and at three o'clock I concealed myself in a front garden—my attention was attracted to three men coming in the direction from Friendly Street—they were walking close to each other, as though together; they appeared to be in conversation—they turned into the yard—White and Smith went to the place where the cases were, and Topp went in the direction of the stable—I waited till I heard the noise of a case apparently put into the van, and then went across and seized White; he struggled to get away—I threw him to the ground, and he was secured—the van had the name of Pressley on it, and on the shafts the name of Topp—Bragg blew his whistle for assistance for six or seven minutes.

ARTHUR BRAGG (370 R). I was with the last two witnesses—I arrested Topp in the stable—I had blown my whistle about seven minutes when he

loaded close under my window—White held the reins and assisted in the unloading—he put all the boxes out of the van—this is a photograph of the yard, showing my cottage.

Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. They were about ten minutes unloading—I was sitting at my window, and when the van was nearly empty I came to the front door and stood looking at it—I had not seen the three men before—next morning I was taken to one of the cells and shown White—he was washing—Inspector Butcher said, "Can you recognise him?" and I said "Yes"—he was in a cell by himself—Butcher afterwards showed me into a cell where Smith was, and I said I did not know him—he did not show me Topp, because I knew him—I was taken to two cells—White had on a blue handkerchief with white spots—he looks quite different to what he was when I saw him in the cell—I believe he is the man I saw in the cell—I swear to him.

Cross-examined by Smith. I came to see you that morning by Mr. Butcher's directions, and he said to you, "Is this your wife? She wants to see if you are her husband."

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. My cottage adjoins the stable that Topp occupies—I was looking out of my bedroom window when he was arrested—he said nothing, I am quite sure about that—I did not hear him say, "I have come to the stable for the horse, I was going to market"—I knew him as a greengrocer, living in the neighbourhood—I knew him from the time he had the stable—he has a very nice shop—I have never been in it—it was not unusual for him to be at the stable as early as between four and five; he always had a boy with him—I did not see a boy that morning—the boy came in the yard before he was taken away.

Re-examined. He always had a boy with him on market mornings—on this morning I was awoke by the policeman blowing his whistle very loud for some time; so I looked out of my window and I saw Topp come out of the stable, and they said, "That is the man"—that was a-long time after the whistle had been blown—the boy came into the yard afterwards, about half-past five—it was about five when the whistles were blowing—I think Tuesday is market morning—I have heard him very early in the morning—this was on Wednesday morning—I really don't know which is market morning.

By the COURT. At the Police-station I identified White as the man who had held the reins and taken the cases out of the van—I was near enough to see him well at the Police-court—he did not speak to me—he was only the length of the horse from me when I saw him holding the reins; the horse's head was close to my window—he was sitting on the seat of the van.

WILLIAM BUTCHER (Detective Inspector R). I received information of this robbery—about 12. 30 on the morning of the 5th April I went to 21, Friendly Street, and went to the stable—I saw a number of cases deposited there—one was broken open and a bale of silk lay on the top of it, and there was a small box minus the contents—I kept observation of the stable, and about 2. 30 I saw Smith and White come down Friendly Street—they came into the yard on their tip toes—they went round the yard, and White struck a number of matches and looked into the stable—I was in a little recess between Topp's stable and the cottage—Smith went and opened the door of the stable where the cases were, and White

held the door open while Smith went in to examine the cases—he was in there about a minute—they then came out of the yard in the direction of Friendly Street—I went out and went into a front garden in Ashmead Road and kept further observation—about a quarter to five Sergeant Hedge and Constable Bragg came there and kept observation with me—shortly after the three prisoners came up Friendly Street, Topp being on the extreme left of the other two—they turned into the yard—Topp. Vent straight on; Smith and White turned to the right to where the cases were—I then came out of the garden with the other constables, and we went to the front of 21, Friendly Street, and there we could sideways see the van—I saw them put two or three cases, in the van—we went into the yard—I made a rush and caught Smith as he was in the act of lifting a case—I pushed him down—he said, "It's all right, you need not fear"—I got him up and held him—White ran back into the corner of the stable—Hedge had a struggle with him—I told him to blow his whistle—he did so for. about seven minutes—we had lost Topp all this time—all at once I turned round and saw Topp putting his head out of the stable door—I immediately said, "There is the other man, seize him," which the constable did—we told the prisoners they would be charged with stealing this horse and van and these cases of silk—they said, "It's all right"—Smith said that—we took them to the station and they were conveyed to the City—the charge was read over to them—they made no answer.

Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I did not hear White say anything.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. There is no gate to the yard—I knew that Topp had a stable there—his van was left in the yard at night—the van these things were put into belonged to him, and had his name on it—anyone could go into the yard day and night—I know now that Topp is a greengrocer, and had a shop in the High Road—when he came into the yard with the others he was apparently in conversation with them—I did not hear him say anything.

Re-examined. Market days are Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday—this was on Wednesday—I saw Mrs. Foster there that morning—her husband came and helped Hedge bind up Topp's hands—the whistling went on for seven minutes before Topp put his head out of the stable.

WILLIAM HEDGE (Sergeant 12 R). I went with Constable Bragg to the yard at 21, Friendly Street, and about half-past eleven I saw there twenty three cases; two had been opened, and one was empty—I saw the silk in one that had been opened—I left Bragg there and went back to the station—about 4. 45 I went to the yard again, and at three o'clock I concealed myself in a front garden—my attention was attracted to three men coming in the direction from Friendly Street—they were walking close to each other, as though together; they appeared to be in conversation—they turned into the yard—White and Smith went to the place where the cases were, and Topp went in. the direction of the stable—I waited till I heard the noise of a case apparently put into the van, and then went across and seized White; he struggled to get away—I threw him to the ground, and he was secured—the van had the name of Pressley on it, and on the shafts the name of Topp—Bragg blew his whistle for assistance for six or seven minutes.

ARTHUR BRAGG (370 R). I was with the last two witnesses—I arrested Topp in the stable—I had blown my whistle about seven minutes when he

came out of the stable door—he said, "I know nothing about it; I came here for my horse; I am going to market."

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I was in uniform—it was after I caught hold of him that he said, "I know nothing about it."

JOHN EGAN (City Detective Sergeant). On the morning of 5th April, about 4. 45, I was in Deptford, and saw the three prisoners in custody of the police—I went with them to the police station in Black heath Road—I said I was a police sergeant of the City, and all three would be charged with being concerned in stealing a van, horse, and twenty-three cases—I took their names and addresses—Topp said he was a florist and carried on business in Lewisham High Road—I said to Topp, "The two police officers state that they saw you come down the road this morning with the other two men, and that you all three turned into the yard together, and said the goods were being loaded up in your van, and two cases are in your van now; have you anything to say?"—he said, "I don't know these two men; I went into my stable to find my horse and go to. market"—they were searched—on Topp was found 3d. in bronze—they were taken to the City and charged.

Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I have made inquiries, and find that Topp is a greengrocer and florist—he appeared to be carrying on a respectable trade—there was an ordinary stock.

Re-examined. Among the things found on Topp was this post-card addressed to "H. C, 17, Richmond Road, Dalston."

SARAH ANN TUNSTALL . I am married, and live at Stoke Newington—about the beginning of May I was present when the premises 17, Richmond Road, Dalston, were let to a Mr. Henry Cranfield—I see Mr. Cranfield here; it is the prisoner White.

JOHN GEORGE DOWNES . I am an architect and surveyor, of Brockley Road—in November, 1892, I let the shop, 156, Lewisham High Road, to Topp—I required a reference as to his respectability, and he gave as a reference "Henry Cranfield, 17, Richmond Road, Dalston"—this is the answer to my inquiry.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. With the exception of the last quarter his rent was regularly paid—I disposed of the premises last Christmas, and I don't know what happened afterwards—the rent was £70, rising to £75—I looked upon him as a good tenant—I knew nothing to the contrary of his being a respectable man.

JOHN SMITH (365 P). On the morning of April 5th I found a van, No. 385, with a horse attached, in Bournemouth Road, Peckham—I took it to the station—it had on it a whip, a nose-bag and a tarpaulin.

CHARLES MULLET . I am in the employ of Pickford and Co., of Gresham Street—I examined the cases recovered by the police with the marks on the delivery sheet—the entire load was of the value of £1,246, apart from the mare, van, and harness.

GUILTY .—White then pleaded guilty to a conviction at this Court on 28th March, 1887, in the name of Henry Cranfield, and Smith to a conviction at the Clerkenwell Sessions in 1886, and several other convictions were proved against him. Topp received a good character. WHITE— Six Years' Penal Servitude . SMITH— Eight Years' Penal Servitude . TOPP— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

462. WILLIAM MOSS (16) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering four orders for the payment of money; also to obtaining goods by false pretences. He received a good character, and his relatives undertook to provide for him.—Discharged on Recognisances.

463. HENRY GARCIA, Unlawfully obtaining from William George Wrench by false pretences, with intent to defraud, delivery orders for oranges and lemons; Other Counts, For obtaining other goods from other persons, with intent to defraud.

MR. ISAACS Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHRGAN Defended

During the cross-examination of the first witness the Recorder pointed out that in letters written by the solicitors to the prosecution they offered to treat the matter as a civil debt, and not as a criminal offence. MR. ISAACS there upon determined not to pursue the prosecution further, and accepted a verdict of

NOT GUILTY .

464. HERBERT GOGGIN (18) , Feloniously wounding Phœbe Hunt, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm.

MR. PASSMORE Prosecuted

PHOEBE HUNT . I live at 10, Little George Street, Hampstead Road, with my father and sister—about half-past twelve a. m. on 10th April the prisoner came to the window and called me to come into the passage—I asked my sister to go out and ask him what he wanted, and he struck my sister, and then stabbed me in my right hand and cut my fingers; I had them stitched up—I had been threatened by him—I lived with him for four months, and have a baby by him—I had no money from him—I was afraid of him—he said nothing when he attacked me—I holloaed out "Police! "and a policeman came and saved us—I am not quite eighteen yet—this is the knife.

ELIZA HUNT . I am the last witness's sister, and live in the same house with her—on the morning of 10th April the prisoner called "Phoebe," and I went to see what he wanted, and he stabbed me with a knife on the right side of the head and in the shoulder—my head is plastered up; this is the hole made in my dress over my shoulder—I saw him stab my sister—I could not say if he was drunk or sober—I was in the hospital for four days—he did not say anything when he attacked us.

WILLIAM CLARK (199 S). On this morning in April I was in Little George Street, and I saw the prisoner kneeling on the window-sill of No. 10—I asked him what he was doing there—he said nothing—I requested him to go away—he went away, but about a quarter of an hour after I saw him in the same position again—I went up and asked him, what he was doing—he ran away—an old lady living in the street said something to me, and I stopped, in the street—the father and cousin came out of the house, and then the prisoner ran into No. 10, and a second after I heard cries of "Police!" and "Murder!"—I rushed into the house, banged the door open, and saw the two sisters bleeding, one from the head and the other from the hand—I saw the prisoner standing in the passage, and took him into custody—he said, "I done it, and I have flung the knife in the backyard"—on the way to the station he was very violent, and flung himself down on the ground—I

went to get him up, and he kicked me in the mouth, and cut my lip about half an inch—at the station he was charged—a doctor was sent for and dressed the sisters' wounds—I went back to 10, Little George Street, and found this knife open in the backyard—the prisoner was quite sober, but very violent.

CHARLES VINE (Inspector S). I was in charge of the Albany Street Station when the prisoner was brought in—when charged, he said, "I did not intend it for Eliza, it was quite by accident I struck her; I intended it for the other cow"—he was sober.

JAMES MOORE . I am divisional surgeon of police, at 56, Albany Street—at 1 o'clock on April 10th I was called to the station—I saw Phœbe Hunt suffering from two wounds on her right hand, one on the back of the middle finger and the other on the palm surface of the ring finger, each about one and a quarter inch long, jagged, incised, and bleeding freely—they might have been done in a struggle—this knife might have caused them—Eliza Hunt was. suffering from a contused wound on the right temple; it must have required some force and could have been done by the blade of a knife—she had another wound on her right shoulder but I did not hear of that for twelve or fifteen hours afterwards, she made no complaint to me at the time; it was a sharp superficial cut, and may not have pained her at first—the wound on Phœbe Hunt's fingers has cut through the nerves of the fingers and has caused inflammation and probably fixation of the fingers for life; one finger will be out of shape.

The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he had reason to do it, as the girl's father took him to the house for a night's lodging; that the girl accused him of stealing 10s. 6d., and said he was not to come in, and that he saw her cousin lying with her on the bed and could not stand it.

GUILTY of Unlawfully Wounding .— Ten Months' Hard Labour.

465. HENRY STOCKS (22) and JOHN ROSE (21) , Robbery with violence on Lynton Henry French, and stealing his watchchain.

MR. DRUMMOND Prosecuted.

LYNTON HENRY FRENCH . I live at 154, Barnsbury Road, and am a. draper's manager—on the morning of 5th April, at twenty minutes to one, I was in Parkfield Street with Mr. Saunders, and as we passed a lodging house I saw Stocks and other men—Stocks and another man came across and struck me in the face and knocked me down—I looked up; Stocks was bending over me—I looked for my friend Saunders, who had been knocked down by Rose—I was struck another blow in my face and my watchchain was stolen—I cannot say who stole it, but Stocks was the man who stood over me when I was knocked down; I have no doubt, whatever that he is the man—I sent Saunders for a constable and watched the house to see that no one came from it—Saunders came back with a constable, and then we all went into the kitchen of the lodging house, and saw Stocks with about thirty others sitting round—I picked Stocks out and charged him with being concerned in stealing my watchchain—I walked straight up to him and told the constable he was the man—I have not since seen the main part of my watchchain—I was lying down when I saw Stocks over me—he was in a threatening attitude, as if I might get another blow; he was in the light of a gaslamp

on the other side, three or four yards away, and I can swear positively to him—Saunders picked out Rose in my presence and that of the constable. Cross-examined by Stocks. I cannot say if you or another man struck me, it was so sudden—you stood over me after I was struck.

PERCY GEORGE SAUNDERS . I lived at 154, Barnsbury Road—I am a draper's assistant—on this night I was with French; we were both sober—we were walking along, and as we got into Parkfield Street, by a lodging house, we saw eight or twelve men standing at the corner—we took no notice, but all of a sudden two men came round, and one deliberately struck French a severe blow on the side of the face and knocked him down, knocking his hat off and his pipe out of his mouth—I went to pick up his hat and pipe when Rose knocked me down—when I got up I saw three or four covering French, who said, "You have not got it?—I said, "Have they taken it?"—he said, "Yes," but instead of taking the watch and chain they had only taken the chain from the bar to the curb—I went to fetch a constable—the man I saw taking French's chain is not in custody—when the chain was stolen Stocks was near French—I did not see him strike him—eight or ten men were round Stocks then, and as soon as the chain was stolen the signal was given and they all made a rush for the door of the lodging-house—Rose struck me near the gas lamp, where French had been knocked down—I saw Rose's face quite distinctly, and I am positive of him—I went for a policeman and met one at the corner of Liverpool Road, and he went with me and two more policemen to this lodging-house—in the kitchen there might have been twenty or thirty men; it was a thorough den of thieves and we were rather nervous—French first identified Stocks, and I turned and saw Rose almost sitting down at my back, and I said, "This is the man that struck me"—I recognised him without any hesitation—he said nothing—when Stocks was identified he only said we had made a mistake.

WILLIAM ELLIS (222 N). On Monday, April 5th, I was on duty in Parkfield Street—Saunders spoke to me, and I went and saw French keeping observation outside a lodging-house—we went downstairs, where we found about twenty persons—as soon as we got into the room French identified Stocks there, and said, "I identify this man as being one of the two that first attacked me; he knocked me down"—Stocks said he had made a mistake—I then arrested him—Saunders went up to Rose and said, "I identify this man as being one of those that struck me"—Rose said he knew nothing of it—I directed Hoath to take Rose, and both prisoners were taken to the station—they were searched, but I could find no traces of the chain—they said nothing when charged at the station.

SIDNEY HOATH (369 N). I took Rose into custody on the morning of 5th April—he said nothing at the station.

Cross-examined by Rose. You did not tell me you knew nothing; about it.

Stocks, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said he was intoxicated and knew nothing about it. Rose, in his defence, stated that he knew nothing of the matter.

GUILTY .

ROSE then PLEADED GUILTY**† to a conviction of felony in April, 1892, in the name of Edward Mager— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour .STOCKS— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

466. JAMES JONES (40) and CHARLES SAVILLE (61) , Unlawfully attempting to steal a watch from the person of Alphonse Denny.

MR. GRAZEBROOK Prosecuted.

ALPHONSE DENNY . I am a confectioner, of 77, Cadogan Villas, Victoria Park—on Saturday night, 22nd April, I was at the corner of Tottenham Court Road, about eleven, going to take the omnibus to Broad Street Station—twenty five or thirty people were also waiting for the omnibus—I tried to push onto the omnibus, and I felt a pressure coming round me, and three lingers were put in my pocket—it was an old silver watch which had belonged to my father, and fitted my pocket tightly—I dropped my hand and said, "Scoundrel! what are you trying to do?"—I saw Jones, and was going for him with my stick, and a gentleman put his hand on him—a detective took him into custody—I am sure Jones is the man.

Cross-examined by Jones. There were twenty-five or thirty people all round me; more than ten were on my left hand side—I cannot say exactly how many were on my right; it may have been ten—you were on my right; you touched my pocket to see if I had something—I had two watches, a gold and a silver one—my coat was open—you were next to me—it was very dark.

Cross-examined by Saville. I did not see you there—the charge was booked against Jones before you got into the station-house.

JOHN CAINE (Sergeant E). On Saturday night, 22nd April, about eleven o'clock, I was at the junction of Tottenham Court Road and New Oxford Street with Sergeant Morgan—I saw the two prisoners standing on the outskirts of a large crowd of persons who were endeavouring to get on to an omnibus going towards the City—I saw Jones feeling the back part of ladies' dresses; there were three or four women and several men there—Saville was standing close behind him, and apparently covering his actions—neither of them made any attempt to get on the omnibus—that omnibus drove away, and another one came up—the prisoners repeated their actions—that omnibus drove away, and another pulled up, and the prisoners repeated their actions—on each occasion Jones was covered by Saville—Saville turned and saw me watching, and I and Morgan walked into Tottenham Court Road and stood in the doorway of the brewery round the corner—I was not in uniform—the prisoners and a third man came to the corner to look after us, but did not see us—they crossed Tottenham Court Road to the west corner, and remained there five minutes—an omnibus came along at a rather rapid rate; a number of persons from the Oxford Music Hall followed it, and the prisoners followed the crowd, and when the omnibus stopped at the east corner of Tottenham Court Road, Jones placed himself on the prosecutor's left side and Saville covered him—I saw Jones put his arm round Denny, and at the same moment someone called out, "You scoundrel! you have attempted to steal my watch," or words to that effect—Saville turned round at the same moment and ran into the road and towards Seven Dials—I caught him; he clung to a lamp-post—I said, "I am an officer; I shall arrest you for attempting to steal a gentleman's watch in the crowd"—I looked round and saw Jones in Morgan's custody, and I said, "I have been watching you for some time"—he refused to let go of the lamp-post, and I had to get assistance—the prisoners were taken to the station—I asked

Saville for his address—he said, "I have none"—I said, "Where, did you sleep last night?"—he said, "At a common lodging-house in Seven Dials"—I said, "You did not require a City omnibus to take you to Seven Dials"—he said, "I know nothing of that, and I know nothing of that person," pointing to Jones—Jones gave as his address a common lodging house in the Whitechapel Road.

Cross-examined by Saville. You were note when I came up to you, holding the lamp-post to keep you up in consequence of a broken ankle.

Re-examined. Saville made no attempt to get into the omnibus; he kept on the outskirts of the crowd.

BENJAMIN MORGAN (Sergeant D). I was with Caine on this night—I kept observation upon the prisoners—I saw them moving about in a suspicious manner—when an omnibus going eastward pulled up they placed themselves on the outskirts of the crowd as though they were going to get on it, but they made no attempt to do so, and Jones acted in a suspicious manner behind the persons, covered by Saville—afterwards they both crossed to the west side of Tottenham Court Road, and when an omnibus came eastward a number of persons followed it and attempted to get on, and the prisoners, and another man we had seen with them, ran on, and I saw Jones get behind the prosecutor, covered again by Saville, and immediately I heard the prosecutor call out, "You have attempted to take my watch—Jones tried to go eastward—Saville ran into the road—I am sure I saw Jones's arm round the prosecutor—I took Jones, and said, "You will have to go to the station for attempting to steal this gentleman's watch"—he said, "I have done nothing; I was only attempting to get into the omnibus"—lie clung to the rails, and I had considerable difficulty in getting him to the station—he made no effort to get on to the omnibus—when charged at the station he said, "I don't know that man," referring to Saville.

Cross-examined by Jones. I was immediately before you when I saw your arm round the prosecutor—the omnibus was at the kerb—when I took you first clung to the wheels of the omnibus—neither of you made any effort to get on the omnibus.

Saville, in his defence, stated that he did not know Jones; that he had broken his ankle, and could not get into die omnibus, and that he caught hold of the post to save himself from falling.

GUILTY .

A large number of previous convictions were proved against SAVILLE**— Twenty Months' Hard Labour . JONES*— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

The COURT commended both police officers for their vigilance.

467. WILLIAM MOSS PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining goods by false pretences.

He received an excellent character.— Discharged on recognisances.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, May 2nd, 1893.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

468. MARTIN MCGREAL, Unlawfully assaulting Mary Elizabeth Burbeck with intent to ravish her.

MR. MUIR Prosecuted.

The prisoner received a good character.

NOT GUILTY .

469. JOSEPH ALLEN ABBOTT (46), and JOHN STAMMERS (27) , Unlawfully committing certain indecent acts.

MR. CLARKE HALL Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended Abbott. Stammers received a good character.

GUILTY .— Four Months' Hard Labour each.

470. WILLIAM NEWMAN (20) , PLEADED GUILTY to indecently assaulting Harriett Attle, a girl under 13.

Nine Months' Hard Labour.

471. GEORGE SMITH, Wilful and corrupt perjury before Mr. De Rutzen, a police Magistrate.

MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted.

PETER CRISTIE (99 B). On the night of March 24th, I was on duty in Tite Street, Chelsea, and saw the prisoner driving a hansom cab, and wearing badge 7414, which is Shillitoe's—I asked him what he meant—he said, "Only taking a fare"—I asked him whether Shillitoe authorised him to wear his badge—he said, "Yes, he did"—I gave him to an officer to take him to the station.

ALFRED BURDON (Police Inspector B). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—I asked him by whose authority he was driving the cab and wearing the driver's badge—he turned to Shillitoe and said, "He did"—I was at Westminster Police-court when a summons was heard against Shillitoe for permitting the prisoner to wear his badge, and the prisoner went into the box and was sworn—the Magistrate asked him whether Shillitoe had given him authority—he said, "No"—he was asked again and gave the same answer—the Magistrate administered a caution to him—he said, "No," twice or three times.

WILLIAM EVANS (17 BR ). On March 24th, at 11. 30, I saw the prisoner driving a cab—Cristie spoke to him and I took him to the station, where the Inspector said, "Who authorised you to wear this badge and drive this cab?"—he pointed to Shillitoe and said, "He did"—next morning I was at Westminster Police-court when he was charged with this offence and fined 2s. 6d.—I was also present on 8th April when a summons was. heard against Shillitoe—he repeated the same evidence, and the Magistrate dismissed the charge.

WILLIAM OUGH (484 B). I was present at Walton Street Police station when Smith was charged—the inspector asked him who authorised him to wear the badge and drive the cab—he turned to Shillitoe and said "He did."

ARTHUR HERBERT SAFFORD . I am Chief Clerk at Westminster Police court—I produce a police summons against Wilson, the proprietor of a hackney carriage, to produce Shillitoe, who came on April 8th, and the case was heard—I took down notes of the evidence, and produce them—Smith was called—I hardly like to say that I saw him sworn—he said, "I live at Adams Lane; I took the cab from the rank, and took the fare to the House of Commons; I found the badge on the roof; I brought it back; I did it out of kindness; I should have given him eighteen pence any way."

EDWARD SWIFT . I am a messenger at Westminster Police-court—on April 8th the defendant was called as a witness against Shillitoe, and I administered the oath to him.

Prisoner's Defence. I admit taking the man's cab; there was no cab there but his. A M. P. came up in a hurry, and I took him to the House, and brought the cab back. I told the prosecutor I did it out of kindness, as I knew the man had not much money. I was detained all night and fined half-a-crown for driving the cab without a license.

NOT GUILTY .

472. JAMES HALL (26) , Unlawfully assaulting Jane Spooner, aged seven years, with intent, &c.

MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.

GUILTY — Twenty Months' Hard Labour.

OLD COURT.—Wednesday, May 3rd, 1893.

Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.

473. GEORGE SHORTEN (25), was indicted for and charged on the Coroner's inquisition with the manslaughter of Albert Stephen Rand.

MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted.

ALFRED OSBORN , policeman, proved a plan of the locality.

HERBERT MADDEN . I am a gas stoker, of 48, Winchester Street, Caledonian Road, Islington—on Saturday evening, April 22nd, between six and seven I was in Winchester Street, and saw a four-wheeled wagon with one horse driven by the prisoner; another person was in the van with him—the prisoner appeared to be standing, leaning against the side. of the van—it was going at an ordinary jog-trot, about four miles an hour—as the van was turning the corner a little child about seven or eight crossed the road towards the van, which knocked him down and ran over him; he was right in the middle of the road—it seemed to be darting right under the wheels, and could not get out of the way—there were no other vehicles about—there were people about on the different kerbs—I think it was either the shaft or the fore-wheel that struck the child—the driver did not seem to be aware of what happened; he did not stop till somebody shouted; he drew up at once—I went up and told him to stop, that he had run over a child and must wait till a policeman came—he said "I did not know anything about it; I will stop"—he did stop, and was taken into custody—he had been drinking, but was not drunk; in my opinion he was able to do his work.

NOT GUILTY .

474. CHARLES PAGE (38) , Feloniously setting fire to the dwelling house of David McDonald, persons being therein.

MR. SYDENHAM JONES Prosecuted and MR. SHARPE Defended.

MARION AVELS . I am single, and lodge in the back parlour of 37, Eresby Road, Kilburn—the prisoner was a lodger there before me—on Tuesday, 11th April, about one in the morning, I smelt smoke and heard the cracking of wood burning—I opened my door and went to the front parlour, and found flames coming out at the top of the door and through the panel—I was very much frightened, and ran upstairs and gave the alarm to Mrs. McDonald, the landlady.

Cross-examined. I did not see the prisoner there—I have been there

four months; I have seen him in the garden, but have not had any conversation with him.

CECILIA MCDONALD . I am the wife of David McDonald, of 37, Eresby Road, Kilburn—the prisoner and his wife lodged with me—early in the morning of 11th April I was in bed, and heard the last witness screaming on the stairs, "There is a fire; come quickly!"—my husband ran downstairs and saw smoke coming through the cracks of the front parlour door, and flames coming through the lower panels and over the door—the prisoner had occupied that room—the door was locked and I had the key—I went upstairs for it and opened it, but shut the door directly, the smoke was so dense—my husband got water and threw it in, and when the smoke cleared away I saw behind the door a heap of things piled up, and things about the room—the fire was out when I got in—I saw that the drawers and a desk had been on fire and part of the things on the bed—the flames had come through the door in two separate places—The prisoner was supposed to have left on the previous Saturday, the 8th—he was there on the Sunday, in and out once or twice—his week was out on the Saturday, but his wife was not well, and she asked if I would let her stay till Monday—she then left, and after she had gone the prisoner came in the afternoon—I let him in, and he tried the handle of the door—I said I had the key—he said, "Shall I get it?"—I said, "No"—he said, "I must get in," but he did not—I did not see him again till the following morning, after the fire; he was on the pavement then with three officers and my husband—I said, "You broke in at the window last night and lit the fire in the grate?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "You took the drawers and all the inflammable things round the room and piled them in a heap and set them on fire?" and he said, "Yes.

Cross-examined. I can't say whether he slept in the house on the Sunday night—he used to come and knock at the window, and his wife used to open the door, and I not know it—on the Monday afternoon he came some time between three and five—he asked for a parcel his wife had left for. him, and I gave it him—I did not admit him into his room—he said his medicine was in there, and I went and got the key, and when I came down he was in the room; he had got in at the window—he said he had got in because he thought I did not mean to let him have his medicine—his wife had told me that his eye was bad, and that he had been to a doctor—I thought they were very nice people—he paid his rent.—he had no cause of quarrel, only on the previous Saturday he came home intoxicated in a cab—up to that time he had been quiet and gentlemanly—I should not have expected him to commit an offence of this kind if in his senses—I am sorry to see him here, and more sorry for his wife—he told me he had been in the Egyptian War, and was captain of a gunboat there, and that he was recommended to a distinguished order, and also that he was a captain of militia—it was about four in the morning, or a little later, when I saw him with the policeman; it was broad daylight—I did not see that any of his own things had been set on fire—there were two or three of the boy's things—the drawers did not contain any clothing—the door was badly scorched; we had to put a new one—I believe the fire was put out before the firemen came—a good many of us helped.

Re-examined. I had only known him get in at the window once before.

ANNIE PAGE . I am no relation to the prisoner—this stick belongs to him—I saw it last in his possession on Monday, 10th April, previous to the fire.

Cross-examined. He was in the hall—I live in the house; I am sister to Mr. McDonald—it was after his wife had left that I saw him—he had got in through the parlour window—I did not see him in the room; I did not speak to him.

JAMES HARRIS . I am in charge of the Fire Brigade at Adelaide Road Station—on 11th April I was called to 37, Eresby Road—the fire had then been extinguished—it had occurred in the front room ground floor—there was some bedding half burnt, a chair and some table-covers, and some drawers had been taken out of a chest of drawers and put on the top of the things burnt; the door was partly burnt through, also some flooring and the skirting-board.

WILLIAM BUGDEN (491 S). I was on duty in the High Road, Kilburn, on the morning of 11th April, about five—I saw the prisoner and followed him—he went to 37, Eresby Road, and got up on the window-sill and tried to push the window up—I asked him what he was doing—he said, "I want to get in"—Mrs. McDonald came down and said to him, "You are the man that set fire to this house last night"—he said "Yes"—I took him into custody—this stick was found by Annie Page; it smelt of smoke, as if it had been used to poke the fire—I afterwards fetched it.

Cross-examined. The prisoner did not seem dazed, he was sober; he seemed quite to understand everything that was said to him.

GEORGE SMITH (Inspector S). I saw the prisoner at six on Tuesday morning, 11th—I asked him if he would like his wife to know that he was at the station—he said, "Yes, but this case is not so serious as they make out. Mr. McDonald has been very hard on me of late, and I set fire to the house out of revenge."

ANNIE PAGE (He-examined). I found the stick; it stood up in the corner, and the handle was lying on the dressing-table—there was no fire where the stick was.

GUILTY .— Discharged on recognisances, his relatives undertaking to send him to friends in Canada.

THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, May 3rd, 1893.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

475. WILLIAM RUSSON, Unlawfully committing an act of gross indecency with another male person.

MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted, and MR. GBOGHEGAN Defended.

During the cross-examination of the first Witness the JURY intimated that they had heard sufficient, and returned a verdict of

NOT GUILTY .

476. JOHN HOBNER HONCK, Unlawfully obtaining credit from Gerald Hamilton Tatham, without informing him that he was an un discharged bankrupt.

MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted and MR. KISCH Defended.

During the examination of the first Witness the prisoner, in the hearing

of the JURY, stated that he was guilty, and the JURY thereupon found him

GUILTY.— Judgment respited.

477. WILLIAM STANBROOK (22) and PATRICK MAHONEY (32) , Robbery with violence on Frederick Alfred Norwood, and stealing his watch and chain.

MR. ALLEYNE Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended Stanbrook.

FREDERICK ALFRED NORWOOD . I am a groom, living at 85, York Street, Westminster—about half-past ten p. m. on 18th April I drove home with a friend, Jones, and on reaching my house I got out of the trap to go to the pony's head—there was a row in the street between the prisoners and others—I was standing about a yard from the pony's head when Stanbrook came up to me and used filthy language, and asked me what I wanted—I said, "Nothing"—he said, "Do you want to fight?"—I said, "No"—he put his hands under my coat and threw it back half-way over my shoulders, and then he struck me in the chest—I ran back and took off my coat, and threw it in the trap—Stanbrook ran at me, and caught my legs and threw me to the ground, and while I was on the ground Mahoney came up, and kicked me in the ribs—I felt a snatch at my watch, and I got up and said, "I have lost my watch"—both my watch and chain had gone—I looked at Stanbrook, and saw my chain hanging out of his left-hand trousers pocket—he said, "You can search me—I saw him pass it to Mahoney—I went after Mahoney, and held him with my two hands while my wife took my watch out of his left-hand trousers pocket—then I knocked Mahoney down to keep him quiet, as there was such a rough gang round—the gang took him away—a constable arrived, and I gave him a description of Stanbrook, and accompanied him to the Prince of Wales public-house—he knocked at the door, which was either locked or bolted—it was about a quarter to eleven—they asked who was there; he said "A constable"—the door was opened, and we went in—in the first bar there were about a dozen men—I said Stanbrook was not there—the constable asked the landlord if there were any more in his house—the landlord said "No"—the constable said he would make it his business to look, and went into the second bar; there was no one there—he went into the third bar, a little bar, and there stood Stanbrook alone—I said, "That is the man that took my watch"—the constable took him into custody and told him the charge—I could pick him out of all the men in London—I cannot say if the landlord from where he stood could see the bar where Stanbrook was—he was the only person in that third bar—I saw no sailor in York Street.

Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. Jones is a coachman—I live opposite to the Prince of Wales public-house—we stopped on my side of the road—I saw both prisoners hit Callahan as I got out of the trap—I did not speak—I did not say, "It is not fair; one dog one bone," or anything of the kind—I was at the Police-court when Callahan gave evidence for the defence—I don't know why Stanbrook said it had nothing to do with me; I had said nothing—I had never seen him before—before he said it had nothing to do with me he asked me if I wanted to fight—I did not say, "No; but I will amuse you for ten minutes"—I am able to use my fists and take my own part; I never got my living at fighting—there

were a lot of people as we got up, and a lot of confusion, and a lot of rough fellows round there—I could see properly—we were opposite the door of the public-house—it was on a Tuesday night—my wife came down in time to see Stanbrook take my watch—I saw her at that time—there was a crowd right round—about ten minutes afterwards the constable came up—Mrs. Jones sent for a policeman—both prisoners had gone when he came up—when I pointed out Stanbrook to the constable in the public-house he said something—I took no notice of it—I don't think he denied having stolen the watch.

Cross-examined by Mahoney. I knocked you down after recovering my watch—I gave you a severe blow in the face or on the hat, which knocked you down, and then your companions took you away—I mentioned at the station about being kicked, and I mentioned to the Magistrate that I was knocked down, and kicked by you—I told the Magistrate on the second hearing that I had knocked a man down; it was either for me to knock you down or be crushed by the crowd—there was a large crowd round—I am sure you are the man that kicked me; your face was turned to me, and I saw your foot; I could pick you out if you were among all the crowd of London; your coat was off, and you had a strap or something on your left arm, which you showed some of the people there, saying you had got a bad arm, and would fight another man one arm—that was when we arrived with the trap—at the station I saw a similar strap on your arm—I heard you say to a man, "I will fight you. I have only got one arm, and you have only got one arm"—you struck the man and knocked him down.

SELINA NORWOOD . I am the last witness's wife—about eleven p. m., on the 18th, I heard a disturbance, looked out of the window, and saw Stanbrook with my husband on the ground—I rushed downstairs, and when I reached the road he had my husband on the ground, and Mahoney gave him a kick in the ribs—when he got up my husband said, "I have lost my watch"—I said, "I saw that man take it"—I saw Stanbrook take it while my husband was on the ground; he put it into his left-hand trousers pocket—I immediately went up to Stanbrook, caught him by the shoulders, and said, "Give me that watch"—he said, "I have not got it," and gave me a push—someone in the crowd said, "That man over the way has it"—my husband went across the road and caught hold of Mahoney, between the two doors of the Prince of "Wales, and held him round the shoulders while I took the watch out of his left-hand trousers pocket—he is the man I saw kick my husband.

Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I did not see the watch passed—there was a large crowd of people round—when I caught hold of Stanbrook and said, "Give me that watch," one of the other roughs caught me by the shoulders and pulled me back, and said, "Let him alone," and I was very nearly pulled to the ground—there were more than a dozen there, men and women—it is not a very nice neighbourhood; whenever a row takes place a large crowd gathers at once—I saw Mahoney putting the. watch into his left-hand trousers pocket, and the chain hanging out.

Cross-examined by Mahoney. I saw my husband knock you down, and you were taken away by your friends—I am sure you are the man—I next saw you in the dock at the Police-court.

SUSANNAH JONES . I am the wife of Jesse Jones, of 13, Purdoch Mews,

maida Vale—on the evening of 18th April I was at Mrs. Norwood's, and between ten and eleven I heard a noise outside, looked out of window, saw a row going on, and went downstairs—I saw Stanbrook come up to Norwood and say, "Do you want anything?" and without more ado he knocked Norwood down, took his watch and put it in his pocket—Mahoney came up and kicked Norwood in the ribs—Stanbrook passed the watch to Mahoney, and Stanbrook came up to Norwood and said, "Search me"—I called out, "That man has the watch," pointing to Mahoney, who had gone and stood outside the Prince of Wales—I saw Norwood hold Mahoney while Mrs. Norwood took the watch from his left-hand trousers pocket.

Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. That was on the other side of the road—I came down with Mrs. Norwood at once when I heard the row—the row was just going to begin when we came down into the street; we saw the beginning—they were not already rolling on the ground together when we came down—there was a great crowd and confusion.

Cross-examined by Malhoney. When the row first began we were looking out of the third-storey window; I saw the beginning of the row with Norwood.

THOMAS GATTING (548 A). On this evening Norwood complained to me, and I went with him to the Prince of Wales, where he pointed out Stanbrook, whom I took into custody on the charge of stealing the watch—he made no reply then—on the way to the station he said, "I did not think it would come to this; but I did not take the watch"—he gave a correct address—Norwood described another man, and I went to 7, Lewisham Street, about a quarter past two a. m., and saw Mahoney in bed with his clothes on—I took him into custody, and charged him with being concerned with another man in stealing a watch and chain in York Street that night—he said, "All right, I will go quietly"—on the way to the station he said, "I was not in York Street this evening"—at the station he said, "What am I here for?"—I said, "I told you the charge when I arrested you."

Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I have made inquiries and find that Stanbrook is of very good character—he is a jobber and handy man about buildings; he has worked for seven years for the firm of Macnab—he has been of great assistance to the police up to the last two or three months in giving information—it has not been necessary for him to do so for the last two or three months—it is a very rough neighbourhood about York Street.

Cross-examined by Mahoney. As I took you to the station we passed Norwood's house, and I stopped and knocked at the door for him, and while waiting I looked at your face and said, "Push your hat back; let me look at you closely"—I examined your forehead, because the prosecutor said he knocked one man on the head, and he presumed he would have a cut or bump on his head; but it turned out to be Stanbrook who had the bump—I found you had no mark at all.

Stanbrook, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he knew nothing about the watch, and he only interfered with Norwood because he took off his coat and wanted to fight.

Witness for Stanbrook.

JAMES CALLAHAN . I was a sailor—I have not been to sea lot four or six years—I have been in the army for five years, and am now a reserve man—I have been out of the army for nearly two years—since that I have been in Ireland—I am doing nothing now—I live at 11, Vaughan Street James Street, Westminster—on 18th March I was outside the Prince of Wales—Stanbrook and another man were quarrelling with me when Norwood and another man came up in the trap—Norwood said, "It is not fair, one dog one bone"—Stanbrook asked Norwood what it had to do with him—Norwood said it had a lot to do with him—Stanbrook asked him if he could fight—he said, "No, I will amuse you for ten minutes," and he took off his coat and threw it into the trap, and they fought—he knocked Stanbrook down first—he got up, and then they both fell to the ground, and someone shouted out, "Mind your watch," and Mrs. Norwood said the watch was all right, she had got it—there was a considerable crowd close round; there was room for the men to fight—I did not see the fight at all, I only heard the cry—I went to the Police-court and gave evidence.

Cross-examined by MR. ALLEYNE. I first saw Mahoney quarrelling with Kelly and I told him to leave off and be sociable, and then they began quarrelling with me; I did not know them before, only by seeing them—Stanbrook did not hit me, only just shoved me—I heard someone say, "Mind your watch, governor," and then I heard a lady say, "It is all right, I have got it"—that was when Stanbrook and Norwood were fighting, when they got up from the ground—I did not see Mahoney knocked down—I heard no bad language from anyone—when invited to fight and refusing, the prosecutor was not attacked by Stanbrook, thrown to the ground and kicked by Mahoney in the ribs—I did not see him kicked by anyone—I suppose I must have seen it if he had been; I was a little closer to him than I am to you—I was perfectly sober—I did not see a man on the other side of the road seized, and a watch taken from him by Mrs. Norwood—I did not see where Stanbrook was taken into custody; I saw the constable taking him along through Gardener's Lane—I know he was taken at the Prince of Wales—every one got away before the constable came up—I was standing talking to the man in the trap, and when the row was all over I got over to one side—if a watch was taken from a man's pocket on the other side of the road I must have seen it; I did not see it—I did not see them knocking at the public-house door for admission, I was talking to the man in the trap at the time—the public-house was not just opposite, but ten yards further down—after the row was over I was at the trap all the time—when Mrs. Norwood called out "I have got it" she was on the same side of the road as her house—when I saw Stanbrook with the constable I did not go up, to him and say "What are you taking that man for?"—I did not interfere, because if I had the constable might have taken me.

Cross-examined by Mahoney. When Stanbrook went up to Norwood you were arguing the point with Kelly—you were not near Stanbrook—you must have been in York Street—you and Stanbrook were quarrelling with me—during the time Stanbrook and Norwood fought, you and Kelly was quarrelling—I did not see Norwood knock you down.

maida Vale—on the evening of 18th April I was at Mrs. Norwood's, and between ten and eleven I heard a noise outside, looked out of window, saw a row going on, and went downstairs—I saw Stanbrook come up to Norwood and say, "Do you want anything?" and without more ado he knocked Norwood down, took his watch and put it in his pocket—Mahoney came up and kicked Norwood in the ribs—Stanbrook passed the watch to Mahoney, and Stanbrook came up to Norwood and said, "Search me"—I called out, "That man has the watch," pointing to Mahoney, who had gone and stood outside the Prince of Wales—I saw Norwood hold Mahoney while Mrs. Norwood took the watch from his left-hand trousers pocket.

Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. That was on the other side of the road—I came down with Mrs. Norwood at once when I heard the row—the row was just going to begin when we came down into the street; we saw the beginning—they were not already rolling on the ground together when we came down—there was a great crowd and confusion.

Cross-examined by Mahoney. When the row first began we were looking out of the third-storey window; I saw the beginning of the row with Norwood.

THOMAS GATTING (548 A). On this evening Norwood complained to me, and I went with him to the Prince of Wales, where he pointed out Stanbrook, whom I took into custody on the charge of stealing the watch—he made no reply then—on the way to the station he said, "I did not think it would come to this; but I did not take the watch"—he gave a correct address—Norwood described another man, and I went to 7, Lewisham Street, about a quarter past two a. m., and saw Mahoney in bed with his clothes on—I took him into custody, and charged him with being concerned with another man in stealing a watch and chain in York Street that night—he said, "All right, I will go quietly"—on the way to the station he said, "I was not in York Street this evening"—at the station he said, "What am I here for?"—I said, "I told you the charge when I arrested you."

Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I have made inquiries and find that Stanbrook is of very good character—he is a jobber and handy man about buildings; he has worked for seven years for the firm of Macnab—he has been of great assistance to the police up to the last two or three months in giving information—it has not been necessary for him to do so for the last two or three months—it is a very rough neighbourhood about York Street.

Cross-examined by Mahoney. As I took you to the station we passed Norwood's house, and I stopped and knocked at the door for him, and while waiting I looked at your face and said, "Push your hat back; let me look at you closely"—I examined your forehead, because the prosecutor said he knocked one man on the head, and he presumed he would have a cut or bump on his head; but it turned out to be Stanbrook who had the bump—I found you had no mark at all.

Stanbrook, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he knew nothing about the watch, and he only interfered with Norwood because he took off his coat and wanted to fight.

Witness for Stanbrook.

JAMES CALLAHAN . I was a sailor—I have not been to sea for four or six years—I have been in the army for five years, and am now a reserve man—I have been out of the army for nearly two years—since that I have been in Ireland—I am doing nothing now—I live at 11, Vaughan Street, James Street, Westminster—on 18th March I was outside the Prince of Wales—Stanbrook and another man were quarrelling with me when Norwood and another man came up in the trap—Norwood said, "It is not fair, one dog one bone"—Stanbrook asked Norwood what it had to do with him—Norwood said it had a lot to do with him—Stanbrook asked him if he could fight—he said, "No, I will amuse you for ten minutes," and he took off his coat and threw it into the trap, and they fought—he knocked Stanbrook down first—he got up, and then they both fell to the ground, and someone shouted out, "Mind your watch," and Mrs. Norwood said the watch was all right, she had got it—there was a considerable crowd close round; there was room for the men to fight—I did not see the fight at all, I only heard the cry—I went to the Police-court and gave evidence.

Cross-examined by MR. ALLEYNE. I first saw Mahoney quarrelling with Kelly and I told him to leave off and be sociable, and then they began quarrelling with me; I did not know them before, only by seeing them—Stanbrook did not hit me, only just shoved me—I heard someone say, "Mind your watch, governor," and then I heard a lady say, "It is all right, I have got it"—that was when Stanbrook and Norwood were fighting, when they got up from the ground—I did not see Mahoney knocked down—I heard no bad language from anyone—when invited to fight and refusing, the prosecutor was not attacked by Stanbrook, thrown to the ground and kicked by Mahoney in the ribs—I did not see him kicked by anyone—I suppose I must have seen it if he had been; I was a little closer to him than I am to you—I was perfectly sober—I did not see a man on the other side of the road seized, and a watch taken from him by Mrs. Norwood—I did not see where Stanbrook was taken into custody; I saw the constable taking him along through Gardener's Lane—I know he was taken at the Prince of Wales—every one got away before the constable came up—I was standing talking to the man in the trap, and when the row was ail over I got over to one side—if a watch was taken from a man's pocket on the other side of the road I must have seen it; I did not see it—I did not see them knocking at the public-house door for admission, I was talking to the man in the trap at the time—the public-house was not just opposite, but ten yards further down—after the row was over I was at the trap all the time—when Mrs. Norwood called out "I have got it" she was on the same side of the road as her house—when I saw Stanbrook with the constable I did not go up. to him and say "What are you taking that man for?"—I did not interfere, because if I had the constable might have taken me.

Cross-examined by Mahoney. When Stanbrook went up to Norwood you were arguing the point with Kelly—you were not near Stanbrook—you must have been in York Street—you and Stanbrook were quarrelling with me—during the time Stanbrook and Norwood fought, you and Kelly was quarrelling—I did not see Norwood knock you down.

THOMAS GATTING (Re-examined). I searched Mahoney at the station—he had a leather strap on his arm, coming down nearly to his wrist—I should say his arm had been broken, and it is a permanent bandage.

Mahoney in his defence said that he was fighting with Kelly all the time that Stanbrook and Norwood were fighting, and was five or six yards away, and that he had always borne a good character, and had worked for a number of people.

Rebutting Evidence as to Mahoney's character.

THOMAS GATTING (Re-examined). I have known Mahoney for the last eight years—he very rarely works—he is a betting tout, and is the associate of some of the roughest characters and biggest thieves in Westminster, and is a great trouble to the police—he has been charged at our station, between 23rd January, 1882, and 26th November, 1892, four times for assaults, once for larceny from the person (the prosecutor did not appear on that occasion), and four times for being drunk and riotous—the week before this occurrence I was called to an oyster shop to eject both prisoners, and I said to Stanbrook, "You have been a respectable man; you ought to walk out; if you keep in this man's company you will very soon come to grief," and he said, "I will take your advice and go"—Mahoney said, "I will not go"—I said I would put him out, and he said he would fight me; but Stanbrook held his arm and got him away, and they went to the same public-house where I arrested Stanbrook—when I went to arrest Stanbrook on this night, about eleven, both the doors of the public-house were bolted—the landlord was in the bar—he said nobody was in the other bars, but he could not see into them—I don't think the landlord did it with the intention to evade Stanbrook's arrest—it is an unusual thing to find a public-house door locked, and I reported the matter—there has been no complaint about the house before.

STANBROOK— Guilty of robbery— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

MAHONEY**†— Guilty of robbery with violence— Three Years' Penal Servitude.

478. GEORGE SHERMAN (42) , Stealing a gelding, a mare, two sets of harness, a cart, and six boxes of butter.

MR. BASSETT HOPKINS Prosecuted.

HENRY COOPER . I live at Croydon—on 17th January I was sent by my employer, Mr. Weinborn, of Duppas Hill Hotel, to Smithfield, with a van and two horses, to collect goods, among them being boxes of butter—I stopped at the Telegraph Hotel to have breakfast, and inquired of another carman there the way to Smithfield—the prisoner, who was there, jumped up and said, "I am going to West Smithfield, and if you will give me a lift I will show you the way"—I gave him a lift—I went to Lovell and Christmas and got six boxes of butter, and put them in the van; while I was loading them the prisoner left me, but he came back and showed me the way to Phillips and Son's, Charterhouse Street, where I had to get five casks—when I went into Phillips' I left the prisoner in the van with the reins in his hand—I was not away two minutes, and when I came back I found van and horses and prisoner gone—I walked about the market, but could not find them—I went to Snow Hill Police-station, and informed the police—next day I came up to King's Cross Police-station, and saw the van and horses, which

the police had found—the six boxes of butter were not there—I next saw the prisoner about five or six weeks afterwards at the Telegraph at. Brixton—I recognised him at once when he came in the room—I asked him how he enjoyed his ride to Smithfield—he asked me if I was taking a rise out of him, and what did I mean—I said, "All right"—I went outside to find a policeman, and my van boy came running down to me—when I got back with the policeman the prisoner was gone—I next saw him at Snow Hill Police-station, where I picked him out from others—the prisoner is the man.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. When I pulled up at Charterhouse Street you did not say, "Good morning, I am much obliged to you; I will get on to where I am going"—no other man rode with me to the bottom of Charterhouse Street—I gave another man a ride from Norbury; he; was a Croydon man—I did not say at Snow Hill Police-station that I was away from the van ten minutes.

Re-examined. I gave the other man a ride as far as Blackfriars; that, was before I got to Smithfield—there were no boxes in the van when he left me.

CHARLES WEINBOBN . I keep the Duppas Hill Hotel, Croydon, and am also a carman—I sent Cooper to collect butter and other things at West Smithfield—this butter was of the value of about £9—I never received it; I had to pay for it.

Cross-examined. Cooper told me, I believe, that he gave another man a lift as far as Blackfriars.

STEPHEN COOK . I am a pauper at St. Pancras Workhouse—some weeks ago I was in the Telegraph Inn, Brixton, and saw Cooper and the prisoner—Cooper said to the prisoner, "How about my butter?" and the prisoner said, "I don't know what you mean"—Cooper got up and walked out, and the prisoner followed him outside.

DANIEL DENNING (Detective-sergeant, City). I arrested the prisoner in the workhouse, where he was residing—I told him I should arrest him for stealing two horses and a van containing six boxes of butter on 17th January last—he said, "I don't know anything about it"—I took him to Snow Hill Police-station—he said, "I remember riding with a man and two horses from the Telegraph Inn to Smithfield Market, but I did not steal the two horses, van, or the butter"—I heard Cooper give evidence at Guildhall; he said he was away from the van about two minutes.

The prisoner's defence. "I know nothing about it. I left the prosecutor as soon as he got to Charterhouse Street When he taxed me afterwards I said I knew nothing about it"

GUILTY .— Seven Months' Hard Labour.

479. FREDERICK MCCAFFERTY (31) , Unlawfully and indecently assaulting Harry Peel; second Count, attempting to procure Harry Peel to commit an act of gross indecency.

MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.

GUILTY .— Six Weeks' Hard Labour.

480. ROBERT TILBURY, Unlawfully attempting to have carnal knowledge of Elizabeth Colton, a girl under 16.

MR. HUTTON Prosecuted and MR. SANDS Defended.

NOT GUILTY .

481. HARVEY TATE (27) , Unlawfully taking Florence Tate out of the possession and against the will of her father, William Tate, with intent to carnally know her, she being unmarried, and under 18.

MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.

GUILTY. *— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

OLD COURT.—Thursday, May 4th, 1893.

Before Mr. Justice Grantham

482. LOUISA CONSTANCE PROUD (31) was indicted for, and charged on the Coroner's inquisition with the wilful murder of Dorothy Maud Kate Proud.

MESSRS. C. F. GILL and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and Mr. ALDERSON

Defended.

ARTHUR WEEKS . I live at 40, Yeldham Road, Fulham—on 4th April I was in Avenue Road—I saw some people outside No. 30—I went up the steps of the house and saw the prisoner and two children in the passage; Dorothy Maud, the baby, and the girl next to the baby—I helped them into a cab and went with them to the West London Hospital—I noticed the prisoner's appearance—her hands were very black, as though they had been burnt, and her face was very black with smoke and her dress was burnt—she said she had burnt her knee—Dorothy was very much burnt—I had her on my knee in the cab; she appeared to have been very badly burnt about the face, legs and arms—the clothes were burnt and the hair singed off her head—the other child of six was burnt in the face and hands—the other child was not burnt very much; it was scorched—I asked the prisoner how the fire occurred—she said she set it on fire herself—I asked her whatever made her set it on fire—she said to do away with her children, because she thought they would be better off—I asked her why she thought so—she made no reply—I left them at the hospital.

By the COURT. She seemed excited; she appeared to know what she was talking about.

JAMES SMITH (248 T). At two o'clock on the 4th April I was in Goldhawk Road—I heard screams and went to 30, Avenue Road—I saw a child in the street, opposite the house, screaming; it was the eldest child, Beryl—she made a complaint to me, and I went into the house by the basement—in the passage at the foot of the stairs I saw the prisoner with the baby in her arms—the clothes were all burnt off its body, and hanging in shreds, and its body terribly burnt—I said to the prisoner, "Where is the fire?"—she said, "Upstairs in the front room"—I ran up and found both rooms full of smoke—in the front room I saw fire burning partly under the top end of the bed—it was blazing up—at this time there was no one in the house but myself, the prisoner, and the two children—I shut the door, came down, and sent for the fire brigade and a doctor—I went into the kitchen and said, "How did the fire begin?"—she made no reply—I got a cab, and Mr. Weeks went with them to the hospital—I went back to the house—by that time the man from the fire brigade had been there, and the fire had been put out—on the floor I found a quantity of burnt newspapers and pieces of burnt cloth, and I saw this bottle marked "Poison," found in the room.

Cross-examined. The prisoner was very quiet—the child was still in her arms when I came downstairs; she was quietly holding it—the fire was in. the front room—the flames were coming out from under the bedstead—there was no sign of anyone having been on the bed, the clothes had not. been disarranged—the prisoner's dress appeared dirty and "messed"—I did not notice that it was burnt—the bed consisted of a spring mattress, and a flock bed—I don't think the child had been on the bed.

FRANCIS WILLIAM BOON . I am an engineer in the fire brigade—a. little before two on 4th April I received a call to 30, Avenue Road—I went upstairs and found a fire in the front room—I had a handpipe with me, and I put out the fire with that—there was a basket or bassinette on fire—about a foot of the flooring and the side of the bedstead and the bedding were alight—the bassinette and pillow were on the floor close to the bedstead—that was a-light separate from the bed.

Cross-examined. It was a very small fire—I had to get in on my hands and knees because of the smoke.

ELIZABETH BATTENS . I am a nurse at the West London Hospital—I was in the casualty room when the prisoner was brought in with her three children—they were all burnt, the youngest severely—I attended to the children first, and then to the prisoner—I did not notice at the moment that she was burnt; I did afterwards—the skirt of her dress was partly burnt, and her face and hands were blackened—I asked her if she was burnt—she said "No"—I said, "Have you anywhere to go now at What are you going to do now your house is on fire?"—she said, "Can't I stay here?"—I said "No"—she hesitated for half a minute, and then said, "I may as well tell you the truth, I did it myself"—I said, "Why did you do it?"—she said, "Because I was not in my right mind"—she then said,. "Do you think the baby will die?"—I said, "I am afraid it will"—she said, "If he does not die, I suppose he will be marked for life"—I said, "I think so"—about five minutes afterwards she put her hand to her chest, and said, "I have been taking some liniment, which is hurting my chest like lead"—I asked her what kind of liniment it was—she said "Such as we use for chilblains"—I then sent for the doctor—she said it was in a white bottle marked "Poison"—she said, "I wish I had not done it now"—the doctor came and treated her, and gave her an emetic.

Cross-examined. She appeared anxious about the child, and distressed when I said it might be marked.

FREDERICK GEORGE LLOYD . I am house physician at the West London Hospital—about 2. 30 on 4th April the prisoner and the three children were brought there; I examined the youngest one, which was most seriously hurt; she was very collapsed and very severely burnt—I immediately sent her into the ward and treated her—the two other children were in the care of my colleague—he treated them, and I sent for him as well—the prisoner's hands and face were somewhat black, and her hair was singed—there was some superficial burning on the face and arms; her skirt was a little burnt; she seemed very slightly excited—she did not volunteer any statement until I asked her several times why she did it—she said she thought her children would be better off, as she was. unable to look after them; afterwards the nurse mentioned to me in her presence about the liniment, and I immediately gave her an emetic—she did not appear to be at all distressed from what she had taken—she said

she had taken some liniment, with the intention of destroying her life, but it did not seem to have much effect upon her—about an hour afterwards she said she had made a previous attempt upon her life by trying to cut her throat.

Cross-examined. When she said she was unable to do anything for her children I asked her if it was on account of poverty—she said, "No," that she was unable to look after them; that was the only answer I could obtain.

WILLIAM TRETOAN . I am house surgeon at the West London Hospital—I was there when the children were admitted, and I saw the child Dorothy about half an hour afterwards; she was suffering from burns and was collapsed—the burns were on the right hand, left hand, and forearm, reaching to the elbow, and on other parts of the body and over the face and forehead—the most severe wounds were on the right leg and thigh—it was not as if it had been sitting on the fire—I gathered it was from the clothes being burnt; she may have been sitting on the clothes that were burnt—she died at 11. 45 the same evening—I made a postmortem—the cause of death was the shock following the burns—all the organs were healthy—I treated the other children also.

Cross-examined. Beryl was severely burnt; she was three weeks in the hospital—the other child was slightly burnt, and was discharged the next day.

SAMUEL WILLS (Inspector T). About half-past one on 6th April I went to the West London Hospital, and told the prisoner I should take her into custody for the murder of her younger child, and attempting the murder of the other two, and also for attempting to commit suicide—she made no reply—I took her to the station; she was there charged—she made no reply.

MARGARET TALLY . I live at 30, Avenue Road, and assist in the house—the prisoner's husband is a printer, employed during the day—he and his wife occupied the whole of the house; they had three little girls—I was in their service; they paid me; I had been there about five months—the prisoner was very much depressed during that time; that was continuous—she had been bad since her last confinement, not in pain, but so depressed—she had spoken to me at different times about the children—she said she was very sorry she could not look after them—she appeared to be very fond of them—I was there in November—I remember her being away for a few days, I didn't know where she had gone; when she came back she went to Hastings, and then came home again—on the 4th April I was out—the bottle produced is one that I had taken to the chemist's—she told me to do it, and I got it filled with a liniment for chilblains for the youngest child.

Cross-examined. I have since heard that when the prisoner went away it was to a lunatic asylum—she lived on very affectionate terms with her husband—she generally suffered from melancholy and deep depression—there was no other cause for it than her last confinement—I was a mother's help—I took the greater part of the management of the children, and helped in the house as well—she took no part in the housework, she did nothing really, only bath the baby in the morning—she did nothing during the day; she was always too melancholy.

JOSEPH WILLIAM HILLS . I am a medical man—I became acquainted

with this family on 10th May, 1892—I went there to vaccinate the baby—the next time I called was on 25th July—I then found that the prisoner had her throat cut—the wound was about four inches long and deep on the left side—I put in three stitches—she lost a great quantity of blood—I attended her up to 17th September—I saw her again in October, and attended her from 25th October to the 3rd November.

Cross-examined. When I went in July I found she had attempted suicide—I thought she was not safe to be at large from that time—I thought she ought to have been put in an asylum at once—I expressed that opinion repeatedly to her husband—in November she was suffering from great depression and melancholia—she appeared very anxious to do everything she could for her children; at the same time she did not feel able to do anything; that was part of her mania—there was no reason for it—she seemed to have the idea to do everything for them, but was not able to do anything, that it was a hopeless case to do anything for them—that increased the melancholia and depression—she was perfectly able to do it, but she had the idea in her own mind that she could not do it; it was purely an idea.

Re-examined. She was very gloomy and always depressed, and she appeared so even before she cut her throat—when I vaccinated the child she was somewhat in that way—she was an affectionate woman, not emotional; there was not much emotion about her, she was too dull—her thoughts seemed always of her children—a confinement sometimes makes a woman liable to mental disorder; it would aggravate anything existing—I know nothing about her last confinement—persons suffering from an attack of melancholy often get homicidal mania.

DR. WARNER. I am superintendent of Peckham Asylum—the prisoner was admitted there in November, 1892—I saw her while there—she came as a boarder—it was my duty to examine her, to ascertain if she was sufficiently sane to remain as a boarder or as a patient—I came to the conclusion that she was so insane that it was not safe for her to remain as a boarder, so I wrote to her husband that I could not certify for her—I doubt if he received my letter; but he called, and we had some conversation on the subject—her symptoms were those of melancholia, very pronounced; a dull, depressed condition, very marked—I thought she ought to have been under restraint, and I wrote to that effect to the Commissioners to explain the circumstances of her being there—I stated then that she was suicidally disposed, and I advised her being re-certified—I don't know that I heard much of her history, but it is very common for melancholia to lead to an extreme case—she was not certified when she came, but she came with the consent of the Commissioners of Lunacy as a boarder—I produce the paper on which we received her.

By the COURT. Coming to the asylum, the Commissioners give their consent without examination; it is our business to certify—this is not a certificate, simply a sanction to allow her to be a boarder under a certain amount of supervision, and if it is not sufficient it is our business to notify that fact—probably a relative would get the patient herself to sign an application to the Commissioners, asking their consent; and if they are satisfied that she knows what she is doing, and that it is quite voluntary on her part, she is allowed to come to us; at the same time

they warn us—I do not think they examined her; in some cases they do, but I doubt if they always do—if she comes on her own application she can leave when she pleases, at twenty-four hours' notice—the Commissioners get to know who comes to the house, and under what circumstances.

PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am the medical officer at Holloway—I have had the prisoner under observation while she has been there, and am acquainted with the facts of the case, and have spoken with the prisoner about it—I asked her how it happened—she said she did it, that she thought the children would be better dead, that she felt herself incapable of looking after them—she was full of gloomy ideas about herself, and was always wondering why she was unlike other persons—she said if the children were dead they would be better off, and become angels—she was undoubtedly suffering from melancholia; in such cases there is a tendency to suicidal or homicidal mania, and at times to both.

Cross-examined. I am sure she is not responsible for her actions—she was extremely dejected when I first saw her; in very weak health and wretched altogether—she is considerably improved, but still I consider her to be of unsound mind—she ought not to be at large.

GUILTY of the act, but insane at the time .— To be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.

NEW COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, May 3rd and 4th, 1893.

Before Mr. Recorder.

483. JACQUES MASSIS, Feloniously forging and uttering a. promissory note for £210, with intent to defraud.

MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted, and the HON. BERNARD COLERIDGE, Q. C., Defended.

EMILE COLET . I live at 25, Duncan Terrace, Islington—I have known Massis eight years as the pastor of the French Protestant Church, Soho—on April 1st he called on me in the middle of the day, but I did not see him—he called again about two o'clock, and spoke of several things—afterwards he said, "I have a bill, payable here, because I am just removing from 13 to 8 and 9; I have a bad lodging at 13, and I prefer to give my name here"—I said, "What have I to do with it?"—he said, "You have nothing to do with it, of course; I will pay it"—he stayed some time—he said his wife had gone that morning to pay the bill, and the gentleman said, "We will not have cheques, but cash"—about a quarter of an hour after that there was a knock at the door or a ring at the bell, and Massis said, "I have said to the gentleman who will call that you are not at home; you are out of town"—he said that before the bell rang, and when it rang he said, "Oh, just the man; I will give him a piece of paper with my writing"—the servant passed the dining room door—he said, "Call her"—I called her, and he gave her a piece of paper, which he took from his pocket, and wrote something on it—it was like this (produced), and this is like his writing—he said "Give it to the man at the door," and the servant brought back this letter. (This stated that the witness's promissory note for £210, payable four weeks after date, had been presented that day and dishonoured, and requested immediate payment.)

—when I read that I said, "The letter says the bill is payable here; I am very short of money, and I have signed this, but you have nothing to do with it; my wife will pay"—I think he came at two o'clock and left at 4. 30 or five o'clock—that was Saturday—on Monday I went to Scotland Yard—on the Tuesday I went to the office of Messrs. Lovell, Son, and Pitfield, and saw this document: "Four days after date I promise to pay the Rev. J. Massis, or order, £210, at my residence, 25, Duncan Terrace, Islington. E. COULET"—that is not my signature and not my name, nor did I give anybody authority to sign it—I had never seen it before—I know the writing, "J. Massis," at the back, it is the prisoner's—he has several signatures—he also wrote the signature and this part at the bottom—I saw him write this: "To Mr. E. Coulet, Manager"—I never in my life signed a promissory note in favour of Mr. Massis.

Cross-examined. I have been in England about eight years—I did not know Massis before I came to England—in 1887 I was at Nismes, in France—I was not charged with forgery there, I was charged with complicity in fraudulent bankruptcy—this is a copy of the Progres de Midi newspaper—two brothers are mentioned: Frederick Colet, that is my brother, and Jules Colet, that is myself—it says: "The principal culprit, their mother, has absconded to Switzerland"—that is my another—also: "The mother has abused the confidence of the bank at Allee to such a degree that in 1883 the first-named bank cashed for the widow 273 bills representing a value of 1,247,240 francs"; it was not so much as that—I was a soldierat the time, serving with my regiment in my native town, and when I had time I went to the house to help my mother—I was 18 in 1882—I was not an employe of another house at the time; I came to Allee to take my place as a soldier after the death of my father—some of the 273 bills were forged, I do not know how many, it was when I was a soldier—I did not go to New Zealand with my mother and brother; I met my mother and I came back—after a trial my brother and I were acquitted; he is 37 years old—my mother never went to stand her trial; she came to England alone and I joined her several years after, and last year and this year I was living with her in the same house, and—she has been within the last few days sent to France to stand her trial—I was living with her on March 1—I have never borrowed money from the prisoner, and never owed him anything—a bill was given to me by a gentleman who owed me £50, and I gave it to Mr. Massis because I had to go to France—this is a cheque for 10s., dated October 26th, 1889, endorsed by me and payable to my order—this is a cheque for £20, of January 6th, 1890, payable to me and endorsed by me—this is a cheque on the London and South Western Bank for £30, payable from Massis to me, but not endorsed by me; I cannot remember now whether I received the money—this cheque of 2nd July, 1890, for £20, is endorsed by me; also this one of July 5th, 1890, for £25—I had an account at the London and South Western Bank—that makes a total of £95 which I received of Massis's money between October 6th, 1889, and July 5th, 1890—he did not lend that money; he sometimes asked me to change a cheque at my bank—I lent him money many times, and his wife too—I gave him the cheque for £45 on July 1st, 1890, and one for £60—the cheque for £46 was not in payment off these first three cheques, which came to £50 10s.—it was not against the

£50 10s.—Mr. Massis said to me, "Can you lend me a cheque for £45? and I lent it to him—the £45 did not go against them—the cheque for £30 was to pay a bill for wine and several things—I had given him goods, and he gave me money—I have not got the cheque for £60, but my passbook shows it—that was lent to Massis because I placed confidence in him; it was not to wipe off the cheques you have shown me—the £60 did not. wipe off the £65 because I gave cheques for £45 and £60, and I had paid £30 for wine—Massis owes me £169 now, he and the solicitor; this is a debt which did not begin till April, 1892—I cannot say whether Massis owed me money in 1890—he said that his cheques were payable in Brighton—I cannot remember whether he owed me money in August, 1891—I do not owe him money—this is my letter: "Dear Mr. Massis,—I thank you for all the trouble I have given you"—that refers to a bill for £50 given by me to Massis for a debt due by Mr. Barden—I gave a cheque to Mr. Massis, and thanked him for his trouble—he gave me a bill drawn by Barden and accepted by him—that was a debt due from Barden to me—my letter says, "You would render me a great service if you could sue without my coming to London"—Massis was suing on the bill, because he had a bank here, and I had a bank in. France—I have a letter from him in which he says if he recovers he will send me a cheque for it—Massis did not advance £50, nor did he give it to my mother as he promised—he did not send me to the Grand Hotel de Normandie two bank notes, one for £20 and one for £10; Ransetti paid me—I wrote this: "Thanking you a thousand times for all your kindness, my dear Mr. Massis, I beg to remain, with friendship, your devoted COLET"—I was grateful to him for the trouble he took—this is my letter of August 1st, 1891—he had not then lent me £50—he sent me a cheque for £30 and said, "Don't pay this cheque to the bank for fifteen days, and when you do, advise me"—he did not advance me £40 on August 1st—he owed me money, and he sent me a cheque—he is a poor man, and so am I—he was going to give Madame Colet £10 on the expectation of Ransetti paying me—this (produced) is the cheque for £40 of August 18th, which I received—Massis has never advanced money to my wife—this cheque for £17 4s. (produced) is drawn to Madame Colet or bearer—my mother never had an account at the Union Bank of London—Massis did not advance £25 to my mother on November 9th, or £21 to me on 14th December—those figures amount to £153—this is my signature to this receipt, but somebody has scratched something out and put this in—this £153 is forged—I think it was £15, but by my book it is £35—I said before the Magistrate that I thought it was £15 or £16—I said, "On 15th May I did not receive £153 from the prisoner, I received from him about that time £15 or £16 for the Firewood Company"—that is true—I had not received anything more than £15 or £16 up to that date—I said, "In my opinion the figure 3 has been added to the £15"—that is my opinion now—I had seen the receipt for half a minute when I gave that evidence, but I cannot remember a year ago—it is now: "Received from the Philanthropic Institution, £35 11s."—that is all that had been received up to that date—I cannot remember entering receipts for Massis for the Philanthropic Firewood Company, amounting to £62 10s.—I joined the institution as manager in 1892—I had then received letters sending me £1 or so, but I had nothing to do with the institution up to that time—this account is

my writing. (This contained various items amounting to £62 7s. 6d.)—sometimes when I entered in the book "Cash paid by Mr. Massis, £4," he did not pay the cash, but I did—he said to me, "We will settle every fifteen days or every month"—the manager was there before me—Mr. Massis gave cheques, but they were returned because he had no money at the bank—he has two receipts, but he has lost one—if he did not pay when I put down £4 he paid it afterwards—he gave me other cheques or postal orders for the unpaid cheques—I have paid several items in for a large amount—when I paid in money I only put it in my own name once—on 21st April I put the name of Massis, and afterwards we settled accounts, and after that I advanced the money myself—I put it in my own name once before May 16th, because the account did not balance—that was verified by M. Gillie—the firewood institution was started by Massis for the employment of the poor in chopping wood—he bought wood, they chopped it up, and he sold it to defray some of the costs—the business never paid its expenses—Mr. Massis put £300 in once, and perhaps more than that—he purchased a cargo for £600—it was not arranged between me and him that he should pay £300, and that the other £300 should come from the receipts of the wood when sold—if I had money I should have had to pay the other half, but I had no money—the other £300 was not to be paid for by the receipts for the sale of the wood, if there were any—the receipts were not all to go into my pocket—I received the money and bought everything that was required—I cannot say where the profits, if there were any, were to go to—£200 or £300 was owing to me by the committee after paying the expenses, money which I had advanced—it was my money—I only received one month's salary from the company; £12 10s., I think—I lent the committee £45 10s. and more than £100 several times, I have put money from my own pocket to the cash to pay the expenses—I have grown poor since—I did not instruct my solicitor not to let you look at the books—he said, "You must not give the books to Mr. Massis without the order of the committee," and that was given—Massis did not advance £24 to Madame Colet on August 12th; this is her writing (produced), but he was bound to my mother—on September 17th, 1892, £20 was advanced to me, and partly paid by cheque, £412s.; the solicitor has got the letter—I suppose Massis did pay a further sum of £164 for the purchase of the cargo, making £464; I am not prepared to dispute that—the money I received from customers is all in the Firewood Company's books—I called on Mr. Massis several times when Madame Vitu was there, but I did not mention in her presence that I owed Massis £147, nor did I say, "I will give you a bill for 'it," nor did Massis say, "Very well, that will suit me," nor did I then hand him a bill—I did not go to Massis's in January and say, "I have come to see you about the bill"—I did not say, "I have not the means to meet it"—Madame Vitu was not present, nor did she say, "Well, I may consider it arranged for two months"—on the evening of the day of my mother's arrest I went to Massis's house—Madame Vitu was there and several other people—I did not say in her presence, "It is impossible for me to meet the bill, my mother has gone away"—I did not say that I wanted money for her—I know Mr. Bardan—he is the man who drew Ransetti's bill—I did not tell her In August, 1891, that I had a bill drawn by Ransetti which had not

been paid—I said, "I want my money, you must pay me"—he said "Cannot you ask somebody to lend you money?"—I said, "No"—I cannot remember saying that Massis had fortunately been able to lend me money—this bill was paid to my solicitors—I know Miss Susanne Emary—she lived in the same house with me in August, 1891—I did not tell her that Massis had lent me £40—on March 22nd I met Mr. Claud Rabout in Oxford Street—I did tell him the Firewood Company was shut up, and things were in a frightful state, and I would go round and see him soma time when he was coming out of school—I did not say that I would make it hot for Mr. Massis—I knew nothing of the existence of the bill at that time—I know Mr. Thetaud—he was never I foreman of the Philanthropic Society—I did not tell him last December I that I had given a bill which had been handed to Mr. Massis, and that I and a man named Gillie would get into trouble through them—Gillie was not an assistant and friend of mine, but he was connected with the company—I did not tell Thetaud that Gillies would work with me in carrying out the plot—I did not offer him money or tell him he would only have to ask for it if he wanted it, I never spoke of such a thing—I did not tell him in January that I was preparing a very grave charge against Mr. Massis, and that it would arise out of bills given by me—he did not ask me to be very polite to Mr. Massis, so as not to arouse his suspicion—I did not tell Mr. Thetaud in January last that there was only one paper more needed by which I would make Massis have ten years' imprisonment—I did not ask him to accompany me to my lawyer—I saw Thetaud in the square after Massis was arrested, but I never spoke to him—I know Rabbeau; he was a woodchopper in the Philanthropic Institution—he perhaps went to my office to buy some lime to whitewash the ceiling—I cannot remember whether I was there with Gillie—I did not say to him, "We must use every possible means to get this wharf for ourselves, and we should do good business there;" or "It is absolutely necessary we should ruin the pastor;" or "We must do it very carefully, so as not to raise any suspicion"—I told I Mr. Massis of my mother's arrest—I did not say it would I make a difference to me in money matters—I said, "Can you do anything for her in London? you know people in London"—he said that it would make a difference to me in money matters, but I did not say that that made no difference to me in meeting the bills—I knew nothing about the bills—he did not say he would do all he could to get the bills renewed—when he came to Duncan Terrace on April 1st I said to the girl, "Wait a minute, do not open the door"—Mr. Massis said, "Here is a bill payable to you here"—when the servant brought back the letter giving notice of the bill being dishonoured, I said to the prisoner, "It is not like what you told me," and he said, "Yes, I signed your name"—on April 4th I went to my solicitor, at 10. 45 or eleven, and after swearing the information I paid a visit to Mr. Massis, to see what he wanted—he said, "Come in, I must speak with you," and took me by my arm into his drawing-room, where there were two gentlemen and two ladies—I stayed ten or fifteen minutes—that was just before his arrest—these documents (Produced) have not all my mother's signature; three of them are forged; they have all been paid into the bank and credited—of the three forgeries this one, I think, is Madame Massis's writing—the

other two I do not know—my mother went by the name of Sophia in France, and Emile in England—that is not her name—this (produced) is my mother's writing—the signature "Coulet" is another forgery.

Re-examined. I was acquitted in 1887—my mother has not been tried yet, she is awaiting her trial—my father died in 1884, twelve months before the charge was brought against my mother—I was about eighteen at that time—I went to my native town for the conscription—I know Mr. Gardner—he wrote to me, and I went into his employment directly after my acquittal—I was manager of a firm at Tronsvart, near Nice, and stayed till March, 1889, and then came to England and went to Brighton to learn English—I traded in Fenchurch Street, in partnership with Mr. Dixon, and left to become manager of the Philanthropic Fire wood Institution—the goods, which came to £30, were casks of claret and olive oil in different lots—that was my business—I gave a cheque for £65, which, with the one that appears in my pass-book, makes £135, so I do not owe Mr. Massis anything—I never borrowed money of him at any time—I had no necessity to borrow money in August and September, 1892, I had brought about £200 from France, and I left the same sum in the bank in France; I also had some shares, bonds—Mr. Massis had not plenty of money; when he gave cheques they were generally returned—in that letter in 1890, thanking him for his trouble and kindness, I was not thanking him for having lent me money—I thanked him once for collecting Ransetti's £50 bill—Mr. Massis did not lend me £40—I lent him £29 and sundries, and sent him a cask of wine, £12—he gave the cheque to me because I gave him a bill for £50—I said, "£12 add £39;—you owe me £1," that was in Mr. Gillie's presence—I said, "Your wife says you have lent me £40"—I saw this receipt (For £135, dated 16th May) some time before I was at the Police-court, and put down the sum and the date on this paper (Produced)—I think that was January 1st or the end of December, 1892, when we handed the books to Mr. Harvey—the amount was then £35 11s., and when it was shown me at the Police-court it was £153—when I signed that paper there was writing at the bottom which has disappeared since—the £35 11s. was not received by me for my own purposes, but for the "Philanthropic Firewood Association"—the figures have been altered, the 11s. has been taken out—Mr. Massis's cheques came back several times because there was no money at the bank; one was for £9 6s., dated February 29th—it is not true that I refused to let the committee see the books—I wrote ten times to Mr. Massis for the books; I have had nothing to do with them since December 30th—I brought an action one or two weeks ago against the committee for money due from them—Mr. Massis sent me a cheque for £4 12s. to pay a small amount which I had paid for him—Rabbeau was in my employ—I sent him away because he had collected money, and said he wanted it because of his wife—I charged him with embezzling money—Mr. Thiebaud was foreman there, and Mr. Rabbeau was a woodchopper—I went to Mr. Massis's house after swearing the information, because he called me in.

By the COURT. I know my mother's signature very well—she has never misspelt her name with an "o" instead of an "e"—I have had frequent applications from Massis to lend him money, and have got the

letters here—here is one in June, and another says, "Received from Madame Colet £10 sterling, that I engaged to let her have this week, November 3rd or 4th"—that is signed "M. Massis"—it is Madame Massis's signature. (Other letters, signed "M. Massis" to the witness were here translated, one of which said, "I must supplicate you to lend me £3." Another stated, "I entreat you to lend me 400 or 500 francs. If my husband is brought before a justice he will lose his post. Send as much as possible." And in another, "I ask you to lend me £2 for ten days only; not for myself but for the schools")

WILLIAM JOHN SPRAY . I am managing clerk to Lovell, Son, and Pitfield, solicitors, 3, Gray's Inn Square; they are solicitors to Mr. Black well, of Harrow—on Saturday, April 1st, I received instructions from Mr. Pitfield to go to 25, Duncan Terrace, Islington—I took with me the bill marked "E," and the document marked "I"—a servant answered the door—I asked if Mr. Colet was at home—she went in, and came out and gave me a slip of paper, which said, "Mr. E. Colet is not at home. Please go to Mr. J. Massis, at 13, Soho Square"—I gave her in exchange document "I"—I did not return to the office that day; I took them to the office next week.

CATHERINE VIERGERIE (Interpreted). I am servant to Mr. Colet, of 25, Duncan Terrace—on April 1st he had dinner in the middle of the day, and while he was at dinner Mr. Massis called—I told him that Mr. Colet was at dinner—he said, "Never mind; don't disturb him, I will call later on"—he returned in ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, and I took him into the dining-room—Mr. Colet came upstairs from the kitchen, and they were both in the dining-room—shortly afterwards the bell rang, and before I could open the door Mr. Colet called me and made me wait a little while, and Mr. Massis gave me a piece of paper similar to this to take to the person who had rung the bell—I gave it to a man who was outside—he read it, and took out a piece of paper from an envelope with a stamp on it, and gave me a letter to give to Mr. Colet, which I did.

Cross-examined. I did not ask the man what name—I had the paper in my hand the first time I saw the man.

SAMUEL JOHN BLACKWELL . I live at Brook's Hill, Harrow Weald, Middlesex—previous to May and June, 1892, I had received applications for subscriptions from a person signing himself Massis, and sent some, I believe, to Madame Massis—I sent £40, and in exchange for my cheque received another dated July 5th, which was met, and the account between us was finished—I lent him £50 on August 3rd, which was to be paid on September 1st, but it was not paid—on October 27th I was asked to accept a bill of £197, giving in exchange a cheque for £147—I did so, and the cheque was met—the bill matured early in 1893, and was not met—I was given another for £205, and returned the other after cancelling it—the bill for £205 became due on March 3rd; it was not met, and a fresh bill for £210 was tendered to me, due on April 1st—this is it (This was signed "E. Coulet")—I returned it cancelled—it has never been met, I believe—I am suing Mr. Colet on it—I wrote to. Massis to say that I was leaving home, and I had previously written to say that I should be quite satisfied if they paid me the £197, as I was not a money-lender.

Cross-examined. I only know of the work done by Mr. Massis from Madame Massis's letters—I never heard of Colet—the signatures on the two bills did not seem quite to agree.

Re-examined. This is a letter of March 22nd (This asked the witness to become surety for the writer, and was signad "J. Massis pastor")—I did not become surety.

CORNELIUS SEXTON (Detective Sergeant S). On April 4th, at 5. 3 p. m., I saw the defendant go into 9, Soho Square—shortly afterwards I rang the bell—the defendant's wife partially opened the door, and on seeing me slammed it in my face—I had got my right foot inside, but she and another female kept the door to, while some Frenchmen attacked me from behind, and there was a mêlée for fifteen minutes—I afterwards got in, and was half an hour searching the house before we found the defendant—he was at the very top of the house, locked up in an empty room—I asked him his name; he said "Pastor Massis"—I read the warrant to him—he said, "Why, it is all a joke; do you think I, the pastor of this church, would forge anything?"—I took him to Marlborough Mews Police station, where he was charged with forgery, and he again said it was a joke—I found on him this letter and envelope. (This was a notice from the solicitor of the dishonoured bill)—I found at No. 13, the house he was moving from, two promissory notes; one was made an exhibit, and the other I have here; also this cheque in his pocket-book on his person, and four other cheques—this one. (For £4 10s.) has been shown to the prosecutor, and to his mother also.

Cross-examined. I saw Mr. Colet previous to my entering the house with the defendant—I was at the other side of the square—I went in twelve or fifteen minutes afterwards—Colet had not gone; he came down and I let him out into the crowd—the rooms were not all empty; they were in the act of moving—there was no furniture in the room, which was locked up—I was in police clothes—they did not open the door to me on discovering that I was an officer—she said she had let Mr. Massis out that way, opening the church door—I have said the prisoner opened the door at the instigation of his wife—there was no obstruction when he knew who I was—I also arrested Madame Colet on a warrant for the extradition of Madame Fromentan veuve Colet—I went there under a ruse as a Post-office official, and one of the Serjeants brought Madame Colet to me—she gave her name as Colet.

GEORGE HARVEY . I am an accountant, of 26, Oxberry Avenue—in November, 1891, I lived in the same house as the defendant, and at the end of December, 1892, I became honorary inspector and examiner of the Philanthropic Firewood Institution, at Mr. Mathew's request—there were no accounts to examine when I started that I am aware of—I made out this account of the trading to the end of January for one month, showing a loss of £109 8s., and I suggested to shut up at once—Mr. Massis wanted to continue it, and so did the committee—I resigned a few days afterwards—I lived in Mr. Colet's house first, and when they removed I moved with them—I was present on several occasions when Mr. Massis called at 25, Duncan Terrace, and once when they were settling an account—this document (produced) is on my paper, but I do not recollect it being made out or giving anybody a piece of paper that day—I remember Mr. Massis and Mr. Colet making up some figures in a way I

could not understand—I firmly believe the institution owes Mr. Colet his wages from May to January.

Crow-examined. His wages were £12 10s. a month, and it was well understood that he had never received anything except for one month, which I paid him—that was the account for January, 1893—that entry was scratched out by Mr. Gillett, one of the committee—I think it was the third week in January, 1893, that Colet and Massis were settling the figures—I believe I had my books and papers there, and I presume I gave him this piece of paper, but do not remember it—it does not differ from any account paper, but it is paper which I think it unlikely they would have.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am entirely innocent; I have many witnesses to prove Colet threatened to ruin me and my church."

Witnesses for the Defence.

WILLIAM MONTGOMERY WHITE . I am a solicitor, of the Temple—I have acted as solicitor for the defendant throughout these proceedings, and conducted his case before the Magistrate—in the course of the proceedings Mdlle. Emary handed this document to me either last Friday or a week before—I kept it in my safe—it has not left my possession since, and I have not altered it—I did not notice till it was handed in yesterday that the name was spelt "Cou"—I handed it to my counsel as a specimen of Madame Colet's signature—I did not search for document written by Colet in which the name was spelt with a "u."

By the COURT. I heard the opening speech, and heard the prosecution relying on the fact that there was a document in which the name was spelt "ou"—the documents are very numerous—the prisoner was only committed for trial last Wednesday—I tried to get an inspection of the books of the wood company—I saw an accountant, and gave him instructions—he subsequently made a communication to me, in consequence of which I saw Mr. Colet's signature on April 14th—the books were not. produced without much difficulty, and only on the day before the prisoner was committed for trial, and before I had the opportunity of examining them—that was last week.

Cross-examined. I did not see Mr. Colet; the refusal came from his legal advisers—I know that Mr. Colet has brought an action against the Commissioners—I knew that it was necessary on his part that an account ant should go through the books—I have heard Mr. Colet's explanation that he refused to give up the books except somebody produced the signatures of all the committee—I was at the Police-court on the first occasion—I did not hear the case opened; I did not get there till after it was opened—the rules of the Firewood Association were put in at the Police-court as a specimen of handwriting—I did not know that it was alleged that the document was signed Colet, and that the alleged forgery was signed Colet—I saw it produced on the first occasion, but it was never in my hands—I had not the opportunity of examining it at all—no remark was made about it at the Police-court; it was only put in as a specimen of writing—I think Mr. Massis brought Miss Emary to me—she gave me other documents, but I did not look through them then—I heard Mr. Coleridge ask Mr. Colet yesterday, "Did not you notice that this was spelt Coulet?"—I did not instruct him to put that question.

By the COURT. I did not know before the document was handed to the prosecutor yesterday that the one point in the case was the name being wrongly spelt, not only in the forged but in another document, and I am conducting the defence—I knew that it was a point in the case that the same mistake in spelling appeared in the bill, but I did not attach much importance to it.

SUSANNE EMARY (Interpreted). I live at 12, Hadley's Road, West Kensington—I lived for some time in the house of Madame Colet—I came with her in 1888, and remained with her two years—I then went to a hospital, being ill, and then to Madame Barban—I do not recollect having received this letter (Produced)—I cannot recognise the writing—I gave Mr. White two letters, but not this one.

Cross-examined. I know Mr. White by sight; I have seen him—that is the gentleman. (The last witness)—I do not remember seeing this letter before, but it is possible—I recollect Mr. White asking me to give him some letters—he asked me whether I was a servant, and I said "No"—they asked me if I had any letters of Mr. Colet—I said, "I do not remember;" but I looked and found two, and several postcards—I swear that these are not the two letters which I handed to Mr. White.

W. M. WHITE (Re-examined). This pencil endorsement is in Colet's writing—the other writing is either by the prisoner or his wife—Colet is spelt "Caulet," and the stroke making the "o" into an "a" is the same distance from the "o."

SUSANNE EMARY (continued). During the first year I was with Madame Colet M. Colet came to and fro from France, but most part of the time he resided in London—when Madame Colet brought me over to London it was understood that I was to be a member of the family, but I soon found out the contrary—this is one of my letters to M. Colet. (This was signed "I am always your devoted servant Susanne n)—when I left Madame Colet I did not leave with M. Barban—for ten days I was in the hospital, and then I went to M. Barban—he had been living in the house—he and I talked about this question just as anybody else would.

By the COURT. The defendant asked me to go to Mr. White—they knew I was cognisant of a great many things—this letter is not addressed to me—this other is a receipt from Colet for the payment of his pension—it was never in my possession.

W. M. WHITE (Re-examined by the COURT). I said that this receipt and the other letters were handed to me by Mr. Coleridge as specimens of handwriting—these are the Christmas cards and photographs which the last witness gave me—I have heard her evidence, and I still say that she handed me the letter that has been altered.

CLAUD RABOUT . I am a school-master, of 11, East Street Buildings—on March 21st I met Colet in Oxford Street—he shook hands with me—I had three children with me—he said that the Philanthropic wood business was closed, and he had plenty of time on his hands, and would come and see me—at that time I was on rather cool terms with the prisoner—Colet said he was going to proceed against Massis, and would make it hot for him, and especially for Madame Massis—he spoke in French—I told him of the coldness between me and Massis.

Cross-examined. I was formerly in Colet's employ, when he came

from London to Brighton—I was in his service before Mr. Durant was with him—he suggested that I had collected some money for the firm which I had not accounted for—I did not exactly deny it—he did not discharge me; I left of my own accord—I was not earning enough; I was earning 278.—he started a wine business without a license—he did not know a word of English, and his mother and he made use of me as a factotum—I left because I had not enough money, and I did not like to be in the employ of Mr. Durant—I was paid weekly, and he went away and did not leave money to pay me—when I left Mr. Durant was a partner—this conversation took place on 21st March—my boy, and a boy of eight, and another boy of nine were present—Colet told me Massis had done something very wrong, and he was going to make it hot for him, and I told him, because there was a plot against him, but I knew it two months before—I did not caution Massis that there was a plot against him, because I was not on speaking terms with him—there was a coolness between us—I do not know what he owed—I know that people had so much trouble to get their money that they had to issue write—I know that he owed money for two or three years—I am a school-master, paid by the trustees of the church, nothing to do with Massis—I had nothing to do with the Firewood Institution—I wrote this letter to Colet. (This was in French, dated 17/9/90, and being interpreted stated that owing to the illness of his wife lie went away without accounting for some money, but had no intention of wronging M. Coulet, and promised to pay him before the end of the week)—I do not accuse Colet of not paying my wages—he had advanced my wages when he was in London, but not when he was in France—he did not leave all the money when he was in France, and not for my travelling expenses—I would not explain myself before a boy twelve years old who was in the room, and I wrote that letter—I know M. Colet advanced £2—he had owed me money, but I told him I would pay him at the end of the week, because he had returned from France and had paid me—my salary was 27s. a week, but he promised me 35s.—I wish Mr. Durant was here—here is a letter he wrote me on September 6th, 1892, and a telegram following the letter, which was wrongly addressed, and I did not meet him. (This was signed, "Yours, Durant," and stated, "Will you come and see me, I have something very important to communicate to you on the subject of a person who you do not like very much; not one word of this letter to any person, not even to Mr. Massis ")—I understood that Colet was referred to in that letter—I do not like Colet for several good reasons.

Re-examined. I left Colet's employ in consequence of what occurred during his absence in France—he had not left money enough—I did not explain owing to the boy being present—the telegram stated that my wife was ill—Colet offered me a higher salary, and I refused it, because I hoped to better myself—I left Colet about Easter, 1889—I have seen Mr. Durant since he spoke about Mr. Massis, and I said, "I am sorry I cannot meet you"—M. Colet was also the subject of our conversation.

CHARLES THIEBAUD (Interpreted). I was for some months foreman in the Philanthropic Firewood Company—in December last I saw Mr. Coulet in Ground Street, and I knew that Gillie and he were occupying themselves in finding evidence against Mr. Massis—Gillies was the secretary of the

Philanthropic—Colet told me that the principal thing was to. get the Consistory Court to their side, and to get Mr. Massis away—at the beginning of January Colet told me that there was something else he had heard about Mr. Massis, and they had some bills of exchange that Gillies and Colet had given to Massis, and if it did not succeed he would blow Massis's brains out—he said so in the presence of my wife; she is not in Court—about February 20th Colet said that there was something much more serious—I asked him what it was—he said he only wanted one document to get Massis ten years' imprisonment, and offered me some money to find some letters or any evidence, and if I found anything he would take me down to his solicitor—when I saw all these manoeuvres going on against Massis I asked him if he had signed anything (MR. HUMPHREYS objected to this evidence as irrelevant)—I did not see Colet afterwards till after Massis was arrested, and then he said, "I told you very well that he would be arrested"—that was in John Street—he was coming out from Massis's place.

Cross-examined. The money was offered first in February—I might have had some interviews before, but they did not seem to be of any importance—at the interview in December M. Colet told me that he and Mr. Gillies were going to get up some evidence against Mr. Massis—I did not think it of much consequence at the moment, because I did not believe they would do it—M. Colet did not say what charge was going to be made against Massis, he said he was looking for letters—I made no note of what he said—it was the interview at the beginning of January that my wife was present at—she is not here, but I think she is coming—I do not remember telling Mr. White that my wife was present at the interview—in a moment of anger M. Colet said that he would blow out Mr. Massis's brains, as he had some papers of his—it was about February 24th that Colet said he only wanted one more document—I fix that date because it was about the time that the workshop was closed, and there was no business—I did not know on April 4th that Mr. Massis was going to be arrested—I do not know that police officer (Sexton)—Sexton said in my presence that he was a police officer, and he blew his whistle in my presence, and came to the door and asked me several questions—I did not kick him, I took hold of him when he was going to take hold of Madame Massis, when he opened the door and pushed her, and they took hold of her, and told her they were police—when he told me he was a police officer I let go of him—I did not kick him after that: when he said he was a police officer he came inside and I went away—I did not know that the police came there to arrest Massis; they said they came there to inspect the chapel, and they were told it was not the day—I had no desire to prevent their taking Mr. Massis; I did not know they came for that purpose—I was manager of the Philanthropic before I was foreman, and when I gave in my resignation M. Colet became managing director, I do not know why; I know he offered £50 when he became my successor—nobody asked me to remember these, questions, when I heard of the thing I went to Massis—I have discussed it with him on several occasions since he was arrested—I was at the Police-court.

Re-examined. Sexton, the police inspector, was in plain clothes, and I did not know that he was a police officer—he blew his whistle when I was

holding him—if he received a kick it was in the scuffle when I took hold of him, not intending to kick him at all—there was not a considerable crowd where I resisted him, but afterwards people came up.

W. M. WHITE (Re-examined). I told you this morning that I received the document in question from Mdlle. Emary, and I believed at the time that that was so—during the adjournment I thought it my duty to ascertain whether I could be mistaken, and I find I received it from Madame Vitu, and I believe she handed me another document at the same time—I have seen her every day since the arrest, and I have been inundated with these documents—I have had conversations with Miss Emary on the subject, the result of which confirmed me in my belief—she understands very little English, and I understand very little French—I had an interpreter there, Mr. Rameau, who was called this morning—Miss Emary had not the letter before her, and she said at first she was not certain whether she gave it to me or not—afterwards she said she felt, certain she had not given it to me, but she would say that she had if it would help Mr. Massis—I warned her that she must not commit perjury—I am certain that Madame Vitu gave me the letter; I will not swear it, but she is here—it has not been altered since it has been in my care, it has been either kept in my safe or carried in my bag—I will swear that it is in the same state as when it came into my possession—Madame Vitu has taken a great interest in the case; she has been to me every day; she is a friend of Mr. Massis.

By the COURT. I was aware yesterday that this letter had been tampered with—I cannot say when it came into my possession—I have seen Madame Vitu every day since April 5th—I have no doubt that it was. after the defendant was arrested—I spoke to Mdlle. Emary yesterday before she went into the witness-box—it was not after the Court rose—I was running in and out of Court, and I challenged her with having altered it.

EMILE COLET (Re-examined by the COURT). I had become very familiar with Monsieur and Madame Massis—I suppose Mr. Durant would tell him that a charge of bankruptcy had been brought against me in France.—I have spoken to Massis about it.

EMILY VITU . I am a widow, and am on a visit to the Massis's at 9,. Soho Square—I have lived with them since last September—I have seen this letter before; I saw it the first week Mr. Massis was arrested—it was addressed to Madame Massis, and she showed it to me, I know the writing, Mademoiselle Dufait sent it—I took it at once, the very day it was received, in order to give evidence of the handwriting—I cannot tell you when it was—I saw the letter in which it was contained broken open, and Madame Massis handed it to me at the time—it was not tampered with at all while it was in my possession—while I was living with the Massis's, Colet came to see them very often—I remember his going there in October last—I looked at the letter before I gave it to Mr. White—I never noticed the signature—when Madame Massis gave it to me she did not say, "Look, it is spelt Cou."—I was to take it to Mr. White because of the handwriting—Mademoiselle Dufait lives at Reading—the letter was dated April 4th—this is the letter it came in, and I handed it to Mr. White as a specimen of Colet's writing—I remember Colet saying to Massis, on 8th or 10th August, "I owe you a sum of money, to the

amount of £197; I have no money, if you like to accept a bill"—Mr. Massis said, "Very well, if I can discount it"—I was away for only a quarter of an hour, and when I went away M. Colet handed a blue paper to Massis—I did not see what was written on it, but I think there was a stamp like a cheque—Colet called at my house last December; Mr. Massis was ill—the first call was in the middle of December, and again on December 20th, when Mr. Massis was better, and saw him in my presence—M. Colet asked Mr. Massis to renew the bill—he said, "The gentleman who has discounted it will do so"—the second bill was for £205, for the interest—Colet called again on March 22nd; it was from December 28th to February 28th—on March 22nd I saw M. Coulet there again, when everybody was coming to the church to exercise for the singing—he went into the house—I heard very little of the conversation, only, "I have no money, and my mother has gone away."

Cross-examined. I understood when Madame Massis gave me the letter that the signature was important—I did not look at the signature at all, but I read the letter, and gave it to Mr. White, but did not say anything about it—I did not touch it; as it came from Madame Massis so it went to Mr. White—I know M. Colet's writing very well; this is not his signature; it is Madame Colet's—I do not know whether she spells her name "Coulet"—I heard two conversations between M. Colet and Mr. Massis; one on December 22nd and one in January, and there was one in October and one March, 1893—I was at Marlborough Street when Mr. Massis was being charged, and heard the witnesses called—before that I had given my statement to Mr. White, but I was not called as a witness—I remember the conversation of October, 1892; there was nothing particular about it but his saying that he owed money—I had never heard them talking about money before—I never knew that Massis borrowed money of anybody; I think he had very little money about October last—I was not at his house in January, 1892; I did not go there till September—I was simply as a friend in the house—I made no note of these conversations—Colet used to come to see Massis sometimes twice a week—I do not know anything about Madame Colet.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY— Judgment respited.

484. WILLIAM SCOTT PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining goods on credit within four months of his bankruptcy.

He received a good character, and MR. C. MATHEWS, for the prosecution, stated that his friends had redeemed all the articles.

Four Months, without Hard Labour.

485. HUGH JOHN ANDERSON and THOMAS ASTRUP, Unlawfully conspiring to cheat and defraud Emma Groom of her moneys, upon which no evidence was offered.

NOT GUILTY .—THE RECORDER Stated that he considered the charge ought never to have been brought.

THIRD COURT.—Thursday, May 4th, 1893.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

486. CHARLES THOMAS CLIFTON (24) and HERBERT WILLIAM SMITH (26), Stealing thirty-six packets of jelly, the goods, of the Great Eastern Railway Company, their masters.

MR. GRAIN Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended Clifton.

ALFRED HALL . I am employed by the Great Western Railway Company at the goods depot at Smithfield—about half-past two p. m. on 6th April my attention was called to a Great Eastern van, No. 908, which was full, and next to it was another Great Eastern van, empty—between them a Great Eastern man in uniform was stooping to look underneath the full van—I could not identify that man, because he went away rather sharp—he asked me what I was looking for, if I had lost anything, and then went on to the platform—I walked back about five yards to the person who had called my attention, and presently we heard something fall down—I went back and looked under the van, found a packet of these table jellies under the van 908, and looking further I saw some more packets behind this rope sack, which was on the ground, between the hind wheels, right underneath the van—it contained these packets—I handed the things over to the policeman on duty—I cannot say if the sack was there when I was there before; I did not look the first time—I was only away a couple of minutes.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. The packets and the sack were next to one another under the van, all in a heap—there were a number of Great Western vans there, but there is a special place for Great Eastern vans—it holds four vans—on this occasion there were three backed on to the bank—in addition to those there were a number of other vans in a line with them—to each of our vans are attached a man and a van-boy, and there are callers off and trolleyers in addition—there are a number of our men and of Great Western men about at that time of the day—it is a. busy part of the day—we are all on duty in the afternoon—the busiest time is in the evening—vans begin to arrive at the depot at eight or half past eight.

Cross-examined by Smith. The van by the side of the loaded one was quite empty, and no one was working in it.

By the COURT. There is a hole in this sack near the bottom, big enough for the packages to fall out.

WILLIAM HENRY HOWE . I am a van guard in the Great Eastern Railway Company's employment—on 6th April I was working with the. prisoner Smith, who drove the van—about half-past twelve we took a load of goods from Bishopsgate, and arrived at Smithfield about one—among other things we took cases of preserves—Clifton and Saville also came from Bishopsgate on that day, each with a loaded van, and our three vans arrived at Smithfield about the same time, and backed in against he bank—Saville was next to us; Clifton was not—my mate said, "Unload the van, Joe"—I unloaded half the van, and then my mate and Clifton came into the van, and Clifton told his boy Wood to take me to have some dinner—I did not go, but Wood did—about a quarter of an hour afterwards I saw Clifton tapping at a case in our van, and then I saw him put something like a brown-paper parcel under the bib of his apron,

which is like a kind of coffee sack, and then he got out of the van and, went away, and did not come back for four or five minutes, when he helped my mate Smith to unload the rest of the load—all this time I was. talking to Saville's boy.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. It was about half-past one when we got to Smithfield, and then, after backing the vans in, Clifton and Smith, and Winter, another Great Eastern carman, went to a public-house—they were away some little time, and while they were away I was unloading our van—I had got half-way through the load when they came back again—I did not see the cases in which these things were in the van while I was unloading—the cases in which I think they were up in the front of the load—I think they were nailed down—I don't know if they were corded—I have read the evidence I gave at the Police-court, not several times—what Clifton put in his apron looked like a brown-paper parcel;, I don't know if it was a handerchief, or what it was—it might very likely have been his handkerchief—when I heard the tapping noise I was. talking to Saville's boy—I saw nothing in Clifton's hand when I heard' the tapping—he had a loose carman's apron—all carmen wear articles of' that kind—these packages would have to be moved from the top of the van to the tailboard; I saw Clifton lift them out—the checker and caller out were outside—the caller-out stands on the bank at the back of the van, and the checker three or four yards from him—as an article is handed out from the back of the van the caller-out calls it out to the checker, who checks it off on the sheet, so that the caller-out sees everything that comes out of the van and calls it out to the checker—all I saw when I heard the tapping was Smith putting the things at the back—I said at the Police-court, "I looked, but could not see anything; Clifton was assisting Smith to unload when I heard the tapping"—Clifton's apron was in the same loose state when he got into the van; it is always loose about him, but when he gets up and drives sometimes it is buckled—I said at the Police-court, "I did not think there was anything wrong at the time"—I did not speak to anyone about it then, or that day—it sounded like something hard that Clifton tapped the case with; I could not see what he had in his hand—I was outside Smith's van talking to Saville's boy, and could not see through the side of the van—next day I told a Great Eastern inspector about it—our head foreman took me down to our office, and he asked me questions—he asked me whether I heard anything going on in the van—I said I did not take notice of anything wrong at that time—I have seen our inspector outside here—I was not questioned downstairs at Bishopsgate—when we arrived at Smithfield on this day, and the carmen went to the public-house, only me and the men unloading were left in charge—carmen sometimes help each other to unload, so that we can get away quick—as a rule we go to dinner about half-past one or two if we have unloaded; we generally go to dinner when we get home to Bishopsgate—I have got my dinner with me now—we take half an hour for dinner to rest and amuse ourselves—the gentleman who questioned me did not mention the word suspicious—I said at the Police-court that Clifton's movements were rather suspicious in the van—I saw him moving in the van, and he was stooping down like this—he would have to do that sometimes—I could see the top part of him, but not what he was doing, through the side of the van.

Cross-examined by Smith. I noticed nothing suspicious about you—I saw nothing wrong in your being in the van.

ROBERT WOOD . I was Clifton's van-boy on 6th April—we arrived at West Smithfield about one o'clock, or a little after—Clifton's van was backed up level with the bank—I stood beside my load, and saw Clifton and Smith go away, and a little while after Clifton came back and said I could go to dinner with Smith's boy—I went a quarter of an hour after, leaving them unloading, and when I came back I saw them coming out with an empty van—Clifton had an apron on.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I called out to Clifton to come and unload his own van and he did so; and then 'I went to dinner, as he had told me—I went without telling him I was going—when we first arrived Clifton, Smith and Winter went to a public-house—it was the first time I knew them do so—it is not usual to leave the load; I never saw it done—the checkers and callers-out go from one van to another, and while carmen are waiting for their turn they might go and have a drink—I was left in charge of Clifton's van and was standing beside my load—Howe came up and spoke to me after the carmen came back from the public-house—Howe started unloading his load after talking to me—as soon as they drove up the carmen went to the public-house—I got down and stood beside my load, and had conversation with Howe for a minute or two, and then the checker called out for him and he went and unloaded—it was about ten or fifteen minutes before Clifton came back from the public-house—I have gone with Clifton on his van for the last six or seven weeks—I go to dinner at any time I can—sometimes I ask to go, and sometimes he tells me.

JAMES AUSTEN (Police Constable, Great Western Railway). On 6th April I was on duty. near the goods bank—Handley came and handed me this sack—in consequence I looked round the van, No. 908, and underneath I saw these three loose packets, containing table jelly, two of them very dirty and one clean—I know where Clifton's van was standing on that day—next morning Handley handed me one of the brown-paper parcels.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. Sacks like these are usually used for rope sacks; I don't know what they call them—condemned sacks are not thrown about the market—when worn out they are kept in the sheet-house and are handed to the carmen for putting rope in—I don't know if they are marked "condemned."

Cross-examined by Smith. This sack is marked "Great Eastern"—I know nothing about it.

WILLIAM HANDLEY (Police Constable, Great Western Railway). On the morning of the 7th April I looked round in the roadway near the edge of the platform, in the part reserved for the Great Eastern vans, and near the van banks—there was room there for four vans—I found this parcel, which I gave to Austen—it was being swept up with rubbish and straw.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I found it under where Clifton's van had stood on the day previous—I should say his van stood more than four off Smith's—the parcel was under the edge of the platform or bank—generally there is considerable accumulation of rubbish after the vans have left—one man starts at midnight to clear the rubbish up, but when I found the parcel the next morning this part had not been swept; the

man had not done as far—he works all night—the parcel was covered with loose straw and rubbish; there is a certain amount of straw and rubbish on the ground—after unloading cases straw would be the principal rubbish left—it was the man's duty to sweep it up—he began at the other end, and had not swept this end at all—the bank he has to sweep is about thirty yards long—I found the parcel about half-past eight a. m.—there might be a great many vans there after half-past one and two. In the day—I do not know that there are a great number of sacks marked "condemned "lying about for things to be put into—it takes the man all night to sweep, because the vans are backed to the platform and stand there all night, and he cannot sweep behind them till seven in the morning—before this parcel was found Clifton's van had gone, and one of our vans had backed in—I could not say if that Great Western van was there when Clifton's van was there, or if it was backed in immediately after Clifton's Van had left—I did not see it backed in.

JAMES BENJAMIN SAVILLE . I am a carman in the Great Eastern Railway Company's employment—I came with a load to Smithfield, arriving there about one o'clock on 6th April—I backed my van in next to Smith's—I might have had conversation with the prisoners while Smith's van was being unloaded—I could not say what it was about—all I saw was Clifton helping Smith to unload—I sat on the tailboard of my van—I believe Clifton's van pulled out before I was unloaded—I met the prisoners afterwards at a public-house at the top of Smithfield Hill—we four carmen went and had a drink together at twenty minutes to four, I daresay it was—when I went out of the goods yard I was spoken to by a Great Western policeman; I was alone then—I said to the three carmen in the public-house that the policeman downstairs had found three packets of jellies underneath my van, and I said to them, "I don't know anything about any jellies;" and Smith, I believe, said, "You ought to look fat on jellies, Denny"—that is what they call me—the prisoners and I went to another public-house, the fourth man left us—I brought up the same thing, and one of them I could not say which) said, "It was a fair bowl"—we called for another drink, and the conversation was chiefly then with the barmaid about two dogs; nothing more was said about the jelly business—I had not seen the sack before the policeman spoke to me about it, when the prisoners were not there—he did not show me any sack, and I did not speak to the prisoners about it—they said to me in the second public-house, "If there had not been a hole in the sack the three packets of jellies would not have been found underneath your van"—I could not say which of them said it; we were all talking together—I said, "If it was you that done the jelly in the sack you must have been b——fools"—they made no reply—that was all the conversation.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. The checker and caller-out were present the whole of the time the second half of Smith's van was being unloaded, and at that time Clifton was helping Smith to unload—the caller out was outside the tailboard, standing by it—after things are taken off they are called out to the checker—if a case gets broken in transit, and a portion of the contents tumbles out, it would be signed for on the sheet as damaged at Smithfield—I should give what tumbled out to the checker or caller-out, and he would make a note on the sheet—it is the duty of the

caller-out to see when every article has been taken from a van; if they have the right quantity they do not trouble to go into the van; but it is their duty to see that everything is taken from the van according to the sheet—I went into public-houses three times with the prisoners that day—almost as soon as we got to Smithfield we went into one, and had two glasses of ale each—after unloading we had another one, and then the subject of these articles was first broached—we had one glass of ale each then, and at the third public-house we had three or four pots of ale between us—we were quite sober when I mentioned that the packets had been found—I said I was stopped by a policeman of the Great Western Railway for having three packets under my van, and I asked them if they knew anything about it—they said "No"—that was all on that occasion—afterwards we went to the third public-house, and one of them said, "You (meaning me) ought to have jellies underneath your van; that is why you look so fat," and I said, "I know nothing about it"—one of the prisoners said in a chaffing spirit, "Well, it was a fair bowl, you know"—I suppose he meant I had been bowled out by the police—I did not say that if there had not been a hole in the sack the three tablets would not have fallen out (The COMMON SERJEANT read the witness's deposition, as follows:—"I said if there had not been a hole in the sack the three tablets would not have been under my van, and they laughed; it was one of the prisoners said that; I don't know which ")—I made a mistake when I said, "I said if there had not been a hole in the sack"—I did not make a mistake in saying they laughed—I could not say what they laughed at; I suppose it was at something I said—we were all talking and laughing together—I did not understand then that a robbery had been committed—they did not say they were guilty—they told me one of the Great Western men did it—we laughed at the matter, and considered it a good joke in the public-house—I did not understand that they had been taking the jelly and carrying it away in the sack, and when it fell out kicking it under sack my van—a carman would have no right if jelly fell out to put it in a and walk away with it—after the prisoners said it was a fair bowl they said they knew nothing about it; one of the Great Western men must have done it—I don't know which of the prisoners said that—I daresay they left their vans for ten minutes when they drank with me on the first occasion—there are generally a number of men about the depot—sometimes we help one another to unload; there is nothing strange in it—I said at the Police-court, "While we were unloading we went for a drink; we were away about ten minutes; when we returned we found your van (Smith's) partly unloaded by your boy and a Great Western man"—Clifton said, "I will give you a hand, and then you can give me one"—nothing struck me as being unusual in the prisoners' conduct—Smith's van was next to mine; Smith's boy was one side and mine the other—the caller-out was by the tailboard of Smith's van, in a position to see everything that left the van—I did not see Clifton leave the van; I saw him tome back—I have worn a sack apron—Smith was unloading and Clifton was handing him the goods—the caller-out stops till a van is unloaded—Clifton would be seen by the caller-out—when I arrived at Smithfield the prisoners were backed in; I arrived about ten minutes after them—I did not leave at the same time as Clifton; I met him in the public-house—I left after him at twenty-five or twenty minutes to four—

these sacks are called condemned or rope sacks; they are condemned by the company, and are almost useless except for coverings—you can get them in the stables; van boys run off with them—I don't know the names of the checker or caller-out—the checker is two or three yards or within hearing of the caller-out—he can see what leaves the caller out—we went to the public-house because the checker was engaged in checking Smith's van.

Cross-examined by Smith. We were away ten minutes, I put it down at—these sacks are unfit to hold anything, or we should not have them—I should think it was not likely you could put articles in this sack, which you knew were going to fall out at the bottom—I should think no carman would put such things in a condemned sack.

Re-examined. Next morning I was fetched to Bishopsgate Police office to state what I knew about the matter—nearly every Great Eastern carman carries these sacks—I was not in a position to see him unloading the van; I was in a position to see the caller-out take the goods from the tail—I was in a position to see what was done in front of the van, and should not see anything passed over the side of the van.

By the COURT. When they said it was a fair bowl out, I said they were b——fools to do such a thing—it must have been after that that they said they knew nothing about it; one of the Great Western men must have done it—it is perfectly well known among Great Eastern men that these are condemned sacks, and the word "condemned" is written on them—I should think that the Great Western men would not know any thing about the existence of these condemned sacks.

HENRY HOLLIDAY . I live at Histon, Cambridgeshire, and am in the employment of Mr. Chivers, jam and jelly manufacturer—on 4th April I packed up cases of jellies, consigned to Mealin and Co., of High Street, West Bromwich—one case contained twelve packets like this, and inside each of the packets were a dozen tablets—a second box contained six packets, with twelve in each—the boxes were nailed and roped when they left.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. It would have taken some time to indo the roping unless it was cut—the value of the thirty packets was 1s. or 8s.

HENRY KNIGHT . I am a checker at the Bishopsgate Goods Station—on 6th April I received this sheet from the clerk, and checked the goods on it into Smith's van; it contains "Mealin and Co., West Bromwich, two packages"—if I find a case defective I make a note on the sheet—there is no note here, and I know they were delivered on to Smith's van in good condition—I remember that these packages were corded—he had nowhere else to go except to West Smithfield.

Cross-examined by Smith. It would be impossible to tamper with these goods on the journey, as they were properly packed and sheeted up.

HENRY ELSMORE . I am a warehouseman, employed by Mealin and Co., of High Street, West Bromwich—on 7th April two cases of jellies came there; no rope was on them—I opened both—in one I found nine packages instead of twelve, three short; the other was right—I opened the box with a hammer, with a chisel at the end—I noticed the lid was rather loose—there was no appearance of any damage outside.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I have no idea what sort of instrument

it must have been opened with—it was tacked down—I did not try to open it without tools—the top of the case was not split; I noticed no hammer marks on it.

JOHN RANDS (117 H). I took Smith about a quarter past one on 7th April at Bishopsgate Street Station; where he was detained by the Great Eastern police—he was taken to the station and charged with stealing these thirty packets of jelly—he made no remark to the charge.

ROBERT FARQUHAR (339 H). I received Clifton from the Great Eastern police—when charged at the Police-station he said nothing.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I don't know what he said to Foster.

ROBERT FOSTER (Chief Inspector, Great Eastern Railway Company's Police). Both prisoners were charged before me in the first instance, and handed over to the other officers.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. Clifton has been in the service of the company since 1st September, 1892—before that he was in the London and North-Western service for some years—he left there through refusing to take out a load, and was allowed to give a week's notice—he came to us with a good written character, which says he was in the service of the London and North-Western Railway from 1889 as van guard and junior carman.

By the COURT. Smith has been in the Great Eastern service since 20th June, 1892—he worked for Messrs. Slade and Lacy, of 169, Great Portland Street, before that—inquiries were ma de and found it correct.

Re-examined. I did not question either prisoner, and they did not say anything—I was not there when they were first detained.

By Smith, I was not aware you made a statement and signed it—I was not there, and I have never heard of a statement having been made (Statements signed by the prisoners were here produced, and read as follows. Smith stated: "I left Bishopsgate for the Great Western Railway about one p. m. on 6th April, 1893. Carman Clifton had a load also at the same time. When at the Great Western Railway Clifton got on to my van to assist me to unload. I did not notice him interfere with any of the goods while he was in my van. I did not hear him tell his boy and my boy to go to dinner. I know nothing about any goods being tampered with." Clifton stated: "I was at the Great Western Railway yesterday about one p. m. (on 6th April, 1893), when I assisted carman Smith to unload his van. I was in Smith's van till it was unloaded. Nothing was said to me by anyone, and I know nothing about the alleged pilfering. ")

JAMES BENJAMIN SAVILLE (Re-examined by the COURT). I said nothing to the prisoners about any sack having been used in connection with this matter—I had not heard anything about a sack at that time—the first time I heard it suggested that a sack had been used was from one of the prisoners when we stopped for beer the third time. Smith, in his defence, denied any knowledge of the matter.

NOT GUILTY .

OLD COURT.—Friday, May 5th, 1893.

Before Mr. Justice Grantham.

487. FREDERICK MCDONALD (42) and ANNIE THOMAS (38) were indicted for the wilful murder of a certain male child of the said: Annie Thomas.

MESSRS. C. F. GILL, BODKIN, and STEPHENSON Prosecuted; MR. GEOOHEGAN appeared for McDonald; and MR. DRAKE for Thomas.

EMILY THOMAS . I now live at 59, Bay Street, Bromley—I am the daughter of the prisoner Thomas—I formerly lived with my father and mother in Ottis Street—I have three brothers and four sisters—when in Ottis Street there were eight of us, all children of my mother—Mr. and Mrs. McDonald lived at No. 4, next door but one, for about six months—we were there eight years—the McDonalds had five children—I did not know of Mrs. McDonald going away, not till three months after she had; gone—I knew she did go away—my father was alive at that time, and after he died mother went into McDonald's house and looked after the children and minded the house—last December we all moved to 3, St. Leonard's Avenue, but at that time I was in service at the Fairfield Road—there were eight children living at St. Leonard's Avenue, five of McDonald's and three of ours—mother lived there with McDonald—they lived together in the same room; the back room upstairs—McDonald went out to work every day—on Sunday, 19th March, I was living at home at the time, waiting for another place—McDonald was there—mother gave us our dinner about one or half-past—she put some on her plate and ate a little piece of pudding—she did not finish her dinner, nor did the children—she went upstairs and laid down; McDonald went' upstairs after mother—about half-past fire that afternoon I heard a baby crying—I went up, Opened the door, and looked in—mother asked what I wanted, and sent me down again—she was not in bed; she was standing—I just put my head in; I did not see any baby there—mother did not come down again that day—McDonald was in the house that night, and slept there as usual, I believe in the room where mother was—next morning he went out to work—he was a commissionaire at 111, Queen Street—he said mother wanted me to go somewhere for her—I went up and saw her, and she told me she wanted me to go to Mrs. Ellis and tell her that she wanted her; she did not say what for—Mrs. Ellis lived in the house in Ottis Street eighteen months before father died—mother was in bed when she told me—I did not notice any baby there then—I did not go to Mrs. Ellis; mother told me afterwards I need not go—I went up again as soon as 1 came in—it was about a quarter to eight when McDonald went out—I saw no baby then, but I saw something moving under the clothes, and I asked mother if she thought she could hide it away from me, and I turned the clothes down and looked at it; she told me to leave it alone—little Bose McDonald was with me at the time, and she took the baby out of the bed, and we said it was ugly and we did not want it—we were arguing over the name it was to have—we told her we would sit on it, and she said she would save us the trouble; when she got up she would do so—mother said its name was to be Ernest Thomas McDonald—she said that Mr. McDonald said if he heard anything about the baby in the street he would break our b——necks—I noticed that the baby had a few little white pimples on its nose, and the face was rather yellow—mother pointed out one of its finger nails and said, "This is a sign of children having fits"—it was rather dark—I said we would take it out

for a walk on Sunday—she said, "Oh no you won't; it is going away"—we asked where, and she said, "To a big place"—I said, "I know where, to the workhouse"—Selina McDonald asked if she would go and see it there, and she said, "No, for I should not like the nurses to know I was its mother"—during that week I saw the child from time to time, and we often nursed it—on the Friday afternoon mother and I and my three sisters all went out, and the baby was left in the bed—when father died mother sent three of the girls to a school at Forest Gate, and one Aunt Betsy had—I very often used to feed the baby with cornflour, and I have seen it have the breast—on the Saturday morning I noticed that it was rather black in the face; it was in bed by itself, mother was downstairs—on the Sunday morning, at about twenty-five minutes past eleven, I saw the baby in the big bed; it was in the middle of the bed, below the two pillows, and one blanket and a sheet over it, I could see a little bit of its face; it was rather black, and it kept moaning—I was only in the room a minute or two—I came downstairs, and mother and McDonald were in the kitchen—he went upstairs with a little brown jug that he used to take up hot water in to shave with; it had no water in it then—he went up to the room where the baby was—he was there about ten minutes; he then came down; he had not shaved—he said to mother, "Well, Annie, my dear girl, I have some news to tell you"—she asked what it was, and he said the baby was dead—she said, "Is it?" and she began to cry—he said, "I had best get out of this"—she said, "No, you can stop here"—he washed himself and then went upstairs, took his brown jug with water in it, and shaved, and when he came down he brought the key of the room with him and put it on the mantelpiece, and said, "Don't go up yourself, and don't let any of the children"—he had two or three glasses of beer, and then both went out—I took the key off the mantelpiece and went up into the back room—I went to the bed—I could not see the baby till I turned down the clothes, and then I saw it, and two or three blankets covered over it—it was dead—the face was rather a little darker than it was earlier in the morning—I. took it up and kissed it, and then put all the clothes back over it again, locked the door, and went downstairs—mother came back about half-past one—I asked her where she had been—she said, "To Dr. Harvey's"—I asked her what she has been for—she said, "For the certificate to bury the baby"—I asked if he gave her one—she said, "No"—McDonald came home about four—next day, Monday, he went to his work as usual—I went up to the back room that day, and saw the body of the baby; it had blood spots on the upper lip—on the Tuesday I saw it again; it then lay on two boxes in the same room—McDonald went out to his work as usual that day and came back about the same time—mother went out about half-past eleven, and came back about a quarter-past twelve, and was at home the rest of the day—next day, Wednesday, about ten, I went up—I did not see the baby—I asked mother if it had been taken away—she said, "No, I put it in a box under the bed"—she went out that day, and when she came back I asked where she had been—she said, "To Dr. Hillyer's"—I asked if she had been for the certificate to bury the baby—she said, "Yes"—I asked if he had given her one—she said "Yes"—I asked her to let me read it—she said she had taken it to Mr. Johnston, the Undertaker—I asked how much it was to bury it—she said 10s.—I asked her

when Mr. Johnston was coming—she said she did not know exactly—I and two of my sisters went to Forest Gate school soon after that on Wednesday; my three little brothers are at that school—we left mother still in the house—I asked her if we could go—she said, "Yes," she was going on the Saturday before, but was too late—I and my sisters walked all the way there; it took as about an hour and a half—Daisy McDonald came with us as far as Maryland Point Station; then she went back home—mother came by train; I saw her at the school about five minutes after we got there; we were going home, and saw her coming along carrying one of the children in her arms; not the baby, but the one two years old—she remained at the schools till four—we then went to Forest Gate Station—my brother then went by train to Uncle Charley's, and then mother and us walked back to Stratford; that took us about a quarter of an hour—I was with her all the time—we got into a tram at Stratford and rode to Bow Bridge, I, mother, and my little sister—we walked to Bow Station, and then home—from the time I met mother at the schools we were together all the rest of the afternoon till we got home—McDonald came home from his work as usual that evening—I did not see the baby again till I saw the body at the cemetery on the Tuesday after—I knew it because it was rather fat—I saw no marks on it except the pimples on its nose—as far as I know, mother went alone to Forest Gate with the child she was carrying.

Cross-Examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Before we went to 3, St. Leonard's Avenue, Mrs. Ellis lodged with us—she worked at Bryant and May's—we had a lodger at 2, Ottis Street, whose baby died of convulsive fits—I believe it was on the Monday that mother said the baby's nails showed it was likely to have convulsive fits—I and Rose nursed the baby through that week—it was black in the face—I had nursed babies before—I never saw any so dark in the face—mother told me to go to Mrs. Ellis the day after the baby was born; I did not go—I went out, and came back and said I had been—that was a story—mother told me to say so, that McDonald might think I had been—when we talked about sitting on the baby we were all laughing and talking—Aunt Susannah, whom I am now living with, is not friendly with McDonald.

Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I was living with mother up to the time father died; he died of typhoid fever, and the children were ill with it; he was a labourer at Bromley Gas Works—mother was very kind to the baby, and fed it once or twice daily, and looked after it well every day.

In reply to the COURT, MR. BODKIN stated that no other witness could carry the case further; upon which MR. JUSTICE GRANTHAM held that the evidence would not justify a verdict of murder or manslaughter; at the same time suggesting that an indictment for a Common Law misdemeanour should be preferred.

NOT GUILTY .

NEW COURT, Friday, May 5th, and OLD COURT, Saturday,May 6th, 1893.

Before Mr. Recorder.

488. GERSHON ABRAHAMS (44) PLEADED GUILTY to conspiring with Solomon Barmash and others (See next case) to defraud Messrs. Smithy Payne and Co.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour, having to complete One Year and Seven Months of his former sentence of Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

489. SOLOMON BARMASH (37), WILLIAM BARMASH (16); WILLIAM KOSMAN (18), and MAURICE ROBINOWITZ (29) Feloniously forging and uttering an order for £593, with intent to. defraud.

MR. C. F. GILL and MR. A. GILL Prosecuted; MR. PAUL TAYLOR appeared for Solomon Barmash; and MR. BIRON for William Barmash.

LOUIS SECKEL . I am an export merchant, of Lauderdale Buildings,' Aldersgate Street—William Barmash was my office boy for twelve months up to November 12th, 1892, and had the opportunity of knowing who our customers were—he saw documents about the office, and copied letters into the letter-book, and then posted them—I occasionally sent him to the bank to pay in cheques—I did business with Adam Pearson and Co., who have from time to time paid me, for goods received, cheques, which the younger Barmash saw—some of the letters in this order for a cheque-book from Adam Pearson and Co. are in William Barmash's writing, and the endorsement on this slip and the address I should say are his—this book is mine (Found on William Barmash)—I never gave anybody authority to take it from my place—it contains the names and addresses of manufacturers—the name of Adam Pearson and Co. is written in it, and also "Bank of Scotland," first in pencil and then in ink.

Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. I had other clerks, but it was William Barmash's duty to copy letters, not theirs, and occasionally to clear out the office—I did not send him to pay cash into the bank, only cheques—I have seen him write more than half a dozen times—he made press copies of letters, and addressed envelopes in a good commercial hand—I can positively swear to these "p's" and to the whole words "Yours truly"—this is rather a peculiar "t"—" John Jacobs "is written on the back of this—I notice that the "p's" are quite different, and that the "I" has a loop to it—I looked at different letters and picked those out which I thought were like his writing—I was away a considerable part of the time William Barmash was there—I wrote this: "William Barmash has been in our employ twelve months; we always found him steady," etc.

ISRAEL LEWENSTEIN . I am a printer, of 38, Church Lane, Commercial Road, in partnership with Solomon Kerstein—on November 25th young Barmash came and wanted me to print something like this, showing me something, and said he could get me lots of orders—I did not know him before—he went out and came back, and gave me the order—this is a. proof of the document I printed and supplied to him.

Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. I had worked for Solomon Barmash before.

SOLOMON KERSTEIN (Interpreted). I am a printer, of 38 Church Lane—on November 25th Kosman, whom I knew, came and said, "I have called for Pearson's memorandums, if you have done them"—they were printed—I handed them to him and he paid for them—he was very pale—young Barmash was there, looking in through the window.

Cross-examined by Kosman. I am sure you are the man, because I knew you before, and because we have a regular customer who comes on

that day—I Have the hook here to show—this is the entry—we do not care to put the date—I saw you at this Court before you went to the police (See page 566)—that policeman (Tinsman) took me there to identify you—I did not on the way give a description of the man who took the memorandums—the workmen were not in the shop when you came—it was at dinner-time, between one and two o'clock.

Re-examined. He was very pale, but he looked better than he does now;—young Barmash was looking over the glass part of the door—he had been at my place with his father a long time ago.

GEORGE CALDER . I am a clerk in the Bank of Scotland, Lothbury—this order for a cheque-book was presented there on November 25th, upon which a book of cheques, O 28761 to 28880, was given to the person presenting it.

ALFRED HARRY WOODHAM . I am cashier at the Bank of Scotland—on November 28th this cheque for £593 was presented for payment across the counter—it is signed "Adam Pearson and Co."—they keep an account there, and it is a very good imitation of their signature—I compared it with a cheque, and with the signature in the initial book—there is some pencil writing on the back of it, and an endorsement in ink—I did not see them written—I cashed the cheque in acceptance with the memorandum at the back (This named the amounts of the notes to be applied for.)—the man was there a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes while I went away to check the signature—I afterwards went to Paris. and saw Robinowitz—I believe he is the man.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I do. not know whether it was endorsed or not when it was presented—I handed him back the cheque undoubtedly, and asked him to put on the back how he would take the money—the endorsement is in ink and the money in pencil—I said at the Police-court, "I asked the person if it represented wages; he said it did—I told him to put the amount he wanted at the back—when people come for wages they bring a written statement of how they want it, and perhaps because that was not there I may have given it back to him—if copper, silver, and gold are required they have to be specified—one of the first things I do is to see whether the endorsement is correct—I think 1 looked at the signature first, and when I looked at the endorsement 1 should very probably see the endorsement, "Silver, gold, and notes"—it was handed to me afterwards with the amount there—I am well acquainted with Adam Pearson and Co. 's signature!; the word "London" is left out of their country cheques.

Cross-examined by Robinowitz. I did not see the man writing; the blotting-pads are in front of the desk—I did not see anyone else during the time.

Re-examined. If a cheque presented aroused my suspicions my attention would be drawn to the signature; the endorsement would not assist me in any way—I took the cheque away, and looked at the signature and the number of the cheque-book—I looked at the man well who presented the cheque, and gave a description of him next morning to the constable, which he wrote down at the time.

JAMES GRIERSON . I trade as Adam Pearson and Co., West India merchants, of Leadenhall Street—I keep an account at the Bank of Scotland, Lothbury—this order for a cheque-book is not signed by me or by

my authority, but the signature is very like my own—this cheque Is similar to the memorandum forms I use, but the paper is a little different and it is not the same printing—this cheque is not signed by me or by my authority—it is a good imitation—I first knew that a cheque had been drawn when it was in the bankers' pass-book—I was in the habit of doing business with Mr. Seckel, and sending him cheques and memorandun forms—this cheque is not out of my book.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. If I want cheques for country use I do not say so when I apply for them—the ordinary cheques have" London' written on them—I have had a cheque-book not having "London" on it, but I never had a cheque of this kind issued to me that I am aware of—I should expect that it came from Glasgow, and not from London.

Re-examined. This is a cheque of the Bank of Scotland with "London, E. C." printed on it—the memorandum form is asking for a cheque-book without describing what kind of cheque-book, but it is from my London address—it is the kind of form I use.

A. H. WOODHAM (Re-examined), The London cheques are quite different from the Glasgow ones; they are issued indiscriminately—if we are out of one book we give them another—there were very few open cheques.

WILLIAM BIBBEY . I am a cashier at the City Bank, Aldgate—Solomon Barmash had an account there—on November 22nd there was a paying-in slip handed in with £27 in gold and some silver.

JAMES ROSS . I am a clerk in the gold-weighing room, Bank of England—on September 2nd a person brought me £160—I asked him to put his same and address, and he wrote on this memorandum, "John Jacobs, 16, St. Helens Place, E. C."—I filled up the front of the ticket myself—I cannot recognise the person, but I have seen William Barmash's face before.

WILLIAM RICHARD PERCY LAURENCE , I am a clerk in the Issue Department of the Bank of England—I remember Mr. Ross bringing in this ticket: "Pay John Jacobs £160"—I gave him in exchange for it ten £10 notes, 953.65 to 95374, and three £20 notes, 98911 to 98913.

CHARLES JOHN WILLIAMS . I am a clerk in the bank-note department, Bank of England—I produce the notes spoken of by the last witness, which came back into the Bank.

JULIUS OCTAVIUS JACOBS . I am a solicitor, of 16, St. Helens Place, and the only person of that name at that address—this endorsement is not written by me or by my authority.

ROBERT HENRY HAMMOND . I am a cashier in the City Bank, Aldgate—Solomon Barmash had an account there last December—on December 2nd I received from himself £300 to be placed to his credit, £160 in notes and £140 in gold, with this paying-in slip—I pinned the notes together, and wrote on the outside one, "S. Barmash, £160"—this is it; this is my writing—I then put them in the till.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. That is the only considerable sum he has paid in—I have known him pay in £50—except this item, he has never paid in £300 before.

ALFRED HENRY WALLS . I am a clerk at the City Bank, Aldgate branch—I produce the waste-book—I took these notes pinned together from the drawer on December 7th, and entered them in the waste-book—

they are ten £10 notes, 95365 to 95374, dated March 4th, 1892, and three £20 notes, 98911 to 98913, dated January 26th, 1892.

ALFRED AMOS JACQUES . I am manager of the Aldgate branch of the City Bank—Solomon Barmash opened an account there on Kay 20th, 1892—he was introduced by Mr. Windsor, a solicitor, and described himself as an estate agent—he signed the address book 38, Clark Street, Sidney Square—the description is written by someone else, apparently—the third column is his own writing—he represents himself as having had no previous account—it then changes to 35, Victoria Park Road—I produce a copy of his account taken from the books of the bank, which I have examined (MR. TAYLOR objected to this evidence, at it was not proved that the bank woe such a bank at toot constituted by the Act of 1879, Section 9, MR. GILL contended that it could be proved orally that the bank was carried on at a limited company, and that the provisions of the Act had been complied with During the adjournment for luncheon the book sent for,)—the book is here new—in October Solomon Barmash's account was reduced to less than £10, which continued some days, and then went down to £1, and remained under £1 till November 17th, when it was put in credit with £48, and on the 29th the credit springs to £99, and on November 7 2nd he opened another account as S. Barmash and Co. by transferring to it £100—this left the former account £296.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. He opened the account with £125—I made no inquiry about him—the introduction was enough—he was strongly recommended by a very good client—I found I could not read hit writing; I took 1, Clare Street, for Clark Street, or vice versa—the writing was not preposterously bad, but it was that of an uncultivated man—I thought the square was Stepney, and it turns out to be Sidney—we might have to communicate with him occasionally, as to returned cheques and so on, and it would be to his interest to give a right address.

ALFRED THOMAS MARTIN . I am a cashier at the City Bank, and have watched the signatures of customers—I know Solomon Barmash as a customer, and have paid his cheques from time to time—these are three of his cheques, to the best of my belief.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. In the majority of cases the cheques were filled in by some hand other than Mr. Barmash's—I do not profess to be an expert, but I have had a good deal of experience of writing, as a cashier—the signature is the principal part which my attention would be directed to—the whole of the endorsement on cheque "U" is Barmash's writing—after looking at the signature to a cheque the first thing I should do would be to look at the endorsement—if the pencil writing was not there at the time it would not alter my opinion; I should still believe it to be his writing—I have never given evidence before with regard to hand writing—I do not speak on the ground of a general resemblance; I speak to the "s," the "t," and the "r"—I am not so certain about the capital " T" as the small "t" in "Nots"—I never saw him fill in writing—there is no "t" in "Solomon Barmash"—there is a mistake here; there are two "t's" in Notts—there is nothing in the word "Street," but there is in the word "Stepney"—the "S" is certainly plainer on the back of the cheque, but the small "S" is the same—it is very bad writing—I suggest that the resemblance between the two is greater than I should see in the writing of 100 ordinary people; it is very peculiar—I looked at the signature

book perhaps a couple of days before I got into the box at the Mansion House—I had compared the letters then and felt positive of it; I had made up ray mind to say that there was a particular connection between the "s's" and the "t's"—I did not say anything at the Mansion House about it, because I was not asked—a statement was not taken from me in writing—I was not told at the time that document "U" was supposed to be a forgery—I had not the slightest idea that there was anything wrong—I never noticed the date of the cheque—Solomon Barmash drew, perhaps, six cheques a month—I once received £48 at a time—I produce different pass-books, according to notice—I do not suggest that this is anything more than a bonâ fide account, showing bonâ fide business—I frequently saw him at the bank.

Re-examined. The bank does a very large business, and I have to pay a large number of cheques—I exercise my experience in judging of handwriting—I have been there eight years—I pay attention to any account where the credit is small, and at the end of October or the beginning of November it got down to about 2s.

BENJAMIN REECE . I am a pipe manufacturer, of 8, Church Row, Aldgate, and am lessee of 25, Wormwood Street—in November last I sold a tobacconist's business to Solomon Barmash for cash—it was only a little shop—he gave me a cheque on December 5th for £5 10s., and the balance, £49 10s., on December 12th by a cheque on the City Bank.

THOMAS ABBOTT (Detective Sergeant, City). On January 19th I was called to Solomon Barmash's shop, 25, Wormwood Street—there was a question about a window being broken and some things being stolen, of which William Barmash wrote out this list (produced), and gave it to me.

NOAH BARRON (Interpreted). I am a tailors' machinist, of Brady Street Buildings—I know Robinowitz and Solomon Barmash—I remember Robinowitz going to Paris last December—I saw him the night before he started—after he had gone he wrote me three letters—when I got the first I saw Solomon Barmash, and said that Robinowitz said that he had. nothing to eat in Paris, and I asked him to send him some money, as he was writing to me that Barmash had ruined him, and he had had to leave London, and had nothing to live upon, and begged him, as he thought he was in duty bound, to assist him to live—Barmash said he would send him in the meantime 10s.—I did not show him the letter—these are the three letters I got.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. My wages are over 30s. a week—I have been eight years in this country—I have been on intimate terms with Robinowitz the whole of that time—I knew him in Russia—I saw him the night he went to Paris—he did not tell me he would write to me from there, but I expected some letters—I did not ask him to destroy my letters—I wrote him about three or four while he was there—I did not suggest that he should write letters to me for the purpose of showing them to Solomon Barmash, and threatening him unless I could get money out of him—my object in going to him was not to get money, only to ask him to send some to Robinowitz to live upon—as to whether I was to share the money with Robinowitz, it was never in my thoughts—I do not know how soon I went to the solicitor for the prosecution—I did not know that Robinowitz had been in the habit of writing letters for 1. Solomon—I did not know when I received the letter from Robinowitz

that he had present the forged cheque for, £600—I knew why he. Left England, he told me all about it—you cannot prove that I was acting with him for the purpose of getting money from Solomon, because it if not true—I have had no opportunity of seeing any of my letters to Robinowitz; he never told me that he had destroyed them—he did not ask me at the Mansion House, "Did you not tell me to destroy your letters?"—I deny that the question was put to me there—I never told Robinowitz to write the letters to me—there was no talk about it at the Mansion House—my deposition was read over to me, and I signed it—they interpreted it to me—Mr. Gershon Abrahams, an acquaintance of mine, first took me to Messrs. Mullins and Bosanquet, the solicitors for the prosecution—Abrahams has pleaded guilty here to-day—I have known him about five months, but I have not seen him very often—I never saw him and Robinowitz together in London—I used to meet Robinowitz at Kemp's, in Whitechapel—Gershon Abrahams had a restaurant—I never went there with Robinowitz—before I went to the solicitors Abrahams did not say much; he said I should oblige him, and do him a favour if I went with him—he did not say that he was going to make any money out of it—I don't know what he meant by "making a good thing".

Cross-examined by Robinowitz, I saw you the night before you went to Paris, and also the morning and afternoon before—I thought you would write to me from Paris to say how you got on—I knew you in Russia several years before you left—there never was any talk about Gershon Abrahams—I don't know whether you knew him or not; I never saw you together—I know every member of your family—I went to see you in Holloway, and told you to speak the truth, which I do, most certainly—some of my letters to you were written by myself, and some by my brother; he is not here—I did not say in one of them that I should say I had assisted Barmash in obtaining £800—sometimes in the course of years we have had a quarrel, but they were trifling; we were friends in Paris—there were more letters received from you from Paris, but I cannot find them—I saw you in November and December, sometimes once and possibly three times a week—every time you visited me you were penniless—I did not know where you lived; when I wanted you I had to go to the restaurant in Warsaw Street.

Re-examined. I knew Robinowitz about three years before I left Russia—I have known him altogether about eleven or twelve years—we were friends—I did not want to assist him, but I did—he was employed by Cooks some time ago.

HENRY GILD . I live at 42, Tabernacle Square, Finsbury—I am familiar with the Russian language—I dictated a translation of these three letters to Mr. Camarelli—they are in Russian, except three Yiddish words.

MR. CAMARELLI. I am an interpreter—I wrote down from Mr. Geld's dictation the translation of these letters—I have examined them, they are correct. (Read.)

FREDERICK LAWLEY (City Police). I have had charge of this case—on 7th February I went to Paris with Inspector Sagar and Mr. Woodham, of the Bank of Scotland—I saw Robinowitz at the Police-office in Paris; he had been brought there by a French detective—Sagar showed him this cheque for £593, and said, "You hear what this gentleman says, to the

best of his belief you presented that; you will therefore be charged with presenting this cheque and order"—he said, "I will own what I am guilty of, but I never uttered any of the cheques; I have been made a dupe of; when I get back to London I will explain whatever part I have taken in these forgeries."

Cross-examined by Robinowitz. You had no luggage, nor a farthing of money—you told me you had sold a bag and pawned a coat; you were very hard up—you wrote a petition to the Commissioners of Police on 7th March, stating that you were willing to come back with me without waiting for the ordinary formalities to be gone through.

ROBERT SAGAR (Detective Inspector, City), I was with Lawley in Paris—I have heard his account of what took place; it is quite correct—Robinowitz was living there in great poverty—having brought him back, I was with Downs in Mare Street, Hackney, and stopped the two Barmashes—I said we were police-officers, and were going to arrest them both, and they would be charged with forging and uttering an order on the Bank of England for £593, as a cheque-book had been obtained by a forged order—Solomon said, "I know nothing about it"—the charge was read over to them at the station; neither of them said anything—the shop in Mare Street, Hackney, is divided into two; part is a tobacconist's, and the other part is a small restaurant—I found on Solomon this black book, at the end of which there are some entries in Hebrew, and I saw found on William Barmarsh this Post Office Savings Bank book (This contained a variety of payments in, amounting to £25 15s.)—I took from Mr. Wood ham a description of the man who cashed the cheque—he has altered since; he had no beard in Paris.

Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I have made inquiries, and have not found that Solomon was carrying on the business of an estate agent some months ago—I came across Mr. Hornby—I did not come across Mr. Isaacson, but Lawley did—I found no office or business place—I know Solomon as a Russian Jew; he recently married a very young person—I do not know that she had a considerable dowry—as far as I know it was very different—she had not been long in this country—I made some inquiry as to Solomon's means—he has five children in an institution for converted Jews, for which he pays nothing.

Cross-examined by Robinowitz. I have your description with me; it 1 was taken down on December 8th—I did not read it when you were, arrested—Lawley was investigating a case at the same time—he compared his description with mine, and it corresponded—it was for our use; it was circulated among the police—I compared the description given at the time, and it found you—the bank clerk gave it to me in London; I have not had notice to produce it.

FREDERICK DOWNS (Detective Inspector, City), I searched Solomon Barmash's house, 35, Victoria Park Road, and found there this paying-in book of the City Bank (This contained entries of £42 10s. and £300); also these three pieces of paper, and in William Barmash's bedroom this book and this little memorandum book (This contained the names of Adam Pearson and Co. and the Bank of Scotland, Lothbury).

Cross-examined. I have no reason to doubt that Victoria Park Road is a respectable road; the rentals are probably £30 or £35—this piece of

paper, found in a wardrobe in William Barmash's bedroom, bean the address in Paris to which Robinowitz's letters were addressed.

JOHN DAVIDSON (City Detective). On March 17th I saw Kosman, and told him I was an inspector of the London police, and that he was. charged with being concerned with Barmash, and others in custody, with forging and uttering a certain cheque, and that the charge would be further explained to him by an interpreter at 36, Old Jewry—he said, "I know Barmash, because I lived with him; if he had any business I know nothing about it"—he was taken to Cloak Lane Police-station, and gave his address, 35, Victoria Park Road.

Cross-examined by Kosman. You gave that address when you went charged—I did not explain the charge to you; the interpreter did.

FREDERICK HEINDACKER . I live at Fairbank, Upper Holloway, and invest money in house property—I have known Solomon Barmash since the commencement of 1892, when he sold an estate for me—I have employed him as an estate agent, and paid him commission—I caused him to be paid £37 10s. on May 9th, 1892; that was commission on the sale of property.

Cross-examined. I only speak of one transaction; I know nothing of him except that, and with regard to that transaction I complained that he had improperly received £215 of mine, and I put the matter in the hands of a solicitor, but it was not followed up.

CHARLES CARLISH . I am a tailor, and know Solomon Barmash—I paid him £215 commission last May in connection with some property purchased by the last witness—that was not the amount of die purchase money—then was no unpleasantness on my side with regard to it—he received commission on both sides—I purchased the property and paid him commission.

Cross-examined. I never heard that his occupation is keeping a gambling house in Whitechapel Road.

Re-examined. I know he was living in Whitechapel; he moved to Victoria Park afterwards.

ANNIE CANNS (Interpreted). I live at 64, Whitechapel Road—I have known Barmash four or five years—I knew him when he came from Russia—I do not know what business he set up in—I have paid him considerable sums of money—he lent me money, and I paid it back—I returned him £20 in the course of last year, but I do not know the date—I only paid him £20 once—I knew him when he was living in Spectacle Alley, and afterwards in Victoria Park Road, but do not know what business he has carried on.

Cross-examined. Roshekiva is my husband—I knew Barmash when he was in Whitechapel Road—I do not know whether the place was called a club, or whether a good many foreign Jews went there to gamble—I remember the police raiding the place, and Barmash then removed to the New Road, I believe—I do not know that he had a Hebrew Democratic Club there—he and Robinowitz were in the habit of often coming to my restaurant, and Gershon Abrahams, but not often—I have given Barmash letters which came from Paris, but I did not know who the sender was.

Re-examined. I do not know whether the Tower Hamlets Club was raided, or whether he was charged in connection with it—the club he was

connected with was next door to my house, 64 and 65, Whitechapel Road—I do not know that he was only the manager.

Witnesses for Robinowitz.

CHARLES JOHN WILLIAMS (Re-examined). These are the notes given by the Bank of Scotland (These were one £200 note, 73771, 15th September, 1891, and three £50 notes, 82899 to 82901, January 27th, 1892)—the £200 note has A. Kulb and Co. written on the face of it—the others are not endorsed—under "A. Kulb and Co" here is £700—if a note is endorsed we ask for the name and address, but if a person calls at the bank hit name would be sufficient—sometimes they write it on the front—we may ask for the address as well as the name—there is no name and address on these other notes, because they were paid in by the London and West minster Bank.

NATHAN KEYSER . I am manager to Kulb and Co., money changers—I have their books here—on 28th November I sold 4,000 marks German money, and received in payment £197 10s.—we returned £2 10s. for the difference of exchange—the number of the note was 73771—it was early in the day, judging from the books—the transaction would last about five minutes if we had the money, but if we had to send for it would take a quarter of an hour—I do not remember the person—I have never seen Robinowitz before—we ask them to put their names on the notes, but in the pressure of business it is often forgotten.

Cross-examined. We do not do it as a rule—the marks I gave could be changed into English money again.

THOMAS FREDERICK ROPER . I am manager of the banking department of Thomas Cook and Son—on 8th November last I received three £50 notes—I cannot say the numbers, or what I gave in payment for them—on 14th November I sold 700 dollars for £143 17s. 8d.—I knew Robinowitz in 1884—I did not see him in the office that day, but he is known there—Mr. Glover was the cashier; he is abroad.

By MR. TAYLOR. I have no means of tracing who the person was to. whom the money was paid, or who took the ticket—it would be in a different department.

Cross-examined. Robinowitz was in our employ in 1884, and was discharged in 1888—he has not been there since—he would know that banking business was carried on there—taking notes in this way and giving foreign money for them we do not ask for the name and address.

KOSMAN, in his defence, stated, through the interpreter, that he was charged with Solomon Barmash simply because he had lived with him, but that the prosecution had not proved that he lived with him in November, when this matter took place; that lie never was near Solomon or William Barmash from July 18th to December 22nd; that he met Solomon Barmash in Whitechapel, who asked why lie did not come to see him, and he replied that he did not know his address, and gave him his card with" House agent "on it, which the detective found. He denied that he was guilty of the charge. ROBINOWITZ, in his defence, denied uttering the cheque, and complained that he was not placed with other men to be identified. He stated that if lie had been to the bank everybody there would have known him; he admitted going to Paris on December 13th, but contended that if he had been guilty he should have gone immediately after the cheque was uttered, and that lie told the Extradition Judge that he was ready to come

over here and meet the charge; he stated that Barmash was a swindler, but admitted forging the order for the cheque-book, which was not tlie present charge.

SOLOMON BARMASH.— GUILTY — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

WILLIAM BARMASH.— GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

ROBINOWITZ— GUILTY — Five Years' Penal Servitude.

KOSMAN— NOT GUILTY .

KOSMAN was further charged upon two other indictments with felony, and on one indictment with misdemeanour, upon all which no evidence was offered.

NOT GUILTY .

THIRD COURT, Friday, May 5th, and NEW COURT, Saturday,

May 6th, 1893.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

490. FREDERICK VAUGHAN (25) , Stealing a coin, a handkerchief, and other articles from the person of Philip O'Connor.

MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted.

PHILIP O'CONNOR . I live at 25, Smith Street, King's Road, Chelsea—I was in the Army Service Corps, which I left on 11th April—on the evening of that day I came from Woolwich to Charing Cross Station by train with Corporal Holmwood of my corps—the prisoner was the only person in the carriage when we got in—Holmwood asked me to show him my discharge, and while we were talking the prisoner asked me to show him my discharge—I did so—he said, "You have got a very good character, you are just the sort of man that would suit me. I am a brother of Major Ferguson, and own four or five racehorses"—he said Major Ferguson was in the army somewhere abroad; he wanted me to look after his horses—we spoke about wages, and he asked me if I should, want any money in advance of wages to go on with—I said I had a little, and he said, "I will give you £4 in advance of wages"—he asked me how much I should want a week—I said I should have to consider, because I had made application to get twelve months' absence of leave from the country—at London Bridge, when they collected the tickets, there was a dispute about the prisoner's ticket, which was only to Woolwich Arsenal—the prisoner said he objected to paying the excess on principle, as the booking-clerk had made a mistake—he gave his name to the porter as Major Ferguson, Victoria Hotel, Westminster—at Charing Cross I proposed that we should have refreshment; we went to Gatti's—from there the prisoner and I went to the Charing Cross Underground Railway Station, where the prisoner procured a pen from one of the messenger-boys and wrote out a cheque (which he took from a cheque-book in his pocket) on the London and County Bank for £4 in the name of Ferguson; he did not endorse it—he gave it to me and I put it in my pocket—then we went back to Gatti's, and I showed the cheque to Holmwood—after we had been there some time the prisoner proposed that we should go to the Savoy Theatre, at the same time saying that I could pay for him as he had no loose cash, and my friend could pay for himself—we went to the Savoy, and I paid, by the prisoner—I had his cheque for £4—I had a pair of gloves, a silk handkerchief, and my discharge in my outside right-hand overcoat pocket; and I had 8s. or 9s., including a Jubilee sixpence, and the. E

prisoner's £4 cheque, in my right-hand trousers pocket—had between £12 and £13 altogether—we went into the gallery of the theatre; the prisoner was on my right, and Holmwood, on my left—I took off my overcoat and put it behind me on the seat—during the performance I fell asleep for half an hour or twenty minutes—I was sober—when I woke up the performance was nearly over—my overcoat had been shifted from behind me to the right of the prisoner—I could not find my handkerchief—I took my overcoat and tried the pockets, and missed my gloves, and then I found my discharges were gone—I searched my trousers pockets, and found the 8s. or 9s. and the Jubilee sixpence were gone—I asked the prisoner if he had got my gloves, hand kerchief, parchment, and money—he said "No"—I asked him to try and see if he had them—he said "No, he had not seen them"—after some argument I said, "Just see if you have got them"—he pulled up his overcoat, and out fell two gloves, one belonging to me—he then pulled out another pair of gloves, and I recognised another one as mine—in the meantime my parchment dropped out of his pocket—I asked him if he had got my money—he said he had got nothing—I asked him for my handkerchief—he denied having it—he made no observation when the things fell out—I retook possession of some of my property, and walked out with the prisoner and the corporal—the prisoner proposed that the corporal should go and catch his train, or he would be late, and we went to Charing Cross Station and saw the corporal off—the prisoner, on coming out of the theatre, proposed that I should go to the Victoria Hotel with him and square up what money I had spent during the evening with him—at Charing Cross Station he said he wanted to go to the convenience, and he went in, telling me to wait outside, as he would not be long—he doubled out on the other side, and went across—I saw him, and pursued and caught him coming out of the gate of Charing Cross Station—I said, "Give me my handkerchief and money you have robbed me of"—he said, "All right, old boy, come and let us settle up"—I said, "I will five you into custody for robbing me"—I took him to get a policeman—when we got by Charing Cross he dropped my handkerchief—I then caught him by the arm and led him along, but he ran away again—eventually I gave him in charge, and accused him of robbing me of the money, and cheque that had gone, too, with the money—I don't know if he made any reply—he was taken to the station and formally charged—he said he had not done it—I saw him searched—on him was found a bank-book, a Jubilee sixpence, and, I think, 2s. or 3s.—I drank very little that evening—I knew perfectly well what I was about—I had some refreshments in the morning, and when leaving Woolwich—I was perfectly sober when I got into the train, and when I gave the prisoner into custody.

Cross-examined by the primmer. When you were searched and the officials looked at the cheque-book found on you I got up and looked at it and said, "The cheque you gave me is on the London and County Banking Company"—I bought no cigars at Gatti's—I recovered my certificates of character at the theatre, not my discharge—the other documents were in my pocket, and were not taken—I recovered the parchment—we had an altercation outside Charing Cross Station—I applied to a gentleman just inside the station gates for assistance; he walked away—I leaned

upon the gallery railings and went asleep—I did not lose my ticket, and the railway official did not ride up with me to Charing Cross; he rode with yon—I spent 11s. or 12s. that day, as I was leaving Woolwich and the corporal—I spent 2s. or 2s. 6d. at Gatti's on drink—I did not feel you, take anything out of my pocket—the corporal saw you drop my handkerchief, and he picked it up—I have never been in trouble in the army. Re-examined. The 2s. was spent at Gatti's for liquor for all of us.

JOHN SCATHAN HOLMWOOD . I am a corporal in the Army Service Corps—on 11th April I came with O'Connor from Woolwich to Charing Cross—the prisoner was in the carriage—O'Connor showed me his discharge, and the prisoner joined in the conversation, and suggested that O'Connor should come into his employment at certain wages—I went with them to the Savoy Theatre, and we sat in the front row of the gallery; I on O'Connor's left and the prisoner on his right—there is a dark scene in the play—O'Connor was leaning over the railings, apparently asleep or fatigued—during the dark scene I was away at the refreshment bar—I had left the prisoner with O'Connor—when we were leaving the theatre O'Connor said he had lost his gloves, handkerchief, and discharges, and he asked the prisoner if he had his gloves or anything, and to feel in his pockets—he said at first he had not seen them—O'Connor asked him to put his hand in his pocket, and the prisoner did so, and pulled out two pairs of gloves, one of which O'Connor identified as his—his certificate of character came out with the gloves and fell on the floor, and I picked it up—O'Connor did I not charge the prisoner in my presence with stealing money; I heard nothing of that—they accompanied me to Charing Cross Station.

Cross-examined. O'Connor was apparently fatigued at the theatre; he might have been asleep—he was leaning down with his head on the rail—he bought me a twopenny cigar at Gatti's—I left O'Connor twice at the theatre—on going into it I left my gloves and parcel with you—O'Connor had a railway warrant from the Government, and had no difficulty; the railway official rode up with you about your ticket—I said at the Police-court I did not know which pocket O'Connor put his gloves into—O'Connor wanted me to go back to the station and catch my train, and so did you; you were as anxious as he was—you both saw me off; you and he Walked in front, and I behind—you spent nothing during the evening—O'Connor had the Jubilee sixpence on him to my knowledge—I knew him in the corps before, and we had a little jollification the night before—I met him in the morning at the Court—we did not mention the matter.

JAMS SMITH (37 A R). At 11. 30 p. m. on 11th April the prosecutor pointed out the prisoner, who was running away—I pursued him for about twenty yards, and caught him—the prosecutor came up and charged him with stealing about 8s. or 9s., including a Jubilee sixpence, a pair of gloves, a silk handkerchief, and a cheque for £4—I took him into custody—he denied robbing the prosecutor—I searched and found on him a pair of scissors, a purse, two shillings, a threepenny piece, a penny, and a Jubilee sixpence, a cheque-book, and a silver match-box, which was afterwards identified—he said he had no address in London, he came from Portsmouth, and that his name was Frederick Vaughan—he gave as his reason for running away that he wanted to get away from the prosecutor, who, ha said, kept following him about from one place to another—the prosecutor was sober,

but had been drinking; he had the appearance of a man recovering from drink.

Cross-examined. Ton stopped when you looked round and saw me following—you said you were trying to get away from him because he was abusive and following you about—he got up and looked over the official who was examining the cheque-book, and I told him to sit down—he said it was the London and County Bank on which you gave him a cheque.

The prisoner, in his defence, denied having robbed the prosecutor, and stated that the prosecutor was in a state of semi-intoxication during the evening, and that he attempted to blackmail him (the prisoner), and therefore he ran away; that he (the prisoner) had a Jubilee florin as well as a Jubilee sixpence on him; mat he did not give the prosecutor the cheque; that the prosecutor and the corporal both gave him their gloves to take care of; that he had been imprisoned before, but that since then he had tried to get an honest living.

PHILIP O'CONNOR (Re-examined by the COURT). I did not try to blackmail the prisoner when we came outside the Savoy, saying that unless he gave me 10s. I would charge him with robbing me—I was not asked that before the Magistrate; I never heard it before to-day—he conducted his own case before the Magistrate, and asked me a great many questions.

JAMES SMITH (By the COURT). The florin found on the prisoner was an ordinary and not a Jubilee one; this is it.

GUILTY .

He then pleaded guilty to a conviction at this Court in November, 1890, in the name of Frederick Vaughan Glbson. There was another indictment against him for forgery.— Judgment respited.

491. THOMAS NICHOLS and FREDERICK EVERETT, Unlawfully committing, acts of gross indecency with each other.

MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted, and MESSRS. SPOKES and SHERWOOD Defended.

NOT GUILTY .

492. JAMES McHATTIE (21) , Unlawfully obtaining, by false pretences, printed books from Charles Badcock and from John Tidy Watson, with intent to defraud.

MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. BRUCE Defended.

ROBERT FOLEY . I am manager to Henry George Allen, export bookseller, of Henrietta Street, Covent Garden—the prisoner has been in his employment for three years past as collector—he had a fortnight's notice to leave at the beginning of March, and left about the middle of March—I receive orders from abroad, and I send the prisoner or some other employé round to the wholesale publishers to collect the books required—it was the prisoner's regular duty to collect in that way for the three years, so that he was well known by the different publishers—he took a list of books, which I wrote as a rule, and the places to which he was to go—Mr. Allen never made out the list—it would have the indiarubber stamp of our firm on it—the prisoner would have access to that stamp if he wished to use it—he had no authority to order books unless they were contained in a list similar to this—Simpkin, Marshall and Co. was one of the firms with which we dealt, and to which the prisoner would go—he

would call over from his list to the publishers' assistant the books they published, and then he would receive the books, and would sign for them in their book, and run his pen through those books on his list—some publishers do not give invoices, but expect the collector to take a memorandum; but Simpkin, Marshall and Co. supply us with invoices, and we fettle up monthly—the order lists would not be filed, but are thrown away when completed—this one produced was probably in use at the time the question was raised—sometimes I have gone through a list with him before it was thrown away, but as a rule he has not brought them to me—if he had a few lines open he might take them on to another list, and destroy the old one—there was no objection to that by our firm—we had no order for two sets of Miss Braddon's novels in March this year—I did not authorise the prisoner to purchase them for my employer—they are published by Simpkin, Marshall—I did not furnish the prisoner with any list containing them in March this year—since the prisoner left, an account from Simpkin, Marshall has been received—I have searched for the invoices of the items in the account—I have not found any invoice for an item of £11 8s. on 7th March, or for any books at all, or any invoice for £1 17s. 2d. on 9th March—if such invoices had been supplied by the prisoner I should have kept them—he was not authorised to call for Miss Braddon's novels on those days—we received no orders for them for years.

Cross-examined. Two or three years ago we had an order for Miss Braddon's novels for a library, but we should have sent that order to the publishers by post—if I was pressed I would depute Gurd to make up the list—no one else would do it at that time—in March the prisoner and Gurd were the only employés—if I gave Gurd the list to write he should have brought it back to me—I don't think he got orders from Mr. Allen to make out lists without my knowledge—Gurd is now in prison for signing for books at Simpkin's without authority—he was convicted at the Mansion House last Monday week, and sentenced to one month hard labour—if the prisoner went on 7th March with a list to Messrs. Simpkin, I could not say in whose writing it had been made out—I heard Mr. Allen mention the name of Commins, of Exeter, in connection with books sent by Gurd—I very rarely met the prisoner after business hours—I am aware that Gurd borrowed the office keys from the prisoner, and went there after business hours once or twice, and being then alone he would have the opportunity of making out a list like this, and putting the stamp on it, and sending the prisoner with it in the morning—the prisoner should not have received the list from Gurd, or if he received it from him he should have brought it to me first—if the list was in Gurd's writing this firms would give books to the prisoner without making inquiry—when the prisoner was on holidays, and on one or two special occasions, Gurd collected books—it was Gurd's duty to post these invoices, and he had them in his possession for entry—when he left I found a mass of them on his desk; the books, had been getting behind—I found a number of items in Simpkin's statement for February for which we had no invoices, and I pointed it out to Mr. Allen, and went to Simpkin's and saw the books, and found that most of these invoices we had not received were signed for—Gurd only had access to the office alone once or twice at Christmas time; that' was when he had work to do.

Re-examined. When Gurd wrote out the list it was by my instructions, and then it was given back to me, and if heavy it was posted, if light I gave it to the prisoner; the general rule was to send it by post—when ever the prisoner had a list to collect, written by Gurd, it came through me—he had no authority to take a list from Gurd without receiving it from me—when he had obtained the books and invoices he should have brought them to me—I saw all the books that came in—there were not two sets of Miss Braddon's novels on 11th March—I believe I found in February there was rather less than twenty items for which there were no invoices—I had no books corresponding with those items which were charged for in the statement.

EDWARD GEORGE ALLEN . I am an export bookseller, at 28, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden—nobody but myself and Foley had any right to authorise the prisoner to collect books from publishers—I did not authorise the prisoner on 7th March to purchase from Simpkin and Marshall two sets of Miss Braddon's novels to the amount of £11 8s.; I never saw them—there would be over 100 volumes in the two sets—I did not require the books, and had no orders for them—I did not authorise the prisoner on 9th March to collect books to the value of £1 17s. 2d.; that amount is part of a much larger amount—books he collected with our authority it would be his duty to bring to the office at Henrietta Street—those books to the amounts of £11 8s. and £1 17s. 2d., and invoices, were not brought to my office—they should have been handed to Mr. Foley—after the prisoner was charged we were charged for the books by Simpkin and Marshall—we found that from January to March 20th something like £120 worth of books not ordered by us had been obtained.

Cross-examined. Gurd has collected books once or twice, but it was quite exceptional—Gurd is now in prison for the same offence as that with which the prisoner is charged—I have not found that the prisoner tried to sell any of the books he stole—after he was discharged we found he had concealed about 200 parcels of postal matter—Gurd was in our employment on 7th and 9th March—he was discharged five or six weeks ago at a month's notice.

Re-examined. The prisoner was discharged on suspicion only, and I engaged him to remain for a fortnight to instruct his successor—we supply universities and scientific institutions in America with periodicals and newspapers—we heard they had not received them—it was not till after the prisoner had left our service that I received information which led me to take these proceedings.

CHARLES BADCOCK . I am a counterman in Simpkin and Marshall's employment at 4, Stationers' Hall Court—I have known the prisoner as Mr. Allen's representative for a year and a half or more—on March 7th I supplied him with goods, and I entered them in this book, which the prisoner signed "J. M.," in my presence—the entry is, "Sundries to the value of £11 8s."—among those goods were two sets of Miss Braddon's novels, of the value of £8 8s.—these are two volumes of a similar set, and are new and clean—he had been previously, and called over the list to another counterman—I handed the prisoner the goods—he would not have had the goods if he had not produced a list—I believed he was authorised by Mr. Allen to receive the books on his behalf.

Cross-examined. I never supplied anyone else on account of Mr. Allen—

ours is a large place; we have fifty counter hands, and other people may have come from Allen and been supplied with books without my knowing anything about it—we do not see the list; the man bringing it keeps it in his own hand and calls it over to the counterman.

JOHN TIDY WATSON . I am an assistant to Messrs. Simpkin and Marshall—I have known the prisoner as collector to Mr. Allen—on 9th March, he called, and I supplied him with books to the amount of £1 17s. 2d.—I handed him an invoice made out on one of our forms for him to take to his employer—this is the entry in our book; the prisoner has initialled it "J. M."—at the time he received these goods I knew him as collector to Mr. Allen, and I believed he had authority to collect these books for him, otherwise I should not have parted with them.

Cross-examined. We send a good many books to Mr. Allen—a person other than the prisoner collected books once for Mr. Allen—I saw the prisoner sign these initials in the book—the list had been left previously with someone to look up the books, and he would make another list from it.

Re-examined. I do not see the list brought by the collector, but the one copied from it.

JOHN MITCHELL (Detective Inspector, City), I arrested the prisoner on a warrant on 12th April—I read the warrant to him—he simply said, in answer, that he was the person referred to in it—he gave his address as 29, Selborne Road, Wood Green—I told him I should go to his lodgings, and asked if I should find any books there—he said, "Yes, you will find two or three rows of books, and other books lying on a table in the room"—I went there the same day, and the prisoner's wife showed me into the front room, where I found in a bookcase three rows of books and other books in the well of the bookcase, amounting in all to 175 volumes of new books, and two books done up in brown paper, addressed to the "library, University, Colorado, U. S. America," stamped, and bearing Mr. Allen's label—the stamp has not been obliterated—this was a month after he had left the service—when I saw the prisoner again in the cells, with the sanction of the Court, I cautioned him, and said, "You know who I am?" and I said anything he might say to me might be used against him, and I told him I had been to his lodgings, and there found 175 volumes of new books—I said, "Where did you get them from, and have you anything to say about them?"—he said, "I bought and paid for them, and I can prove it"—I said, "I also found two books already addressed, and done up in a brown paper, parcel, to the University of Colorado, U. S. America"—he said, "They must have been given to me to post, and I must have taken them home and forgotten them"—among the books I saw were 53 volumes of Miss Braddon's novels, all new; these are two; and 34 volumes of Mrs. Henry Wood's works—I said to the prisoner that about 88 new books had been found in a locker used by him at Simpkin, Marshall and Co. 's, Paternoster How—he said, "When I gave up the locker I handed the key to the manager; it was then empty."

Cross-examined. All the books I found at the prisoner's lodgings were new—there were one or two with his wife's name in, which he said he gave her before they were married—they had been married about eighteen.

months when I arrested him—I heard from Simpkin and Marshall's manager that the prisoner had a locker at Paternoster Row.

JOHN TIDY WATSON (Re-examined by MR. BRUCE). The prisoner had a looker at Stationers' Hall Court—I don't know if he had one at Paternoster Row—he would give up the key of his locker to Mr. Allen's manager—he would have the locker to leave books in while he went to other publishers—Mr. Allen would have control of the locker as long as he remained our customer.

Witnesses for the defence.

MATILDA BREWER . I live at 7, Clarence Terrace, York Road—I have known the prisoner for nearly two years—I visited him and his wife when they lived at Barnsley Road nearly every day—the prisoner had a good many books in a bookcase—he had Miss Braddon's, Mrs. Henry Wood's, and a few of Dickens's, and a great many I did not notice the authors of—I have been present when the prisoner has brought a parcel home, and told his wife he bought them for her—about three and a half years ago a lady, to whom Mrs. McHattie had been nurse, went to South Africa, and gave her several presents, including books—the prisoner has been married about twelve months—his wife is my sister—I have seen books like these (produced); they were new, and had this kind of cover—I saw Miss Braddon's novels there last July; we have not been very friendly since last July, and I have not visited them since then.

Cross-examined. My sister came and asked me if I would be a witness—I did not know the prisoner was charged with obtaining Miss Braddon's books in March—she said he was charged with obtaining books by false pretences, and that some of the books were Miss Braddon's—my sister used to read the books, and offered to lend me some—she had a great many uncut—she had Mrs. Henry Wood's last July, but not all Miss Braddon's—I will swear these were there last July, or books like them—they were always kept locked up and clean; the bookcase had glass doors—I saw the prisoner bring home books occasionally.

EDWARD GEORGE ALLEN (Re-examined by the COURT). The prisoner got 248. salary when in my employment—when he applied for the situation we had many applicants, and I selected him because of the character and general description I had of him; and I had a good impression of him down to the last two months.

GUILTY — Three Years' Penal Servitude.

493. FREDERICK SAMES PLEADED GUILTY to soliciting and inciting Edgar Henry Macey, John Owen Nixon, and Henry Vere Lawrence to make false entries in the books of Messrs. Anderson, Anderson and Co., their masters, with intent to defraud.

MR. COCK, on behalf of the prosecution, stated that the prosecutors would be content if a merciful view was taken, as no doubt the prisoner had acted under the advice and guidance of others.— Five Days' Imprisonment.

494. WILLIAM AUSTIN, Unlawfully committing wilful and corrupt perjury at Westminster County Court.

MR. LEVER Prosecuted, and MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and MOSES

Defended.

JOHN WESTAWAY . I am an usher at Westminster County Court—I

produce office copies of the proceedings in "Lynch v. Austin," heard on 7th December, 1892; of the proceedings in another action between the same parties, heard on 15th February, 1893, and of the nonsuit granted in the first action of 7th December—I also produce a copy of the plaint in a third action, between the same parties, issued on 6th February, 1893—that action stands adjourned, I believe—these are the particulars—these are the plaint notes and particulars in the first and second actions—on 15th February, 1893, when the second action was tried, Judge Bayley was the judge—I administered the oath to the prisoner.

Cross-examined. The original plaint note of the first action was issued on 8th November, and the action was tried on 7th December, 1892 (In the original particulars in the first action there was claimed eleven weeks rent, short 4s. 6d. date 29th September, 1892, for warehouse 66, Drury Lane, at 10s. a week; in the office copy the date was omitted, and warehouses stood in place of warehouse. In the second plaint note and particulars the claim was: 1891, December 5th, to 1892, February 20th—eleven weeks' rent of shop and parlour, situate at 66, Drury Lane, at 10s. per week; by cash on account, 3s. 6d.—£5 6s. 6d.).

Re-examined. The total amount claimed by the particulars of the first and second actions was 4s. 6s. 6d., but in the first action 4s. 6d. is allowed, and in the second action 3s. 6d.

WILLIAM LYNCH . I live at 48, Hillfield Road, West Hampstead, and for the last thirty-five years I have been owner of property in the City of London—I am of no occupation, and I collect my own rents—I have owned 64, 65, and 66, Drury Lane, at ail times material to this case—at 64 there is a basement—at 66 there is an archway going through 66 from Drury Lane to the back—part of what would otherwise have been shop and parlour is the archway—there is a shop and parlour on the right-hand side of the archway which goes under the rest of the house—at the back of 64, 65, and 66 is a yard, and across the yard is a line of warehouses—the prisoner had been my tenant for about two years of the warehouse at the back of 63, across the yard, at 4s. 6d. a week rent, up to 3rd December, 1891, when there was a fire at that warehouse—after the fire, the first time I was at 66, Drury Lane, was 6th December, Saturday, at twelve o'clock; that was my usual time for coming to collect rents—I had not heard of the fire till I arrived there—I then saw the prisoner in the arch or gateway—Guinn, who worked for me at whitewashing, papering, and so on, was there too—the prisoner said, "There has been a fire; can you give me other premises?"—I pointed to the shop and parlour of 66, and told him the rent was 14s. a week, but on account of his having the fire, for the time being he should have it for 10s. a week—I sent Guinn for the keys, and Mrs. Elizabeth Beach, my caretaker, who lives at 65, brought the two keys—one of them opened the front shop door of the house into Drury Lane, and the other opened the parlour door into the archway—I unlocked the parlour door in the archway and went in with Austin, who said it would suit him, and I handed him the keys there and then—the shop and parlour had been empty for some time; there was nothing but a few old fixtures in them, no goods—the prisoner then had possession, and I walked away to attend to other business—after that I was on the premises daily except Sundays—I often saw the prisoner and some of his men in the shop and parlour—he is a wholesale fruit and

vegetable salesman in the orange market at Covent Garden, and has been so for some time—he had a large stand in the market—I have seen oranges and lemons in the parlour; they were mostly in baskets and boxes which I could not see inside of—I have seen him sorting them—I have seen goods taken out of the premises by men whom I have seen employed by him at his stand—he continued tenant till 20th February, 1892—the warehouse at the back, where the fire had occurred, was reconstructed in January—this is a little book I kept in my pocket to put down accounts of what I received and the date—it is a rough book I have with me when I collect my rents—on 5th December I had it with me, and at that time I made an entry respecting the tenancy—I have an entry on January 18th, 1892, when after the reconstruction he took back his own warehouse and another one at 8s. 3d. per week—the entry is, "Austin commenced 8s. 3d—that refers to the two warehouses he took, through the yard at the back—from 18th January he had, besides the shop and parlour, the two warehouses—one warehouse was 4s. 6d. and the other 3s. 9d. a week—between December 3rd and January 18th he had no warehouse, nothing but the shop and parlour—on February 1st he took the basement at 64 at 1s. 9d. per week—I made the entry in my rough book on December 5th when I was standing in the gateway, and when the prisoner took the shop and parlour—I wrote it across the page in a hurry, I was upset with the fire—on 20th February, 1892, the tenancy came to an end—I went to see the prisoner, who was in the orange market, and he laid the keys on his desk, and said he had cleared all out—Mrs. Beach was there at the time—I don't know whether she could hear what was said, as I was inside his stand, but she could see him putting the keys down and my taking them up—two of his men were also there—I know them by sight, not by name—he gave no notice to quit the shop and parlour; it was not required, because I wished him to give them up as soon as he could for another tenant—before that I had called on him once or twice to know how soon he was going to clear out—I only called on him quarterly for the rent—I made several applications for the rent of the shop and parlour—the first time was when I took the keys from him—he said he would pay me in a week—he did not say he had not occupied the shop or parlour, or anything of that kind—I collected the rent for the warehouses on the quarter day, but I asked for the rent of the shop and parlour, as the tenancy was at an end—I next applied for that rent in a week's time—I did not get it, and I got no denial of the occupation—I should think I have applied quite half a dozen times for that rent—I had no denial of the occupation—when I brought the first action I was legally advised—on 8th November Austin was still tenant for the basement and two warehouses—the plaint was for eleven weeks at 10s. a week, less 4s. 6d., £5 6s. 6d.—I made a mistake in a shilling; the 4s. 6d. should have been 3s. 6d.—on paying a cheque for £4 16s. 3d. it was 3s. 6d. in excess—on 2nd April, 1892, he paid £4 16s. 3d., and it was really 3s. 3d., but he put down 3d., and that made 3s. 6d.—the £4 16s. 3d. was for the rent of the other premises—the particulars in that action state that it is "rent for warehouses"—as the shop and parlour were used for a warehouse, I termed it "warehouses," but the action was really for the shop and parlour—the date when the rent is stated to be due is

29th September—I made the particulars out myself—I put the 29th September because the rent was not paid, and that. was the time I sent the account in—he gave me the keys on the 20th February, and that was the date up to which I claimed rent—September 29th was the last time I applied for the money—I consider it was due on September 29th; that was my only reason for putting that date—I gave my evidence in that action on the 7th December—my evidence was directed to the shop and parlour, and I then gave the dates as from 5th December, 1891, to 20th February, 1892—at the County Court I only appeared myself, and did not call other witnesses—I was met by the prisoner's evidence that he had never occupied the premises—that same morning I consulted Mr. Marriott, my solicitor, and in consequence of that consultation the second action was brought on 15th February this year—I gave evidence, and called Mrs. Beach as a witness to the tenancy—I saw the oath administered to the prisoner, and heard his evidence—Mr. Barnett appeared for him then—the prisoner stated on oath that he never had the shop and parlour, and never was in the place; he simply repudiated the occupation—he repeated a second time that he never had the place, and never was in it, and said, "I know nothing about the place"—I don't remember his speaking about the keys; I don't think the keys were mentioned—he said that Mrs. Beach was living there at the time, and that I was living there with her—I never lived at the place in my life; there were only bare boards to sleep on—he said that Clifton Smith was my tenant, and that he had recommended him to me, and that it was to him I gave the keys—I don't know Clifton Smith—he gave evidence at the Police-court; I had never seen him before—Hoare, who represented himself as Smith's manager, gave evidence at the Police court—I had seen him on the prisoner's stand very often; I did not know his name—I never saw him at 66, Drury Lane.

Cross-examined. I did not ask for the rent till he gave up possession on 20th February; he promised to pay within a week—I am quite sure I mentioned the rent on that day—Mrs. Beach could see what went on—I met her going along, and said I was going for the keys because I wished to give them up to her, and she went through the market with me—I said at the Police-court, "I first applied for the rent of the shop and parlour about 26th March, 1892"—I applied again on that date—I do not remember saying "first" at the Police-court—Q. You said then, "He asked me to call again in a week, after the 26th March," is that true?—A. I asked him on 26th March, but not for the first time—this first set of particulars is in my writing—I prepared them the same day as I took out the summons, 8th November—I described the shop and parlour as warehouses—I put eleven weeks due 29th September, 1892, because it was not paid, and was due—the shop and parlour were used at a warehouse; warehouses would be a proper description—on 19th November, 1892, the prisoner gave up his further warehouses, and ceased altogether to be my tenant—the shop and parlour were owing for on 24th June; £5 6s. 6d.; I said so at the County Court on 7th December—I did not say that he had not given up the premises in respect of which I was sueing when I took out the plaint note—I did not say, in cross-examination, that the eleven weeks I sued for occurred immediately prior to 29th September—I believe I was asked the question once—I

said it was a weekly tenancy; there was no agreement—in the second action Mr. Marriott, the solicitor, appeared for me—it was not exactly one of my objects in bringing the second action to found a prosecution for perjury—Mr. Marriott advised me, as I had put warehouses instead of shop and parlour, to take a second action—I was acting entirely under his advice—I did not wish the prisoner to commit perjury, but I intended if he did commit perjury again, that was, if he told the same story, I should punish him for it—I told that to Mr. Marriott—on 7th December Mrs. Beach was outside the Court, but I was not aware of it till afterwards—the 4s. 6d. in the particulars was a clerical error—in paying me a cheque on 29th April for £4 16s. 3d. the prisoner paid me 3s. 3d. too much, and he put down 3d. more to make it 3s. 6d., which I allowed him off the £5 108.—the only mistake I have made about that matter was in putting down 48. 6d. instead of 3s. 6d.—I left the information against the prisoner, sworn on 21st February, 1893, in Mr. Marriott's hands—I gave information for a warrant by my solicitor's advice—I stated to the Magistrate that he was likely to run away—I had information to that effect—that was why he was arrested on a warrant—when I was examined in February, 1893, I said, "About April, 1892, the defendant paid a cheque for £4 16s. 3d. in respect of the March quarter's rent of two warehouses and basement; it was 3s. 6d. too much; I held it and gave him credit for it in respect of the shop and parlour"—I was then cross-examined about a cheque for £2 18s. 6d. which I had had from the prisoner—three or four cheques were produced at the County Court—the one for £2 18s. 6d. was not shown to me, nor produced there—I did not then say, with regard to that cheque, that £2 15s. was applicable to the rent for other premises, and the balance, 3s. 6d., I retained in respect of the shop and parlour—the cheque for £4 16s. 3d. would be made up of rents for the warehouse and basement from 18th January, 1892—from 18th January to 25th March (quarter day) at 4s. 6d. would be £2 5s.; the ware house at 3s. 9d. between the same dates would be £1 17s. 6d.; the basement from 1st February, 1892, to 25th March would be 14s., and that amounts in all to £4 16s. 6d., but I allowed the 3s. 6d. for cleaning up the place, and when I made that allowance it was overpaid—I made an allowance of a fortnight's rent, at 1s. 9d. a week, for his man cleaning the basement up—when I called on 26th March for the rent of the whole premises the prisoner had paid the man—I allowed the 3s. 6d. out of the rent—I did not give him the 3s. 6d. because he said he had paid his man for cleaning up the place, and I said I would allow him a fortnight's rent of the place—this arrangement was made on 26th March, directly after I took his cheque—if the cheque is dated the 2nd April it was then—I did not look at the date of the cheque—I should have said it was 2nd April instead of 26th March—I called there on 26th March, and I fancy he must have postdated the cheque; I did not notice it at the time—it is quite right that he put down threepence to make up the £4 16s. 6d.—I believe this arrangement was come to on 26th March, and that although the cheque was dated 2nd April, 1892, it was a postdated cheque given to me on 26th March—I may have said on 28th February, "The tenancy came to an end on 20th February, 1892; he then went back to his old warehouse, which had been by that time reconstructed. On the same day he took another of the four warehouses; about a fortnight after he took the

bottom part of the basement of 64, Drury Lane, bringing the rent of the warehouses and basement up to the former rent of 10s. a week"—the arrangement between the prisoner and myself was that when the warehouse was reconstructed he was to give up the shop and parlour without notice, and go back to the warehouse—I did not understand that I was saying that the warehouses at 4s. 6d. and 3s. 6d. were not, in fact, taken possession of by the prisoner until 20th February, when he gave up the shop and parlour; I gave the proper date the 18th January—when I was re-examined a week afterwards I said, "I made a mistake in my examination-in-chief in the absence of my book; it was on the 8th January, 1892, that this additional warehouse at the back of 66, Drury Lane, was taken, but he had nothing to do with the shop and parlour from that date, 18th January, 1892; the rent of the warehouses was 8s. 3d. a. week"—he took the shop and parlour as temporary premises in consequence of the fire—he stayed on in the shop and parlour after the warehouse was reconstructed, because he had not emptied the place, which was filled with baskets, and boxes, and stock—he gave no reason at all for staying on, and I did not know and cannot explain why he remained, unless it was that he wanted to empty it—Mr. Barnett asked me at-the Police-court on 28th February if I had a book or entry of any kind which would corroborate my story—I had no book with me then—I could not find this at the time; next time I appeared I had it—I was not sure I could find this book on 28th February—it is an old book—I said, "I have got a memorandum of it in an old book, but I am not sure whether I can find it"—when I gave evidence on December 7th, 1892, at the County Court, I made no reference to the book, nor did I to my knowledge on 15th February, 1893, when I gave evidence—I believe I mentioned to Mr. Marriott that I had a book after the first action—I will not swear it—I looked for the book before the second action; I could not find it, and I searched for it again before the Police-court proceedings—I found it about one o'clock on the morning after coming back from the Police-court, in a drawer that had not been opened for some time—I don't think I mentioned the existence of the book or the entries in it at either of the County Court trials—I had looked several times for it—I made this entry of 5th December at the time—the sheet was filled up at the time I am certain—the entries of 7th and 14th December were added afterwards; they refer to private affairs—I made additions to the book a fortnight or three weeks afterwards, it might have been,—Q. The dates in that book are not reliable as showing the days on which the occurrences happened?—A. They are not reliable in the way you put it—when I wrote this entry across this book the entries were there but not the dates, which were put afterwards—every entry on that sheet, except the dates, was made at the time the memorandum was written across it, and the dates of December 7th and 14th must have been written some fortnight or three weeks afterwards—I could not swear to a day; they were put in afterwards, after the entry which purports to relate to the taking of these premises—this entry was made on the 5th December; I suppose the pencil which made it was darker than those making the other entries—I swear that the entries of December 7th and 14th were not made at the same time as the dates opposite to them—I remember it because of Bonomy's name being there, and he wished to give up

his premises at that date—I found this book in one of a chest of drawers in my bedroom—I put different things in it—the drawers are not kept locked—I have in them several other books, and clothes; I had not worn the clothes for a very long while; they were my regimental suit when I was in the Volunteers—the other drawers are in daily use—I don't suppose I had looked in the drawers for twelve months—I looked through the drawers I usually used for this book before I went to the County Court the second time—I did not look in this particular drawer because I considered that there was nothing but this suit of regimentals in it—I looked in every drawer of this chest except the one where the book was, and I did not look there because I did not dream of its being there—I thought the book was destroyed all the time I was looking for it, and until I found it—I am quite sure of that—I found it after I was before the Magistrate—I could not swear it was the day after—when Mr. Barnett asked me at the Police-court I said, "I made a note at the time of the tenancy, which note is filed at my home"—that is correct, but I could not find the note, it is destroyed; it was on the file—it is a different note, and was on a piece of paper; I could not find that, but I produce the book—I was thinking of the bit of paper at the time—I did mention to my solicitor before going to Court that I had not only a book but a further memorandum on a file; I did not think of it—I made the second memorandum not under the archway but when I got home, and I filed it—the whole file has gone; I suppose I burnt it—I was collecting some rents in December—I collected quite half the number on the next leaf of the book—there is no date to that because I don't usually date that book; there are dates in it—the date of the 14th does not refer to that leaf I pointed out—in this entry 10s. is crossed out and 8s. 3d. written over it; it was a mistake—it is a rather black pencil, but it was done at the time—pencils do not always mark alike—the 10s. apparently came there by mistake—the 8s. 3d. is a genuine and contemporaneous entry—10s. was put down by mistake on 18th January and crossed out—no doubt I was thinking of 10s. for the shop, and then crossed it out directly and put 8s. 3d.—the 10s. does work out at exactly the rental that afterwards occurred—the entry on 1st February, 1892, of 1s. 9d. must have been made on the date it appears in the book, when he took the other warehouse—Mrs. Beach is only called Mrs. Lynch as a joke; she has been so called.

Re-examined. As to the £4 16s. 3d. cheque, £4 16s. 6d. was due in respect of two warehouses, £2 5s. and £1 17s. 6d., and the basement 14s. on 25th March, 1892—I believe the cheque of 2nd April was given me on 26th March, but I cannot pledge my oath—he gave me the cheque and 3d.—I should not enter when I received a cheque—I have in this other book that I received two cheques on that date, but only one from the prisoner, £1 168. 3d.—it was after March 25th—the first date in the book is March 28th, 1892—an entry of March 25th comes after March 28th, because it was a quarter day cheque, but was not paid on the quarter day—the top entry was made on 28th March, and I should say all of them were—I should not put down the credit of 3s. 3d.—the 28th must have been on Monday—I did not enter it for any date particularly—it was paid after quarter day—I have received three cheques of £2 18s. 6d. from the prisoner—the first was after June 24th, 1891, and was for

thirteen weeks' rent at 4s. 6d.—the next was for the same rent, after September 29th, 1891, and the last was for the same rent to December 25th—in none of those cases was £2 15s. due, leaving 3s. 6d. in excess—I received no other cheque of £2 18s. 6d.—this is a rough memorandum book, in which I put down at the time the amount, and not the date—the 7th December was the date Mr. Bonomy gave notice, and his time was up on December 14th—I have two or three pencils at the present time in my pocket, and do not always carry the same one—on January 18th the prisoner had given up the shop and parlour—on the first hearing I believe I said the premises were reconstructed on 20th February; at the next hearing I corrected that—I never had any claim against the prisoner for eleven weeks' rent except in respect to the shop and parlour.

GEORGE WELCH . I am timekeeper at Drury Lane Theatre, and live on the first floor, 66, Drury Lane, over the shop and parlour—I have been there fourteen years—I leave in the morning at seven or nine—if I leave at seven I return to breakfast, and at one, if work permits; then I go back and leave off work at seven, or five or six; we work overtime if busy—I saw Clifton Smith at the Police-court—I never saw him in or about the shop and parlour—I saw Hoare at the Police-court—I did not know him; I never saw him in or near the shop and parlour—I might have seen him about sixteen years ago—I know the prisoner by his being on the premises; after the fire I thought he owned the shop, because his property was there—I never saw him there, but I thought it was his property by the baskets and things being marked "Austin," and I saw the damaged goods front the fire—I saw the burnt warehouse cleared out, and the baskets and things were placed in the shop, and some in the gateway—I concluded he was the tenant—besides the damaged goods I saw oranges and lemons there, packed in the usual way—they were Spanish and Italian goods, the same sort as the prisoner was selling—it was a few weeks after the fire that I saw his things in the shop and parlour; his name was painted round the baskets, some of which were full.

Cross-examined. I was first spoken to about this matter eight or nine weeks ago—the archway was pretty full after the firs, when they were bringing the goods through; that was the only way of getting them out of the damaged warehouse—there was great confusion at the time of the fire with the salvage men, the police, and others.

Re-examined. I did not know anything about the prisoner's business in the market, but I knew the men who came there, from being in the market myself previously—I don't know by whom the men were employed that I saw about the gateway.

ELIZABETH BEACH . I am a widow—I lived at 65, Drury Lane, in December, 1891, and afterwards—I occupied the shop and parlour of 68 at the time the prisoner was there, and a little while afterwards—I went to the first floor of 64 because Mr. Lynch let the shop and parlour—I move about from place to place as a place becomes vacant—I have never occupied the shop and parlour at 66, Drury Lane—Mr. Lynch has never occupied it to my knowledge—I remember the fire on 3rd December, 1891, at the back warehouse—a day or two afterwards I saw Lynch, on Saturday, 5th December, about mid-day—he generally came between twelve and one—I saw him in the gateway with the prisoner—Guinn came to me for the keys of the shop and parlour of 66, on the right-hand side of

the archway—I went and saw Lynch and the prisoner—Guinn was at the back doing some whitewashing—he was not close to me—Lynch asked me to fetch the keys, and I did so, and returned with them—I heard the prisoner say to Lynch that he did not know what to do with his goods—Lynch said, "I have got a shop and parlour empty; you can have it for 10s. a week till your back premises are repaired from the fire"—the prisoner said nothing, but took the keys in my presence—Lynch opened the door in the gateway and went into the shop with the prisoner—I waited outside, and saw them very soon after come out together; the prisoner had the keys then in his hand—I cleaned up the premises when the prisoner left; there were no goods there then—I had not been in for a long time before 5th December, because it was empty—you could only see in through the back window; the front shutters were never taken down—I saw Hoare and Clifton Smith at the Police-court; I had never seen them before, to the best of my knowledge—while the prisoner was at the shop and parlour I saw goods going in several times—they were generally brought on a barrow—I have seen one or two of the prisoner's men occasionally; there have been several in the shop and parlour, taking in the stock—all the bags carried in have been marked "W. Austin"—they went into the shop and parlour by the side entrance; I don't remember the front door being opened—the prisoner has not been in there more than four or five times, to the best of my recollection—I have seen him at the beginning and end of the week at mid-day—I have seen him go in and come out—I have not seen him there more than six times between December 6th and February 20th—I have seen him there when the men were putting goods in; he has not stopped long; I have not heard him say anything—I never heard him give orders—I got Mrs. Pyebus, who helps me, to get three or five lemons at a time from him—I stood at the door and saw her—the prisoner was there eleven weeks, and after he left I cleaned the premises; Mrs. Pyebus helped me—I found this bag, marked "W. Austin, Covent Garden"—on one occasion in the market Lynch went for his rent and could not get it, and he asked the prisoner and the prisoner gave the two keys to him on a string over the desk—a young man was then on the left-hand side of the desk—I did not hear what was said—he gave the keys into Lynch's hand—I did not notice where he took them from—I afterwards saw those keys; one belonged to the shop door and the other to the parlour door, and were the keys I had given Lynch to give to the prisoner—Lynch frequently went to the prisoner for the rent after that—when the first action came on in the County Court I was there, but was not called—Lynch did not know I was there—I was just outside—I went because Lynch had a case against Sullivan, and I went to hear that case—I had nothing to do with the action against Sullivan, I went to hear it—I did not tell Lynch I was going—he told me he had a case at the County Court that day, and I thought it was Sullivan's case; he did not tell me the name of the person, and I did not ask him then—I knew he had an action against Sullivan for £10, and I did not know this case was coming off—Lynch said the action was to be tried at St. Martin's Lane—he did not mention that I might look in—he said he was going there—the conversation took place in my room at Drury Lane; he came there to collect my rent—he said he had an action against Sullivan and I thought he was going for that—he did not tell me he had an action against the

prisoner—Sullivan had been a tenant who had gone—I usually knew about tenants, what they owed and so on—he said nothing about bringing an action against anybody except Sullivan—he got judgment that day against Sullivan for £10; it has not yet been paid—I was a witness in the second action—I heard the prisoner deny that he occupied the shop and parlour, and he said he never had the keys—I don't remember what he said about the keys at the County Court—he said I and Lynch occupied the shop and parlour, and that Clifton Smith occupied the premises.

Cross-examined. I never lived at 66; the prisoner said I did, and also that Clifton Smith occupied it—I think I am sure about it—I was examined before the Magistrate (MR. MATHEWS read to the witness from her deposition "I did not hear Austin say anything about me in connection with those premises") the prisoner did not say in Court that Clifton Smith occupied the premises; he said it outside the Police-court—I was occupying the shop and parlour at 65, Drury Lane—I am caretaker—I. did not hear the prisoner say at the County Court, when giving evidence, that I and Lynch occupied these premises—he said it outside the Court door, not in Court—it is quite a mistake to say I said at the Police-court, speaking of what the prisoner had sworn, "I did not hear. Austin say any thing about Lynch in connection with the occupation of the premises"—it was not my mistake—I do not know that I said that—if I said it, I could not have heard it—I signed my deposition——in December, 1891, I was in occupation of the shop and parlour at 65, Drury Lane, and Lynch came weekly to collect my rent, 6s. a week—I paid on Saturday, or Thursday, or Monday sometimes—he kept a rent book—I cannot say what he put down in it—I don't know if he had a book where he wrote down what he received—I cannot point out in this book the entry of any payment made by me—Mr. Lynch pays me 10s. a week for looking after the place, and he makes me a reduction, of course—sometimes he would deduct the rent, and sometimes I would give it to him—sometimes I am called Mrs. Lynch—I have gone down with the keys, and they have said, "Here comes Mrs. Lynch," but my name is Mrs. Beach—after the first action Lynch spoke to me, and then I was called as a witness on the second action—the County Court Judge decided against my evidence—I and Lynch were the only two witnesses called then—I have seen more than one of the prisoner's men going into the shop And parlour, and I saw bags with the prisoner's name on, bananas, oranges, and lemons taken in—the men were strangers, some one day, some another—I saw the prisoner take the goods in—I said before I could not be sure about the men—I said before, "I know several of Austin's men by sight; I cannot swear it was Austin's men I saw take in the baskets"—I know they took Mr. Austin's goods in—I only know the men by bringing the prisoner's goods—I said to the Magistrate that I could hot swear to the men—I found this bag on a shelf in the shop when I cleaned up, and gave it to Mrs. Pybus, who helped me—she used not to wear this bag as an apron when she cleaned the premises out—this was the only one—I don't know if the prisoner kept a number of such bags in the warehouse where he stored his goods; I was never there—the prisoner occupied premises at the back before the fire, and placed fruit there; and afterwards he was there dealing in the same class of goods—he gave up the shop and parlour, and went back to the warehouse—I heard nothing

said in the, market when the keys were given up—the prisoner had the keys of the warehouse at the back—I had nothing to do with that when it was being restored after the fire—the keys of the warehouse were not given back to the prisoner in my presence after the reinstatement—I saw the keys of the shop and parlour.

By the COURT. I got 10s. a week for looking after the offices and warehouses, and I paid 6s., a week for my room, so that I received 4s. from Lynch—he would pay me 10s., and I gave him 6s.—I have only been three times to the Westminster County Court—I thought I should like to hear Sullivan's case—Lynch told me he had an action there, and I thought it was Sullivan's case, and went to hear it—Lynch was collecting his rent, and several people were there, and he said, "I may be late in going to the Court," and my idea was that it was Sullivan's case.

JOHN SHARP . I am an assistant to Messrs. Eames and Rolfe, of Covent Garden Market—I live at 23, Goldsmith's Buildings, Holborn—in December, 1891, Ernest Rolfe had premises at 66, Drury Lane, on the left hand side of the archway, very nearly opposite the shop and parlour on the right hand side—about Christmas, 1891,1 noticed boxes and bags in that shop—I knew the prisoner, and I knew one of his men by sight; I have seen that man in and out of the shop, and have helped him with goods which he was taking out of the shop and parlour on to a barrow—I asked him who he was, and he told me—I have seen the prisoner in and out of the shop and parlour on several occasions, about a week, fortnight, or month after the fire—it was at the end of the week I generally saw him.

Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate, "A few weeks before Christmas, 1891, I saw in the shop and parlour at 66, Drury Lane, some cases of oranges, nuts, and lemons"—I did not notice any names on the bags—on one or two occasions I saw the prisoner himself about that time going in and out of the shop; it is sixteen or eighteen months since I saw him go into the shop and parlour—the prisoner was not in occupation of the shop and parlour before the fire, I am quite sure—I said at the Police court the prisoner was in possession of the shop and parlour both before and after the fire; I made a mistake—I saw him in the shop and parlour, after, and not before the fire—I saw him up and down the court before the fire—I did not think he was in possession of the shop and parlour before the fire—I said at the Police-court, "He was in possession of the shop and parlour for about five months after the fire"—that would be down to the end of April, 1892—I think he was there to the end of April, as near as I can say.

Re-examined. He was not in possession of the shop and parlour before the fire—I never saw Clifton Smith or Hoare there.

GEORGE EAMES . In December, 1891,1 occupied as manager the basement to the left of the archway, at 66, Drury Lane—I think the shop and parlour opposite to me in the gateway were not occupied—I cannot say positively—about that time I had an interview with Lynch about that shop and parlour, and the consequence was that Mr. Bonomy, for whom I managed, did not have the shop and parlour—a short time after the fire I saw some oranges, lemons, and other goods in the shop and parlour, the same kind of goods that the prisoner deals in—I was in the market most of the time, and was not at 66 many hours in the day—I should

be there after four o'clock, and before post time—I never saw Clifton Smith or Hoare there, that I remember.

Cross-examined. I never saw the prisoner there—I saw him in the market between December, 1891, and February, 1892; he has a stand there I believe—I have known him for some time, and I believe he is well known—he has carried on business in the market for a great many years, and enjoys the confidence and respect of his friends—I told the Magistrate I could not say anything about his having any goods or anything in the shop and parlour.

CHARLES GUINN . I live at 45, Preston Road, Kentish Town, and am a small builder and general workman—in the first week in December, 1891, I was working for Mr. Lynch at these premises—on 5th December Lynch paid me my wages—several people were clearing away the stock, and the prisoner was helping to do so—I left him and Lynch together in the yard with two or three gentlemen—Lynch told me to get the keys, and I went to Mrs. Beech and came back—I did not remain more than five minutes after that, and then I bade Lynch good day and went away.

MARGARET PYBUS . I am the wife of James Pybus, and live at 64, Drury Lane, and help Mrs. Beach to clean the premises—before the fire, on December 3rd, the shop and parlour at 66 were unoccupied, and there was nothing in them—about Christmas time I saw lemons go in baskets several times—I have seen several of the prisoner's men in the shop and parlour unloading and taking the lemons in, and unpacking goods, and they used to come in the morning and get baskets and things—I noticed no names on baskets or barrows—I have asked them to give me and Mrs. Beach lemons and oranges, and sometimes the men, and sometimes the prisoner, have given me two or three—he has taken them from the little shop and parlour under the archway—I very seldom saw the prisoner there when they were unloading; but when he was there he was seeing that things were put properly into the place—he had lemons in the warehouse he occupied for some time—I have had lemons from him before the fire; but after the fire I had them from the shop and parlour—after the prisoner left the premises I helped Mrs. Beach to clean them up, and I found a lot of empty baskets, and a sack was on the shelf in the shop—I put the rubbish into the sack—Mrs. Beach found the sack, and she said I could have it.

Cross-examined. I did not say when I was examined about it that I found it in the parlour—I did not say at the Police-court, "I have had that bag since last September twelve months"—I said there were bags left in there which they gave us to put across our aprons, with no names on them—this was not a walnut bag—it is a perfectly sound bag—I did not think the prisoner would want it, and Mrs. Beach said I could keep it to use when I helped her to scrub—I did not use it as an apron in cleaning out the shop and parlour—I considered it was cleaning when I put the rubbish in it—the prisoner had the warehouse at the back up to the fire, and he went back there a very short time after the fire; and during that time he would have boxes and baskets of oranges and lemons delivered there.

Re-examined. I am not quite clear when the bag was found on the shelf; it was when we were doing walnuts in the shed—I was there at

the time—we were cleaning the shop and parlour when Mrs. Beach found a bag.

FREDERICK LEACH . I live at 56, Frederick Street, Caledonian Road, and am a commercial traveller—on 15th February, 1893, I was at the Westminster County Court when the case of Lynch and Austin was heard—after Mr. Marriott had pressed him three times the prisoner denied on oath that he had ever had in his possession the keys of the place in Drury Lane, and he said that Clifton Smith had taken the place.

Cross-examined. I was not interested in the case; I was waiting to see Mr. Marriott, and listened to what went on—I heard Lynch say he had received a cheque for £2 18s. 6d.—the Judge asked him how he accounted for having received the 3s. 6d. on account, and his answer was something about a cheque, but several cheques were mentioned—the 38. 6d. was said to be on account of the premises in Drury Lane—I could not swear to the amount from which it was deducted—I said before the Magistrate, "I understood the 3s. 6d. was upon the £2 18s. 6d."—I did understand so, and I say so now, but I would not take my oath upon it—to the best of my belief the 3s. 6d. was part of the £2 18s. 6d. cheque, and was in excess of what was required.

Re-examined. The cheques were jumbled up—I was paying no particular attention to the case.

FREDERICK MARRIOTT . I am a solicitor, practising at 86, St. Martin's Lane—I acted as Lynch's solicitor in the second of these actions—on 15th February I conducted the case—I made this note of the prisoner's evidence for the purpose of cross-examination, and these are the exact words he used: "I did not occupy the premises; Mrs. Beech and Mr. Lynch occupied them themselves during that time. I took a man named Smith to Lynch about the premises. Smith took the premises"—the prisoner denied having had the keys handed to him by Lynch.

Cross-examined. I took a note of the case as Lynch's solicitor.

ISAAC JACOBS (201 C). At 11. 30 on 22nd February I saw the prisoner in Covent Garden market, where he was carrying on his business, and arrested him on a warrant charging him with perjury—after I explained that I had a warrant for him he said, "I thought this could have been done by a summons. I have won two actions in the County Court; one before Christmas and one afterwards"—I was in plain clothes—I took him through the streets to Marlborough Street, where he was detained.

Cross-examined. I think next day Mr. Hannay said that he was under the impression when he granted a warrant that the man was going to run away, and he asked me where I arrested him—the prisoner was allowed out on his father's bail in £50 when Mr. Hannay heard he was carrying on business—he was detained a short time in the cells till his friends could be communicated with and bail found—next day the case came on for hearing.

This being the conclusion of the case or the prosecution, the JURY, without calling upon the defence, stated that they considered there was not sufficient evidence to establish the case.

NOT GUILTY .

OLD COURT.—Monday, May 8th, 1892.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

495. HENRY BEAVIS LEICESTER (30) , Feloniously forging and uttering a promissory note for £300.

MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. BRUCE Defended.

JOHN SUMNER . I am a farmer, of Cross Lanes Farm, Bickley, Malpas, Cheshire—in the summer of 1891 I wanted to borrow a small sum, and answered an advertisement to 16, Princes Street, Hanover Square, applying for a loan—I got this letter in reply, offering me an advance of £40, to be repaid by £60 in instalments—I met the prisoner at Crewe—he gave me two £20 notes and I signed the promissory note (Dated August 19th, 1891, and promising to pay £60 by instalments; it was endorsed "H. B. Leicester")—I paid some instalments, and afterwards my solicitor paid the balance for me; I gave him the money—that was the only transaction I had with the prisoner—I never saw this other promissory note, or the letter, till I saw them at the Polios-court; I did not sign them, nor were they signed with my authority (This promissory note teas an undertaking by John Sumner, farmer, to pay to Townend, or his order, £300 for a loan, dated August 13th, 1891. The letter was with regard to the same loan).

Cross-examined. I signed this note at Crewe, at the post-office, and the prisoner gave me the two £20 notes when we came outside—I am not aware that anyone else saw me sign it—the prisoner wrote the other part above my signature, which is the only writing of mine—he read it to me before I signed it—I did not read it as it was getting dark—I think it is the same note, it looks pretty much the same—it was all written before I signed it—I did not see him touch it after I signed it—I did not sign a blank piece of paper—I had never signed a promissory note before—the advertisement in the paper was in the prisoner's name—I did not know there was a Mr. Townend till afterwards—it is impossible that I could have signed one note for the other; I never saw this second one before—the note I signed was of this shape—my daughter first wrote to the prisoner, and we met at Beeston—I might have asked him to lend £200, but we would not have it because of the interest, and we were not there five to ten minutes—all we wanted was £40, and he wrote afterwards about £40—I will not swear I did not mention £200—I don't think £200 was mentioned—we refused to have anything except £40.

HENRY CHARLES LLOYD . I am a clerk in the employment of Cunliffe and Davenport, solicitors, of Chancery Lane—acting for Mr. Sumner we paid £40 and got the promissory note in this case from a third party, who was holding it.

JAMES FREDERICK TOWNEND . I am a money-lender, of Leeds and seven other places—one of my establishments is at 16, Princes Street, Hanover Square—the prisoner was in my employment, originally at Bristol, and then he. was transferred to the Princes Street branch, London—his salary was £170 a year and a commission, which brought it up to about £300 in all—he had three or four junior clerks at the office—the books kept there were cash-book, ledger, bank pass-book, and receipt-book—his duty was to pay into the bank moneys he received, and when I was not there he would act for me in lending money to persons who applied for loans—I

took the management of the office; he was assistant manager in my absence; I was there every week or ten days—in every case he had to submit proposals to my approval before they were accepted; he could not lend a shilling without—I examined the books and securities in the safe—it was his duty to place the books before me for me to see what he had done in my absence, and I checked all the entries every time I was there, and decided on every case of loan that was brought before me—it was the prisoner's duty to enter in the ledger the name of the person to whom the loan was to be granted, the amount of money advanced, the interest, and the instalments by which it was to be paid off, and in other columns the amounts paid off until the loans had been satisfied—he kept the ledger himself—this is the entry about Sumner (Hits was dated August 13th for a loan of £200, repayable £15 a quarter)—on the other side are three entries of £3 each, and one of £5, as though they were sums that had been paid off the loan—they would be entered in the cash book and then transferred to the ledger—there are repayments, November 18th, 1891, £15; February 20th, 1892, £15; and May 19th, £15; and an entry of £5 which was sent by Stunner on August 20th, off the £40, after the prisoner had absconded—it was assumed it was off the £200, as there is no record of the £40 loan, and it was never brought to my knowledge in any way until I communicated with Sumner about the £200 loan—when I was at the Princes Street branch in July, 1892, everything was apparently in order—Mr. Sumner did apply for a £200 loan, but the prisoner was not authorised to advance money except with my authority in every case—Sumner's proposal to borrow £200 and repay £300 was submitted to me, and the promissory note was shown to me at the time, signed—prior to August, 1891, an application came from Sumner for £200, and I sent a surveyor to investigate his circumstances—the report was favourable, and I instructed the prisoner to lend Sumner £200, and the next I heard was that he had lent him £200, and he produced this promissory note—he had instructions to go to Crewe to carry it out, I believe—I saw the promissory note when I went the next time—I believe the £200 was taken in cash from the till—the prisoner had no authority to draw cheques, but when I was going to be away I left him cheques, which he could not draw for more than £100 or £200, and I left him, too, £300 or £400—repayments were coming in every day of £300 or £400—he told me he had paid £200 to Sumner, and it appeared in the cash-book—after my visit in July my attention was attracted to an entry of a certificate of a bill of sale in a trade paper, and on 7th August I came up to London unexpectedly by a night train, and got to Princes Street at five a. m., and examined the books and cash—no one was there then—the prisoner came about ten—I found there was a deficiency of £750 in the till, even if the books had been correct—cash was coming in every day—at ten o'clock, when he came, I said, "How do you account for the deficiency?"—I drew his attention to it—he said, "I have been lending money to my own friends, and betting"—I said, "What is the real deficiency?"—he said £980—I took possession of everything in the office, and told him to consider himself suspended till I should see my solicitor, which I did, and on 10th August a warrant was issued for the prisoner's arrest—I did not see him again till I saw him in the dock at the Police-court on 11th April, 1893—I received this letter of 31st March, 1893, in his

writing (Expressing regret for the past)—upon the assumption that the entries in the books were correct I applied to different persons for amounts apparently owing by them, and in default—I find my actual loss is £4,200, after giving the prisoner credit for premiums, bonuses, and so on—beyond that I have been involved in litigation, and sued for damages, as I had no means of knowing whether persons were resisting claims properly or not, and damages and costs will come to about £1,000 altogether up to now—I put the name of my manager or assistant manager at each of my branches to my advertisements in order that persons who apply may have the name of the person they will see afterwards, as if my name appeared they would want to see me, and I could not always be at every place.

Cross-examined. I have at some branches assistant managers in the same position as the prisoner—the clerks at Princes Street were under the prisoner's orders—they would not have access to any of the books; my instructions to the prisoner were that the books were to be kept in his absolute control, and not seen by any other person, and I have since ascertained that they have not seen them—I do not think it possible that the other clerks saw them; if they had had access to them these things would have been found out sooner—the prisoner only lent money once without my sanction, and I threatened to discharge him if he did it again—he has never to my knowledge put any of the blank cheques I lent him to improper uses by lending money without my sanction—I should have seen by the pass-book if he had misappropriated cheques—he could have drawn the money represented by them, and run away—he would have had to make an entry in the cash-book, and whenever I went to the office I required to see the cheques, and to what customer it had been paid—I did not see the note for £40 till I saw it at the Police-court—it came from Mr. Sumner's solicitor—it had never been in my possession—the prisoner had roughly about £450 in his possession—I think there was a great deal more than £300 in the bank—I always keep a floating balance of about £4,000 at eight different banks—I had a lawsuit with Dr. Collins—I did not in my affidavit in that case swear that I had some knowledge that the prisoner was using my money for purposes other than my own—so far as I know Sumner's only application was for a loan of £200—it was in writing; I have not got the letter—that was the amount I agreed to advance, as I knew his position was good enough without any security, and I lent him on promissory note alone—I rarely get 60 per cent, per annum; this loan to Sumner was at 25 per cent—I lend over £150,000 a year on note of hand alone without any security, and I do not average over 25 per cent, on notes of hand—if I were satisfied a gentleman was temporarily pressed, I should do it at from 15 to 25 percent—in the case of a bill of sale, I charge 30 to 60 per cent; we do not like them—the bulk of my business is done on promissory notes only.

BENJAMIN ALLEN (Detective C). A warrant for the prisoner's arrest was in the hands of the police in August, 1892; every effort was made to execute it without success—on Monday, 10th April, I waited outside Charing Cross Post-office between seven and eight p. m.—I saw the prisoner—I said, "Are you Harry Beavis Leicester"—he said, "Yes"—I said "I am a police officer, and hold a warrant for your arrest"—I read the warrant to him—he

said, "All right"—he was charged at Marlborough Street Police-station—he made no answer.

MR. BRUCE asked that the prisoner might make his own statement to the JURY. The prisoner then stated that Mr. Sumner first applied for a loan for £200, but the interest being too high lie afterwards declined it; that subsequently he applied for £40; that he (the prisoner) met Mr. Sumner at Crewe, where Mr. Sumner took him into three or four public houses, and finally into the post-office, where he (Mr. Sumner) signed the two promissory notes, as lie said he should require the larger amount afterwards, and it would save another journey.

JOHN SUMNER (Re-examined by the COURT). We only went into one public-house, and from there we went to the post-office; we had no drink before, only a glass afterwards.

GUILTY .—There were other indictments against the prisoner for embezzlement, larceny, forgery, and false entries.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

ESSEX CASES.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

496. EDWARD SUMNER (26) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MARY ANN TIERNEY . I am a widow, of 7, Garbury Road—on 25th April I saw the prisoner selling mackerel in the street; I bought some, and gave him a florin—he gave me the change, among which was a bad shilling—I had no other shilling—I saw him next day, and said, "Are you not the young man I bought mackerel of yesterday?"—he said, "Yes, wasn't it good?"—I said "Yes, very good, but the shilling was bad"—he said, "Come with me, and I will show you where I took it"—I would not go—it rattled on his box—he said he was only a poor man—we agreed to divide the loss, and I gave it back to him—I lost sixpence by it.

ARTHUR PRAXTON . I lived at 48, Gilbert Road, Poplar—on April 25th I was assistant to Mastin Brothers, bakers, and about two or three o'clock the prisoner asked me to change a shilling for him, which I did—a woman told me it was a bad one—I walked up to him and told him so—he denied that it was bad, and gave me my change back.

JOHN JAMES WAGSTAFFE . I keep the Royal Albert, Walthamstow—on 25th April I served the prisoner with two half-pints of ale—he gave me a florin and I gave him 1s., a 6d. and 4d., and turned to serve another customer—he called out, "Hi! governor, I cannot take this; this is a bad shilling," giving me a coin—I said, "I never saw it before"—he had a companion with him, who said, "Yes, you did"—he said he was a poor man, and I gave him a good shilling for the bad one, which I kept—about ten minutes afterwards he came back and I said, "You have cheated me; you have rung the changes. I gave you a good shilling for a bad one; you had just offered it previously to a baker outside"—he denied passing it to a baker or giving it to me—he said, "I never had it," but afterwards he said, "I am very sorry, governor; don't lock me up. I took it from a woman up the street. I will show you the woman"—we went to a woman's house and he said, "That is the woman who gave it to me"—she said,

"Yes; you gave it to me first, and you took it back"—I then gave him in charge.

JOHN SCOTT (115 K). Mr. Wagstaffe called me and said in the prisoner's presence that he had given him a bad shilling—I said I should take him in custody—he said "I gave the woman the shilling yesterday, and I have given her 6d. back to-day, so that we shall each be the loser of 6d."—we went to the station, and the prisoner was charged with knowingly uttering a counterfeit shilling—he made no reply—Mr. Wagstaffe gave me this shilling.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER , This is a counterfeit shilling.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was not aware it was a bad shilling when I gave it to the woman and I gave her 6d. back."

Prisoner's defence. I work very hard; some lady gave me the shilling. I know where she lives; I sold her three mackerel for 8d.

GUILTY .

The JURY stated that they believed he got the coin accidentally, and did his best to get rid of it.— Discharged on his own recognisances.

KENT CASES.

Before Mr. Justice Grantham.

497. ROBERT WILLIAM RICHARDS (19) , Unlawfully committing an abominable crime.

MR. A. GILL Prosecuted.

GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.

498. WILLIAM DUGGAN (32) , for a like offence. MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

NOT GUILTY .

Both prisoners were also indicted for gross indecency, upon which no evidence was offered .—

NOT GUILTY .

499. WILLIAM STEPHEN NEVILLE (61) , Unlawfully attempt ing to commit an abominable crime with Thomas Jefferys.

MR. SANDS Prosecuted.

NOT GUILTY .

There was another indictment against the prisoner for a like offence with Sidney George Grayson, upon which no evidence was offered.

NOT GUILTY .

SURREY CASES.

Before Mr. Justice Grantham.

500. WILLIAM KEMP (60) , Wilful murder of George Hayter. MR. CHARLES MATHEWS and MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and HON. BERNARD

COLERIDGE, Q. C., Defended.

John Somerfield, Policeman 289, produced and proved a plan of the locality in question.

ROBERT CHARLES HAYTER . I live at 129, Great Norwich Street,

Reading—the deceased, George Hayter, was my brother—he was seventy. one years of age—in January last I went to 29, Tredholm Road, Anerley Park, where my brother was living with the prisoner and his wife—he was ill, and not expected to live—Mrs. Kemp was nursing him, and the prisoner was also attending to him, and paid very great attention to him—I saw my brother again in February; he was still in bed, not able to get up—on 11th April I received a telegram saying, "Come at once, your brother is dying"—I found him at the Norwood Cottage Hospital on the 12th—he was then dead.

Cross-examined. When I saw him in February he had somewhat recovered, but was not able to leave his bed.

SARAH CHICK . I am the wife of Henry Chick, of 28, Tredholm Road, Anerley, next door to the prisoner and his wife—I have known them about ten months—I knew the old gentleman, Mr. Hayter, living there with them—on Monday evening, 10th April, I was at home about six, in the kitchen—Mrs. Kemp came in and spoke to me; she went away, and returned about 6. 20—she had her apron up to her head, and I noticed two or three drops of blood fall from her head on to the kitchen floor—she passed through the passage into the backyard, going in the direction of the w. c.—a few seconds after the prisoner came in through the street door and went through the passage—I put my hand on his shoulder and asked him not to make a scene in my place—he had a poker In his hand—he asked me where his wife was—I said, "I don't know; she is not in my house"—he took no notice, but passed right through into the backyard, and I saw him and Mr. Hayter catching hold of one another and struggling near the w. c, and I saw Kemp strike Hayter on the head with ft poker—I saw two blows, no more—I could not say exactly on what part of the head he struck; it appeared to me to be on the top—I went to the street door and called for assistance; they were still standing there struggling—the prisoner then came back from the back door and went straight upstairs, asking me at the same time where his wife was—I told him as before, "I don't know; she is not in my house"—I told him to come downstairs; I was frightened and ran out to a neighbour two doors further on, and the moment I got there I heard the crockery and the furniture being smashed in the prisoner's house, and the last I saw of him was in the constable's hands—my little boy was in the yard at this time.

Cross-examined. The two men were in about the middle of the yard when I saw them tussling, about six yards from my window—Mr. Hayter had come as far as the w. c.—he had not come through my house—he must have climbed over the fence—I was sitting on the sofa reading at the time Mrs. Kemp came through—when the prisoner came through I was looking through the window—I jumped up and went towards him—I could not say he was excited, he seemed very cool; he only asked where his wife was—he was excited to a certain extent—the two men were not more than two or three seconds with their hands on each other—the window was shut—I could not hear what passed; they were struggling—the old man seemed as though he was trying to get away from Kemp—Kemp had his back to me, and Hayter had his face towards me—Kemp held him with his left hand and hit him with his right.

WILLIAM CHICK . I am nine years old—I live with my mother at 28,

Tredholm Road—on this evening I was in the backyard feeding the fowls when Mr. Hayter fell over the fence, between 28 and 29, into our yard; he was trying to get over—I did not see him before he fell; the first I saw of him was on our side of the fence—he was then on the ground—he got up and came towards the w.c. down towards where I was—at that time I saw Mr. Kemp come from our back door with a poker in his hand—they had a struggle, and the prisoner struck Hayter on the side of the head with the poker; he had it in hit right hand—when a second blow was struck, Hayter said, "Oh, Will, let me live this day"—the prisoner struck him a third blow and he fell to the ground, and the prisoner then struck him another blow on the back of the head as he was lying face downwards—I then went into the house and spoke to my mother, and then I went for a constable, and fetched Taylor—I came back and saw him jump over the fence and seize the prisoner by the collar and wrench the poker from his hand—Hayter was still lying on the ground, moaning.

Cross-examined. The two men were struggling against the scullery window; about a yard or two away from it they shifted their position, going towards the garden—I was rather frightened at this—I did not hear anything said—it was not a long struggle—the prisoner was excited—he went into his own house before the constable came.

Re-examined. I was about a yard or two away from them at. the time they got to each other—Kemp looked angry.

ELIZABETH JANE RIVERS . I live at 27, Castledine Road, Anerley—on the night of 10th April, about quarter-past six, I was in my kitchen looking out of my back window which faces the garden of 28, Tredholm Road—I know the prisoner by sight, but not to speak to, and I know Hayter by sight—as I looked from my kitchen window I saw them struggling—the prisoner was holding Hayter's shoulders—I did not see them meet—they disappeared for a second up the passage—I then saw them come down the garden towards me—the prisoner was still holding Hayter—I saw the prisoner strike him—I could not see what it was with; it was a weapon—he struck him more than once then he fell, and after he fell the prisoner struck him several times when he was on the ground—my husband was in the house at the time; we were both sitting at tea—I went to the top of my garden and saw the prisoner and called to him—I said, "You brute, you have killed the man"—he made no answer, he went in doors—I went into the road and called for assistance, and shortly afterwards the constable came.

Cross-examined. When I first looked out I saw them struggling, then they disappeared for a second up the passage nearer to Mrs. Chick's back door—I did not take my eyes from the window—then they came down the garden and then I saw the poker used—the prisoner had hold of him the whole time.

GEORGE TAYLOR (359 P). I live at 27, Tredholm Road, next door to 28—about 6. 20 p. m., when I was off duty at home, the boy William Chick made a communication to me—I went through No. 29, and into the garden, and got over the fence into the garden of No. 28A, where I saw the injured man lying on his face on the ground, bleeding from several wounds on the head—the prisoner was standing over him with this poker in his hand—it was bent and bloodstained—the prisoner was in the act

of striking, when I closed with him—I took the poker away after a short struggle—he said, "I have killed him; he has been the cause of all this trouble"—I took that statement down at the time—shortly afterwards Dr. Dalton came and another constable—I took the prisoner to the station—on the way he said, "My mother told me fifty years ago I should come to this"—I was present at the station when he was charged with assaulting deceased—he answered, "He has been taking my wife about in trains and other places; my life has been a devil's life a long time"—he wit shortly afterwards charged with assaulting his wife.

Cross-examined. When so charged, he said, "You are the cause of all this trouble," and "She is glad that I am here"—I brought the prisoner out of his house—he did no damage there—the furniture and crockery were broken—I do not know who broke it—I do not remember saying before the Coroner: "The prisoner was standing over him with the bent and blood-stained poker (produced) in his hand, about to strike Hayter"—it should have been "in the act of striking"—I did not correct it, because I did not notice it.

WILLIAM JONES (91 P). I went to 29, Tredholm Road and saw, the prisoner in the custody of Taylor—I went into the garden and saw the deceased lying on his face bleeding very much from several wounds on the back of his head—I saw blood on the ground—I remained with him till the doctor came—then he was removed to the hospital.

WALTER PALLET (8 P). I took the prisoner to the Police-court on the morning of the 11th by train—on the way he said, "It was all caused through my wife. I went home about six o'clock and commenced tea; my wife said, 'I have mended your waistcoat,' and then ripped off the patch and threw it in my face. I then lost my temper and used the poker"—on the 10th I saw him in the cells, a few minutes before 9 p. m.—I said, "Are you all right, Kemp?"—he said "Yes," and then made a statement—I gave him no warning—I was in charge of the station till nine, and prior to going off duty I went round to see if everything was all right—I did not ask him to make a statement—he said, "On returning home from work she commenced going on to me as she did on Sunday, and has done for a long time, that is why I hit her, and I hit the old man because he is as bad as she is; he takes her part and gives her his brass"—the old man was independent, so far as I know.

Cross-examined. He had been lodging in the prisoner's house—nothing was said between "all right" and the statement—I took these notes of his statement at the time.

Re-examined. This is the original note—I took down the words as the prisoner spoke them.

JOHN HENRY GALTON , M. D. I live at 16, Silva Road, Upper Norwood—on 10th April I was called to 29, Tredholm Road, between 6 and 7 p. m.—the house was nearly empty, most of the things in the room being smashed—I went to the back and got over the fence which divides the backyards of 29 and 28—I saw the deceased lying on the ground unconscious—I directed him to be removed into No. 29, where he was placed on a sofa in the front parlour—his head had been bandaged up—I removed the bandages and examined his head—I found three wounds on the right side of his head extending down to the bone through the scalp, and at the posterior wound a depression of the bone—there was a fracture of the

skull at the base of each wound—in my opinion the three wounds were the result of three distinct blows—his right ear was severely lacerated and bruised—this poker (produced) would cause the injuries I saw—I remained with him for a quarter to half an hour—he became sensible; was spoken to, and made a reply—about 7. 30 I ordered his removal to the Cottage Hospital, Lower Norwood, and he was removed about that time.

Cross-examined. The wounds extended from the frontal to the occipital bone—I am not clear about the wounds being on the right side of the head—I have known the prisoner nearly twenty years—I have had repeated opportunities of seeing him under trouble; in 1876, from December 17th to 23rd; in 1878, from January 12th to 18th; in 1879, from September to December; in 1880, in August; in 1881, from March 7 th to 14th I attended the former Mrs. Kemp, who was subject to severe illnesses and attacks of hæmorrhage from the stomach, and I was greatly impressed with the kindness and attention of this rough man to his wife, whom he nursed, I might almost Bay, with devotion—his home was clean and well kept, and he was always a hard-working man—he was a labourer; latterly a road labourer employed by the Local Board—I cannot say when his first wife died, she was not then under my care—I have not known anything of his life since he married again.

JOHN BROCKWELL (M. D., M. R. C. S., L. R. C. P.). I live at 86, Gipsy Hill—on 10th April I examined the deceased at the Cottage Hospital, when he came in at eight o'clock—he was suffering from a lacerated wound over the right eyebrow, and the right eyelids were exceedingly bruised—there was another large wound a little behind the first, and a third wound on a level with the ear running upwards; these all reached to the bone—I could feel fractures of the skull beneath my finger—there were also two slight cuts on the top of the head, and a cut at the back of the head, and some slight bruises on the left hand—the injuries were the result of separate blows—they could have been inflicted by this poker—the bruises on the left hand, I think, were caused by struggling—he died nearly at midnight—I made a post-mortem examination on Wednesday, 12th—on removing the scalp there was a depressed fracture, larger than a five-shilling piece—the bone was broken into several pieces—the fracture was more or less circular, and then starred, as it were, into three or four pieces—I found another fracture extending from the ear upwards—from this fracture, I should say, I had taken several pieces of bone on the night of the attack, before he died—I found numerous and extensive clots of blood on the brain, notably two large ones, one on the right aide under the fracture, and another on the left side—very great violence must have been used to have caused those injuries—the fracture at the base of the skull was only found on removing the brain—the cause of death was effusion of blood from the violence of blows and shock.

Cross-examined. The fractures were traceable to the wounds on the right side of the head—the cuts on the back of the head might have been caused by falling—the height, about five feet, of a man falling would hot be sufficient to cause them—the cuts were by a blunt instrument—"cut" was used inadvertently; they were incisions by a blunt instrument—I speak confidently because I made a very careful examination—the

injury was far too great to be produced by the distance of a fall—I think so, irrespective of what he fell against.

GEORGE TAYLOR (Re-examined). The prisoner's wife was present before the Coroner—the Coroner's Jury found a verdict of manslaughter.

The prisoner received an excellent character.

GUILTY OF MANSLAUGHTER — Twenty Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Recorder.

501. ALBERT OSBORNE PLEADED GUILTY to committing an act of gross indecency with William Hudnall.

His brother stated that he was of weak intellect, and promised to look after him.—Discharged on Recognisances.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

502. JAMES COLEMAN (17), JAMES WILLIAMS (23), and WILLIAM TAYLOR (21) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of William Ridley, and stealing a cruet-stand and other articles, his property, to which

WILLIAMS and TAYLOR PLEADED GUILTY .

MR. PICKERSGILL Prosecuted.

THOMAS TAYLOR (Detective W). On April 24th, about 4. 40 a. m., I was in Brixton Road, and saw the three prisoners; Coleman was between the other two—I followed them about a quarter of a mile, and went up to Coleman and said, You look rather bulky, what have you got?"—he said, "Nothing; what is that to do with you?"—I pulled his coat aside, and saw a pair of field-glasses hanging round his neck—I said "What is this?"—he said, "My glasses"—I said, "I do not believe it"—the others ran away, and Coleman took a pair of new shoes out of his coat pocket, and a sugar basin, and said, "The others gave me these as well"—his coat sleeve was torn, and at the bottom of the lining I found this candle, which had been recently burnt, and in his coat pocket a quantity of loose matches and a box of safety matches—he was charged with unlawful possession, and subsequently with burglary—he made no reply. WILLIAM RIDLEY. I am a civil engineer, of Chester House, Streatham—on April 24th I was called about 6. 30—I went down directly and found the back door leading into the garden open, and a laundry room open, to which there are iron bars outside—I missed a small silver sugar basin, and these opera-glasses and tennis shoes; they are my property—I lost £22 worth of property, including what has not been found.

LOUISA OWEN . I am parlour-maid to Mr. Ridley—on April 23rd I went to bed at 10. 30—I was the last person up—I am sure the spare room window was closed—I do not know whether the catch was fastened—I found it wide open in the morning, the blinds rolled up and pinned, and the place in confusion—there are bars outside the window; they do not look wide enough for a person to get through.

HENRY SILVER (Police Inspector W.) Mr. Ridley called me, and I found the bars outside the spare-room window bent sufficient for the prisoner to squeeze himself through—the blinds were pinned back, not pulled up—the thief had gone into the pantry and strewed the plated goods about the floor—I found this cruet on the lawn, and footmarks of three distinct persons across the grounds, and also in another garden—it is

about two miles from Brixton Road to Mr. Ridley's; about hall an hour's walk.

Coleman's Defence. I was coming from Croydon and fell in with Taylor and Williams—they asked me if I would carry a parcel, and said they would give me 2s. when we got to Kennington Park—I carried it, and the policeman took me.

GUILTY.**—

COLEMAN then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at St. Mary Newington in December, 1892.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

WILLIAMS** also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Lambeth Police court on March 28th, 1892.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

TAYLOR —Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

503. SAMUEL NOSEADA (39) , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of £5 10a., with intent to defraud.

MR. ARMSTRONG Prosecuted.

THOMAS RUSKIN . I am landlord of the Prince of Wales, Battersea Park Road—I have cashed cheques for the prisoner from time to time—on 4th February he brought me this cheque, which is made payable to him—he endorsed it in my presence—the cheques I have cashed for the prisoner before were always Mr. Jenkins's cheques—I paid him the £6 5s., and passed the cheque through my bank—it was returned marked "Signature differs"—I went to the police about it, and saw Mr. Jenkins—I did not see the prisoner till he was charged.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. You always asked for pen and ink, and endorsed the cheques; and you endorsed this at my place—I know your writing.

THOMAS WILLIAM JENKINS . I am a bootmaker at 67, Lambeth Road—the prisoner was working for me about February—I was in the habit of paying him by cheque—the signature to this cheque is not mine; it is a good imitation; none of the writing on the cheque is mine—I keep my cheque-book sometimes in a drawer and sometimes in a trunk—I am told a person at my place has keys for my drawer and trunk, which I keep locked—I very seldom leave my room—this is the counterfoil of the cheque in my cheque-book—at this time I did not owe the prisoner £6 5s.; he was paid every Saturday—I am certain I did not give him this cheque.

Cross-examined. I did not authorise my housekeeper to give it to you or to make it out in that way—I never gave it to her—I have not had a housekeeper for six months—the signature to the cheque is not her writing.

JOHN THORLEY (Detective V). On 9th April I arrested the prisoner at 40, Granite Buildings, Lambeth—I told him the charge—he said, "There is somebody else in it as well as me, but I shall not say who"—I said, "You can please yourself about that."

Cross-examined. Your wife after the remand told me Mr. Jenkins's housekeeper gave it to you to pass—you did not tell me that.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I did not fill the cheque in; Mr. Jenkins's housekeeper has had part of the money as well as me.

The prisoner, in a written defence, stated that he gave the cheque to the landlord as the housekeeper gave it to him, and that she gave him 10s. for

cashing it; and that when he heard something was wrong he went and spoke about it to Jenkins, who said fie knew all about it, and that the woman was in it.

THOMAS WILLIAM JENKINS (Re-examined by the COURT). About six months ago I had a housekeeper—she often took things but I let her off—she would leave me for a time and then come back—she never forged, a cheque of mine—I gave her £5 once to take to the bank, and she paid in £3 instead of £5—she actually left my place about three weeks before Christmas—sometimes when I was sick she would make out my cheques; this is her writing—I always gave the prisoner cheques for wages myself not through my housekeeper, and generally wrote "please pay cash," that he might get it at the bank—when she has filled up cheques I have always signed them.

GUILTY of uttering .— Six Months' Hard Labour.

504. GEORGE BRAYFIELD (43) , Unlawfully and carnally knowing Harriet McMaster, a girl under 16.

MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. DRUMMOND Defended.

GUILTY .— Eight Months' Hard Labour.

505. GEORGE FRENCH (24) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of William Owen, and stealing boots and other articles. Second Count, Receiving.

MR. NELSON Prosecuted

WILLIAM OWEN . I am a clothier, of 35, Weston Road, Forest Hill on the night of February 10th my premises were securely fastened before I went to bed, and about three o'clock next morning I was called up by a police-constable, and found two of my shutters down—I entered my shop and missed boots, children's things, braces, and other goods of the value of £15 or £20—I identify these braces, book, flannels and coat as mine, and as stolen on that night—on 11th April I saw the prisoner walking along wearing this coat, and I followed him till I saw a constable—I recognised the coat by the pattern and by a private mark—the prisoner was asked how he became possessed of it, and he said he bought it off a rag and bone man in the Brockley Road—he was taken to the station and charged—afterwards the police searched his lodgings and brought in these other things, which I identified—at the station I identified the neckerchief he was wearing—the prisoner said he had bought it of me on a Saturday a few weeks before 10th February—that was after he had been told he was charged with a burglary on 10th February—I do not remember a sale to a person who tendered 7d. and left me an odd 1/2d. as I had not got 1/2d.—I have seen the prisoner in my shop before.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. I do not remember you buying the neckerchief for 61/2d., and giving me a sovereign, and my not being able to. give you the odd halfpenny change.

GEORGE SELBORNE (Constable). On 11th April the prosecutor called me to take the prisoner into custody—he said, "I know my coat by a private mark"—I said, "How?"—he said, "Underneath the flap"—I found the mark—the prisoner said he bought it off a barrow in the Brockley Road; the man wanted 2s. 6d., but he beat him down to 2s.—I asked him if he

would know the man again—he said, "No;" he was a perfect stranger to him—he was wearing at the station this neckerchief, which he alleged he had bought of the prosecutor.

FREDERICK JAMES NORMAN . I am a labourer, living at 74, Dalmaine Road, Forest Hill—the prisoner has been our lodger for ten weeks—on 11th February, this year, my wife was confined, and on that day, between seven and eight, I bought a pair of shoes from the prisoner for 1s.—on the 12th he gave me a flannel and some braces, and they were put in the basket and perambulator in the kitchen—he said, "You can have those; don't you take no notice of me"—these are the shoes—I do not identify my other articles—he did not mention where he got them from, and I lid not ask him.

PHOEBE NORMAN . I am the wife of the last witness—on the 11th February I was confined—on the night of the 10th February I heard the prisoner, who occupied a room above mine, arrive home, after twelve I think—I could not swear if it was after one, it was a little later than usual—he used to come in about twelve, or a little after, sometimes before.

The prisoner, in his defence, said that the things were his own "property.

GUILTY*† — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

506. JANE HARTWELL SMITH (62), FLORENCE SMITH (23), ALICE CHAPLIN, SIDNEY HERBERT SMITH (62), and FRANK SMITH (30), Unlawfully conspiring by false pretences to obtain, and obtaining, from various persons money and goods, with intent to defraud.

MR. BODKIN and MR. OUT STEPHENSON Prosecuted; MR. VALLADARIS Defended Florence Smith; MR. R. F. GLBSON Defended Alice Chaplin; and MR. WARBURTON Defended Frank Smith.

During the evidence of the first witness the prisoners stated in the hearing of the JURY that they PLEADED GUILTY to conspiracy, and the JURY thereupon found them

GUILTY of Conspiracy.

SIDNEY HERBERT SMITH**— Two Years' Hard Labour.

JANE SMITH*— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

FRANK SMITH*— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour .

FLORENCE SMITH— Eight Months' Hard Labour; and ALICE CHAPLIN— Ten Months' Hard Labour.

507. STEPHEN WITCHER, Feloniously wounding William Moore, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. ROOTH Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.

After the case had been opened, the prisoner, in the hearing of the JURY, stated that he

PLEADED GUILTY to unlawful wounding, and the JURY there upon found him

GUILTY of Unlawful Wounding.

The prisoner received a good character, and his employer stated that he was willing to keep him in his employment, and to enter into recognisances to bring him up for judgment if called on. Discharged on recognisances.

ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MAY 29TH, 1893.