Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 6.0, 19 September 2014), June 1894 (t18940625).

Old Bailey Proceedings, 25th June 1894.

CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT

Sessions Paper.

TYLER, MAYOR.

NINTH SESSION, HELD JUNE 25TH, 1894.

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.

LONDON:

STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,

Law Booksellers and Publishers.

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, June 25th, 1894, and following days.

BEFORE the RIGHT HON. GEORGE ROBERT TYLER, 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 WHITEHEAD , Bart., M.P., and Sir STUART KNILL , Bart, Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., Col. Sir WALTER WILKIN , Knt., Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., JOHN POUND , Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., and 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.

JOHN VOCE MOORE, Esq., Alderman.

JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Esq., Alderman.

Sheriffs.

THOMAS BEARD , Esq., C.C.

CLARENCE R. HALSE, Esq.

Under-Sheriffs.

CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.

TYLER, MAYOR. NINTH 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, June 25th, 1894.

Before Mr. Recorder.

530. CHARLES RAYBOURNE (68) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for feloniously forging and uttering orders for the payment of £4 10s., £9 10s.; also to unlawfully obtaining a cheque-book for fifty cheques by false pretences, and to a conviction at this Court on 12th September, 1881, in the name of Richard Arthur Carden, when he was sentenced to fifteen years' penal servitude. Other convictions were proved against him.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, in addition to the unexpired sentence.

531. FREDERICK WILLIAM COTTLE (21) , to two indictments for stealing, while employed in the Post Office, post letters containing postal orders, the property of the Postmaster-General.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

532. HENRY JOHN GROSS (35) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a post letter containing postal orders, the property of the Postmaster-General.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

533. CHARLES WILLIAM RAWLIN (33) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, post letter containing postal orders and postage stamps, the property of the Postmaster-General.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

534. FRANCIS JOSEPH HURREN (21) , to two indictments for stealing, while employed in the Post Office, post letters containing postal orders. The prisoner's father gave him a good character, and said that, at the expiration of his sentence, he and his wife would be sent to New Zealand.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Ten Months' Hard Labour.

535. FREDERICK THOMAS SMITH , to two indictments for stealing, while employed in the Post Office, letters containing postal orders, the property of the Postmaster-General. A London City Missionary deposed to the prisoner's good character.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And

(536) GEORGE ANDERSON (62) , to stealing a tame goose, the property of Nathan Bell. There were two other indictments against the prisoner for stealing geese. WARDER TURRELL stated that the prisoner was a professional dog stealer, and had been convicted three times of dog stealing.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eight Months' Hard Labour.

537. WILLIAM TAYLOR and JOHN LAYTON (18) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Francis Joseph Buttgenbach, with intent to steal.

MR. HODGSON Prosecuted.

THOMAS EDWIN JENNINGS . I am manager at the Crown Hotel, Charing Cross Road; I sleep on the premises—at midnight on 19th-20th May the house was closed, and I was sitting in the saloon bar when I heard a noise, and walked round and passed under the flap and saw Taylor crawling on his hands and knees—I said, "What are you doing there?"—he made no reply—I said, "Wait a minute," and I came back and turned on the electric light, and opened the saloon bar door—Taylor opened the middle bar door and we were both in the street together—two policemen came down the road; I told them a man was inside—as soon as I said that Taylor rushed down the road, and the policemen followed him—I subsequently went to Vine Street Station and charged the two prisoners—I missed nothing from the house—Taylor got out by pulling down the bolt of the door—he had got in through the fanlight, which I found open—it had been fastened before; it was broken, and I noticed dust had been removed from it, and there was scratching as of boots on the mahogany, both outside and inside—I could see Taylor as he was going out by the reflection from the street lamp, and by the gas burning at the back of the saloon bar—I have not the slightest doubt he is the man I saw crawling along.

Cross-examined by Taylor. I was in the saloon bar after the house was closed for about half an hour, I should say—the potman, who sleeps on the premises, closed the house—it did not take me a minute to come from the saloon bar to the policeman at the door.

Cross-examined by Layton. I only saw you when the policeman brought you back; not before.

FREDERICK COOKE (149 C). On Saturday night, 19th May, I was on duty in the Charing Cross Road—I saw the prisoners about midway between Newport Street and Lichfield Street, some little distance from the Crown Hotel—I saw them walk down the Charing Cross Road, and go to the doorway of the Crown, and apparently try the door—I called the attention of another constable who was with me—a third constable came round—the prisoners walked up Little Newport Street, met the constable, and went into Newport Market—they stood for a few minutes in conversation—I had left the other constable, and ran up Newport Court—another constable came round on his beat, and the prisoners walked past me, and went down Newport Street into Charing Cross Road—I directed the other constable to follow on while I went down Newport Street—when I got into Charing Cross Road I saw Layton standing outside the Crown—I directed 193 C to take him into custody—at that time Jennings opened the private bar door, and called to me, "Come on, policeman; there is a man in the bar"—I saw Taylor rush out of the centre door of the Crown—I tried to catch him; he ducked his head, and ran a little way, but I caught him—I never lost sight of him—he said when I caught him, "All right, governor, you have made a great mistake; I will show you up for this on Monday morning"—when charged at the station he said, "This is a mistake"—Layton was with Taylor all the while—I had been following and watching Taylor about twenty minutes—I have no doubt he is the man.

Cross-examined by Taylor. I cannot say what you did in the door of the Crown; you went there—I met the other constable in the Charing Cross Road—you met him before I did—I told him I suspected you—I could not see you in the Crown, it was dark; I saw you run out—I did not see you get in—I caught you at the inside corner of St. Martin's Court—I never lost sight of you when I ran after you.

ALBERT ASH (312 C). On this morning I was in Charing Cross Road when Cooke spoke to me—I saw the prisoners walk to the Crown Hotel, and go into the doorway—when the man on the beat came round they moved away up Little Newport Street—five or eight minutes afterwards I saw them go in front of the Crown Hotel—I was in a doorway in Great Newport Street—I saw them stop and turn round as if to see if anyone was about—I got into the doorway again, and, on looking round, I suddenly missed Taylor—I stood there a few seconds, when I saw the hotel light suddenly turned up—I ran across the road—the manager came out, and so did Taylor—I ran after him, and caught him in St. Martin's Court—I did not lose sight of him the whole time—I was not three yards behind him from the time he left the house till he was caught.

Cross-examined by Taylor. Great Newport Street is opposite the Crown—I did not see you enter the house; I could not see all you did from where I was in the doorway—when you came out of the door you ducked and passed me and ran down Charing Cross Road—you were caught in the centre of St. Martin's Court.

EDWARD HINTON (193 C). On this night I was on duty in Newport Market, and saw the prisoners there—Cooke told me something, and I watched them—they went down Newport Court into Charing Cross Road, and turned to the right towards the Crown—I followed—I saw Layton standing outside the Crown, and I saw Taylor run out of the centre door—the last witness chased him through the court—I arrested Layton at the corner of St. Martin's Court—he said, "All right, governor, I belong to the public-house; I am the potman"—I took him to Cooke, who identified him as the other man—I am certain he was the man who was with Taylor—I took him back to the public-house, and inquired whether he was the potman.

Cross-examined by Layton. You were standing outside the Crown as I advanced towards it—I was five yards from you—there was a lamp close by—I remember seeing you in Newport Street as well—you went about ten yards before I arrested you—I did not lose sight of you.

ROBERT HORNSBY (Police Inspector). I inspected the Crown, and found the fanlight over the door open—there were marks on the outside of the door that might have been made by the toes of a man's boots climbing up the door and through the fanlight, and the dust had been swept away by a man's body passing through—there were marks inside and outside.

Cross-examined by Taylor. The latch of the fanlight was broken—I found no tools—an ordinary pair of boots would make these marks.

Taylor, in his defence, stated that he was on his way home, that he got into a quarrel with foreigners in Leicester Square, and had his head cut, and that he started to run, and was seized by the police.

GUILTY .—Taylor then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in July, 1892, and Layton to a conviction of felony in October, 1893. Four other convictions were proved against Taylor, and four against Layton TAYLOR— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. LAYTON— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

538. FREDERICK LONSDALE (34), WALTER LAURENCE (22), and WALTER DRISCOLL (23) , Stealing in the dwelling-house of Alfred Dunkley two bottles, and afterwards burglariously breaking out of the said dwelling-house.

MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended Driscoll.

ALFRED DUNKLEY . I live at 3, Sandon Street, Bedford Row—I am a caretaker—on 23rd May I went into the Tiger public-house at the corner of Devizes Street and Amesbury Street as caretaker—I resided there up to the 26th of May—about twenty minutes past twelve that evening I went out, leaving the house perfectly safe; there was only one door to the house, and I had the key—there was a window in the kitchen at the back which had a broken glass, and the framework was also broken—a box was put against it to keep anyone from getting in—I returned in twenty minutes or half an hour, and saw four men standing at the corner of Devizes Street and Amesbury Street—I do not identify them—one man remained at the corner of Devizes Street—the other three went up the street; they returned and went up Devizes Street—I then heard a breaking of glass, and the three men came down from Devizes Street—I was standing on a wall at the corner—I could not see inside the house from there—I had left two bottles in the house, one in the bar and one in the tap-room—there were two lights in the bar; I saw them extinguished, and went away to get assistance—I spoke to a constable, and when I got back I missed the two bottles—I afterwards saw them at the station.

THOMAS CLARK (410 G). Early in the morning of 26th May I was on duty in Amesbury Street, Hoxton—about two o'clock I saw the three prisoners in company with another man not in custody standing inside the bar of the Tiger public-house—I met Dunkley, and sent him for assistance—the gas was burning in the house when I first saw the men but it was afterwards extinguished—I secreted myself in the doorway of a shop, but before assistance arrived the four men came out of the house—I caught Lonsdale and Laurence on the spot; the other two escaped—I saw Driscoll drop a clock on the footway—I took Londsdale and Laurence to the station with assistance—I searched Lonsdale, and found these two bottles in the leg of his trousers; he has lost one leg and walks with a crutch—one bottle was nearly empty; I should say they had contained cordials—on Laurence I found a glass and a piece of candle—I was about fifteen yards off when I first saw the men in the public-house—when I got closer I could not see inside—I saw Driscoll when he dropped the clock; I was close to him then; he was running away—I ought to say he has a brother very much like him.

Cross-examined by Lonsdale. Laurence was not sober; you had all been drinking; you had been in the house about ten minutes—I found this key at your lodging; it does not fit any door at the public-house—it has been filed—you were the last man that came out; I saw you come out—I swear I saw you inside.

Cross-examined by Laurence. You were close to the house when I

apprehended you—you came a step or two forward; you did not ask what was the matter.

THOMAS JOHNS (407 G). On the early morning of the 25th of May I heard a whistle, and went to the Tiger public-house; I found Clark there—he had hold of Lonsdale, and Laurence stood about a yard or so from him—Clark called to me, "Take hold of that man," which I did, and took him to the station—I found on him a piece of candle, a box of silent matches, two keys, and a glass.

Cross-examined by Laurence. The keys are ordinary box keys.

WILLIAM SPARLING (433 G). I took Driscoll into custody on 26th May in the street by Rosemary Branch Bridge—I took him to the station—he was charged with the others, and Clark identified him.

The prisoners, in their defence, stated that they had been at a music-hall, and at several public-houses, and had got very drunk, and that in passing the public-house two men came out and gave them the two bottles, but they denied having entered the house.

GUILTY .—Lonsdale then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at Clerkenwell Police-court on 19th October, 1893, in the name of Patrick Moncrief; and another conviction was proved against him on 12th May, 1893,in the name of Frederick Hastings.—DRISCOLL— NOT GUILTY . LONSDALE— Nine Months' Hard Labour. LAURENCE— Six Months' Hard Labour.

NEW COURT.—Monday, June 25th, 1894.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

539. GEORGE MARKS (45) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin. The prisoner having stated in the hearing of the JURY that he was guilty, they found that verdict . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of a like offence in the name of Alfred Roberts on February 9th, 1892.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And

(540) JOHN WILLIAM BOWRA** (28) , to embezzling 18s., the money of Henry Thomas Jobbins.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour.

541. ROBERT COVE (32) , Unlawfully having counterfeit coin in his possession, with intent to utter it.

MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.

----WHITE (Police Inspector Y). On June 14th about eleven a.m., I was with another officer in Kentish Town Road, and saw the prisoner—I went up to him and said, "Cove, I am going to take you in custody on suspicion of uttering counterfeit coin"—he put his hand in his coat pocket and then put out his leg, and we all fell together—he struggled very much, but we got him up, and were taking him to the station when he threw away this packet of half-crowns wrapped in tissue paper—it contained twenty-eight half-crowns—I told him so—he made no answer—Ellen Dunbar and George William Briggs made communications to me.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were standing at the Farm House, and called me and walked with me—you did not make a slip when we fell—it was not accidental—I said nothing about taking you in charge for burglary.

GEORGE WILLIAM BRIGGS . I am a tram conductor—the prisoner was a passenger by my tram on June 12th—when I collected his fare he gave me what was supposed to be a half-crown—it felt rather greasy and rough—I said, "This will not do me, this is not a half-crown; I shall have to account for it"—he said, "You are mighty particular, I should be satisfied if you were giving it to me: I have nothing more," snatched it from my hand and ran away—I gave his description at the station, and afterwards picked him out from twelve others at Marylebone Policestation.

ELLEN DUNBAR . I am assistant to Frederick Collins, a stationer, of 17, High Street—on 13th June I served the prisoner with some envelopes, price 2d.—he tendered a half-crown—I asked if he had any smaller change—he said, "I think so," and then the shop boy came in, and went out again—the prisoner then said, "If you have sent for a policeman, I will go and fetch one"—he went out, but did not return—I afterwards picked him out from a number of others at Marylebone.

Cross-examined. It was about nine p.m.—I was just turning the gas out, and closing—you did not give me any other money—you left the notepaper.

----GRANT (Policeman). I was called, and received a description and this coin.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—here are twenty-eight counterfeit coins; the one uttered is bad, and eleven of the others are from the same mould—the other seventeen are from two different moulds.

The prisoner called

WILLIAM EDWARD ALLEN . I am a bricklayer's labourer, of 12, Fortis Grove—on June 14th I was with the prisoner and another man at the Farm House public-house, Kentish Town, just before eleven o'clock—a man came up and beckoned the prisoner on one side, and handed a brownpaper parcel to him; he went away in two or three minutes, and a few minutes afterwards two gentlemen came up and took the prisoner across the road; there was a scramble and they fell down.

Cross-examined. The man was something like the prisoner—I was close by when Dutton spoke to the prisoner—the policeman was in plain clothes, and I did not know he was a policeman.

MATILDA BENGALLATT . I am single, and live at 5, Milton Grove, Holloway—I have lived with the prisoner at 40, Langham Road, Upper Holloway—on Sunday, 10th June, we were at home, and the prisoner complained of a violent cold in his loins, and went to bed about seven o'clock, I think, but I had no clock—he did not go out again till the Wednesday evening—that is about two miles from High Street, Camden Town; it would take half an hour to get there—his brother-in-law came to the house that night; they went out together, and I followed them to a public-house—they came back together about 8.30 or nine, and we did not go out again that night—next morning about 10.40 I left the house with 2s. 6d. or 2s. and something; I had nothing else whatever.

Cross-examined. I did not go to the Police-court when he was charged—he was in bed till the Wednesday evening.

The prisoner, in his defence, stated that a well-known coiner gave him the things to hold while he went to pawn a gold ring, and gave him 1s.

when he came back, and he then borrowed 2s. 6d. of him, and that the man was very much like him (the prisoner), only not pock-marked, and had done this to get him into trouble because he was said to be a spy of the police.

GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on May 2nd, 1892, of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin, and several other convictions were proved against him.—Three Years' Penal Servitude.

542. DENIS O'BRIEN (24) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.

JAMES TEPPER . I am manager of the British Prince, Bromley Street, Stepney—on May 19th, about eleven a.m., I served the prisoner with a pennyworth of ale and a pennyworth of tobacco—he gave me a half-crown—I put it in the till where there was no other half-crown, and gave him the change—he drank the beer and went out—I went to the till half an hour afterwards; no other half-crown had been put in, only 1s.—I took the half-crown out; it seemed greasy—I bent it in the tester and threw it in the dusthole—the prisoner came again the next Saturday, the 26th, about 11.30 a.m., for a pennyworth of ale and a pennyworth of tobacco, and gave me this coin—I tried it between the counter and a drawer, and said, "Do you know this coin is bad?"—he said, "No; I have got another," pulling out a good one—I jumped over the counter, sent for a policeman, and charged him with the two utterings—this is the coin.

ALFRED WOODROUGH (286 H). On 26th May I was called to the British Prince, and found the prisoner detained—Mr. Tepper said he had given him a bad half-crown, and had also passed one on the 19th—the prisoner heard that but said nothing—I took him to the station and found on him a good half-crown and a halfpenny—he said he had no home.

Cross-examined. You said you had lived at Manchester, but you had no home.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This half-crown is counterfeit.

The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he won the half-crown by gambling.

GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court on January 10th, 1887, of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin in the name of Michael Sheen.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, June 26th, 1894.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

543. SAMUEL SEYMOUR (32), WILLIAM BOLEYN (23), and ANNIE BOLEYN (22) , Feloniously having a mould for coining, William Boleyn having been before convicted, to which WILLIAM BOLEYN PLEADED GUILTY .

MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.

ALFRED NICHOLS (Detective Sergeant E). In consequence of instructions I kept observation with other officers on 23, Johnson Street, and on June 2nd I was with Tremlett in view of the house from 9.30 to 11.30 a.m.—Tremlett left me, and went to the front door of the house, and then to the corner of the street—the two male prisoners then came

out, and went through several streets to St. Pancras Road, where they jumped on a tram—we followed the tram to Clerkenwell Green—they went into the Welsh Harp; I remained outside; Tremlett went in—they then went to Elm Street, and stopped suddenly—we went up to them, and I said to Boleyn, "Stephens, what are you doing here?"—he said, "Waiting for a tram"—I said, "Where do you work?"—he said, "Covent Garden; I am a porter"—I said, "I have reason to believe you have counterfeit coin," and searched him, and in a purse I found a half-crown and two florins, all good—one florin had evidently been in plaster of Paris, and I called his attention to it—I saw Tremlett search Taylor, and take a packet of metal from him, such as coiners use—they were taken to the station—we went to 23, Johnson Street; the door was open, but the front parlour door was locked; we forced it open, and as we did so Annie Boleyn and another woman came in—she said, "What are you doing in my room?"—I said, "I want you; I have reason to believe you are in possession of implements for making coin"—she said, "You have come about two hours too soon; you can't touch the old man, because he is not here"—I said, "The two men are in custody"—she became very violent, but two officers with us secured her—we opened the oven door, and I saw two moulds in it—she then put something in her mouth; two constables tried to prevent her swallowing it, but she bit their hands and swallowed it—we searched further, and found four rimmers, a file, some metal in a pot, a piece of glass, a polishing board and burnisher, two bottles of acid, some plaster of Paris, knives, and on the table a tablecloth with wet plaster of Paris on it—we took the prisoners to the station and they were charged, but made no reply—the impression on the mould corresponds with the florin found with the plaster on it.

Annie Boleyn. I have been married seven years; I have a child six years old. (Producing her marriage certificate in the name of Stephens).

SIDNEY TREMLETT (Detective E). I was with Nichols—I arrested Seymour, and told him I suspected him of having counterfeit coin in his possession, and he would have to come across the road and be searched—he said, "I have-got nothing on me"—in his left jacket pocket I found this metal, and said, "How do you account for this?"—he said, "This is what I make rings with"—I searched the house with Nichols, and found the moulds in the oven and the other articles—Annie Boleyn said at the station, "All the things belong to me; I am not going to let my old man go away; if you had come two hours later you would have found a pile this high."

BENJAMIN KITCHEN (49 G). On the morning of June 4th I was on duty at the station where the prisoners were confined, and was opening the doors to allow the prisoners to come out to wash—Annie Boleyn had to pass the door of the cell where Boleyn was locked up, and on passing it she threw a roll of paper through the fanlight, doing up her hair at the same time—I asked what she had got in her hand—she said, "Only a hair-pin," but she had the paper in her other hand. Read. "Dear Pol,—Try and remember what is in this note, and read it before you go to Holloway. Not a word to Sam. Don't make any mistake, or I shall get seven or ten.—Yours truly, W. BOLEYN." "Dear Pol,—If I were you when we get committed for trial, you ask to

see Mr. Wheatley, and tell him I was not living with you. If he asks you how you get your living, tell him you gave me a little money every time you saw me." The letter then asked her to make a number of statements which would assist him, and added, "Not a word to Sam." Three other letters asked William Boleyn to make a number of statements.

JAMES BROWN . I am agent to John Cooper, the landlord of 23, Johnson Street, Somers Town—on February 17th I let the front parlour at Churchway to prisoner and Mary Stephens, the two Boleyns—they lived there as man and wife from July 19th last year, and then I let them this room in Johnson Street—I frequently visited the house to collect the rent—they sometimes could pay and sometimes could not—I have seen all the prisoners there—I understood that Seymour's name was Fraser—I have seen him a dozen times—I saw them all three in the room on May 31st, and I once saw Seymour in the room when the Boleyns were out in the back yard.

ANNIE HEAL . I have lived at 23, Johnson Street, with my husband since December—William and Annie Boleyn lived in the house as Mr. and Mrs. Stephens—I have seen Seymour go in and out daily recently, generally by himself; but I have seen him go out with Mr. Stephens.

By the JURY. I have seen Seymour go out at twelve o'clock and return in the afternoon—I have seen him come in and go out again in two or three hours, and they would come back between five and six—he would be two or three hours in the house.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's. Mint—one of these moulds is for half-crowns and one for florins—this good half-crown and florin correspond with the moulds, and appear to have been in plaster—all the things produced are the stock of a professional coiner—this metal is alloy to mix with pewter to make the coins ring.

The COMMON SERJEANT considered that there was no evidence of any action of Annie Boleyn independent of her husband.

NOT GUILTY .

Seymour, in his defence, stated that he knew William Boleyn as a fellow porter in Covent Garden Market, who asked him to put the packet of metal in his pocket as it was larger than his pocket, and then they rode on a tram, and a policeman searched him and found it.

SEYMOUR— GUILTY **†.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. WILLIAM BOLEYN**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.

544. ALFRED FENTON (23) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.

ELIZABETH HIGGINS . I am barmaid at the Falcon, Falcon Square—on May 31st, after three o'clock, I served the prisoner with half a pint of ale and a pennyworth of tobacco—he gave me a 4s. piece—I saw it was bad, and handed it to the landlord, who broke it in half with a pair of pincers, and asked the prisoner where he got it—he said, "In Blackfriars," and paid with good money.

ROBERT SAMUEL CHAPMAN . I keep the Falcon—on May 31st the last witness brought me a double florin—I broke it in two with a pair of pincers—the prisoner took one piece, and I kept the other—I asked him where he got it—he said, "At the Elephant and Castle," and paid with good coin.

CHARLES PIPE . I am barman to Mr. Chapman—I followed the prisoner

to the corner of Newgate Street, and saw him throw something white over into a garden in Little Britain—I followed him and gave him in charge, and afterwards pointed out the spot to a detective.

GEORGE BOLLACK (233, City). On May 31st Pipe pointed out the prisoner to me in Newgate Street—I told him he would have to come to the station with me—he said, "What for?"—I said, "You will be charged with uttering counterfeit coin"—he said, "All right"—I took him to the station, and found a halfpenny on him and three screws of tobacco; two nearly empty and one nearly full—this piece of coin was brought to the station.

FRANK HALLAM (City Detective). On the afternoon of May 31st I went to the public garden in Little Britain, and found this piece of a coin, which corresponds with the other half.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This double florin is counterfeit.

The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he got the coin at the Elephant and Castle in change for a half-sovereign, two days before, and that Mr. Chapman ought to have inquired there.

NOT GUILTY .

544a. BENJAMIN THOMAS GOSLING (78) and RICHARD HALL , Unlawfully obtaining £10 from Charles Alwyn Staal by false pretences.Other Counts for obtaining other sums from other persons.

MR. BODILLY Prosecuted; MR. OVEREND appeared for Gosling, and MR. THOMPSON for Hall.

CHARLES ALWYN STAAL . I am an accountant, of 1, Mitre Court, Temple—I entered into partnership with the prisoner Gosling there on May 1st, through answering an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph—I contributed £60; I paid £40 for office furniture and goodwill—the money was to be drawn out by cheque, signed by both—no business was carried on, never a penny came in—I was there every day—he said it was a good business—I am a foreigner—after I had been in partnership with him some days, he suggested lending the money which I had paid into the bank, and on May 10th showed me this advertisement in a paper of a person wanting immediately £10 for a week—Hall called next day and presented a card, which was handed to me—I said, "Is your name H. Hall?"—he said, "I could not write to you in my own name, it would affect my credit"—he asked for the money for a fortnight—I said, "You only advertised for a week"—he said, "Well, in a fortnight I shall be sure to be paid"—he produced eight pawntickets for jewellery—Gosling was there all the time, but nothing was said between him and Hall—Gosling can hear perfectly well; I never had any difficulty in making him hear—Hall said he would give £13 for the loan—Gosling said, "Are these good securities?"—I said "Yes"—they represent about £33—a bill was drawn up for £13 for eleven days, and I drew a cheque for £10, which Gosling and I signed; it was given to Hall and returned paid—the bill was put in the cash-box; I had no key—Gosling and the housekeeper and the clerk had keys of the office—on the evening of the 22nd, Gosling put the cash-box in a drawer, and I left before him—on the 23rd I arrived at the office at 10.45, and Gosling got up to look for the cash-box; he opened the drawer and said, "The cash-box has gone"—he called the clerk, who said he knew nothing about it—I said, "This is

very awkward, because there are pawn-tickets in it, and I must try to stop the tickets"—he said, "No, I must go and try to find Hall"—he went away and came back in the evening, and said he had found him at a shop with the name over the door, but he was not in—he had left a card saying he would call next morning—next morning Hall came to the office, and we asked him to give us the particulars of the pawntickets—he said he could not—there was no recognition between them—on the 25th he came again, and gave me this list of pawntickets (For a watch, a pin, Albert chain, a gold keyless watch, and a diamond ring), and said those were all the particulars he could give, and he expected us to make the loss good, and that the goods represented £60, but he had had a good week, and would pay £13—we said, "No," and he said he would take £10—as soon as Hall got out of the office, Gosling said to me, "We get off cheap now; I expected it would be much more"—I said, "I don't think so; you would take £8 rather than nothing"—I said, "Can you find the money by dinner-time?"—he said, "I can find £3 10s." and when I came back from lunch he said he could find £4, and took it out of his pocket—he did not say who Mr. Leader was—I subsequently, with Sergeant Bryan, found this cheque-book in a drawer in our office—it is in Gosling's writing—I did not notice at the time he brought in the cheque that it was in his own writing—this is another of May 25th—I refused to pay any more, and said I was going away, and as I was in the office, Hall came in and was arrested—this is a pawnticket for a diamond ring for £3—to the best of my belief, it is one of the pawn-tickets left with us.

Cross-examined by MR. OVEREND. I held myself personally responsible, because they gave me very good references—my share of the business included the goodwill and the furniture—I preferred to have the man in custody before I gave notice to retire—no business at all has been done—we were accountants and general agents—I went into partnership on May 1st, and this occurred on May 11th—between those dates there were four business transactions of the same shady kind—I never heard that a project for decorating the Queen's Theatre was brought into our office—Gosling said he had no money because he had been ill—in one case we received back principal and interest—on 3rd May Gosling took me to Mrs. Richardson, of 14, Penton Street, Camberwell—he said she was an old client of his, and she wanted £17 advanced on her furniture—we took an inventory of it, and she was to give a bill of sale, and pay it back in a few days—we lent her £17, and since Gosling had been arrested I have got £15 back—it suited me to take £10—the next piece of business was a particular friend of Gosling's, in fact one of the gang; he wanted £10, and I lent it to him on two share certificates, which are not worth the paper they are written on—the money has not been repaid—Chapple signed an acceptance for £11 for a month—I have not got it; it disappeared with the cash-box—I cannot find the man anywhere—the prisoners got no portion of that amount—the £60 was put into the bank for the sole benefit of Gosling and myself, and the introduction was made by the bank manager—I know that Chapple has banked there thirty years—he was hanging about Gosling's office, and he came to my office and looked round—there was a case of soiling a surgeon's business, but never a penny of profit came in—I never heard of Mr. Dudley in reference to the Queen's Theatre—I do not know

that business negotiations were being carried on during the slight time I was negotiating with Gosling—several people came to the office, but Gosling took them to a public-house—the clerk had the back office—Gosling saw the persons I spoke of who came—I generally wrote the few letters there were—I wrote the letter to Whittaker at his direction—Hall came in reply to our asking him to call, and Gosling suggested that he should go into the clerk's room while we discussed the matter—the goods were pledged for £23 12s., and Hall said they were worth £60—when I went there the day before the bill was due, the clerk may have been in the back office—we had the housekeeper up, who said that the clerk was the first person to come—every evening after I entered into partnership with Gosling, it was his practice to put the securities he had in the cash-box, which he put into the open drawer of the bookcase, unlocked—he did not tender me the money that he and I had advanced; the person could not find him, and he came on Friday—when the robbery took place there was a conversation between Hall and me about the cash-box—he came on the Thursday—I wanted to go and trace the pawn-tickets, but Gosling said, "Don't be in a hurry, go to the police"—Hall came twice; he did not offer me the amount of the bill, or say that he had brought it and wanted his pawn-tickets—after Hall left I said to Gosling, "Now can you find half the money?"—I altered my mind, because I thought it was a shady transaction made up between them—I took legal advice, and did not see Gosling afterwards—I did not try to cash the cheque—it was on a Newmarket bank—I saw "£4" on it—he did not tell me it was simply filled up to show me, a literary person, how to draw a cheque—I did not put it in my pocket—it was drawn in Gosling's favour—the first time I saw it was not when the detectives searched the office—a summons was taken out first, and it was altered to a warrant, because I saw that they were a very shady lot, and if I did not take criminal proceedings I should get nothing, and the people at the Court said that I must have him arrested—I know that he was arrested when ho simply went to the police office to make inquiries about the missing goods.

Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. Hall gave me a card, "H. Hall, jeweller and watch maker, Isley Street"—that is the address I went to, and saw a woman who said she was his daughter—I went there to see what sort of a shop it was—I did not go to say that I had lost his pawntickets, and to make arrangements about them—I said nothing to her about the loss of the tickets—I called a second time to see whether he lived there as well as carried on his business, and saw the same woman again—he did not live there, but his daughter did—I said nothing about the pawntickets—I was not told that Mr. Hall was in Birmingham—I have not had much experience in London—I only came here three years ago—I had these pawntickets in my hands for half an hour or an hour on May 11th—Hall brought a list of them with him; he was there about half an hour—I gave him this money, and he gave me a promissory note—he did not call twice at our office after May 10th; he only came when he was asked, after the cash-box disappeared—he was there three times—I did not leave word with his daughter for him to call at my place, but he came at 11 o'clock, and told me that his bill did not come due till next day—I informed him of the loss of the pawn-tickets, and asked if he would give me particulars of

them; I did not suspect him at that time—he never made any tender to me—he said on the 24th that he was prepared to pay me, and asked me to have the bill ready, and on the 25th he called, and I told him the tickets had been lost—they were for two rings, and several watches; the whole particulars are on a paper which I have looked at to-day; I know there is "Diamond ring, £3," on it, and another ring, and an albert chain, and a locket—I should not be surprised to hear that there is only one ring down—all I know this ticket by is that it says "Diamond ring, £3"—nobody has tampered with the" £3"—I do not know the pawnbroker's name—I did not receive a letter from Hall and Scott, solicitors, of 3, Warwick Court, Holborn but one was found in Gosling's bag addressed to my firm—it was not brought under my notice till the prisoner was in custody—this is it: "May 26th.—Dear Sir,—We are instructed by Mr. Richard Hall to apply to you for the articles mentioned below, or payment of £30 for detention.—HALL, HALL AND SCOTT" then follows a list of the property—that was written the day after the bill came due—I can see very well with my glasses—I complain that Hall was in league with Gosling—people advertise in different names.

Re-examined. I know nothing of the alteration of "Diamond ring, £3"—Hall came on the 25th, after I had lost the tickets; he did not tender any money—no accountant's business was done, only some money-lending transactions—people came from all parts, and asked for Gosling, but he never brought under my notice any business he had with them.

SARAH FOSTER . I am the wife of Henry John Foster, of 73, Great Ormond Street—I received letters for a Mr. Whittaker, who came there for them—it was neither of the prisoners.

Cross-examined by MR. OVEREND. I know nothing about the letter to Mr. Staal, or about any letters in reference to advertisements in the Daily Telegraph—several letters came for Mr. Whittaker—I did not deliver them to anybody unless they brought his card.

Re-examined. All the letters I received for Mr. Whittaker I delivered to himself.

Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. I saw him about a dozen times, but I did not know him; he might have been anybody.

CHARLES BRYAN (City Detective Sergeant). On May 29th I saw Gosling at Brighton Police-station—he came there to see me respecting the stolen cash-box—I said, "You have come at a most inconvenient time for yourself"—he said, "How is that?"—I said, "A warrant has been issued for your arrest"—he said, "Mr. Staal is my partner, and I shall have to bear half the loss"—I saw Hall next day, and said, "You know me?"—he said, "I know you are an officer"—I said, "Mr. Gosling has been arrested on a warrant, and I have one for your arrest"—he said, "I don't understand it; I went with the £10 and £3 interest, and they told me the pawntickets had been stolen"—he had some pawn-tickets in his hand, and I said, "You must hand me those pawntickets"—this is one of them—I first saw Mr. Staal about the pawntickets on Saturday, the 26th, and went with him to the office on the Monday—Gosling was there—I said, "I have come respecting the robbery of the cash-box"—he showed me the drawer, and I examined the lock and also the lock of the drawer, but saw no indication of breaking—he said that the drawer was not locked—I said, "Who is Mr. Hall who complains of

losing the pawntickets?"—he said, "I don't know"—I went again with Mr. Staal, and found the cheque.

Cross-examined. I have known Gosling six years—he has occupied the same office many years—there is a resident housekeeper—the street door is closed at six o'clock; anybody coming in the morning would have to get the housekeeper to let them in—Gosling told me that the clerk was there first—when the office was closed the clerk was told that he would not be wanted any more—I had no conversation with him—I saw the housekeeper, but did not speak to her on that occasion—I took possession of a number of documents—there were a lot of old ledgers on the shelf all over dust, but no recent ledger; there were one or two invoices of 1892 and 1893—Mr. Staal did not tell me that he had removed the business books—Gosling appeared surprised when I told him I was going to detain him; he seemed to take it more like a joke.

Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. These are the pawn tickets—one of them is for two diamonds rings, £3, and a gold watch, gold Albert and gold chain—these are dated from January 8th to May, 1894—I believe Hall deals in jewellery—I have known him some years, and have spoken to him once or twice—as far as I know there is nothing against him—I have made inquiries at his two addresses—he lives at Camberwell New Road—he has a married daughter.

C. A. STAAL (Re-examined). I only remember one ticket for a diamond ring for £3—I think there were two tickets for diamond rings, but I do not remember the amount of the second.

HENRY COSTIN (402, City). I know both the prisoners—I have seen them together for thirten or fourteen years, but not much together within the last three years—I have seen them in conversation in public-houses.

LUCY RICHARDS . I am the wife of Robert Richards, the housekeeper at Mitre Court, Temple—Gosling carried on a business there, but I do not know what—I close the street door, and he closed the other—on Wednesday morning, the 23rd, about eleven a.m., he said he had lost a cash-box—Mr. Staal was there—he left at 4.45 the previous evening—he called his clerk, and said he was going, and I heard him shut the door—Mr. Gosling went first—I was last in the office on Monday morning, and saw no sign of it having been broken into—I saw the cash-box on Monday morning, he owed me £3 9s., and I saw it in the drawer.

Cross-examined. The drawer was not locked; anybody could take the cash-box out, but they could not get in without a key—I had a key of the office—Mr. Gosling had one, and the clerk one, but not of the outer door—on the morning when the cash-box was missed the clerk came first—he would ring the bell, and take his key, and let himself into the private office—I closed the outer door at six on this day.

MR. OVEREND submitted that it was no offence for one partner to obtain or to conspire with another person to obtain by false pretences, money, the property of the partnership (Q. v. Watson, 1 Dearsley and Bell, 348). MR. BODILLY contended that it would be a question for the JURY whether there was a partnership (Q. v. Warburton, L.R., 1, Crown Cases Reserved), or whether the whole thing was a fraud, ab initio. MR. OVEREND said that there was evidence of a partnership by the deed, and other circumstances. The COMMON SERJEANT left it to the JURY to say whether the whole thing was not, from beginning to end, before the execution of the deed, a device to

cheat and defraud Staal; if they found it was not so, he should direct them to acquit Gosling upon the Count charging the obtaining the partnership property by false pretences, but that Hall not being a partner, that point did not apply to him; and that upon the Count for conspiracy he must, if the JURY found there was a partnership, follow the ruling of the Lord Chief Justice in Q. v. Warburton.

C. A. STAAL (Re-examined by the COURT). Mr. Gosling pointed out Whitaker's advertisement to me—I wrote a letter, which I gave to a clerk to post; he was supposed to have posted it; I did not see it afterwards.

Hall received a good character.

GOSLING— GUILTY on the Second Count

HALL—on the First and Second Counts.— GUILTY Six Months Hard Labour each.

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, June 26th, 1894.

Before Mr. Recorder.

546. SAMUEL KOMINSKI (45) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Mary Brandenberg, and stealing a purse and 9s. 2d.

MR. SYMONS Prosecuted.

MARY BRANDENBERG . I am a tailoress and live at 8, Deal Street, Mile End—Barnard Blumberg is the landlord—my brother is a slipper maker; the prisoner used to work for him—on Saturday, 19th May, when I went to bed, I locked by bedroom door and the window was fastened—between three and four I heard the window opened—I awoke and heard a voice say, "It's me, it's me"—it was the prisoner's voice—I did not see him, I knew his voice directly—I ran to my door and opened it, and saw him jumping down—I did not see his face; he opened the street door, and ran out—I then looked at my window, and saw that the screw was out, and the window was open, and on the ledge was this tile, which he used in his work—the window was open wide enough for a person to get in—there is a small building at the back upon which he could have got, and so in at the window—I communicated with the police, and I saw the prisoner on Monday morning where he was at work—he said to me, "I have not seen you for a long time"—I said, "There were some thieves in my house on Saturday night"—he turned all colours, and said, "When was it?"—I said, "Between two and three"—he said, "Was anyone at home?"—I said, "Yes, they were all at home, but they were asleep"—he started to laugh—he was at work—I went out for a policeman, and when I came in with him the prisoner was feeling about his packages of slippers, and he dropped this purse—I picked it up, and, gave it to the policeman, who was standing next to him—it is my purse, which I missed on the Saturday night—it then had 9s. 2d. in it.

LOUIS BRANDENBERG . I now live at 8, Deal Street—I did live in Church Street—on Saturday night I asked the prisoner to assist me in carrying some tools that I was going to leave with my sister—I knew him by working for me, as a slipper maker, for two weeks—on Sunday he came to me to inquire if I had work for him, and on Monday morning he came to work—I asked him if he knew that my sister had been robbed—he said, "I am quite astonished; there are so many people in the house,

and they cannot find out who did it"—he was very sorry for the loss of her money, because she was a poor girl—this file is a thing used in my business—we have files like it.

CHARLES RUBENS . I live at 8, Deal Street—I am a traveller in caps and hats—on Saturday, 19th May, I came home about three with a friend, who slept with me—in about a quarter of an hour my friend woke me—I called out, "Who is it?"—I heard the prisoner's voice say, "It's me"—he said it a second time—I jumped up and ran after him, and in the passage I saw his face—he opened the door and went out.

MARK MESSER . I am a jeweller, and live at 9, Deal Street—I mended a purse for Miss Brandenberg; I put in a rivet and two joints; I recognise my work on this purse—I never saw a purse like it before.

MAJOR JONES (243 H). On the morning of the 21st I went with the prosecutrix to 11, Waterloo Court, St. George's in the East, and saw the prisoner at work there, slipper making; she pointed to him and said, "That is the man that took my purse; I will now give him in charge"—as soon as he saw me he put his right hand in the back pocket of his trousers and went to pick up some new slippers that were on the floor; and at the same time he placed this purse underneath the slippers—the prosecutrix picked it up and Raid, "That is my purse"—I took the prisoner to the station; he made no reply to the charge—I afterwards went to 8, Deal Street, and examined the prosecutrix's room—I saw a hole in the window where a screw had been forced out, and there were marks as of somebody entering—there is a low shed outside the window—a man standing on that could reach the window.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "All the witnesses are friends of the prosecutrix and keep to her side. I have witnesses, but don't know their names, or where they live."

GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.

547. SIDNEY COLLINS (23) , Feloniously wounding Benjamin Gilroyd, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.

MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.

BENJAMIN GILROYD . I am deputy of a lodging-house, 10, Adelina Grove, Mile End—I have seen the prisoner on several occasions—some time before eleven on the 5th June he came to the lodging-house, and I had to eject him, not forcibly—on going out, he said, "I will put a knife into you before the night is out"—between eleven and half-past he came again—I was standing at the gate—I would not let him come in—I got him up the street and said, "Go home"—he met another man and they had a few words, and he stabbed him in the cheek—he then turned round to me, and said, "You are next to go," and stabbed me in the arm—I could not say whether he was drunk—I don't believe he would have done it if he had been sober—I saw the knife in his hand, and I felt the blow, and after that I know no more—a doctor attended me, and I am under his care now—there was a mob there at this time; they were not attacking him, they were simply looking on—I did not strike him with a poker.

By the Court.. He said he would knife my wife too—I saw something in his hand; I could not tell what it was—he had said in the daytime, "I will knife you, and will have your life before the day is out"—he had not

slept at the lodging-house since I have been there—he came into the kitchen and I ordered him out, because I did not want any row there.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. I was not in a public-house with you and a man named Jimmy that afternoon—I saw you and Jimmy come into the lodging-house with a bundle—he said he had been with you the best part of the day—you were not both drunk—I think you had had a drop—I think I had seen this knife before in the lodging-house—the stab was just below the joint.

JAMES HERBERT . I was with the prisoner at the lodging-house about eleven on the night of 5th June—I was very drunk—all I recollect is being stabbed in the mouth.

Cross-examined. We had been drinking most of the day—I did not try to stab you; I never threatened to do so—I never had a knife in my hand.

EDMUND KING HOWCHIN . I am surgeon of the H Division of police—I saw the prosecutor about half-past twelve on the morning of 6th June—he had a very large incised wound running across the upper third of the right forearm, which severed the veins, and he had lost a considerable mount of blood—the wound was about three inches long, and about three-quarters of an inch deep—he was very exhausted, and in all probability would have lost his life but for the constable having tied up his arm before I saw him—it was a very dangerous wound; very considerable violence must have been used—this knife(produced) would produce the sort of wound I saw—he is recovering now.

Cross-examined. I saw two small bruises upon you; they might have been caused by sole blunt instrument, in all probably in defending yourself—they were quite recent.

ALFRED BATTEN (248 H). At 11.20 on the night of 5th June I heard a whistle, and saw the prisoner running away, and a crowd of persons after him—Gilroyd was one of the crowd—he came up and said, "I am stabbed in the arm n—at the same time Herbert came up, and said, "So am I, stabbed in the face; I will charge him"—I stopped the prisoner, and asked him for the knife—he said, "I have not got it; I don't know where it is"—the prosecutor's wife came up and handed me this knife, and said, "Here is the knife, he threw it down"—the prisoner said, "I had to defend myself against these dogs"—I took him to the station, and in the waiting room he turned to the prosecutor and said, "That is what you get for interfering with me"—Gilroyd was bleeding very much from the arm—I tied up his arm at the station to stop the bleeding.

ELLEN GILROYD . I am the prosecutor's wife—on 5th June I was present at part of this row—I was coming from an errand, and saw a crowd of people—my husband said he was stabbed, and a woman said, "Be careful, he has got a knife"—I felt something thrown over my head, and I stooped and picked up this knife, and gave it to the constable—it came from where the prisoner was, in he crowd.

HELENA CRAWLEY . I live at, 7, Thames Street, Cable Street—I was present when this row was going on—I saw the prisoner walking backwards with this knife in his hand—I saw him make a stab at Herbert—he was bleeding from the face, and he was following him up the street—a crowd was following and screaming, and I put up my hand to save Herbert's face, and was cut slightly in the hand.

The prisoner a statement before the Magistrate: "I was drinking with Herbert, and many people with us, perhaps a dozen. When we came out Herbert followed me with a knife; the knife fell. I went to pick it up. In the meantime Gilroyd and Herbert were striking me with a poker, and I hit all round; I don't know who I hit. I was backing away to get away from them."

Witnesses for the Defence.

ANNIE WRIGHT . I am the prisoner's sister—on the Sunday night before this case I saw Jimmy standing outside, and my brother with him—my brother went up to him and asked him to have a glass of beer; he refused, and he took a knife from his right-hand pocket, and opened it; I knocked it out of his hand and ran away; he ran after me, and he threatened to have my life as well as my brother's—a policeman came up, and said, "You had better go out of this, we will have him before long"—I saw nothing of the affair on the Tuesday.

Cross-examined. I had been drinking with Jimmy all day; he was always threatening my life when I was at work at a baker's shop—he asked me to give him a shilling, and I gave it him to get away from him; he was always taking me into public-houses, and making me drunk and saying he would have my life—Gilroyd and a lot of these people were all against me—Jimmy had the knife in his hand, trying to stab me, and Gilroyd was hitting me with a poker; I put up my arm to defend myself and kept running away, guarding myself—a policeman came up, and I said, "I am glad you have come; I have tried to defend myself against these dogs."

GUILTY of unlawful wounding. CONSTABLE MASTERMAN stated that the prisoner had been convicted of assaults and robberies, and was a most dangerous character, belonging to a gang of thieves and prostitutes— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

548. JAMES CORBIN (41), and ALFRED EVANS (21) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Horace Horne, with intent to steal.

MR. BIRON Prosecuted.

RICHARD HERRING (190 B). On 9th June, about half-past one, I was on duty in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea—in consequence of something that was said to me I went to the back of the premises of No. 14—I looked down the back area, and saw the two prisoners there—they were evidently disturbed by my getting over the railings and crossing the grass plat to the house—I had my light turned on—they attempted to get up the wall of the area—I asked what they were doing there—Corbin said, "It is hard a man cannot go where he likes to ease himself"—I took Corbin by the collar, and also took hold of Evans, and pulled them up the wall—we had a struggle—Evans wrenched himself from me, and bolted over the rails into Cheyne Walk—he was pursued by Mr. Eardley, who brought him back—a hat was afterwards found by Inspector Geer—Evans's hat came off as I was lifting him up—a man can easily get down into the yard from the back; the depth is nine feet six, and there is a window with holes in the bricks where they could put their feet, and two bricks were out—the back area door was forced inwards from the bottom—it was not right open.

Cross-examined by Corbin. I am sure I saw two men in the area—you were half-way up the wall when I pulled you up—when I came back to the house we let ourselves in by the front area door, not by the street door.

JOSEPH EARDLEY . I have been a commercial traveller—I live at 5, Oakley Crescent, Chelsea—I waited outside as the constable went down into the area—Evans came up and ran away—I followed him, overtook him in about twenty yards, and brought him back and gave him in charge to the constable—I blew a police whistle as I ran.

Cross-examined by Corbin. I saw you—I did not say you were drunk; you had your clothes disarranged—I was there when the police came back and went into the house—they went in by the front area door, the street door; they walked in—the door was undone—the prisoner did not let them in.

ROBERT BACON (137 B). I received Evans from Mr. Eardley, and took him to the station.

ARTHUR ALLEN (Detective B). I examined the premises on Sunday morning with Inspector Geer—I found the back area door had been forced open at the bottom by some blunt instrument—a catch had also been forced, and the jamb of the door was broken—it was not unfastened at the top—there was room for a man to get in—the front basement door was open—I suggest that it was opened from the inside; there were no marks on it—it was unlocked, and the key was in the lock—I showed Evans the hat I found in the back yard—I put it on his head, and it fitted him—he had no other hat—a skeleton key was found on him—nothing was found on Corbin—neither of the prisoners were drunk—Corbin pretended to be drunk, but he was quite sober—there was a little blood just inside the hat, and Evans's left hand was bleeding—I examined the place minutely—there was no sign of such a thing as Corbin suggested.

HANNAH HORNE . I live with my husband at 14, Cheyne Walk—before going to bed on 8th June, I saw the premises locked up—the front and back basement doors were secure.

Cross-examined by Corbin. I was the last person that saw the place secured—none of us let the police in when we were aroused; they came in—the back area door appeared to have been forced in at the bottom from the outside, and was only hanging by the top bolt.

FRANK GEER (Inspector). I went to the house with the officer—the back door was pushed bodily in at the bottom—there was room enough for anybody to crawl in.

Cross-examined by Evans. I did not find anything on the ground to force it in—I did not say I would break your arm—we had to take your coat off to see the tattoo marks on your arm.

HORACE HORNE . There was nothing broken or removed in the house.

The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Corbin: "What I say I will say in front of the Jury." Evans: "My wife has a fellow key to that which they call a skeleton key found upon me."

Corbin's defence. I was at a coffee-still, and seeing this place, as I thought, uninhabited, I got over for a purpose, when the policeman came and said he must take us to the station. On the 3rd of this month I went to report myself, being on ticket-of-leave, and they accused me of giving a false address, which I did not, and I was acquitted of it, and they did

not like it, and said they would do me an injury, and they have got this case up to send me away. This man (Evans) is quite innocent. They had from two to eight in the morning to do what they liked with the place.

Evans put in a written defence, stating that, seeing Corbin in a drunken state, he merely helped him along, and when he tumbled down the area he went to help him up, when the policeman came and took them into custody.

CORBIN then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in February, 1892, at Cherkewell, and three other convictions were proved against him

[Guilty: See original trial image.]

CORBIN**— Five Years' Penal Servitude. EVANS*— Fourteen Months' Hard Labour.

549. CHARLES EDWARD WILKEY (57) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing sixteen Egyptian Unified Bonds, the property of the Agra Bank, Limited, his masters; also to two other indictments for stealing four Canadian Pacific Railway Bonds, the property of his masters. MR. BESLEY, for the prosecution, applied that judgment might be reserved in order that he might get specific directions from the directors of the bank.— Judgment respited. And

550. GEORGE ARNOLD (alias FRED STANTON and VERA HOPE ) (19) , to unlawfully obtaining from John Barber, 21s; from Ada Richardson, 21s.; and from other persons other sums, by false pretences, with intent to defraud. SERJEANT HAILSTONE stated that he had received twenty complaints of actual fraud, in addition to those in the indictment, and a large number of attempted frauds in different names.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Fourteen Months' Hard Labour.

551. GEORGE ANDREWS (50) , Unlawfully obtaining £50 from James Benley Crump, by false pretences, with intent to defraud. Second Count, attempting to obtain a further sum of £60 from the same person. Other Counts, for incurring a debt and liability to James Benley Crump to the amount of £50, and thereby obtaining credit to that amount.

MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

GERALD SORTON ASHBY DARBY . I am a solicitor, of 32, Gracechurch Street—on 29th January this year, the prisoner called at my office with this lease of 169, High Street, Hoxton, in which Benjamin Benje purports to be lessor, and George Andrews the lessee, in consideration of £200 paid by the lessee to the lessor, and there is a receipt acknowledging that 169, High Street, Hoxton, is let for eighty years, from 25th December, 1893, at aground rent of £4—the lease and receipt are attested by a solicitor—a solicitor has no right to attest a lease without going properly into it; I have not personally heard of solicitors doing such things—when I saw the attestation it had some weight, to my mind, as being a genuine lease—I asked the prisoner whether he had paid the £200 premium; he said he had—I asked him what he wanted the £50 for; he said he had let these premises to a butcher on a three years agreement at £38 a year rent—I asked him to produce the agreement; he stated he had not got it with him; he promised to bring it up—I have never seen it—I asked him for it again when we had completed the matter; he said the same again and promised to send it up—I took the lease to my client, Mr. Crump, on the next day, I think, or the

same afternoon, and in my presence the mortgage produced was executed, and the money was handed over—I heard Crump ask the prisoner whether he had paid the £200 premium; he said he had—Crump asked him about the agreement with the butcher, and the prisoner said he had let it, exactly the same as he had to me—Crump asked him what he wanted the money for—he said he wanted it to put the place in repair for this butcher—the mortgage was for £50—on 22nd February I was just coining out of the City of London Court, when I met the prisoner—he produced another lease—the prisoner afterwards told me and my clerk that he had destroyed that lease—I served him in Holloway Prison with notice to produce it—it has not been produced—on 27th March, the prisoner called; that was after we had found out that Benje and Russell were being prosecuted in a case, where Benje had given Russell a lease for some ground rent, purporting to have received a large sum of money consideration—they were convicted before your lordship last session, (See Sessions Paper, Vol. CXX., p. 644)—I asked the prisoner on 27th March, "What about that second lease?"—that was the lease of 67, Mortimer Road, from Benje to him—and he replied to the effect that it was no longer in existence—he made a statement to my clerk—the lease he produced, when I met him on 22nd February outside the City of London Court, was between Benje and Andrews; it was a lease of 57, Mortimer Road or Mortimer Street, Kingsland, which was where Benje said he lodged—the prisoner said he wanted £60 for the lease, and suggested that I, being solicitor to Mr. Crump, should get it for him—there was £200 consideration money in that lease also—I asked the prisoner whether he had paid that; the prisoner said he had—I took the lease to Mr. Crump, but the negotiation fell through; Mr. Crump wanted the first lease paid off—I think if the first one had been paid off he would have done the other one—the first was not paid off—a few days afterwards the prisoner called for the second one, and I handed it to him—I had taken down a copy of the material parts—I had that copy at the Mansion House; I have lost it since—anyone would suppose that the first lease on which he obtained £50 was a good lease—the £50 was only a temporary mortgage for a month—civil proceedings were taken—the prisoner informed me that he had arranged a mortgage with Godfrey for £50, and that he only wanted the money pending the completion of the other—I have since seen Godfrey—afterwards criminal proceedings were started; we saw Benje and Russell were at the Mansion House, and I went to see the property, 169, High Street, Hoxton, and found it belonged to Captain Sharpe Sharpe's trustees, and the builders were in possession, doing repairs—I saw a specification after the criminal proceedings had been taken' against Benje and Russell—the prisoner's address is given in the appearance to the civil proceedings as 52, Manchester Street, Manchester Square—Russell also used that as his address—I did not go there; the police made inquiries—there is no butcher's shop now at this house at Hoxton, but from inquiries I learnt there was one there last year—the lease is dated 2nd January this year.

Cross-examined. I was present when Benje and Russell were convicted here—Benje pleaded guilty after the trial had one on for some time—I was not in Court all the time—Benje is seventy-five years old—the police stated something to the effect that for years he had been living by letting

houses on this property—I believe he has taken in some of the acutest intellects in London—I believe Russell had been convicted; he is between fifty and sixty—I had heard of the Mobbs's Estate in Hoxton before this case—I understand property worth about £4,000,000 is waiting for a claimant—I first suggested that the prisoner was criminally mixed up with Benje and Russell when they were first charged at the Mansion House—I first satisfied my mind that the prisoner was criminally mixed up when he called on 27th March, and said he had destroyed the lease—we did not prosecute him till ht June, because we did not want to prosecute him—he had been sued civilly—Mr. Carnegie, a solicitor, called on me with reference to this matter, and offered to settle this matter out of Court; I did not accept the offer—I referred him to Timbrell and Deighton, the solicitors conducting the civil proceedings—I did not offer to give this lease up to Mr. Carnegie; he, acting for the prisoner, suggested it should he done—the matter was out of my hands from March to June, and in the hands of Timbrell and Deighton—they obtained judgment for £50 on 29th March, 1894, in the civil proceedings—the matter was put into my hands again just before this prosecution was started—Timbrell and Deighton acted until just before the proceedings at the Mansion House—I did not tell them the prisoner had been guilty of a criminal offence—I had no position in the matter when civil proceedings were taken—I cannot tell you why no criminal proceedings were taken from 28th March till 1st June—I believe Mr. Carnegie suggested a settlement of the matter, but it never came to anything—I believe Timbrell and Deighton were not willing to entertain it; I don't know—I believe if Mr. Carnegie had come and tendered money they would have entertained it, and then criminal proceedings would not have been taken—I have no recollection of saying to Mr. Carnegie "The police may force Mr. Crump to prosecute"—I have seen Mr. Carnegie since, and he has told me a good many things about the prisoner—I think I have been Mr. Carnegie twice since the matter left Timbrell and Deighton's hands; he came to see me—I said I had no power of settling the matter; it was out of my hands—I should say that was after judgment was recovered on 28th March—Mr. Crump instructed me to prosecute about two days before I laid the case before Mr. Warburton—my managing clerk, Peck, who introduced the prisoner to me, is here—I have known him a good many years; he was managing clerk to my father—he has not been many years continuously in my service—he was in a way in my service when he introduced the prisoner—I used to give him conveyancing work; he had a seat in my room—I believe the prisoner gave him a small commission, I don't know—the prisoner paid my fee on the lease; in the ordinary way the mortgagor pays it; it is deducted out of the mortgage money—I heard Mr. Warburton said he could not get Benje here; we should have had to go to the expense of a habeas corpus—we could have brought him here by going to great expense.

Re-examined. The second hearing was on 1st June, and the warrant was applied for about a fortnight before that, about 17th or 25th May.

WILLIAM PECK . I am managing clerk to Mr. Ashby Darby—I was present when lease "A" was produced, and a statement made to Mr. Darby—the prisoner stated that he had let this place to a butcher at I think,

£38 a year, and that he wished to borrow this money for the purpose of putting the place in repair, and that he was having a loan of £200, and he wanted this temporarily—he was asked if he had paid the commission money, and he said he had—I heard Mr. Darby give evidence at the Police-court—on 27th March the prisoner called at our office—I asked him what had become of the lease of Mortimer Road, and he pointed to the fireplace and said, "It is there"—I understood from that that he had destroyed it—he said, "Is there a warrant out for me?"—I said, "Not that I am aware of."

Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner since about 25th January—Mr. Rocket introduced me to him—I have known Mr. Rocket for some years; I saw him yesterday—the prisoner gave me £1 13s. commission for this loan of £50—I did not suggest that he might get another £50 on another house—I was not in regular employment at this time—I made inquiries about the prisoner afterwards, but I could find out nothing against him—the prisoner lived at Bexley Heath—he told us so—I went there with Mr. Darby, and made inquiries—we went and looked at the prisoner's house, and could not find him, and we went to the Police-station, and then to the rectory, introduced by the police inspector, and heard a lot about him—it was not unsatisfactory.

JAMES BENLEY CRUMP . I am a chartered accountant, of 6, Lombard Court—Mr. Ashby Darby brought me the lease "A," and I afterwards saw the prisoner with regard to it on 30th January—he first sent across to know if I was going to let him have the money, and I sent back word that I would see the house before I advanced any money, and if it was all right he could come across to me in the afternoon—I went and saw the house; it was empty—I thought it was well worth the money he wanted to borrow—in the afternoon he came with Mr. Darby, and I said I had seen the house, and I had no objection to advance the money—he told me he had let the house to a butcher for three years at £38 a year, and he wanted this money to do the repairs in order that the butcher might take possession—I believed that statement to be true, and advanced the money; that was one of the principal inducements—I said, "According to the lease you appear to have given £200 for it; is that true?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "That is about what I should have believed the lease was worth"—his story was a great inducement to me—about a week before the money became due Mr. Darby brought me the second lease between Benje and Andrews, and said Mr. Andrews had brought it to him, and asked me to advance £60 on it—I declined to do so—Mr. Darby was acting as my solicitor and agent in the matter—I said he must pay the other off first—the prisoner said he had let the house on a three years' agreement, that he had forgotten to bring it with him, but he would send it up to Mr. Darby.

Cross-examined. The prisoner said as to the first lease that he had got at home the agreement to let the premises at £38 a year, and he said they had paid £200 to the lessor—I think that £200 induced me somewhat—I depended a great deal upon the premises—the statement that he had let it at £38 a year to the butcher turned the scale—I saw in the Directory that it had been used as a butcher's shop—as soon as I found out that it was a swindle I made up my mind to prosecute the prisoner; that was somewhere about the beginning of April—I went to the City Solicitor,

as he was prosecuting the other men; he did not take it up because the cither men had been committed for trial about an hour before I got to him, and there would be the expense of a habeas corpus to bring up Benje, I understood—I saw, not the City Solicitor, but one of his principal clerks—from the time I took up the prosecution I left the matter in Mr. Darby's hands—he had no instructions from me to settle—I should never have listened to any suggestion—I cannot say I ever heard of it—I believe I was informed that the prisoner's solicitors had been to my solicitors, Timbrell and Deighton, and asked if they could make terms, and they refused; they said they would not settle till the thing was cleared up somehow or other.

EDWARD CHARLES PITTAM . I am clerk to George Brown, Son, and Vardy, solicitors, of 56, Finsbury Pavement—that firm and their predecessors have acted as solicitors to the trustees of the will of Captain William Henry Sharpe Sharpe; they are possessed of an estate of which 169, Hoxton Street is a part, and has been for a long period—this lease, "A," we know nothing of; no one but our firm have anything to do with the property—this lease is an absolute fraud from beginning to end.

JAMES WALKER . I am managing clerk to Mounton and Son, solicitors, of 58, Cheapside—we act for the executors of Edward Gooding—on April 25th we sold 57, Mortimer Road, to William Henry Southeran on behalf of Mr. Gosling's executors—the property has nothing to do with Benje or the prisoner, to my knowledge; I should know if it had—I have the approved draft of the lease of that house granted in 1846, and Mr. Gooding held it from then till his death in August, 1893—his executors hold it now—the prisoner is not the lessee.

ASHBY DARBY (Re-examined). The lease of 57, Mortimer Road was attested by Hunt, clerk to Wallace and Co., solicitors, of Queen Street, Cheapside.

RICHARD HUNT . I am fourteen years old—I am clerk to Wallace and Co.—in February Benje and the prisoner came to our office—the prisoner asked for Mr. Wallace; I told him he was not in—he said I could do it as well as Mr. Wallace, and at his request I attested this lease between Benje and Andrews.

BAXTER HUNT (Detective Inspector, City). I arrested the prisoner on a warrant—I had had him under observation since 14th February; I saw him with Russell, and sometimes with Benje, the two men convicted here last Sessions—I saw him with Russell chiefly—when arrested the prisoner said, "I have not defrauded anyone; if I have committed a criminal offence it was done entirely through ignorance"—ceased to observe the prisoner after Benje's and Russell's conviction—I did not see them all together.

Cross-examined. I arrested him at his residence, Rutland Villa, Bexley Heath, on 25th May—Benje and Russell were arrested on 13th March; their case was pretty well reported in the London papers—I found the prisoner living at his house.

The prisoner received an excellent character.

GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.

OLD COURT.—Wednesday, June 27th, 1894.

Before Mr. Justice Grantham.

552. JOHN HEWSTON was charged on the Coroner's inquisition with the manslaughter of George Bruton.

In this case the GRAND JURY had ignored the bill, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR for the prosecution offered no evidence on the Coroner's inquisition.

NOT GUILTY .

553. JAMES VANDOME (15) , PLEADED GUILTY to carnally knowing Eliza Raines, under thirteen.

Ten days, and sent to an industrial ship.

554. JANE NICHOLSON (44) , Feloniously using an instrument upon Selina Brooks, with intent to procure miscarriage.

MESSRS. C. F. GILL and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.

GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

There was another indictment against the prisoner for the wilful murder of Edith Blundell , upon which no evidence being offered the JURY found a verdict of

NOT GUILTY .

555. ALBERT QUILTER (17) , Feloniously carnally knowing Maud Betts, it girl under the age of thirteen.

MR. HUTTON Prosecuted and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

GUILTY .— Five Months' Hard Labour.

NEW COURT.—Wednesday, June 27th, 1894.

Before Mr. Recorder.

556. JAMES HENRY REYNOLDS (31), and HARRY GILBERT SANDERS (31) , PLEADED GUILTY to indictments for obtaining £18 10s., £16 5s. 6d., £19 3s., £21 0s. 9d., and other sums by false pretences. They received good characters. REYNOLDS— Eighteen Months Hard Labour. SANDERS— Three Years' Penal Servitude.

557. FREDERICK GEORGE GREY** (22) , to breaking and entering St. Mathew's Church, Ealing, and stealing two silver plates and other articles, the property of the churchwardens, he having been convicted at Shaftesbury on October 24th, 1893. Several other convictions were proved against him.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Fourteen Month's Hard Labour.

558. THOMAS KING (22), and CHARLES KELSEY (18) , to stealing a horse and harness and ten boxes of sugar, the property of Frederick Wood.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited for inquiries to find the receiver.

559. JOHN SAMUELS (20) , to stealing six half-chests of tea, the property of Thomas Allen; also to forging and uttering a receipt for the same, with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited. And

560. JOHN PALLISTER , to maliciously publishing a defamatory libel concerning Herbert Rymill. [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] He expressed his regret, and withdrew what he had written.— To be discharged on his finding two sureties in £250 each, and entering into his own recognizances in £250 to come up for judgment if called upon.

561. EUGENE TORBETT (27) , Forging and uttering an order for the delivery of one hundred stamped cheque forms, with intent to defraud.

MR. BESLEY Prosecuted.

EDWARD LOVETT . I am chief ledger-keeper at the Bank of Scotland, 43, Lothbury—I was at the counter where Mr. Brand was standing—he handed me this order, and I looked up and saw the prisoner—all chequebooks are supplied with a form of this kind, and when the customer is nearly at the end of his cheque-book, he signs this for another by an authorised agent or member of the firm—this firm have been customers longer than my time, which is seventeen years—they generally have 480 cheques at a time—the order being on paper and not on the pink form attracted my attention—I should have passed the signature; but my suspicion being aroused, I consulted Mr. Murray, the chief clerk, and went to the counter and said to the prisoner, "Have you been here before?"—he said, "No; I have not been there long"—I said, "Who signed this order?"—he said, "Mr. Adamson, I suppose"—I went outside the counter—Mr. Dupre, Mr. Murray, and Mr. Williamson were there—Mr. Murray said to Mr. Dupre, "Do you know this gentleman?" (The prisoner)—he said, "No"—the prisoner looked him in the face and said, "You don't?"—Mr. Dupre said, "No; I never saw you before"—Mr. Dupre asked what sort of man Mr. Adamson was—the prisoner said, "He is a medium sort of man"—Mr. Dupre said they would not be likely to send a stranger, as they had plenty of clerks of their own—the prisoner said, "I applied for a situation, and was taken on at once, and sent with this order"—he offered to go there, but we asked him to remain while we sent one of our junior clerks with the order, who brought Mr. Adamson—he held the order in his hand, and said, "This is a forgery"—the prisoner then said, "I am an innocent victim"—Mr. Adamson said, "You are an American," but I did not hear the prisoner answer—he was taken away by the police.

WILLIAM ADAMSON . On June 12th, about midday, Mr. Dupre's junior clerk brought me this order—I saw that it was a forgery—I never sent a stranger to get cheque form books, and I never remember sending for a cheque-book except on the pink form—no one had authority at that time except me and Mr. Gilfillan to order a cheque-book—the prisoner is a perfect stranger to me—I found him at the bank—he said, "I am an innocent victim"—I said, "You are an American?"—he said, "Yes; I had gone to seek for employment, and the gentleman came out and said, 'Are you an accountant?' I said, 'Yes,' and he said, 'Then take this to the Bank of Scotland'"—we do not send an accountant to take an order for a cheque-book; we have a staff of clerks.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. You said, "I went to get employment"—you did not say at my office—"We have a gentleman named Park there; he has only one style of signature."

Re-examined. Mr. Park's writing is cramped, and totally different to this—I did not hear anybody say at the bank that this was Mr. Park's writing—the name has been introduced to-day for the first time by the prisoner.

SAMUEL GILFILLAN . I am in partnership with another gentleman and Mr. Adamson at 2, East India Avenue, as East India merchants—this order is on paper similar to that of the firm—out of business hours there is such paper as this in our outer office, and it could easily be abstracted

—this is an imitation of my writing; it is a forgery—this is my real signature (Produced)—I do not know the prisoner—on 12th June Mr. Adamson and I were the only members who could sign for cheque-books—the prisoner did not apply at our office that day, and I would not have entrusted him if he had—we always sent orders on these pink forms—we always order a large number, sometimes 480—I would not send a stranger to the bank—the prisoner asked me at the Police-court if my signature could be easily obtained, and I said that it could by anybody having business transactions with the firm.

FRANK DUPRE . I am bank clerk messenger in the service of Adamson, Gilfillan, and Co.—on 12th June I was in the Bank of Scotland, and Mr. Williamson and Mr. Lovett asked me if I knew the prisoner—I said "No, I never saw him before"—he said, "You don't?"—I said, "No," and asked Mr. Williamson what the man wanted—he had a letter in his hand—I asked to look at it, and was shown the forged order—I said "It is very much like Mr. Gilfillan's signature, but it is not"—I heard the prisoner talking about Mr. Adamson, and asked him what sort of man Mr. Adamson was—he said a man of medium height—I was going on with the examination, but Mr. Murray said I had better go and fetch Mr. Adamson—the prisoner wanted to go too, but he said, "No, you had better stop here"—Mr. Adamson came, and he said, "That is not the gentleman, and this is a forgery; I suppose you are an American?"—he said, "Yes"—Mr. Adamson said, "Yes, I judged so from your conversation"—the prisoner said he came to our office after a situation, and explained his qualifications there and then, and was engaged without any references, and they said, "Take this to the bank"—he was detained till Outram came, who asked his address, but did not get it—he was taken to the station.

Cross-examined. I did not say that the writing very much resembled Mr. Park's—I said that Mr. Park would fill up the form and it would be signed by the governor for me to take to the bank, and that it was not Mr. Park's writing.

Re-examined. Whatever remark was made about Mr. Park was about the substance of the order, and not the signature.

ROBERT OUTRAM (City Detective Inspector). On June 12th, about one o'clock, I was called to the Bank of Scotland—the prisoner was there—I asked his name—he said, "Eugene Torbett; who are you? Do you belong to the bank?"—I said, "I am acting for the bank; will you give me your address?"—he said, "No, I refuse my address"—Mr. Lovett showed me the order—I said, "I am a detective inspector, you will be charged with uttering this order with intent to defraud the Governor of the Bank of Scotland"—he said, "Yes"—I took him to Mcor Lane—the charge was made of forging and uttering an order with intend to defraud the Bank of Scotland—he said, "How do you bring the latter clause in?"—no answer was made to that—he mentioned his name and his age, and said, "Can I have a solicitor?"—I said, "Yes; if you will give me the name and address of any friend, I will see them for the purpose of obtaining a solicitor"—he said, "I will consider. Will this appear in the papers tonight?"—I said, "No, I will see you later. If you wish to communicate with any of your friends I will do so"—about five, o'clock I saw him again, and said, "Well, do you wish to see

any of your friends?"—he said, "No; you are very kind, but I will stand on my own bottom; I met a gentleman on the stairs at Billiter Street"—I said, "What sort of a man?"—he said, "About 145 lbs. weight, with a black coat and moustache, and he gave me this paper, and asked me to meet him in the street outside the bank entrance"—I found on him a gold watch and chain, keys, pencil, and an omnibus ticket from King's Cross—there was a lady's photograph in the watch—I said, "Who is that?"—he said, "That is my wife"—I said, "I had better see her"—he said, "No, I will stand on my own bottom"—there are notices in the cells at the House of Detention telling prisoners that they can send letters to their friends.

Cross-examined. I heard a description at the Police-court of the party who you claimed gave you the order; that does not tally with the description of a person who went to Mr. Gilfillan's on June 22nd—it is customary for everyone to give their address.

MARY ANN O'BRIEN . I clean Messrs. Adamson and Gilfillan's office—the earliest clerk comes at 8.45; I let him in before I leave—on Saturday, June 2nd, about 7.55 two men came, and went into the general office and sat down to write, outside the counter—I did not take particular notice of them—the prisoner is not one of them—one was about thirty-five years old, fresh complexion, fair moustache, and dressed in dark clothes—the paper is in racks near where the men sat and wrote—I expected them back; they did not come back before the clerk came—they spoke in a rather broad accent.

Cross-examined. One man was five feet eight or nine inches high; I did not take particular notice of the second man; he was not something like the juryman sitting in the third seat.

Re-examined. The prisoner is not the man who wrote.

The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he uttered the forged paper, but denied the forgery, and said that he had given as far as he could the description of the man who gave him the paper, and that he said, "Who shall I say sent me?" and the man said, "Say Mr. Adamson sent you; don't go to the paying clerk; go to the gentleman at the third desk," which lie did, and if he had known that anything was wrong he had ample opportunity to get away, and that lie made three attempts to communicate with his wife, but one letter came back marked Gone away." GUILTY.— Judgment respited.

THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, June 27th, 1894.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

562. BRYAN SHEPPARD GARDINER , Removing, within four months preceding his adjudication as a bankrupt, property to the extent of £10 and upwards, with intent to defraud.

MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended.

HARRY GRAHAM . I am chief clerk at Barnet County Court—I produce the file of proceedings in the prisoner's bankruptcy—the petition is dated 7th March, 1893; the receiving order was made on 29th March; he was adjudicated bankrupt on 29th April—there is nothing in the statement of affairs, sheet "A," to show any removal of furniture.

Cross-examined. On sheet "B" Mr. Smeeton figures as a secured creditor; the debt is £400, and the estimated value of the security, £400—the largest creditor is the London and County Bank—the petitioning creditors were Hitchcock and Williams, for £136 13s. 1d.

Re-examined. The gross liabilities were £1,689, of which £1,204 would rank against the estate, the others being secured, and the assets £723—on the face of it he would pay about ten shillings in the pound.

WILLIAM SMEETON . I am a butcher at Hornsey—I am the prisoner's brother-in-law—in 1890 I became guarantee for him to the London and County Banking Company for £400 overdraft—in 1893 he became bankrupt—before that, just after Christmas, I removed certain stock from his house, between seven or eight and eleven p.m.—I made about four journeys—he carried the stock out to me, and I took it in my butcher's cart with my name on it—the prisoner was a draper and milliner—an inventory of the stock I took was taken in my place; it came to about £350—I went to the back door to remove the things; there is a right of way there—I took a certain portion of the furniture a short time after the stock was removed; some of that was taken to Mr. Smythe, for him to take care of for me; I had not got room in my place—among it was a mahogany dressing-table, a double marble-topped washhand stand, a towel-horse, an iron bedstead, an oak frame, a striking clock bronze ornaments, and a fire screen—a piano was taken to my son, Frederick Smeeton, as I had not got room for it—all the furniture, that left behind at the prisoner's and that taken away, sold for £50—I valued that which I took away at between £10 and £20—this letter, dated November, 1892, I wrote in January, 1893, just before the removal of the goods: "Dear Sir,—You will remember that some four years ago I lent you £400, on the understanding that you would give me some security on your stock-in-trade; unless you do ho I shall institute proceedings for the recovery of the amount"—I handed that to the prisoner—I dated it November, 1892, because my solicitor, Mr. Salmon, of Finsbury Pavement, instructed me to do so—I lent the prisoner £400; what I really meant was the overdraft at the bank—I deposited my deeds there for his benefit, and in consideration of that the bank allowed him £400—I have not repaid that to the bank; my deeds are still there.

Cross-examined. When I agreed to deposit my deeds at the bank the prisoner promised me security on his stock—that was mentioned at the time—between the date of the advance in 1890 and the date when the security was actually transferred this question of security was spoken of between us plenty of times—I asked him, and he promised it several times, but I never had it—at the latter part of 1892 I and Mr. Salmon, the solicitor, saw the prisoner in reference to having some security; I had a little thought that he was getting into low water, I did not know much about it—I was given to understand by Mr. Salmon that this stock should be handed me, as security to secure me against the advance made in 1890 on my deeds; everything was explained at the time—this letter I copied from a draft made by Mr. Salmon in my presence for the purpose—the date of November was inserted as he wrote it—Mr. Salmon was not present when I copied it; the prisoner was—I removed the stock, thinking I had a right to do so, and acting under the solicitor's advice—at the time of the conferences with the solicitor, and of acting as I did, I

had no knowledge of his financial position, or that he was going to file his petition; so far as I knew he was as solvent as he had been in 1890—very shortly after the bankruptcy proceedings were commenced I received an intimation from the trustee, and on that I returned everything that had been transferred to me on the four journeys—the furniture was sold under the bankruptcy; it was all realised for the benefit of the creditors—the prisoner told me when I removed the furniture that he was entitled to furniture and bedding to the amount of £20—I estimate the value of the furniture I removed at between £10 and £20; the whole of it, including that sold on the premises, came to £50—as long as I had known them at Finchley they had had the same piano, as far as I know—the furniture paid for by Gardiner was in respect of a large box of linen to be used for his wife's confinement, so the prisoner told me—the total paid for storage was £1—I did not remove the goods from the back of the premises for the purpose of concealment—the prisoner used to close about 7.30—I have lately paid to the trustees of my uncle's will £100, which I borrowed from the bank upon the security I deposited for the prisoner—the trustees threatened me with a writ if I did not pay it—the bank put it to the prisoner's account—I never owed him a shilling.

Re-examined. The bank advanced £400—I got £100 for myself, not for him—it went through his account because it was on the security; I had no account.

The COMMON SERJEANT intimated that this teas not the ordinary case of a fraudulent bankruptcy, and he did not well see how the JURY could convict the prisoner.

NOT GUILTY .

563. WILLIAM CRUICKSHANK , Unlawfully obtaining credit from Stanley Banning to the amount of £20 and upwards, without informing him that he was an undischarged bankrupt.

MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. BESLEY Defended.

In this case MR. BESLEY suggested that the prisoner had acted merely as an agent; that there was, therefore, no personal liability in him, and no action would lie against him for the recovery of the money. The COMMON SERJEANT overruling the objection, MR. BESLEY stated that he should not contest the case further; thereupon the JURY found the prisoner

GUILTY .— Four Months' Hard Labour.

564. GEORGE WALTON (27) , PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully neglecting Henry Walton, aged eleven years; Amelia Walton, aged six years; and Jessie Walton, aged eight months, in a manner likely to cause them injury and suffering. The prisoner's wife stated that he was an habitual drunkard, and for that reason was constantly out of work.— Discharged on recognizances. And

565. HERBERT EDWARD CHAPMAN , to obtaining credit to the amount of £20 and upwards from Emily Clements; £85 from Elizabeth Clarke; and £24 from Eliza Matthews, without informing them that he was an undischarged bankrupt. MR. FINCH, for the prisoner, stated that if sentence was postponed the prisoner might he able to recompense the prosecutrixes.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.

NEW COURT.—Thursday, June 28th, 1894.

Before Mr. Recorder.

566. ANNA DRUCE (44) , Unlawfully obtaining £4 and £6 by false pretences.

MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.

The prisoner obtained The money upon cheques upon Mr. Young, the trustee of her late father's estate, now in Chancery, who stated that she may have thought he had funds to her credit, upon which MR. BLACKWELL withdrew from the prosecution.

NOT GUILTY .

567. WILLIAM YOUNG (21) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Burton Sharman, and stealing twenty-five ladies' jackets, his property.

MR. ARMSTRONG Prosecuted.

BURTON SHARMAN . I am a mantle manufacturer of 62, Whitechapel Road—on June 19th I was at home and went up to have my supper—my dog barked several times, and I went down and saw the prisoner running out at the door with an armful of my goods—I ran and caught him about thirty yards from my door; he struggled hard to get away—a policeman came and I gave him in charge—the catch of my front door was broken, and at the door at the end of the lobby the chain was broken off.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. There was no other man near you, and you were going as fast as you could.

MORRIS RUBENSTEIN . I am a dealer, in the drapery line, of 68, Brady Street Buildings—on June 19th I was near Sharman's shop, and saw the prisoner come out with the goods, and directly afterwards Mr. Sharman came out and ran after him, and caught him with the goods—I called a policeman—he caught the same man in two minutes who I saw run away.

Cross-examined. Mr. Sharman said, "Some man has robbed me"—you were then in the road, and I told him, and he ran and caught you—I am sure it was you who came out.

B. SHARMAN (Re-examined). I saw a gentleman as I came out, and asked him a question—I saw the prisoner go out of the shop, and I hesitated which to go after—I never lost sight of the prisoner—he pulled, the door to to baulk me.

FREDERICK HYDE (161 H). On the night of June 19th I was on duty, and saw the prisoner with a bundle of clothes on his arm crossing towards me—the prosecutor laid hold of him—he dropped them, and Thompson took him.

ERNEST THOMPSON (248 H). I saw the prisoner run from 62, Whitechapel Road, with a lot of goods on his arm—Rubenstein and Sharman were running after him—I caught hold of him—the things were lying on the ground—he struggled, and I took him to the station—he said, "I did not take the goods, I have been to the theatre."

Cross-examined. You were not talking to a man who had the clothes in his arms—there was no man near you.

GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Clerkenwell on July 1st, 1889.— Fourteen Months' Hard Labour.

568. THOMAS HENRY MINHINNICK (24) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Edward King, and stealing twelve bottles of ale, his property.

MR. TODD Prosecuted.

EDWARD KING . I am a beer-retailer, of Holloway Road—on the night of June 14th I closed ray house at 12.30 a.m., and at six a.m. I was called by the police and found the bar disturbed, bottles moved, and tobacco taken out of the drawers, and a bottle of ale in the next garden, and biscuits all over the place—a square of glass was broken in the back room, so that the bolts could be undone—the prisoner was brought back by a constable.

JAMES LAMBERT (Policeman). On June 14th I was on duty in Holloway Road about three a.m.—I tried the door of this public-house and found it open—I entered, and saw a man run out at the back and three others scaling the garden wall—I returned through the house, went down Whitmore Street, and met the prisoner and three others running—another constable chased the prisoner, and 679 caught him—he said, "Well, you can run back; you will find nothing on me"—a screw of tobacco was found on him—when he was charged he said, "That is enough; I don't want to know about the biscuits and cheese"—he gave a false address—I searched the room he ran through, and picked up this tobacco.

Cross-examined. You gave your address, 13, Hanley Road, not 8—I have known you three years.

WILLIAM BAKER (Policeman). I was on duty; Lambert called out, "Stop them!"—there were four of them—I stopped the prisoner in Tufnell Park Road, and saw him throw several articles away, which turned out to be tobacco—he said, "You will find nothing on me."

Cross-examined. I chased you half a mile.

JAMES KENNEDY (Police-Inspector). I examined 557, Holloway Road, and found an entrance had been effected through the dust-bin; a square of glass had been broken in the back door, and an arm inserted, and the door opened—I found a button there which exactly corresponds with the buttons on the prisoner's trousers, one of which was off.

EDWARD KING (Re-examined). This small packet of tobacco taken from the prisoner's pocket at the station is mine—I had six or seven of them, and found them all scattered over my neighbour's garden.

Cross-examined. I cannot say whether you were in my house in the afternoon with a friend and two females, but there were two men, and a "lady" purchased a pot of ale.

Prisoner's defence. The constable saw me and blew his whistle, and I thought if I stopped there I should be locked up; so I ran away, and then I stopped because I was innocent. I had not been in the house. I had been playing at dominoes all the evening at the next house.

GUILTY *†— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

569. JOHN THOMPSON (18) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Edwin Griffin, and stealing a money-box and 10s., his property.

MR. COLLINS Prosecuted.

WILLIAM PARKER (550 S). On June 16th I was on duty in Regent's Park about 3.15 a.m., heard a noise in St. Catherine's Park, and the prisoner jumped over the railings—I asked him what he had been there for—he said, "For my own convenience"—I said, "I am not satisfied;

you will have to come back with me"—I took him back, and found these two writing-desks, forced—I asked him if he knew anything about them—he said, "That is for you to find out," and took two antique crown pieces out of his pocket and threw them on the ground—I asked where he got them—he said, "That is for you to find out"—I forced this gold chain out of his mouth.

FREDERICK HEAD (Police Inspector S). I found marks on the wall of the prosecutor's house, and the back parlour window wide open at 4.30 a.m.—the entrance had been effected there—I called the prosecutor, and he missed certain property, which he identified at the station.

EDWIN GRIFFIN . I am a dairyman, of 183, Albany Street—on June 15th I went to bed at ten o'clock—the place was locked up, all except the back parlour window a little piece, for ventilation—about 4.30 I was awoke by the police, and missed these articles from the back parlour—these two crowns belong to me; they were in this box, which was broken open.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I worked for Mr. Griffin some time back."

The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had been drinking, and went into the enclosure as lie felt sick, and saw the contents of the writing-desks, and found a crown, piece and a gold chain, and the policeman took him, and he then noticed another crown piece between the constable's feet.

GUILTY of unlawfully entering and stealing. He then

PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Bow Street, in the name of Owen Scott, in 1882, and eight other convictions were proved against him, but none of them during the last seven years.— Twelve months' Hard Labour.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

570. FREDERICK WILLIAM FRYER (27) , Unlawfully obtaining credit to the amount of £20 and upwards of William Robert Reece, without informing him that he was an undischarged bankrupt.

MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

After MR. KERSHAW'S opening, the COMMON SERJEANT considered that as the case was one of an undischarged bankrupt getting a good trade bill, which he discounted, and which was met at maturity, the Statute was never intended to have such a wide application as that, and directed the JURY to acquit the prisoner.

NOT GUILTY .

THIRD COURT.—Thursday, June 28th, 1894.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant

571. JAMES LAW (45) , Forging and uttering an acceptance to a bill of exchange for the payment of £20, with intent to defraud.

MR. ABINGER Prosecuted.

WILLIAM DURBAN . I am a minister and preacher, of 19, Park Road, South Tottenham—the prisoner was my tenant at the dwelling-house and shop, 790, Fulham Road—on Lady Day he was indebted to me £12 10s. for a quarter's rent—towards the end of May he sent me by post this document, purporting to be a bill, in this letter. (Stating that he enclosed a bill for £20, which he trusted Mr. Durban would be able to use; the bill

was dated 790, Fulham Road, May 9th, and was for £20, at four months, for value received, drawn by David Bannerman, and accepted by David Bannerman, and endorsed by James Law)—I had been applying to him for the rent—I sent him word that he did not owe me £20—he wrote in reply, find I sent a business man to investigate the matter, and he saw Mr. Bannerman—ultimately, after trouble had arisen about the matter, I saw the prisoner, who came to my house very much agitated, about 19th May, about ten days after he sent me the bill—he said he had had advice from a certain man, whose name he told me, but who was not known to me—he said, "Things of this kind are very often done; they are called bogus bills, which come out all right before the time arrives for payment. Will you destroy the bill, and there will be no more trouble about it?"—I said, "I don't understand enough about bills to play tricks with them; also I want my rent; where is my rent, or part of it, even a little of it?"—he went away after I refused positively to either destroy the bill or do anything—he told me that Bannerman was a liar, that he had signed the bill in his presence—I said I did not know Bannerman, and had heard through the agent I had sent that Bannerman had not accepted the bill—I am tolerably well acquainted with the prisoner's writing—I should say the acceptance is not his writing, but that the body of the bill is.

Cross-examined by the prisoner. I sent my son-in-law to see Mr. Bannerman—he tried to see you—you were not at home, he told me—you took the furniture shop at 790, Fulham Road, last Christmas, which I had been carrying on; you took the stock in the books—I did not say, "You have sent me a bogus bill"—I did not charge you with anything—I did not know that Bannerman owed you £30, or that you had sold the business to him—my son-in-law told me that Bannerman was denied to him—my son-in-law went to ask Bannerman whether he had signed the bill, and the answer from Bannerman was "No."

The prisoner here stated that he had forged the bill, but that lie thought he had a right to do so.

GUILTY .

There was another indictment against the prisoner for a similar offence.

Mr. Bannerman said that he did not owe the prisoner anything.

Nine Months' Hard Labour.

572. GEORGE HENRY TALBOT GILBOURNE , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of £5 5s., with intent to defraud.

MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended.

JAMES JOYCE . I live at 149, Tulse Hill, S.W.—I have known the prisoner for some time—on 21st May I went to him, and asked him to pay me £1 5s. he owed me—we got into a cab, and in the cab he showed me this cheque, and asked me to cash it—I said, "Who gave you the cheque?"—he said, "I have been doing accounts for this man Newman, and this is payment for the accounts. Of course it is a good cheque, and it is on a good bank"—I saw it was for £5 5s. on the London Joint Stock Bank. (The cheque was dated 24th May; "Bearer" was crossed out and "Order" written in, and it was marked "Not negotiable")—I had not enough money in my pocket—I said, "As I have got a diamond ring on my finger, we can soon raise the money, if it will do you any service"—I pawned the ring for about £3, and I had £3 10s. in my pocket—I

gave the prisoner £4 10s. for the cheque—he endorsed it, and told me not to pass it through the bank till the Thursday, which was the 24th, the date on it.

Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner for five years or so—he was an accountant in Delahay Street, Westminster—I know of his meeting Arthur Russell—I did not know that Russell's trade name was Newman and Co.—I knew nothing of Newman—I did not know of any connection between Russell and Newman—on 1st June I saw Russell at Charing Cross—the signature "Newman" of this cheque is in Russell's writing—I believe that Russell was formerly in the Official Receiver's office—he was a very plausible sort of person as far as I knew him—he was connected with Turnpenny, who was sentenced at this Court a month ago for using drugs illegally—I did not know that Russell was trustee for Turnpenny under a power of attorney—I have seen Russell at Turnpenny's—Turnpenny was in the wholesale button trade—the prisoner knew Turnpenny so far as I know—I heard at the Police-court that the cheque was out of a book issued to Turnpenny.

Re-examined. Russell is the prisoner's clerk.

ARTHUR EDGAR QUELCH . On 8th May I was the prisoner's clerk—on that day he gave me this cheque and told me to take it over to Veitch's at Storey's Gate and cash it, and bring bring back three guineas, and pay his account there—I went and saw Mrs. Veitch and handed her the cheque, and she gave me three guineas—the prisoner sent me next day to ask if the cheque had been passed through.

Cross-examined. I was taken ill and left the office on the 8th—I was not present when Veitch called on the prisoner—I did not bring back on the 10th a receipt for £2 2s. which the prisoner owed Veitch—I don't know what has become of Russell; I last saw him about 9th May, before I gave evidence at the Police-court—he and I were clerks to the prisoner—Russell had been there a few weeks for certain, I cannot say how long—he did writing, and assisted in keeping the books—he was there some time before I came—he was there for two or three weeks before 9th May, when he disappeared.

WILLIAM SCOTT VEITCH . I am the husband of Mrs. Veitch mentioned in this case; she died shortly after the prisoner's arrest—the prisoner owed me £10 3s. 6d. for wines, spirits, and luncheons, and £2 borrowed from my wife on an I.O.U.—I am a licensed victualler—when this cheque was brought I was not present—I saw the prisoner about it a day or two afterwards at his office, and told him the cheque had been returned; it was crossed, "Bank of England"—he said it was quite an accident; it was crossed, but he would make the matter all right—I saw him on several occasions afterwards, and he kept putting me off, saying he had not got his cheque-book, or he was going to see his bankers—another day he said the cheque was all right; he had seen the party who had' given it to him, and read a letter to me, which he would not let me see, supposed to be from the party who drew the cheque, saying it was quite a mistake of the bank, and if it was presented again it would be all right—I wrote a letter to the bank, presenting it again, and they returned it by a messenger.

Cross-examined. I had several interviews with the prisoner about the cheque—I told him the message I had from the bank, which was to the effect that the cheque had been stolen from the book issued to Turnpenny

—the prisoner said he would soon settle that point, because the drawer of the cheque was in the very next room—he rang the bell, and asked his clerk to send the gentleman in—the clerk said he had gone out to post a letter—that was about 17th or 18th May—the date of this cheque is 8th May; it was some days after 11th May, at all events—he did not mention the name of the gentleman in the next room—I wrote this letter to the prisoner on 21st May—looking at that, I say it was about that date and not before it that I told him the cheque was stolen—I think it was the same day—we quarrelled, and he was rather violent in his language—I said I did not believe the drawer was in the next room—after that I consulted my solicitor, and a warrant was obtained—I was not called at the Police-court—my wife was living when I swore the information—she has since died—I was anxious to go on with the case—for some few months he had run up an account with me for luncheons and different things; and he used to settle up once a week, as a rule—he settled regularly—I wrote to the prisoner telling him the cheque wan not met, and received a reply from him the same day, in which he said he had received my letter, and would see his solicitors the next day, and that he would pay the balance of my account, £6 8s. 1d., the next day—that was not the balance of his account; I had received £5 on account on the Saturday—he gave my wife a cheque—before the information was sworn he had a full statement of account and everything, and I told him I wanted it settled at once.

Re-examined. The first time I told him that the cheque was dishonoured was within a few days of the 8th.

EMILY PIZZEY . I live at 14, Shawfield Street, Chelsea—the prisoner lodged with me there from about Easter—on Whit Sunday, 13th May, the prisoner's manservant brought me that cheque for £5 5s., and asked me if I would kindly cash it—I let him have £2 then, and the balance of £3 5s. afterwards—I cashed the cheque through a friend in the Post Office—on the 17th it was returned to me marked "No account"—I then consulted my solicitor, Mr. Rickards—on the following Monday, the 21st, the prisoner came to see me; he simply said he was very sorry it had happened; it was through a mistake or some joke that had been played upon him—I left the matter in my solicitor's hands.

Cross-examined. The prisoner had always paid his rent—Mr. Rickards proceeded in the County Court on my behalf—I did not get my money there; the prisoner was arrested very shortly after that.

By the COURT. I did not know that there were any subsequent or previous cheques; I thought it was an isolated transaction—I did it out of kindness—I lost my money.

ARTHUR BENJAMIN RICKARDS . I am a, solicitor,: of 3, Mitre Court, Temple—Miss Pizzey, my client, came to me on 18th May—I wrote to the prisoner, who called on the next day, Saturday, May 19th—he said he had come to take up the cheque; I told him I had not got it, but I would give him a receipt for the money, and an undertaking to get the cheque from my client, and I asked him who would give me my expenses—he laughed at me—rather insulted, I said I thought it was a swindle; there was no such firm as Newman in the Directory, and that the best thing for him would be Bow Street—he made no answer; he showed me no money

—he did not suggest that Newman was a man named Russell, who was a clerk in his employment.

Cross-examined. He became very insulting after I asked him for my expenses—I advised my client to prosecute; she was very reluctant to do so, and I took out a default summons in the County Court—before the end of the eight days, when I could sign judgment—the prisoner was taken into custody.

WILLIAM CHARLES IRWEN . I am a clerk at the London and Joint Stock Bank, Lothbury branch—this cheque "C" is signed "A.W. Newman"—cheques "B" and "A" are signed "Newman and Co. "and "Newman"—we have no such customers—the cheque forms are ours; they were all issued to W. D. Turnpenny and Co. some time ago, before February this year.

Cross-examined. Turnpenny had an account up to 24th February, when his balance was paid by a garnishee order to the solicitors—Russell held a power of attorney for Turnpenny.

CHARLES SCANTLEBURY (Police Constable). I arrested the prisoner on 29th May on Veitch's charge—Mrs. Veitch was then living—the prisoner was remanded for eight days.

Cross-examined. He said, "I ought to charge Mr. Veitch instead of his charging me."

WILLIAM SCOTT VEITCH (Re-examined by the COURT). My wife was seriously ill on May 28th, when I swore the information—she died on June 14th—I took her to the Police-court in a hansom cab—she suffered from diabetes and congestion of the lungs; I had to lift her out of the cab, and it gave her a great shock going there—she was not called.

Prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY of uttering.— There were other indictments against the prisoner for forgery and obtaining money by false pretences. MR. TAYLOR suggested that no doubt if sentence were postponed the prisoner could make restitution to the persons defrauded.—Judgment respited.

NEW COURT.—Friday, June 29th, 1894.

Before Mr. Recorder.

573. WILLIAM MUIR BUCHAN , Unlawfully obtaining £200 from Augustus Worthington Maud, and £60 from Whittaker and Co., without informing them that he was an undischarged bankrupt.

MR. WALLACE Prosecuted, and MR. H. AVORY Defended.

The prosecutor stated that the money he paid was simply an advance to the prisoner to purchase a concession in the Southern Madagascar Syndicate, upon which MR. WALLACE withdrew from the prosecution.

NOT GUILTY .

574. MARION NEWTON , Forging and uttering an order for £1 6s. 9d. with intent to defraud.

MESSRS. C. MATHEWS AND BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended.

MARY PAINE . I am a governess, of Parkholm Road, Dalston—in February and March I lived at 10, Stannard Road, and the prisoner was my landlady—I was teaching in a school at May field Road, Dalston—I

occupied a back bedroom on the second floor, with the option of going into a sitting-room on the first floor—I lived there till March 31st—I was out from nine to five—I had no key of my bedroom door; I asked the prisoner for one; she said she could not put her hand on it then—I had three boxes in my room; I always kept them locked—I had in two boxes a gold watch, a gold bar brooch, a watch key, locket, knives and forks, and a roll of Irish linen—I found one box had been tampered with—I could not open it—I had it forced open, and missed linen value £15—I went out at two o'clock, complained to the police, and returned about five and remained till about 8.30—I saw the prisoner, but said nothing about my loss—Detective Finnicane came, and about 8.30 I went to a new lodging in Parkholm Road—it was nearly midnight when I went to 10, Stannard Road—the prisoner opened the door, and the detective spoke to her, and then I said that I had lost these things from my trunk—she rather laughed at it, and said that probably I never possessed them—the master fetched down my boxes—questions were put to Jane Clarke, and the prisoner said, "Now, Jane, have you ever seen Miss Paine wearing a watch?" she said, "No"—I hardly ever did put on a watch—I did not owe the prisoner anything for my lodgings—I left my boxes there the prisoner produced a key, and said she had just made the discovery that the key of one of the doors fitted my room—I said that I would not stay, and she said, "You shall have the key"—I locked up my room and left—my agent at Maidstone sends me a Post Office order for £1 6s. 9d. once a month, but I had not received any orders since I had been at 10, Stannard Road—on March 26th I went back there to fetch my boxes—the prisoner let me in, and on the table I found a letter directed to me—this is the envelope of it—it bears the postmark of March 26th, 1894—I did not open it in the house—I said I had come for my luggage, and to pay my bill—she gave me the bill already receipted for 15s. 2d., and I paid her and took my boxes—I opened the letter outside and found in it two documents—one was this letter from H. W. Howard: "Madam,—The postman left your letter at my house, and as I am very short of cash now, I have used the money, as you were very cruel to my girl at school. The next time you have money sent, have it registered"—there was no order in the letter—I communicated with the police—I have never received the £1 6s. 9d.—I did not see the prisoner again till she was at the station—the little girl Clarke waited on me—I had my meals in my bedroom; she brought them there and attended to the room—I do not know Tim Davis—I do not recognise the writing of this letter (Produced)—I have no knowledge of the person—it states that I tore a sheet of paper in half—I did not do so.

Cross-examined. I was only there three or four weeks before March—the prisoner often came to talk to me—I often saw her upstairs—Jane Clarke attended to my bedroom—I only received one letter while I was there, and that was nearly opened—I saw the things safe a few days before March 24th—they were in two trunks, which I locked, but the locks have been tampered with—I very rarely wore the watch, therefore she spoke correctly—when the matter was first mentioned they were abusive.

Re-examined. I got this letter of March 26th from the Post Office.

HENRY WALTER HOARE . I live at Doyler Road, Maidstone, and

conduct business for Miss Paine—on March 22nd I wrote this letter to her, enclosing an order for £1 6s. 9d., and it was posted the same afternoon—the post-office order was for the same amount, and the same name and date—she was in the habit of acknowledging letters—I wrote a subsequent letter—this (produced) is not my writing.

WALTER HURST . I am a constable attached to the General Post Office—I produce a money order from Greenwood Road Post-office, Dalston, for £1 6s. 9d., which has been paid, and the advice note—Miss Paine forwarded to the department a letter and envelope marked "A 1" and "A 2"—on April 16th I went to 10, Stannard Road, and saw the prisoner—I said, "I am a police officer attached to the Post Office, and have come to make inquiries relating to a letter containing a post-office order for £1 6s. 9d, have you any objection to giving me a specimen of your writing and the writing of the other persons in the house, Eva and Ella Newton and Jane Clarke?"—I read a copy of the anonymous letter to her, and said, "This is a copy of a letter which was received in this envelope, do you know anything about it?"—I do not remember whether she said that it had come or not—on the 6th she said she had a letter for Miss Paine, and fetched it, and I said, "This looks very much as if it had been opened, do you know anything about it?"—she said, "No"—I said, "It looks as if it has been opened since the Dalston stamp has been put on, why don't you give it to Miss Paine?"—she said, "I don't know her address," and that it had been in the kitchen—the girl came up, and I asked her if she knew anything about the anonymous letter—she said, "No," and went out of the room, and I was left alone with the prisoner—she said, "This looks very black for me, what are you going to do?"—I said, "I am going to make further inquiry"—I received this letter from Miss Paine (One of the prisoner's rent bills), and I think that and the anonymous letter were originally one sheet of paper which has been torn; the edges fit.

Cross-examined. I have tried tearing two or three sheets together, and can only match one—I took a specimen of the girl Clarke's writing—all the specimens were written when each writer was present in Mrs. Newton's room—I supplied the paper—it is official paper—I did not say to Jane Clarke, "You wrote that, did you not?" pointing out the envelope which had contained the anonymous letter—I had not got the letter—the conversation with Clarke and the others took five or six minutes—I made no note of anything that was said; there was nothing to induce me to do so—I do not think I put any question to Clarke about the letter in the kitchen having been tampered with, but I believe she was present.

Re-examined. I fancy one of the daughters got a different pen—their ages are about sixteen and fourteen; I believe Ella is the eldest.

JANE CLARKE . I shall be sixteen next September—I am living with my parents at 61, Mansfield Street, Clapton—I have been a servant about four years—I have lived with Mrs. Phipps—I left her and went to the prisoner's service in October, 1892, as a general servant—I recollect Miss Paine coming to live there—I attended to her, but not to the back bedroom—after she had gone out, Mrs. Newton attended to her room—I only did the room when she was in on Saturday and Sunday—I slept in the back kitchen—no other servant was kept—I remember Miss Paine leaving just before Easter; she came back later in the day, and two

detectives came—after they had gone the prisoner said to me, "Miss Paine has lost something, and she does not know what she has lost," and asked if I had seen any of her things—I said, "No"—Miss Paine left the house on Saturday evening between 8.30 and nine, and told me to follow her—I followed her to a lane in Dalston, and then went back, and told the prisoner where I had been—on the same night I was called down again, and the two detectives said, "I want to ask you a few questions; Miss Paine has lost some things, have you taken them or seen them?"—I said, "No," and went back to bed—if a letter came for Miss Paine it would be put on the hall table—I do not recollect any letter coming for Miss Paine on Good Friday morning or Saturday, the 24th—on Easter Sunday I was at home till evening; I then went to church, and returned at 8.30—I let myself in and the prisoner said, "Jane, don't take off' your things; I want you to get me some stout and a stamp"—I got them at a public-house, and when I went back she said, "Jane, don't take off your things again; I want you to post a letter"—she was then in the bottom room writing at a table on which there was writing paper, which was usually kept on the sideboard—she gave me a letter shortly afterwards, and when I got outside I read the address, and found it was to come back to the house, and did not post it—on Easter Monday a letter came for Miss Paine—I put it on the hall table—this is it, the one I have just seen—I went with my sister to Chingford—I went to my parents first; they gave me eightpence, which I spent at Chingford—I came home about 9.30, and found the prisoner and her two daughters, Ella and Eva—the prisoner said that Miss Paine had been—on Easter Tuesday a letter came for Miss Paine—this is the envelope of it—this one (another) came on Easter Sunday morning—I put it on the dresser, and noticed it when I went to dust—on April 16th a gentleman from the Post Office came, and I wrote my name and address, and the prisoner and her daughters did the same—he did not show me the envelope—he held it in his hand and said, "Do you know who wrote this letter?"—I said, "No"—after June 11th the prisoner said, "I have not done it"—on April 20th the same two officers, Finnicane and Rosenhiter, came—I saw them in the dining-room with the prisoner and the little baby—the prisoner was kneeling and crying; she said, "Have mercy on me"—I think she was speaking to the detectives—the detectives and the prisoner and a little girl went upstairs—I went up with them; they looked about, and then I went down to get some bread and milk for the baby, and when I got back the prisoner said to me, "Say that you did it," and I said to Mr. Rosenhiter, "I did it"—I did not hear him say anything, but he went out of the room, and the prisoner and me and the baby were left—the prisoner then said, "Jane, if they ask you what you have done with the order say you cashed it at Greenwood Road, and signed the name of Miss Paine, and if they ask you what you have done with the money say that you threw it away"—but afterwards she said, "Don't say that, say that you spent it"—she afterwards said, "If they ask you what you have done with the linen say you threw it away," and then she said, "Don't say that; say you put it in the kitchen drawer, and if they ask you what you have done with the watch say you lost it through a hole in your pocket"—the police came back, and Rosenhiter said, "What have you done with it?"—I told them, and Finnicane said, "Why did

you do it?"—I said, "I don't know, I seem to have meant it"—I gave that answer because I did not know what else to say—I then went downstairs to change my dress; the prisoner went down with me, and said, "If you speak hard and fast what you have said I will speak no more"—I said, "What will they do to me?"—she said, "They will take you to the station, and ask you several questions and let you go"—I was taken to the station, and the prisoner and her daughters went with me—I was taken before a Magistrate the same day, and remanded for a week, and taken to Holloway, where my father and mother came to see me separately and Mr. Cook—I made a statement to each of them; my mother came first, on the next day, Saturday—I made a statement to her, and my father came next day, and I told him, and then I told Mrs. Phipps—on the 27th I was taken before the Court—I did not see the prisoner there—I was remanded again, and on May 3rd I was brought up again—I was a fortnight in custody, and was let out on bail, and on May 4th or 5th I was discharged by Mr. Lane—I went to the Treasury and made a statement to that gentleman (Mr. Colbeck)—I was afterwards called as a witness against the prisoner—no girls came to the prisoner's house to be taught—what I told Sergeant Finnicane and Mr. Colbeck was the truth—what I told the two officers about taking these things and throwing the watch away was not the truth, but I said so because if I had not she would have beaten me, as she has done more than once—about a month before I was taken into custody she struck me on my head with a kettle and cut it open, because she said the kettle was greasy—on the other occasion when she has offered violence to me it was for some complaint about my work—I have never heard the name of Tim Davis mentioned.

Cross-examined. I told the detective that I did it because I meant it, because I thought I must say something—the prisoner was in the drawing-room with Mr. Newton when she told me the detectives had been, and Miss Paine had lost something; but she did not know what she had lost—neither of the detectives were there—the words she used were, "Oh, Jane, if you know anything of this matter, do confess and save me from all this trouble, for you must know that I am innocent"—she said that when she had been crying bitterly, and imploring the detectives to allow her to remain till her husband came—that is what I mean by imploring for mercy—I have got the scar on my head now, but you can t see it. (The JURY examined tier head, and found a little white mark)—it was a fortnight or a month before I was taken in custody that she hit me with the kettle—it was a very severe blow, which made the blood come—I entered her service in 1892 and remained some time and left, and again entered her service, and remained there till the date of my arrest—I never complained to my mother of the treatment to which I was subjected by Mrs. Newton—I was at home before I went in to her service—I got the situation through a home—my father lives not very far from the prisoner—he is potman at the Stag at Brooksby's Wharf—I did not complain to him—no one else was present when the prisoner told me to say that I took the watch and so on, and lost it through a hole in my pocket—that was in the second floor front bedroom, above the dining-room—I was standing by her side, and I took the bread and milk in—she was in great distress at the time, and I was with her four or five minutes before the detectives came—they saw me immediately before and immediately afterwards—they

were searching the house at the time—the prisoner did not threaten me at that time, but I did it because I thought it would save her trouble—I have an ill-feeling against her—I did not say a word to the Magistrate about the prisoner having whispered to me to confess my guilt, because he did not ask me any questions—people gave evidence, and I was defended by Mr. Young—I told him that the prisoner had told me to confess my guilt—she was called as a witness on the first remand—Mr. Hurst did not point to the letter and say, "You wrote this, did not you?"—I do not know whether the prisoner was writing the letter she handed me to post or the envelope, when I saw her writing on March 26th—I will pledge my oath that she was in the room writing—they went to chapel one Sunday night, not Easter Sunday night, I went on Easter Sunday night—I do not know the name of the clergyman who preached—the prisoner has never spoken to me severely for putting money into my pocket which she given me to pay trades people—I was never given 12s. 6d. to pay Miss Colombo, a dressmaker—I have been sent to pay Mrs. Levy, the butcher's wife, and I paid her—all the money she has given me to pay I have paid—I ran away home one night from the prisoner because I was afraid of her, and I knew if I did not say it she would have hit me—Mr. Finnicane did not say after I had confessed my guilt that if I told him the truth I should be let off—I said before the Magistrate, "He said if I told the truth I should be let off myself"—I had told him I had done it—he had told me before that that I had better tell the truth, and it would be better for me if I did—I learned by heart what I have said to-day—I had not got it in writing—Miss Paine's bedroom was not always open, but it was not kept locked—I had not access to it whenever I liked; Mrs. Newton emptied the slops and did the bed, and I was only in the room when she was there—I recollect taking the letter downstairs to Mrs. Newton, and it was kept in the same place every day, and laid there till it was handed to the detectives—I did not like to tell my mother that the prisoner was illtreating me, because she had enough to do, and I did not tell my father—I went back to the prisoner because she asked me kindly to come back, and I never made a single complaint—it seemed to me to be a very dreadful thing to admit to the detective that I had stolen all these articles—I did not think I should be punished, because she said they would take me to the station and let me off—the detective came into the room immediately afterwards—I saw him before saying that to the prisoner, and at that time I said that I had done nothing—I confessed a few minutes afterwards; after Mrs. Newton had implored me to tell the truth, because I must know that she was innocent—I do not know whether anybody was present then; the doors of both rooms were open—the detectives were in the room—I went to the prisoner's from the Friend of Young Women's Home, but I did not live in the Home—I did not complain to the superintendent.

Re-examined. I had been five weeks in the prisoner's service when I left first—Mrs. Newton gave my mother this letter: "Dear Mrs. Clarke,—Certain matters have arisen which prevent my keeping Jane any longer. I know you will not mind my not giving her any notice, as I will always give her a good character; she will come for her sheets to-night"—I went back because she wrote another letter—I was in the habit of going home for holidays while I was in service, only a week the first time, but not

after I went back again, because Mrs. Newton had me a week on and a week off—I went to church at seven o'clock on Easter Sunday; Mr. and Mrs. Newton were at home and the three girls—I only knew them go to Moorfields Chapel once, but I have heard them speak of it—I did not see Mr. Newton when I came back—I often went to church alone and came back alone—when I ran away it was because Mrs. Newton was going to hit me because I took a gentleman's dressing gown to the pawnshop, and they would not take it in, and I went to bed, and then when mistress went to bed I ran away—I had not seen the dressing-gown in the house before—only Mr. and Mrs. Newton and the three girls were living in the house then; they had no lodger at that time—my mother took me back next morning—I signed my depositions before the Magistrate—I have never seen them since, nor has anybody told me what I said before the Magistrate—by learning it by heart, I mean that I have kept in my head all what I have done at Mrs. Newton's—I was arrested on April 20th, and the first person I told the real truth to was my father—it was after I was discharged from Holloway that Finnicane spoke to me—he took it down in writing—it was a long statement, ten sheets of paper—that was before I went to the Treasury—I made it at the station—that was after I had made the statement to my father at Holloway—he took me to make it—I was living at home then—from Easter Tuesday up to April 20th Mrs. Newton used to come into the kitchen every day, and the letter remained in the same place—Mr. Young appeared for me on April 27th before the Magistrate the second time—I don't know what he said to the Magistrate, but shortly after that I was let out on bail.

By MR. TAYLOR. The prisoner was at the station when I was taken there—it was she herself who told me to confess myself the culprit.

By MR. BODKIN. I was alone with her then—she said, "If they ask you if you wrote the letter, say you copied it out of a book. No, don't say that; say you did it out of your own head"—I did not say that before the Magistrate, because I did not think of it—I did not send that letter to Miss Paine, because I did not know the number of her house.

WILLIAM GEORGE HOBBS . I am second clerk at the North London Police-court—I was acting as clerk on 22nd April, when the prisoner was brought up on remand—Mr. Young appeared for her—no one appeared for the prosecution—I did not hear Mr. Young make a statement about a confession—the case came before Mr. Lane as a new case; it had been before Mr. Corser before—the Magistrate remanded the girl in custody on 27th April, and wrote a letter to the Public Prosecutor, and no further evidence was offered—this letter (produced) was received by the Magistrate on April 30th—I endorsed it.

CAROLINE CLARKE . I am servant at 5, Childerbank Road, Balham, and am the sister of Jane Clarke—on Easter Monday I went with her to Chingford—she only had 8d., which she spent with me—I paid for the rest of the day's entertainment—she had no watch or jewellery.

Cross-examined. She met me at our mother's house about twelve o'clock; she had walked there from Mrs. Newton's—she left me at Chingford Station.

SUSAN CLARKE . I am the mother of Jane Clarke—she was first in Mrs.

Phipps's service, and afterwards with Mrs. Newton—I heard of her being taken in custody at 10.30 p.m., and saw her next day at Holloway Prison—she made a statement to me, and my husband went to see her—I attended the Court each time, and afterwards Mrs. Phipps and I instructed Mr. Young.

ERNEST SMAILE . I am a chemist's assistant at the Greenwood Road Post-office—this advice note is in the name of Paine—this post-office order I was presented by a female, who I cannot describe, on March 24th, ready signed, and I cashed it.

Cross-examined. I was not taken to see if I could recognise anybody.

JOHN ROSENHITER (Detective J). I was acting with Sergeant Finnicane in reference to Miss Paine's complaint—on 24th March, the Saturday before Easter, we went to the house almost at midnight; Sergeant Finnicane spoke to the prisoner, and explained that Miss Paine had had some jewellery stolen—the girl Clarke and Mr. Newton were called down, and they all denied all knowledge of it—I went again on April 10th, about ten a.m.—the prisoner opened the door, and the sergeant said, "I have come to see you about it"—he had a half sheet of paper and said, "This is in your writing, I believe?"—she said, "Yes"—he then showed her another half-sheet of paper, and said, "How do you account for these two sheets of paper corresponding?"—she said, "I don't know"—he said, "I am not at all satisfied; you will have to accompany me to the station"—she began to cry, and said, "Oh, don't; have mercy upon me; let me stay till my husband comes home. He and my two daughters are at the Law Courts; if I wire for him he will lose his case"—the girl Clarke came in, and the prisoner said, "They are going to lock me up. Oh, Jane, confess"—we searched the room, and went upstairs, and the prisoner and I were in the front bedroom—Clarke was told to bring up some bread and milk for the baby; it was brought up—she sat down by the baby, and said, "Oh, Janey, do confess"—the girl said, "I done it; I changed the order and lost it"—I went into the next room, and spoke to Finnicane—we went back to the front room, and the girl said, "I have taken the things, and also the letter. I signed the money order, and went to Greenwood Road and cashed it. I threw the money away. I spent the money at Chingford on Easter Monday with my sister. The linen I threw away"—then she said, "I burnt it; the watch I put in my pocket, and lost it at Chingford through a hole in my pocket; that was all the things I had"—I was away four or five minutes talking to Finnicane—the girl was taken in custody, and the prisoner came to the station—the girl was allowed to go to the kitchen—we went with her; the prisoner was there—the girl said she wanted to change her dress, and I left them together.

Cross-examined. I was in the room when Clarke confessed her guilt—the prisoner might have whispered to Clarke and told her to say what she did—I was two or three yards off looking out at the window—I heard no conversation in the small room such as the prisoner is said to have had with the girl—it is not a very large room—I was in the room when Clarke came in with the bread and milk—I heard her say she was guilty—I was not listening to the conversation when she spoke about the bread

and milk—there was nothing to prevent my hearing what was said—the child was sobbing and so was the prisoner.

Re-examined. It is possible that the prisoner said something to Clarke which I did not hear, and then she said, "I changed the order and lost it."

BERNARD FINNICANE (Detective Sergeant J). On March 24th I visited 10, Stannard Road, in reference to Miss Paine's complaint; I put some questions and left—I went again on April 10th with Rosenhiter—the prisoner opened the door; we went into the dining-room, and I produced a half-sheet of paper, a bill of Miss Paine's, and asked the prisoner if it was her writing—she said, "Yes"—I produced another half-sheet, on which the anonymous letter is written, and compared the edges, and asked her how she accounted for it, and said, "You will have to go with me to the station"—she fell on her knees and said, "Oh, don't! My husband and my two daughters are at the Law Courts, and if I telegraph for him he will lose his case"—I searched the house, and while I was searching the back bedroom upstairs a communication was made to me, and I heard the prisoner say, "Bring up some bread and milk for the child"—I went into the front room, and the girl confessed that she had stolen the things—I went down to the basement, took the girl in custody, and told her the charge; she made no reply—I told the prisoner that these were originally one sheet of notepaper; and there is the same watermark on it, and the indentations fit; it is very common paper—I received the Tim Davis letter on April 30th—I took the prisoner in custody on a warrant on May 29th for forging and uttering a post-office order—she said, "It is false; I have two witnesses to prove it"—I took her to the station.

Cross-examined. On the first occasion I went about six o'clock, and saw Miss Pane in her own room—when I went again the Newtons invited me to search the house—after she said, "I cannot account for it," I said that it was unsatisfactory—she said, "Oh, Jane, do confess," and I questioned the girl—she said she knew nothing about it, but upstairs the challenge was repeated, and the confession was made to me.

JOHN SMITH . I lodged at 10, Stannard Road, for a week—I got this letter marked "G 1" from the prisoner—it is her writing—I spoke to her about the contents because I considered I was very much insulted—these two other documents are both in the prisoner's writing.

SABINA KIRBY . I live at 16, Stannard Road, Dalston—I only know the prisoner as a neighbour—I received two letters, one signed "G. H. Newton," and the other "M. Newton"—I have had a conversation with the prisoner about them—they refer to the ground rent.

THOMAS HENRY GUERRIN . I am an expert in handwriting, of 59, Holborn Viaduct, and have had considerable experience in examining writing for eight or nine years—I have had before me documents "D 1," "D 2," and "D 3," the three specimens of writing obtained from the two Newtons and Jane Clarke; also letters G 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5—I have looked at "D 1," the admitted writing of prisoner, and at "E," which is the account Miss Paine paid, and in my opinion they are in one and the same writing, and, therefore, in the prisoner's writing—in my opinion documents "A 1," the anonymous letter signed "Z. S. A.," and the Tim Davis letter, "H," and the letter produced by Mr. Hobbs also a Tim Davis's letter, are in

the same writing, and in a natural hand, without any attempt at disguise—the Tim Davis letter and the anonymous letter both appear to be in a disguised writing—I have here the signature to the post-office order, "B," which I have carefully examined, with the Tim Davis letter, the anonymous letter, and the prisoner's admitted writing—the signature to the post-office order has been written over, or the greater part of it, and the capital letter appears to correspond with most of the capital "M's" in the prisoner's writing—it is finished off with a little circle, but if it is examined with a glass it appears that the circle has been added afterwards; without the circle it corresponds exactly with the capital "M" used by the prisoner in her natural writing—as to the rest of the signature it was first written "Payne," but it has been gone over again with different ink, spelling it "Paine"—the "P" corresponds almost exactly with the "P" in the letter produced by Mr. Hobbs; it is more like that "P" than any other—it appears to have been written over again the same as on the post-office order—it is impossible to say when writing has been done over, but the "M" in M. Paine on the post-office order is exactly like the prisoner's writing—looking at the specimen writing of Eva Newton, and at the envelope in which the anonymous letter was enclosed, I believe they are both in the same writing—the edges of these two pieces of paper correspond, as far as my sight will guide me, and the paper is from the same mill—I have compared the Tim Davis letters, and taken similarities between them and the anonymous letter, and they are the same—I then compared the anonymous letter with the admitted letters, and found similarities; the "e" in "harshness" is very peculiar, something like a Greek "e," showing that it was written very rapidly, and I find that frequently in the proved writing, and there is also an instance of the double "s"—you will find a similar "e" in "bottle"—there is a rough similarity between the "G" in Graham Road and the "Graham Road" in the anonymous letter—there are other similarities which I can mention upon which I base my opinion—in the "M. Paine" I find the original "n" before it was inked over, and I have found a similar "n" in the prisoner's writing.

Cross-examined. Jane Clarke's writing is not very much more marked than the resemblance between Eva Newton's writing—there must be a similarity in the writing of young people who have not a formed hand, but I watch where the writer is accustomed to raise the pen in the same word, and if I find exactly the same pauses it goes a great way with me—the writing of the Tim Davis letter and of the anonymous letter is considerably disguised—here is an "e" upon which I rely in the word "rent," and there are about four in that letter—this is not the commonest way in the world for an "e" to be formed by a lady.

By the COURT. The double "s" is in the word "harshness" in the anonymous letter as well as the "e"—the resemblance is very strong—there are not thousands of persons writing double "s" in the same way, I look upon it as a peculiarity—in the anonymous letter it is more finished, only it is smaller.

Re-examined. I find in the anonymous letter a number of letters which correspond with or are similar to a number of letters in the Tim Davis letter, the "T," "t," "J," "p," "y," "m," and the figures—I have no

doubt that the anonymous letter was written by the same hand that penned the Tim Davis letter.

The Rev. Victors English, curate of All Saints' Church, Preston, Lancashire, and his wife, and Mrs. Emily Huntley deposed to the prisoner's very excellent character.

GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.

THIRD COURT.—Friday, June 29th, 1894.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

575. JAMES ETHERTON , Unlawfully attempting to have carnal knowledge of Elizabeth Ada Wakefield, aged fifteen.

MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

NOT GUILTY .

576. JOHN CHARLES MORRIS (30) and LEONARD BURTON (38) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully conspiring with others to cheat and defraud certain hotel-keepers.— MORRIS— Eight Months' Hard Labour. BURTON— Five Months' Hard Labour.

577. ELIZABETH BODIMEAD , Stealing £2 6s. of Arthur Day.

MR. H. D. GLAZEBROOK Prosecuted.

ARTHUR DAY . I live at Great. Stanmore, Middlesex—the prisoner is my sister; she lives at Harrow Weald, and her husband is a labourer—on 14th May I returned home between one and two in the day; the prisoner came in about three or four minutes afterwards—my wife was there—the prisoner asked my wife if she could lend her a shilling, as she had no money—my wife said yes; she could have one or two shillings if she wanted it—she said a shilling would be enough, and my wife gave it to her—I gave my wife a sovereign in the prisoner's presence, and told her to take it upstairs and put it with the other money, and she went upstairs with it at once—she usually kept her money in the looking-glass drawer—she went up and came down again—after that the prisoner went upstairs, and was there for four or five minutes—I was not there when she came down; I had gone out—next day, the 15th, I was at the beer-shop called "The Case is Altered," and saw my sister there—the prisoner and her husband were there, and I asked the prisoner to give me the £2 6s. she took from my bedroom—she denied taking the money, and insulted me—she was drunk, and her husband, too, and also three or four women as well.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not punch your head and knock you down and call you names; I did not lay a hand on you—Elizabeth Carr was one of the women who was drunk with you; she did not tell me I ought to be ashamed—my wife did not tell me of the loss until Tuesday evening, when I returned from work—there had not been any quarrel between us before this.

SARAH DAY . I am the wife of the last witness—on 14th May the prisoner came to our house between one and two o'clock, and asked me to lend her a shilling—I said I would lend her two if she wanted it—she said one would

do—my husband was not there then, he came in just afterwards; he gave me a sovereign and told me to put it upstairs with a little other money I had—I usually keep my money in a drawer of a chest of drawers in my bedroom—I took out £1 6s. that I had, and put the sovereign with it, intending to put it hack in my drawer—my husband called for me to come down and give him his dinner, and I laid the money on the bed and went down—the prisoner asked me to let her tidy her hair, and she went upstairs; she came down and said she could not find the comb, and I went up with her and gave her the comb—it was on the dressing-table, visible to anyone, between the pincushion and the looking-glass; she must have seen it if she looked for it—I asked her if she would help me put a sheet on the bed; I went down to get it, and she did so—I did not see the money then; I had forgotten that I had put the money there, it had been lying on the quilt; I did not miss it—I then went downstairs, she followed me, close behind me; she sat down for a few minutes—my husband went out after having his dinner—the prisoner went out into the garden, and then left—I missed the money while she was in the front garden, and I ran upstairs and searched, but could not find it—I went into the garden where the prisoner was, but my husband called to me to be quick; he was standing waiting for me to go out with him, and I put on my hat and cloak and went out with him—I did not tell him of the loss of the money, not till the Tuesday evening when he came home from work—I did not want the prisoner to upset me; she is in the habit of breaking peoples' windows and kicking up rows, and I did not want her to break my windows—I went to her on the Tuesday evening with my husband, and asked her to give me back my money; she was beastly drunk, and five other women with her.

DAVID KNIGHT . I am a baker at Church Road, Great Stanmore—on the 14th or 15th of May I was at The Case is Altered beer-shop—I saw the prisoner there—she told me that she was spending the £2 6s. that she took from Stanmore—she was drunk at the time—I made no reply to her—I did not see her spending any money—her husband was by her side—he was drunk too—she said the same on both days, the 15th and 16th—she was drunk on both days—the public-house was open, and she was standing there leaning against the table outside—I was not before the Magistrate—I told nobody about this conversation, only the prosecutor, I told him on the following Wednesday, after they had been before the Magistrate; they subpoenaed me as a witness—I went, but they did not hear my evidence.

Cross-examined. I was not asked any questions, only whether I had heard of the money being changed—you did not deny having said such a thing—I have not taken a false oath.

JAMES ALLEN . I am landlord of The Case is Altered beershop—I know the prisoner as being the tenant of a cottage near me—I saw her at my house about the middle of May with a female—her husband was not with her that day that I saw—I did not serve her with anything that day—I did not hear any conversation between the prisoner and the last witness—my wife serves in the bar, and a little girl assists her—I have not seen the prisoner's husband drunk, not in the house; I may have seen him a little the worse for drink—he was not in the house drinking with his wife on the Tuesday and Wednesday, the 15th and 16th—he

may have passed the house—they may have spent a trifle there for their dinner and supper beer.

HENRIETTA ALLEN . I am the wife of the last witness—I remember the prisoner at our house on Whit Tuesday—I did not serve her with anything—my girl served her with two glasses of beer, the first was a pint, and afterwards with a jug—next day I served her with a pint and a half, and in a jug—she was not drunk—I have seen her husband there, he has not been drunk in our house—I would not have served him if he was drunk—I know the witness Knight—he delivers bread at our house—the prisoner was perfectly sober.

WILLIAM ALFORD (Police Sergeant S 49). On 19th May I served a summons on the prisoner—I told her the contents of it—she said, "I know nothing about the money, and they will know it next Wednesday," which I took her to mean at the Petty Sessions—I was at the Court that day—I am not aware that Knight was called then—he was there on the second hearing.

The prisoner, in her defence, stated that at the prosecutrix's request she went to her house and assisted her in making the bed and getting drink for her, but denied taking the money, and asserted that the prosecutrix, her husband, and a number of their drunken friends had insulted and annoyed her ever since.

NOT GUILTY .

NEW COURT.—Monday, July 2nd, 1894.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

578. THOMAS NEWTON (47) , Forging and uttering an order for £8 8s. 3d., with intent to defraud.

MESSRS. C. MATHEWS, BODKIN,and HUMPHREYS Prosecuted, and MR. WITT Defended.

WILLIAM FREDERICK CONNOR . I am a shipbroker, of 13, Abchurch Lane—up to Lady Day, 1891, I carried on the same business at 31, Lombard Street, as W. F. Connor and Co., and have not been connected with 31, Lombard Street, since—I have never had any connection with a firm whose business it is to circularise companies—while in Lombard Street I had some paper manufactured in Paris, where I had an office, and used it in London—it was marked "W. F. Connor," and my telegraphic address—this (Produced) is a sheet of it—I did not receive £8 8s. 3d. on May 8th for issuing circulars of a company, or for any purpose—this "W. F. Connor "is not my signature—I do not know anyone named M. Jaquez—I do not know the prisoner by sight—I do not know what became of this paper when I left 31, Lombard Street—I have not used any of it since—some might have been left—I do not know who my successors are at 31, Lombard Street.

Cross-examined. I had four or five clerks; I do not know what quantity of the paper I had when I removed—I had no clerk named Jaquez.

WILLIAM ASTON WALDRON . I have been secretary to the London and County Land and Building Company, 31, Lombard Street, since 1884—we own this property, and the letting of offices is entrusted to me—Mr. Connor had offices there; I remember his leaving in 1891, having been there since

Christmas, 1888—we had no tenant of the name of the City Prospectus Company, nor do I know of them succeeding Mr. Connor in any way.

WILLIAM RUTHVEN . I am clerk to a firm of printers at 14, Bartholomew Close—in May, 1893, I was in the employ of the Express Printing Company, Bury Street, St. Mary Axe—in April, 1893, they had done some work for the Industrial Investment Corporation, Limited, and, from instructions, I went on May 10th to their offices, 39, Victoria Street—the account had been previously sent—I saw the prisoner there—there was some discussion about the fairness of the charges; he thought they were high, and I took off £ 2 9s., leaving £ 26 13s. 6d., which I received in cash and notes from the prisoner, and gave a receipt on this piece of paper for the exact sum I received—everything but the figures are mine, and they have been altered.

Cross-examined. Someone belonging to the company's office was also present—I don't know his name.

GEORGE FOWLER . I am secretary to the Mansion House Chambers, Limited—they are let through me—I have searched the books, and know the tenants personally—there was no firm of Price Jones, or Baylis and Jones there in 1893, nor has there been for the last eight or nine years.

FRANCIS BECKENDEN MILLARD . I am one of the firm of H. D. Millard, of 5, Broadway, Westminster—in April, 1893 I received a verbal order to print something under twenty-five bill-heads—I cannot identify the person—he gave me a printed copy with some alterations—I fulfilled the order the same day—this is one of them.

Cross-examined. I have never seen the person before or since.

HERBERT HENRY GRENFELL . I am a retired captain of the Royal Navy, and manager of the Industrial and Mercantile Investment Corporation, Limited, 39, Victoria Street, Westminster, which was registered on 17th, 1893—for some time prior to that I had been taking steps to April start the company, and became acquainted with the prisoner in March, 1893—I had known him before, and asked him to come and help me start the company—he agreed to do so, and on April 17th he was appointed by the board secretary of the company at a salary of £200 a year, which was paid monthly, and in June I raised it to £300 a year, he taking the secretaryship of another company, and £100 a year which I personally guaranteed him, making £400—between April 13th and May 1st about £120 was advanced on account of preliminary expenses—with the exception of the per contra on page 1, of which I am doubtful, the entries are in the prisoners writing—I find on May 2nd £25 on account, and on May 4th £40 in the same writing—the cheques were drawn by the prisoner, and he would place them before the directors—they required the signatures of the two directors—before April 17th certain directors made advances with me—on 8th May there was a board meeting, and the agenda for that day is in the prisoner's writing—I find in it first a confirmation of the £25 and £40, and then, "Cheques wanted,Financial News, £13 10s., and Hamilton and Jones," which is scratched out, and "Preliminary expenses, £60," entered—on the same day he was instructed to lay a balance-sheet before the directors by the next meeting, showing liabilities and expenditure—at that meeting a cheque for £60 was authorised to be

drawn; it was drawn in the prisoner's favour, and paid by the bank—this is it—the body of it and the endorsement are the prisoner's writing, and it is signed by two directors—it is, "Preliminary expenses account, T. Newton"—this, "Please pay cash.—T. N.," was not written by me—the next board meeting was May 15th, when the prisoner produced the balance-sheet; it is entirely in his writing—he has taken credit for "Prospectus and distribution expenses in promoting company, £28 16s. 6d.; City Prospectus Company, £8 8s. 3d.; Hamilton and Co., £13 6s. 8d.; and Baylis and Jones, £11 15s. 11d."—I believe that those sums had been duly paid, but I cannot say that I saw the receipts for them, and as he shows that there is then in his hands as secretary on May 15th, £11 19s. 9d.—I had never heard of Hamilton and Co.—as to Hamilton and Baylis, the prisoner said it was for posting certain prospectuses, and he wanted the money he paid himself out of the £60—I believed that all those payments had been made, and that it was a true balance-sheet—he remained in the service till April 23rd—he was absent about three weeks, and stated that he was ill—while he was away I had occasion to go to a black tin box which stood in his room, and which he used for secretarial purposes—it was locked, but the key was in the office, and I unlocked it—Mr. Bourke was with me—a number of books and papers belonging to the Mercantile Investment Corporation were taken out, and put into the safe, and among others the four receipts, one from Hamilton and Co.—in the same box I found a small black memorandum book in the prisoner's writing—the matter was reported to the board, and the prisoner was dismissed from his office—he had not returned, I communicated with him by letter—I consider the whole of this receipt of W. F. Connor is in the prisoner's writing disguised, and the altered figures on this Express Printing Company's receipt appear to be his—the whole of the writing of the rough cash account at the end of what purports to be the prisoner's diary for 1893 is in his writing—that book was not in the tin box.

Cross-examined. I was managing two or three other companies at the same time and place, Fowler's Patent, and the United Inventions Syndicate and Grenville and Ackles, and my own business—the staff I employed did not look after all those four enterprises; they were differently employed—I did not at that time hold out to the prisoner the prospect of being partner with me in any of those enterprises, but I did later on—I had a cashier for both those companies and my own after the middle of May, 1893, Mr. Edmunds—he came into my employ as clerk on April 29th, and helped in distributing the circulars and other work—he directed the wrappers and sent them to the post—it was not part of his duty to deal with the cash—I do not know what has become of him—I last saw him soon after he was discharged, about October, 1893—he robbed me too—he subsequently made a written confession—I prosecuted him—I have made efforts to find him, but have not succeeded—I have discovered that he was passing as Hamilton and Co.—it was originally my intention to charge the Hamilton and Co. £13 16s. 8d. against the prisoner as a forgery—I do not know in whose writing Hamilton and Co. is—I have not found out who wrote "Price Jones, £11 15s. 3d."—I have been in communication with John Joseph Ryan through my solicitor—I do not remember that I found out that John Joseph Ryan wrote the whole of this; the solicitor may have found

out what evidence he can give—I am given to understand this Exhibit 3 was written by Ryan, but am not sure that my solicitor told me that Ryan wrote it at Edmunds' request—I have not been told that Mr. and Mrs. Edmunds addressed a number of circulars, and then got Ryan to make out the bill for them—I have not found out where Ryan lives—he may live at 50, Bookham Street, Hoxton—I was told that Edmunds lived in Hoxton—I cannot remember the name of the street—I heard that he and Edmunds were near neighbours—to the best of my knowledge and belief, this "8" in the Express Printing Company's receipt is in an independent handwriting—the prisoner's "8" is very characteristic, and, to the best of my knowledge and belief, it is his. (Pointing out similar figures in the cash-book.)—here is the same "8" in the cash statement, "Disbursement account, £282 12s."—I have marked one in the cashbook as well in pencil—this is the agenda-book—I limit myself to the "8"—I say that the whole of No. 1 City Prospectus Company is in the prisoner's writing, but disguised—his own name is in his writing, to the best of my belief—I see in a bracket here the words Thos. Newton; that is in his writing—the words Thos. Newton in the receipt are written in a disguised hand, but in a flowing hand.

By the COURT. I say that the "Thos. Newton" in the cheque and the "Thos. Newton" in the exhibits are written by the same person from the general character—the "T" in "Thomas" has had an obvious flourish added to it; the "h" has also been altered; the "s" looks the same; a different form of "n" has been used, and I do not rely on that; the "e" has had an unnecessary flourish added; the "w" is the same, a little turned round—I say that the "w's" are very similar, and the "t" is very similar—the cross of the "t" and the "o" and "n" are very similar—I say that all the letters are so strongly characteristic that I have no doubt they are written by the same man—I have had these documents examined by an expert.

By MR. WITT. The entries in the cash-book up to June 4th are not evidently made at the same time as the disbursements—the last entry on the disbursement side in the prisoner's writing is on May 18th—those look as if they were made at the same time—the balance-sheet was produced at the meeting on May 15th—there is no minute that he produced the cash statement on May 15th—what he was ordered to have done was done on May 15th—I see nothing about 4th June in the cash statement—it is not "Fourth issue," that is nonsense—I must have said, "For the issue" before the Magistrate—Mr. Bourke had the key of the box, and he or I at any time could have had a look in to see what there was—on April 24th I wrote this letter to the prisoner. (Stating that information had been laid before the board in consequence of which they had dismissed him.)—on April 29th I received this letter from the prisoner. (Stating that he did not fear any consequences, as his proceedings had been consistently loyal; that they had no grounds for dismissing him, and demanding a cheque for a month's salary; also other letters, stating that he was not the exclusive servant of the board, but was secretary of another company, and director of a third, and carried on business in his own name.)—I do not know that he was secretary of another company, and director of a third—he had his own letter paper at 39, Victoria Street, and his name on the door—I said before the Magistrate, "On 29th April, 1892,

Edmunds was paid a week's wages as cashier"—he became cashier after May 15th—I corrected that afterwards.

Re-examined. When I said that, I was speaking from memory—these offices are taken in my name, and I am responsible for the rent, and employ the staff of clerks, some of whom are common to the companies, who have offices there, and who pay me a certain sum each for offices, clerks, and expenses—I said from the earliest date that I intended to give the prisoner an interest in my business, but no deed was drawn up—I guaranteed £100 a year to him personally—I had shares in the Corporation, but I was not to get it out of that; I was to get it where I could—that £100 a year was not derived from any particular company, but one £100 was—Sir. Edmunds first came early in April; the prisoner introduced him, and said he was a thoroughly trustworthy man, and he had known him for years—I discharged him in October, 1893, for writing an impudent letter to me, and it was afterwards reported to me that there was a deficiency of £15 in his accounts, and that he had been mixed up in swindling transactions by which he obtained £100—I was desirous of prosecuting, but the prisoner represented that it would be exceedingly inexpedient, and I did not—I do not know of my own knowledge what became of him; it was left in my solicitor's hands—I did not learn that an office was taken in the name of Hamilton and Co.—I think I heard of Mr. McLean in the course of my inquiries; I did not hear that Edmunds was sharing a room with McLean—I read part of the little black book. (MR. WITT objected to this evidence, as he had not alluded to the book, but the COMMON SERJEANT admitted it as showing the prisoner's connection with the company, and several entries were read from it.)

By MR. WITT. I have never heard of Charles Halkwell, and do not know whether he is here—I did not hear him give evidence, as a clerk at Brook's Bank—I found this book at the same time as I found the receipts; I merely glanced through it at the time—I did not ask the prisoner if he could give any explanation of what was in it—I understand the contents of it generally—there is a man named McClure; I know nothing about £57 5s. 9d. being paid to him—I have not investigated this—I handed the book to my agent, Mr. Bourke, to make inquiries—he did not tell me that the £57 5s. 7d. was paid to McClure.

WILLIAM HARRY ELPHINSTON STONE . I am a solicitor, of Billiter Square, acting for the prosecution—on May 5th, 1894, I was asked to make inquiries and report with regard to the prisoner—I handed in my first report on May 10th—I saw Counsel on May 9th, Mr. C. Mathews, and took his opinion in writing—I have had Edmunds searched for—I saw him once on the day of the prisoner's first appearance at the Police-court—he gave me some information, but I have not seen him since—I have called at his residence, and his wife is there, but he has gone away—Halkwell is here.

WILLIAM ROSTON BOURKE . I am a clerk in the Industrial and Mercantile Corporation—I entered their service last August—the prisoner engaged me to add up the books of the various companies he carried on at 39, Victoria Street—these are the books—they are in Mr. Edmunds' writing up to 22nd September last—it begins on May 15th last year—I find a receipt of cash, £11 17s. 5d., and on the payment side, "Mr. Newton to City twice, 2s. 6d."; "Cab for Mr. Newton, 3s.," and several entries of expenses

which Mr. Newton incurred—in the petty cash book of the Carmont Elastic Wheel Company I find £1 5s. 5d. cash received on May 16th by the cashier, Edmunds—I find "J. T. E." against it—in the petty cash book of the Sites Syndicate I find an entry of £21 10s. 9 1/2 d. received on June 10th; I do not find the initials "J. T. E." against that—I find received from Mr. Skinner on June 10th; £21 10s. 9d., in Edmunds' writing—in the petty cash book of Grenfell and Hackles I find an entry on June 10th of £5 15s.—the initials "J. T. E." are not against that, but against the previous entry—I went through the accounts with the prisoner in January this year, but I had been through them with him in August—I saw the accounts of Baylis and Jones, Hampton and Co., and the Express Printing Company—I cannot say who held the receipts in August; they were not produced to me, but Mr. Edwards referred to them at the company's office—I never saw these receipts till January this year; they were only referred to in August—I found a debit against the prisoner of £31 7s. 6d., and asked him how it was made up—he went to his private box, sat down, and called over these four amounts, and I checked them with him, but did not have the receipts in my hand, he held them—he was away in April, and I went to his box and found these receipts and the little black book.

Cross-examined. We were not sitting side by side, going through these accounts—he was sitting in his chair and I stood at his elbow—I could see what he had in his hand—after we had gone through the receipts he put them away in his box—I had a key of it—he went to Glasgow about Easter on the company's business, and wrote and said he was very ill.

Cross-examined. I had nothing to do with the company before August, 1893; the prisoner engaged me—I simply knew him as the secretary—my relations with him were those of an accountant.

HUGH MCLEAN . I am a manufacturer's agent, of 31, King Street, Cheapside—I was there in November, 1892—I occupy one room on the third floor, and Edmunds halved it with me, trading as Hampton and Co.—he carried on an insurance business, I believe—I was in the office first—he had no clerks; nobody else was there—the rent of the room was £17, of which we each paid half—all the furniture belonged to me—"Hamilton and Co." was on the door, but my name was there too—no business was carried on—I have seen the prisoner there half a dozen times—that is the only place I have seen him—I received this letter of April 10th, 1893, by post; who wrote it I don't know.

CAPTAIN GRENFELL (Re-examined). This letter is entirely in the prisoner's writing. (Read: "39, Victoria Street.—Dear Mr. McLean,—I understand from our friend Mr. Edmunds you are prepared to pay your moiety of the rent. Mr. Edmunds is much pressed just now. I should take it as a favour to myself if you could, in addition to paying the £1 17s. 6d., pay him another £1 17s. 6d., so as to enable him to pay the landlord. I will make myself responsible.—Thomas Newton.")

JOHN JOSEPH RYAN . I am clerk to Smith and Co., envelope address contractors, Gresham House—I have known John T. Edmunds three or four years; he was in Messrs. Smith's employ about eight months—he had a situation at the Mercantile Corporation last year, and in May last he brought about 1,000 envelopes to my private house, 50, Bookham

Street, New North Road, and gave me a list of names—I addressed them according to the list, and charged him 5s.—a little while afterwards he came again and showed me a bill-head—I wrote a bill at his request for about £7; that was destroyed, and I wrote this one for £11 15s. 3d., all except the receipt—I cannot say what this part is which is blurred—I have seen him since—I know nothing of the Industrial and Mercantile Corporation.

Cross-examined. This is my ordinary writing—I think his wife took the stamp off the £7 bill, and put it on to the new one—he and his wife constantly addressed and sent off thousands of circulars in the evenings—he asked me to write the receipt for him—he said, "I do not want my writing to go before the board of directors, and that is why I ask you to do it"—he said he was addressing envelopes as overtime—I did not know him as Hamilton and Co.—I heard he had an office, but I did not know what name he went by.

Re-examined. His office was in King Street, Cheapside—he did not say why he did not want the directors to see his writing.

CHARLES FERGUS MCNICHOL . I am secretary to the Transvaal Loan Land Company, Limited, 33, Cornhill—I paid an account for £103 2s. 6d., dated August 1st, 1889, purporting to come from the City Prospectus Company; for folding and putting prospectuses of our company in envelopes—I also paid a cheque drawn by our directors for £103 2s. 6d.—the secretary contracting the account is H. McClure—I also found the receipt of the Transvaal Company for that amount, and a cheque dated November 8th, 1889, for £57 5s. 2d. for the City Prospectus Company or order; and this is the receipt—Mr. McClure is not the secretary now.

GEORGE SMITH INGLIS . I have been many years engaged in examining writing—I live at 8, Red Lion Square, Holborn—I have before me the minute-book of the Investment Company, and some of the prisoner's cheques, and three documents purporting to be a receipt by Connor for £8 8s. 3d.; another for £28 16s. 6d.; and another from Baylis and Sons, £11 15s. 3d.—the whole of the receipt for £8 8s. 3d. is written by one person—I have studied the writing and compared it with the prisoner's avowed writing, and my opinion is that it is his disguised writing—in the next the figures have been altered to £28 16s. 6d., but being altered, they, of course, have not got the character—I believe the initials "T. M." in this account for £103 2s. 6d. are written by the prisoner, and also the endorsement "The City Prospectus Company" on the cheque for the same amount, but not the "T. Hurley and Co., proprietors"—the filling in of the receipt is in the prisoner's writing; it is a printed form filled up—I believe the endorsement, "W. Harwood, manager," on this cheque for £57 5s. 2d. is the prisoner's writing, but I am not certain about the words "City Prospectus Company"—the filling in on the face of the receipt is the prisoner's, but I cannot say as to the receipt itself.

Cross-examined. I am an expert in writing, and the only lithographer left who practices as such—I advised the Times in the Parnell case, but what I advised I decline to say, or what I told the Attorney-General and Mr. Soame, because it was a privileged communication—I was one of the experts—there were a number of them—Mr. Stone, the solicitor, first asked me to go into this matter; he did

not tell me that somebody was to be tried for forgery, but I knew intuitively that he was the solicitor for the prosecution by the look of the documents—he told me to examine the documents by the admitted writing and give a report, which I gave on May 22nd, and I was at the Police-court on the 24th—I was first asked about the £57 5s. 2d. document one day last week, and about the £103 2s. 6d. to-day—I have had them an hour or two, but not during lunch—in the last document the filling in of the receipt is in the prisoner's natural hand, but the other is a disguised writing—I should not put them on the same footing—the words, "Thos. Newton," on document No. 1 is partly natural writing and partly disguised by an additional movement of the pen—I should say that the "Thos. Newton" on the cheque for £60 is his natural writing; I mean to say that that, and the bill for £8 9s. 2d., are written by the same person; but No. 1 is upright and this is sloping—the upright one is the prisoner's natural writing, and the additions, or flourishes, are disguises.

By the COURT. There is a flourish added to the "T"—there is no flourish to the word "Thomas"—there is a little flourish added to the "e" in "Newton"—there is no other alteration in that word.

Re-examined. I had these documents all right when I was at the Police-court, and studied them closely, and became better acquainted with the writing, and that enabled me to judge more rapidly as to the documents I saw to-day for the first time—the extra flourish to the "e" in Newton is done with different ink—the "e" has an upward curve to make it into a Greek "e"—in lines 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6, the "e's" have got the flourish all except one—I have before me the prisoner's natural upright writing in this book on the left-hand page—there is a similarity in the joining of the "t"—in the endorsement to the cheque for £60 the finish of the "w" is carried higher, and strikes off' to make the "t"—that is an unusual thing to do; the knob of the "w" is much above the letter itself before it branches off, and it is the same in "Thomas Newton," and in the endorsement itself, and in the document marked—I have gone carefully through these papers, and can give a number of detailed reasons upon which I have based my ultimate conclusions.

By the COURT. There is a distinct cross of the "t" made by the prisoner—the cross of the "t" in "Newton" in No. 1 is a fresh operation.

WILLIAM ALEXANDER HILL . I live at Twill House, Maidstone—I was acquainted with the prisoner in 1892, and in May, 1892, I got a prospectus of the Industrial and Mercantile Corporation, in consequence of which, and from my previous knowledge of Captain Grenfell, I joined the board—I do not know of the prisoner carrying on business anywhere else than in Victoria Street—I do not know Mr. H. McClure, the secretary of the Transvaal Company.

THOMAS BOWDEN (Police Sergeant A). On May 18th I saw the prisoner at his house, and asked if his name was Thomas Newton—he said, "Yes"—I told him I was a police officer, and held a warrant for his arrest for obtaining various sums of money from his employers, and falsifying their books—he said, "Nonsense, come inside; what are the charges?"—I read the warrant to him—he said his conscience was perfectly clear, and that it was the outcome of his having threatened to take action against Captain Grenfell, his late partner—I took him to the station, where he repeated the same statement.

GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

OLD COURT.—Thursday and Friday, June 28th and 29th, and Monday, July 2nd, 1894.

Before Mr. Justice Grantham.

579. HOWELL THOMAS was indicted for unlawfully obtaining from James Frazier Jaquess certain valuable securities, with intent to defraud. Other Counts, varying the form of charge.

MESSRS. C. F. GILL, HORACE AVORY,and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted; and MESSRS. LOCKWOOD, Q.C., CHARLES MATHEWS,and LOEHNIS Defended,

JAMES FRAZIER JAQUESS . I am a citizen of the United States—I was formerly a colonel in the United States Army—I am now residing at 26, Denbigh Place, Pimlico, S.W.—prior to 1884 I had been appointed by a power of attorney to act for a Mr. Lawrance, who was making a claim to the Towneley estates in this country—in the fall of 1884 that Mr. Lawrance died, and his son, Dow Hagar Lawrance, succeeded him as claimant to those estates, and funds were raised in America for the purpose of supporting this claim—they were raised by private friends of Mr. Lawrance, by subscription—out of the property that was recovered they were to have the funds they had subscribed returned, with reasonable interest—they would determine the reasonable interest among themselves, perhaps—Mr. Lawrance and his ancestors were ship's carpenters; he himself was a ship's carpenter—he had wealthy friends amongst whom to raise the money—in 1885 I came to this country for the purpose of prosecuting this claim—before that, information had been obtained as to the value of these estates; it was believed to be a very valuable property—I returned to America in the autumn of 1885, leaving my wife here, residing at Woburn Place, Russell Square—I left her authority to draw on my banking account and to act in my absence—I returned to London in the middle of January, 1886—up to that time I had not known the prisoner; I then found that my wife had made his acquaintance—I then saw him and had conversation with him about the work he had been doing, particularly about some payments that my wife had made to him—I repeated to him what my wife had repeated to me in reference to the transactions, and he sanctioned it—I asked him if he had made the inquiries that my wife had informed me of—he said he had, and had obtained a transcript of the marriage of John Lawrance and Mary Towneley—I knew that that was an essential piece of evidence in the case—he said he had got it from Towneley Hall; of a young man of the name of Cade, he told me finally—he first told me he had recovered it through the agency of the young man Cade—he did not tell me his name at first—he said the young man had got the information from a manuscript written in a book by Mary, Towneley's father, that he was at Towneley Hall in the interest of Lord Norreys, who was said to have been in possession of the property, getting up what was known at that time as the Towneley Act, a private Act—I asked him the name of the young man, and asked to see him—he said the young man was very timid, and could not be seen, and that the matter had better be left in his, Mr. Thomas's hands—he declined to give the name—ultimately I found the name had been given, by a cheque my wife had given him for Cade; that was how I found it out—he said that he had seen Cade in the office of a firm of solicitors in London, but if he told me the name of the firm, I did not retain it; I don't remember it—I

spoke to him about the cheque that my wife had drawn, and called his attention to the fact that my wife had paid him £100—I should think that was not until the second interview I had with him after my return—I called his attention to the purpose, and I questioned him about the paper that he returned purporting to be the transcript of the marriage—he said that the young gentleman, Cade, had obtained that evidence for the £100 which my wife had paid him—he did not say very definitely what he had done with the £100, but I understood him to mean that he had paid it to Mr. Cade, that Cade had obtained the information, and had received £100 for it—this (Produced) is a cheque for £100 in my wife's handwriting, and drawn upon my bankers, Brown, Shipley, and Co., dated 15th December, 1885, payable to T. Cabe and Co., and endorsed by Mr. Thomas and T. Cade, it looks like T. Cabe—that cheque has been through my bankers and been paid, and I have received it back from my bankers in the ordinary course—some time after January, 1886, I retained Mr. Thomas as the solicitor to conduct this action—I supplied him with the materials I then had for the purpose, and in June, 1886, an action was commenced in the name of Dow Hagar Lawrance, claiming the Towneley estates; it was commenced in the Queen's Bench Division—it went on until June, 1887, when it was dismissed by the Divisional Court before the late Lord Chief Justice and Mr. Justice Day—on 1st September, 1886, I received this letter from the defendant, in which he states, "As to the statute, the Crown never seta that up," and he also speaks of retaining one of the Law Officers of the Crown, and that he will require £800 to pay expenses—in the first place, the arrangement with the defendant was that he was to have a certain sum for carrying on this litigation—£1,000 a year, and expenses out of pocket; but afterwards he found that sum would be 100 modest, and he wanted £8,000 in two payments—at that time I did not know the difference between guineas and pounds, I suppose; it may have been guineas instead of pounds—he would require £8,000 to launch the suit—I next received this letter of 3rd September, 1886, in the United States, very soon after the one of September 1st—in this letter he says, "When I was at the Treasury on other business, I asked a friend of mine there, privately, to let me know the cash to the credit of the rent accumulated account alone, and he has since informed me that it is fourteen millions." Q. Before that, had you any conversation with him about an accumulation of funds in the Treasury to the credit of this estate? A. It was mentioned, there was a rumour that there were large sums of money to the credit of this estate; "in Chancery" sometimes, sometimes it was mentioned" in the Treasury"—I know the defendant's handwriting—these letters (Produced) are written by his clerk; his handwriting is familiar to me, but the signature is Mr. Thomas's, clearly—the next letter I received is dated 21st September, 1886—it is addressed to Mrs. Jaquess; she sent it to me; I was in another part of the United States—it is in the defendant's handwriting; and his signature also, clearly—in this letter he states, "I have shown my writ and pleadings to my friend at the Treasury, and on doing so became on good terms with him. He has since shown me last year's return of the income of this estate paid into the bank, amounting to £19,000 odd"—this letter also states that the largest sum paid in in any one year was £21,700, paid in in 1874—I came back to this

country about the end of October or beginning of November, 1886, and about 26th November I called at his office and saw him—he told me he had received a very important letter from the solicitor to Her Majesty's Treasury—whether he mentioned the name of the solicitor or not I am not distinct in my recollection; at all events, I do not remember the name—he had a document in his hand; I believe it was a quarto shape—this(Produced)is about the size of it, I should say—it was a letter, and had writing upon it—he said the Treasury required the payment of back costs in a suit of 1714, amounting to £1,100 odd, and I guess that rather alarmed me, because I paid very little attention to the paper itself, what I was concerned about was what it contained; the amount struck me—he read the letter to me, I think; at all events he gave me the substance of it, and I asked him for a copy—there was a kind of running dialogue, I presume, between us, in which I said some very sharp things about the Solicitor of the Treasury interfering with us—I don't know the exact words that I said, but I thought it was a very tight fit for the Solicitor of the Treasury interfering with us in that way—I complained of it most seriously; it was a good while before I could consent to forgive the Solicitor—I have forgiven him now I am better informed; I have got older, and am not so easily taken in, I hope so at least—he told me that the costs were claimed under the action of Jonathan Lawrance, an ancestor of the present claimant, and that ancestor's name appeared in the pedigree of the Lawrance family, which I brought and delivered to him—I recognised the name of the alleged ancestor—he said these costs were demanded by the Solicitor to the Treasury, and they must be paid, or the suit could not go forward—a day or two after that I received from him this letter, dated November 29th, or a copy of it—this is the identical letter, the original letter—the body of it is in the handwriting familiar to me, by one of his clerks; it is signed by H. Thomas—with this letter I received this enclosure; it is marked" Copy"—that is also in the handwriting of a clerk—I read it; whether I received it on the evening of the 29th or the morning of the 30th I am not distinct in my recollection, but I went immediately to his office and made the first payment—the copy letter states, I find, "The claim to these estates is made by a descendant of Jonathan Lawrance, the plaintiff to a suit herein in 1814, which was decided against him with costs still due, and which amount to £1,121 17s. 8d. As you know, these costs must be paid before your action can be heard, I think you had better see me at once as to the payment thereof.—Yours truly, A. K. STEPHENSON"—I believed that to be a copy of a letter from the Solicitor to the Treasury, and made payment in consequence of it—on 30th January I paid to the prisoner £500 in Bank of England notes, or a note, which I got by cashing this cheque for £600—I promised I would pay him the balance as soon as I could get the money—he said that would do, and he would hold the Treasury quiet; the £500 would keep them quiet, and I was pleased with the prospect of a little time—I thought the papers in that suit would be very valuable to us—it was understood that, by paying the back costs, we would have the benefit of all that had been done in that case—he gave me a receipt for the £500—this is it, written by Mr. Thomas himself, stating the object for which the money was paid. (Read: "Received on account of costs in old suit, re Jonathan Lawrance")—on 8th January I paid him a further sum of

£600 by this cheque (Produced)—it is endorsed by H. Thomas, in a familiar hand to me, and he gave me this receipt: "Received of Colonel Jaquess £600, balance of costs re Jonathan Lawrance"—after the first action was dismissed, a fresh action was brought, through the advice of my solicitor, Mr. Thomas; that action was commenced in December, 1887, in the Chancery Division, before Mr. Justice Stirling—an application was made directly to strike out the statement of claim—Mr. Justice Stirling refused to strike it out, and the defendants carried it to the Court of Appeal, and that Court ordered it to be struck out, and the action was dismissed—by Mr. Thomas's advice we carried the case to the House of Lords—this is the book that was used in the House of Lords—I examined this book carefully at the time—the House of Lords affirmed the decision of the Court of Appeal, and ordered the claim to be struck out and the action dismissed—that was on 22nd April, 1890, according to the dates given—between that date and July, 1891, I was not so much corresponding with the prisoner as seeing him occasionally for the purpose of reviewing matters—there was no proposal to review the decision of the House of Lords—there was not any formal proposal to carry on the litigation—at the last of July or the beginning of August, 1891, I went to the defendant's office especially to learn something more about this Jonathan Lawrance—not the suit of 1814; I have never got satisfactory information in reference to that—I had the receipts for the payment of the £110 which I had paid for the costs, given by him to me—I had not seen any voucher from the Treasury, showing that they had received the money—the defendant was not at the office when I arrived that day—I saw the clerk, Hubbard, and had some conversation with him on the subject—I told him what I had called for—I showed him the letter I had received from Mr. Thomas with reference to the Treasury matter, containing the copy of the alleged letter from the solicitor to the Treasury, the letter of the 29th September, and he recognised it—I did not see him write any letter; he promised to do so; I left him instructions—the next thing I heard was a letter dated 10th August, 1891, from the prisoner; I received it while I was in the United States—it began by saying, "I am sorry I was out of town when you called," and it then refers to a loan of £20 which he had lent me, and which at that time had not been paid back, and then he goes on, "After these things I regret to see you have forgotten the explanation I gave you respecting this money said to be paid for costs; but really, as you know from information from the officials privately, who, it seems, treated us badly, as they were also bribed by the other side"—I had never given me any such explanation of the matter, or suggested that the £1,200 had not been applied to the payment of costs; he had never suggested that it had been used for my other purpose—the letter goes on: "There was, of course, no receipt; no receipts ever pass from such people"—then the letter goes on: "The other side know more of the case, and certainly of your history, than I did, and amongst other things said that if you or the plaintiff went into the box, you would not leave it, as a prosecution would instantly follow. It appears our counsel were told that your documents were forgeries"—That was the first I ever heard of that; he had never suggested to me that anybody had said that my documents were forgeries—that was the first I ever heard of any of those suggestions—he had never

before that suggested that anybody had said that my documents were forgeries, or that if I went into the witness-box there would be a prosecution; I never heard of any such intimation—I did not answer that letter until I returned from the United States—I then wrote from London an answer to it. (This letter was called for, but not produced)—this is a copy of it; without reading every word I should say it is a correct copy—I exhibited it as a copy of the letter—it says: "It is quite unintelligible to me, and I indignantly repudiate it," and I proceed to ask him a number of questions, and then I go on to say: "During the last twelve months I have been endeavouring to obtain information from you and also the papers"—I had been doing so, but perhaps I ought to say "in a quiet way"—I did not want to get into trouble with Mr. Thomas; that is, I did not want to make an enemy of him—I had applied repeatedly for the papers and for an account; but I should say not so much for an account, because that was brought about by my friends, but for the papers, I was very anxious to get hold of them—on 21st November, 1891, I received from him this letter. (This stated that he had not intended to cast reflection upon the Colonel or Mrs. Jaquess, and if it was thought he had he withdrew them)—in March, 1892, I put the matter into the hands of a new solicitor, Mr. Rolt, for the purpose of doing what I had failed to accomplish, bring about a settlement between myself and Mr. Thomas, not with a view of renewing, or commencing again this litigation for the Towneley estates—after the letter of the 21st I saw Mr. Thomas, and tried, as well as I could, to get my papers out of his hands—I was able to get the briefs of Sir H. Davey, Mr. Finlay, and Mr. Upjohn, but I was unable to get the instructions that were given—in November, 1892, I made an affidavit for the purpose of supporting an application against him, that he should deliver the bill of costs and a cash account—before that I had requested him to show what he had done with the money he had received, but as a simple request—up to that time he had never rendered me any full account—he resisted the application—I attended the proceedings before the Master, Mr. Archibald—they lasted nine days, very long days too—he made every possible objection he could—he said I was not his client, that is, that the relation of client and solicitor did not exist—ultimately the Master made an order, with which I was informed I ought to be satisfied—he applied to the Divisional Court, before two judges, Mr. Justice Mathew and Mr. Justice Collins, and they heard and decided it, confirming the decision of the Master, and ordering him to deliver a bill and a cash account—he then carried the matter to the Court of Appeal, which was heard on the 6th, 7th and 8th of March, 1894—they decided that he must deliver the bill of costs and directed that all the papers should be sent to the Director of Public Prosecutions—I believe I spent over £15,000 for the purpose of carrying on this litigation—I can produce his stamped receipts and endorsement on cheques for only £11,425.

SIR AUGUSTUS KEPPEL STEPHENSON . I am solicitor for the affairs of Her Majesty's Treasury—as such, I had nothing to do with an action of "Lawrance v. Lord Norreys" in 1814—the Crown had no interest in that action, as far as I am aware, and I can speak positively; there are no records in the Treasury respecting any such action—there would be no amount of fourteen millions, or anything in connection with that estate in the Treasury—whatever funds of that sort there are, are paid over

yearly; there is nothing of the sort—looking at this, which is said to be a copy of a letter signed by me, I say that no such letter was ever signed by me, or by my direction—as far us I can speak to a matter not within my own personal knowledge, I am perfectly confident no such letter was ever written by anybody in the Treasury—I made no claim of any sort for costs, either for £11,000 or any other sum.

JAMES FRAZIER JAQUESS (Recalled, and cross-examined by MR. LOCKWOOD). I left the army about 1865, at the close of the American War, not with any pension—I was a colonel of a regiment of 1,000 men when we started; we came home perhaps 10 per cent, of that number—after leaving the army in 1865 I became an agent in the General Post Office in America, in 1866; I remained connected with that, I should think, two years—then I was engaged in commercial business, buying and selling and getting gain; I was dealing in cotton for about eighteen months or two years—I should say during that time I was connected with Freedman's Bureau, a Government organisation to find labour for men who had been in slaver, but who had been freed, and look after their interests—I did that for about two years—then I continued buying and selling cotton (I had a place of business) for about two years, up to about the beginning of 1876—before the war I kept a ladies' school—I lectured on Sundays—I never started a newspaper—I had a little connection with one in Washington from about 1879 to 1881 or 1882—I was brevetted General the same year, or very soon after I was mustered out of the army as Colonel; I have been an honorary General since then—I was brevetted General for meritorious conduct they said, at the close of the war—I am sure I was made an honorary General by the War Department at Washington; there is a record of it, I presume; I never gave my attention to it—I never called myself General, and was never described as General, because I did not want it; I did not go into the army for honour, but to save my country—I heard I had been nominated as director of a gold mine, but I never heard that I was elected, or anything of that kind; I was never a director of that or any company—I presume this paper, describing me as a General and as a director of a gold mine, refers to me; it was not by my authority; I never saw it—I should say I first became acquainted with the American claimants to the Towneley estates early in 1880; all my active service commenced then—I began to look into it about 1880, that was when first I had any knowledge of or financial connection with it, I think—I had an agreement with Dow Hagar Lawrance, in November, 1886, when he succeeded his father as claimant to these estates. (This was an agreement appointing the witness as Dow Hagar lawrance agent, he having acted as agent to D. H. Lawrance and his predecessors in the matter for upwards of fifteen years.)—that is not according to my recollection—I think I have heard of that document before; I do not remember it from your description—I had a power of attorney from Dow Hagar lawrance, November, 1886—I have not had a subpoena to produce this document that I know of—I presume all the powers of attorney that I have had in connection with this matter are here—I have the power of attorney given by D. H. Lawrance's predecessor, William T. Lawrance, to myself and Annis in connection with matters relating to the prosecution of this suit; that is dated 18th February, 1876; that was for certain preliminaries, and my name was placed there

in connection with the prosecution of these claims, but I was not actively engaged till 1880—I knew the persons prosecuting these claims as far back as 1876; I had no official connection with them before that—I was not the originator of this idea of collecting money in America for the purpose of prosecuting these claims—Mr. Lawrance and his friends were, and they requested me finally to assist them, which I did—the money was raised by subscription; that was a matter Lawrance and his friends engineered—I might say I do not know the plans they laid—I think it was not done by holding meetings in various localities—I believe bonds were issued, first in 1880, I think—I am not the holder of any; I was not to be paid in bonds—my expenses were to be paid—the power of attorney in 1876 contemplated the issue of bonds—I did not issue any—Mr. Annis issued some which I had nothing to do with—Annis went in 1877, I think—fifty dollars were paid to him, I understood, and from that time, 6th November, 1877, I held the power of attorney up to the death of William Lawrance—it was then renewed in the name of Dow Hagar Lawrance—between 1876 and 1885, when I came to London, perhaps my expenses amounted to £1,000, and I could not have received more than I expended—I did not receive more than £1,000 on my own account between those dates—money was credited for the benefit of William Towneley Lawrance—I should say between 1876 and 1885 perhaps £1,000 came into my possession; I could not say positively to any particular sum beyond that—my expenses were £1,000, and I received very little beyond my expenses; I do not remember how much—my expenses were fully £1,000 in the nine years; they may have been more—I could not say if they were £1,500; possibly they might have been nearer £2,000—they may have been £2,000; it would depend on what you mean by my expenses—I meant my personal expenses and travelling, and then I had to pay for documents—I should think I received perhaps £1,000 for personal expenses and £1,000 for money sent—I do not think I received altogether £10,000 during those nine years—money was raised, and as it was called for by me for specific purposes it was paid over—£10,000 might have been called for; I think not by me—I presume there is no account showing the moneys I received between 1876 and 1885, because the work did not really commence until the time the prisoner took it over; the expenditure did not commence properly—all of the money raised would not go through me—I presume the greater part came at my suggestion—I could not say positively if £10,000 came to me in those years, about £1,000 a year; it would not seem to me to be an extravagant sum if it was so—perhaps I had as much as £1,000 a year for expenses all told—I accounted to the American, can people, who subscribed the money, every six months—the accounts are in America—I never held mass meetings prior to the prisoner coming into the matter—I have no accounts in this country relating to the period before 1885—I had taken opinions in America, and had to pay for them—I took an opinion of Judge Comstock in February, 1876—this is in Judge Comstock's own writing—my impression was that the estate was in the Court of Chancery, or that it was held by the British Government for the lawful heirs, who had not been found—I continued of that opinion up to a certain time; I don't know just at the moment when; it was a shock to me when

I discovered it was not so—I first learnt it was not true when I consulted my present solicitor, Mr. Rolt, in March, 1892—I began to have some misgivings about it, but I could not satisfy myself upon it till then—my first action was brought against Lord Norreys; he was said to be in possession—I did not know that he was; I was at Towneley several times—I thought the Government was in possession when I went down, and when I brought an action against Lord Norreys to recover possession, and that Lord Norreys had nominal possession under a lease from the Government—I asked the prisoner to show me a lease from the Government to Lord Norreys—he did not show it to me; he said it would have to be developed, found out in whose possession it might be—when I made the representation to Judge Comstock that I believed this was property for which a lawful heir could not be found, I thought that was the true situation—I remember Judge Comstock giving in his opinion "The marriage of Mary and John Lawrance, and those two wills in her favour, are facts of which no legal evidence has been placed before me." "The points which ought to be more authentically recorded are the marriage of Mary and John Lawrance, the wills above-mentioned in favour of Mary, and the enrolled decrees in Chancery." "It is also stated to me that there is an enrolled decree in the English Court of Chancery in a suit or proceeding, instituted by certain persona claiming to be the American heirs of the estate, which was determined against them because they failed to show that they were the true heirs"—the suit is a tradition in the family, really, and was in the case when it came into my hands—rumour said there had been several suits—I told Judge Comstock it was rumoured a suit was brought—I had not told him there was an enrolled decree in the English Court of Chancery—several branches of the Lawrance family came to be connected with this estate, and they had in their family histories the efforts they had made to recover the estate—I think I learnt from Judge Comstock that there was an enrolled decree in the English Court of Chancery—after that I took the opinion of Mr. Blake, of the firm of Blake, Kerr and Boyd, of Toronto, Canada—I do not know Mr. Blake; he was Minister of Justice at this time—this(produced)is a copy of the opinion, in my writing—I had the original in Mr. Blake's writing; I don't know about it now—the matter was presented to Blake Kerr and Boyd by a retired solicitor in Canada, Sir William H. G. Collis, and I only got a copy of the opinion; the original must be among Sir H. G. Collis's papers, I suppose—I copied it myself—it is dated May, 1876—I had not been able between February and May, 1876, to find the proofs, which Judge Comstock said were necessary, to authenticate the claim—Sir W. Collis laid additional proofs in respect of those matters before Mr. Blake—I don't know where he got them from, but some he got from this side of the ocean—he was employed by Annis, my partner in the first power of attorney, and Annis, like some other parties, retained a good many papers when he went out of the matter—I think Mr. Blake's original opinion was in Sir W. Collis's hands—I tried hard to get it before I came to England—I did not get it, but I had a copy of it—I don't understand that the information has ever been obtained, which enabled Mr. Blake to express the opinion that Mary Towneley married John Lawrance was a matter susceptible of easy proof—I never saw any certificate of marriage between Mary Towneley and John Lawrance in 1693—I don't know how it came that such a certificate

is assumed to have been laid before Mr. Blake—I only know of the family records—I do not observe that the point, which the opinion of Judge Comstock points out as being a weak spot, is, in the alleged opinion of Mr. Blake, dealt with as a matter in respect of which a certificate is produced, and as being susceptible of easy proof—the information with reference to the Lawrance family was obtained from the records—the opinion was taken for the benefit of William Lawrance to be shown on this side of the ocean in 1876, when the case could be completed; the idea was not specially to show it in America where I was trying to raise money on bonds—Mr. Blake gave his opinion, as I understood it, that on the materials submitted to him all these matters were susceptible of easy proof—I brought everything I had here—I never had a certificate which proved that Mary Towneley married John Lawrance in 1693—I never saw such a document—I also took the opinion of Mr. Dickinson, of Hillyard, Hyde and Dickinson, in Boston, on the eve of sailing for this country—I was here first in 1880, or late in 1879—I suppose that opinion is among my papers; I cannot account for its not being here—I recognise this as a copy of Hillyard, Hyde and Dickinson's opinion—I think I gave the original of it to the prisoner: I don't know if Mr. Rolt has it—I brought the original to this country—I brought a copy of Mr. Blake's, not the original—Judge Comstock's was brought, too, and all the certificates I had, but no certificate relating to the marriage of Mary Towneley and John Lawrance in 1693—according to the opinion of Hillyard, Hyde and Dickinson, the case was ready for speedy and successful determination; we were all ready to begin on October 4th, 1877—late in 1879 I came to England—I saw the firm of solicitors, Sandy and Creeke, at Burnley, Lancashire, and talked with them about the matter—I did not say a word to them about any concealed fraud on the part of any person in relation to the previous suit—my solicitor in our amended statement of claim alleged concealed fraud—I never knew what the concealed fraud was; if I did know I could settle the case now—the concealed fraud set up to enable us to defeat the Statute of Limitations would be the wrongful possession—the concealed fraud set up in the amended statement of claim to defeat the Statute of Limitations was concelling from the proper heir in America the fact that he was entitled to the Townley estates—I said not a word about that to Sandy and Creeke—on 15th May, 1888, I made an affidavit in the second suit, the Chancery suit before Mr. Justice Stirling—I was called to the Bar in America in 1844, but I never practised—there is a good deal of truth in the statement in my affidavit: "I was called to the Bar in America, and have always kept up my legal studies and knowledge"—I love the law, but I do not love lawyers—I consulted several lawyers and law firms in the North of England—I consulted Sandy and Creeke, and also others—I refer in part in my affidavit to Sandy and Creeke, and also to a firm in Liverpool and Manchester—the one firm I refer to would be Sandy and Creeke, if you want it. (MR. LOCK WOOD read the following extract from the witness's affidavit: "I informed such solicitors of such particulars as I then knew of the fraud alleged in paragraph 8 of the claim, and I instructed them to follow up the clues that I gave them, and obtain further information and proofs as to such fraud; but I had afterwards reason to believe that material parts of the information which I had communicated

to such solicitors had been disclosed to the persons then in possession of the Towneley estates")—I mean that I had reason to believe that Sandy and Creeke had conveyed to the persons in possession of the Towneley estates that information—my reason was founded on what I had heard from the general public—I did not mean to make a charge of fraud there—I did not tell them of the concealed fraud in that way—I made no communication of the concealed fraud to Sandy and Creeke when I came over in 1879—I mean what I say in my affidavit; I did not tell them of the concealed fraud—the particulars I gave them were that the present tenants, if there were any, were in possession fraudulently, that is without right—Lord Norreys was represented to me to be in possession, holding under the Government—I made no charge that Mr. Sandy betrayed me; I did not make that charge in my affidavit—when I said, "But I afterwards had reason to believe that material parts of the information which I had communicated to such solicitors had been disclosed to the persons then in possession of the Towneley estates," it was not intended as a charge against Sandy and Creeke; if they gave information they had from me to my opponents I did not regard it as honourable conduct, but at some time they ceased to be my solicitors, and they had a right to every information I might have given them—I came back to this country in 1881, and I think perhaps I saw them—I then had information about their having conveyed information to my opponents—I saw Mr. Sandy—I do not think I told him he had betrayed me—I cannot give you the names of any persons to whom Sandy and Creeke had given this information—I knew Lord Norreys and perhaps others were in possession by rumour; I was informed so—I do not know when I first learned that Lord Norreys was in possession; I do not think that was when I had the shock—I should say that between 1885 and 1890 quite £20,000 has come into my hands—I have a record of it; I do not know whether it is here—Brown, Shipley and Co. were my first bankers—I had no bankers in America; funds were sent to me—the funds, as they were collected, were sent by me to Brown, Shipley and Co.—I kept no banking account between 1876' and 1885; money was sent to me in small sums by those who raised it, and I had no occasion to bank it—I kept no account, except as I received the money—I first put money into Brown, Shipley and Co.'s bank about 1885, I think—I had no account up to then—I received at least £20,000 from 1885 to 1890—£23,000 was not all cabled over from America to my banking account at Brown, Shipley and Co.'s, because I brought some—I should think I brought some 10,000 dollars over at different times—during this time I was a good deal in America; I had to pass back and fro—I did not want to carry money across the ocean; it was cabled—money was paid to me over there; I did not receive very much—I gave the money to the prisoner—I had very heavy personal expenses, and I had to have Mr. Lawrance and his family over here—I think there is an account showing how I spent the £25,000; I have not got it here—I presume it is among my papers—I have settled with my people in America, I am sure—I call Mr. Lawrance and his friends who furnished the money my people in America—I have settled with the syndicate that raised the fund; they attended to that matter, I did not—I have receipts from them; they are in America—I do not carry my

papers with me—I have settled with the head of the syndicate—Dr. Webb was the leading man; he is dead—he lived till the case was decided in the House of Lords—he was the principal one I received money of—Mr. Gettman is the leading man now that I deal with—notice of motion to dismiss the first action in the Queen's Bench Division was set down for hearing on 15th December, and on 16th December, 1886, I drew a cheque in my own favour for £2,000—I contend the greater part of that went into the prisoner's hands—there is a receipt of 16th December, 1886, that will explain, I think—I have not got it here—on 17th January, 1887, the motion to dismiss the action before the Lord Chief Justice and Mr. Justice Day was part heard, and stood over for five months—according to my recollection, things did not look very rosy, but the expenses were all the same—on 18th January, I drew this cheque for £2,000 to my own order—on 17th January £1,128 9s. 1d. was cabled over from America, and that was providential, because it enabled me to draw my cheque for £2,000 on 18th—on 24th June the action was dismissed; I remember being called on for considerable sums of money, and I had to furnish them—I cannot say I remember drawing a cheque for £1,500 on that day; it may be true—I was very closely pressed many times—I do not remember when I went back to America; I think not until I received funds enough to square things up pretty well at that date—I do not remember how long I remained there—I attended to the business there of keeping this matter straight on this side—the business on my part was not specially to raise money; I had to see my friends occasionally, and report to them—I cannot say I raised more money in America; my friends did—I got some more—the hearing before Mr. Justice Stirling began on 1st May, 1888—on 10th May, 1888, I drew a cheque for £1,100; that was some of the new money that had been raised in America—my friends were determined the case should be settled—I should say I wrote this on the counterfoil of the £1,100 cheque at the time I drew it, "Court expenses to H. Thomas, £1,100"—I presumed I represented by that that although the cheque was to my order I paid the money to Thomas—according to my recollection I should say I paid that to Thomas—I had other funds in London at that time, and I may have paid him more funds—I do not remember if that cheque was paid at my bankers, Brown, Shipley, and Co., and by them to the London and Westminster Bank, Lothbury—I do not remember receiving in respect of that cheque a £500 note, five notes of £100 each, or twenty £5 notes—I received and paid out a great deal of money—I should say it is correct that I received those notes for the £1,100 cheque—I think that money went to Thomas, or its equivalent—I had other funds—I presume I gave Brown, Shipley and Co., orders on 2nd June, 1888, to cable £1,031 to my wife, Anna Jaquess, in Philadelphia—this is my writing—we had to borrow large sums of money, and pay it back as we could get it—I presume the 5,000 dollars cabled out on 2nd June were the proceeds of the £1,100 cheque on 10th May—I did not put on the counterfoil, "Court expenses paid to H. Thomas," to show to my friends in America—I did not write down what was not true—I may have made a mistake about the cheque; I had other funds—I paid that sum to the prisoner at the date specified—the counterfoil is not a fraud—I had other funds.

Friday, June 29th.

COLONEL JAMES FRAZIER JAQUESS ,Recalled and Cross-examination by MR. LOCKWOOD, continued.

The cheque of 10th May, 1888, I do not regard as a sum for which I have a voucher; it is not included in the £15,000—the vouchers are among my papers—I have not them in my possession; they were with my solicitors—the defendant never went to America that I know of—about 21st June, 1888, I should say I drew a cheque for £900, but I do not remember distinctly—it was spent by me in defraying the expense of the application—the cheque of December 13th, 1889, for £1,000 was for expenses of the prosecution of the case, the case having then been heard in the House of Lords; I do not know just what prosecution—I do not know if you will find on the counterfoil what it was for; I put down on my counterfoils what is true; it was for fees and Court expenses, that is my recollection about it—I have written it down there; the whole of it went as I say, but for different items—the whole of it was included under the words, "Fees and Court expenses"—I presume I cashed that cheque myself—the endorsements on the back of two bank notes for £100 each are mine—it may be that they are two of the notes I got for the £1,000 cheque; I cannot recollect—I had other funds on hand, and I may have paid other funds in one direction; not beyond the fees and Court expenses, including those—I presume I cashed those two £100 notes on 30th January and 1st February at the Bank of England—my personal expenses were included in Court expenses, and household expenses and dress—I do not remember whether I paid Thomas Cook three £100 notes for American money; I may have done so, but I do not remember now—I do not remember whether I got for this cheque ten notes of £100 each—I really don't remember where I cashed that cheque—I think it is correct that I did get ten £100 notes—this is my endorsement on the note No. 60308—I do not remember that I paid three £100 notes to Cook and Son for American money—I do not swear I did not; I may have done so, but I have no recollection of it—if I did, it would be included in the expenses in prosecuting the case—after the House of Lords had given judgment against us I had to square up a great many different accounts, not in America, in prosecuting the case here; I might want American money to do that; parties I owed money to wanted American money more than once—I was receiving money all the time—I should say I drew the cheque for £1,000 in the course of the business—I may have sent £200 of it to my wife on 24th December, 1889—that might have come under the head of fees and Court expenses—I suppose the three cheques in question were included in the £15,000 I paid to Thomas—I say I paid Mr. Thomas over £15,000—I do not think that £15,000 included the £1,000. (MR. LOCKWOOD read to the witness his affidavit of 3rd November, 1892, which stated that the £1,000 was included in the £16,000 paid to the defendant)—I shall stand by my affidavit—I sent funds to my wife, and I paid sums to Mr. Thomas—I should say I gave that amount to Mr. Thomas—I had additional funds—I was receiving funds from my friends in America all the time, those helping me to prosecute the case—a letter was read yesterday referring to an opinion expressed by Mr. Phelps; it was a letter of the prisoner's—I did not understand exactly what it was—I think the

paragraph went the round of the American papers; I never could find out where it was supposed to have come from—as I understood it, Mr. Phelps did what he could to warn his countrymen against being duped over this matter; I understood, however, that he retracted that afterwards, when he found that proceedings had been instituted—I know Messrs. Hill and Shepherd; they issued a circular; I do not remember the exact date—it was not before I came to this country, it was before I saw Mr. Thomas; I got it, I think, from Mr. Thomas. (MR. LOCKWOOD read the circular, which was a warning against the wittiest and others as having been for years making false statements with reference to the Towneley estates, and was signed, "F Alder Hill, Cincinnati")—I took steps to contradict that in person—I did not bring any action, because they retracted—I met Mr. Shepherd, and he apologised, and told me he had been deceived by Mr. Hill—he retracted in his own house in writing; I have not got it; it is with my friends in America—Mr. Shepherd acted as a gentleman should do, and I, as a gentleman, was satisfied—Mr. Hill got up a counter agitation on his own part, to get money for the same purpose; he professionally represented a different family to the one I represented—Mr. Shepherd is not alive. (A statement by Mr. Shepherd was read, stating that the necessary documents would be produced at the proper time, to show the false representations which had been made by the witness and others)—the first date I met Mr. Thomas was about the middle of January, 1886—I then believed that my case was complete, in one sense, in respect of what I brought from America, the pedigrees of the Lawrance family—the marriage of Mary and John was not included in the Lawrance part of the pedigree—I have given you the name of the party that presented the matter to Messrs. Blake, Kerr and Boyd; it was not I that did it; it was Mr. Annis—this name of "Jezrael Lawrance" is my handwriting—I did not prepare that affidavit; a lawyer in America did it for Mr. Jezrael Lawrance—I wrote it out because I thought if it would appear in my handwriting that I would read it more readily—that is the affidavit that was sworn—I preferred to copy it myself; I wanted it in my handwriting, as I had most of the other papers in my handwriting—I wanted it to look plain; lawyers do not usually write very plain. (Portions of this affidavit were read by MR. LOCKWOOD)—when I came to this country in 1886 I did not represent to Mr. Thomas that the case was actually complete and perfect in all its proofs, and ready for settlement, by the affidavit of 1878—I represented to him just what I have stated, that the pedigree of the Lawrance branch of the family was complete—I presume I said so—I have always insisted that the pedigree on this side was to be brought out by Mr. Thomas himself—I did not come to England before 1878 with reference to this matter—I came to England, as I have already stated, early in 1880, or the last days of 1879—this (produced) is a document in my handwriting—I brought it with me when I came to England and saw Mr. Thomas. (This was headed "In re Lawrance and Towneley estate, part 2," and gave a description of the estate and the family)—the reference to the bank records was given to me by the representative of a lawyer of a branch of the Lawrance family in America whom we know as the Abbott Lawrance branch of the family—the papers told me of the deposits of money—it is my writing, as Mr. Carver, a lawyer, permitted me to copy it—I was

not permitted to bring the original—the paper copied was not authenticated—I understood the bank was the Bank of England—I did not go to see the records directly I got to this country—I do not know where the judgment is that Jezrael Lawrance refers to in his affidavit in 1878—I had my solicitor to look after it—I did not ask for a copy of it—I did not act in that direction—I was not successful—I had an American lawyer with me, Judge Wills, of Washington City—I was not permitted to go to the Court of Chancery for it according to your rules and customs—I know what Lawrance said about it before I saw the prisoner—I had not the decision nor the date of it—I never heard about the costs in respect of it—I did not know about the old suit—I knew rumour said so—I did not get the gentleman to swear to it—I copied his affidavit—the "Abstract of decree in Chancery" I got from the papers, as I have explained—I did not prepare the document—Mr. Carver did for, as we call it in America, the Abbott Lawrance branch—it was prepared in America, not in England—I took it to England—I got from the papers, "Amount claimed, many millions"; "Church records of Hague, Holland, marriages, births, and deaths"—"John and Mary's marriage in 1695" had reference to their history, I suppose, but I told Mr. Thomas when I gave it to him I took very little stock in it, and I wanted him to examine to see if there was anything in it—I brought the document to Mr. Thomas as you have it there—I did not assume, if the suit was renewed, the payment of costs; I knew nothing about it—Mr. D. B. Carver wrote the original—he is not alive—I have never searched for it among his papers—I thought it better to get the decree on this side, and instruct Mr. Thomas to search for it—I asked him if he had got it—he told me he could not find anything of the kind—it did not occur to me that the costs referred to yesterday were the costs in the old Chancery suit—the date would not justify it, 1700 something—my memory may be failing me—so long as it was desirable to settle the question as to whether the American claimant had a right or not, he wanted it, and his friends wanted it settled—I did not tell Mr. Thomas about the 26th November that I had myself been making inquiry at the Treasury—I never was in the Treasury—I never brought him a letter which I said had been handed to me at the Treasury—I did not tell him that I had paid Mr. Younger a sum of money—I met Mr. Younger at 33, Chancery Lane—he was making some inquiry; as a solicitor I never retained him really—he never made inquiries for me at the Treasury, so far as I know—he died, I think in 1883; that was some time before I saw Mr. Thomas—I never told Mr. Thomas that I had already paid Younger the costs referred to, and that I had explained that fact to the Treasury; I never made such a statement to Mr. Thomas, or anybody else—I never said that the evidence that was procurable from the Treasury could stand over, as it was not a trial of the case, but only a motion to dismiss the suit, I asked him to send me a copy of that letter of the 26th November—I did not take the original letter to America; I swear that; I took a copy, not the original. (The deposition of the witness before the Magistrate being referred to, stated: "The paper which purported to be a copy of the Treasury solicitor's letter I believe I sent to America, that, or a copy of it; possibly I sent a copy, but I took the original with me")—I say that referred to the copy I received from Mr. Thomas—I last

saw the original letter on the 26th, when Mr. Thomas first called my attention to it, and when I asked him for a copy—in June, 1887, I was present when the case was being argued before the Lord Chief Justice and Mr. Justice Day—the present Attorney-General, then Mr. Rigby, appeared against me—I heard his argument—I do not remember distinctly what he said; he said a good deal—I do not think I then had in my possession a copy of the letter from the Treasury, making a demand for the costs in the old suit—I did not receive the letters from Mr. Thomas till after that—I do not remember the dates about it—I do not think I had shown this letter to my Counsel—I should say I don't remember that I had—Sir Horace Davey, Mr. Finlay, and Mr. Upjohn were our Counsel—I don't know that I told either of those gentlemen that I had such a letter in my possession—I left that to my solicitor, Mr. Thomas—I don't think I attended every consultation—I cannot say that I am aware of any consultation with Counsel at which I was not present; I believe I attended every consultation—I attended every hearing in Court—I did not on any such occasion make any allusion to this document, or a copy of it—I did not think it was my business, it was the business of my solicitor. Q. When did you give Mr. Thomas the information of this concealed fraud, which you set up in your amended statement of claim? A. Mr. Thomas furnished that himself, at the time the statement of claim was made up—I suppose he told me, not me him, that is the way it was. (MR. LOCKWOOD read an affidavit of the witness of the 15th May, 1888, in which he stated that he did not give Mr. Thomas information as to the fraud)—I think I received the information from Mr. Thomas—the affidavit is not untrue; I called his attention to a number of things—my recollection is that he communicated it to me—it might possibly bear the construction that my affidavit is not true, but I do not acknowledge it—I still say it was Mr. Thomas who gave me the information, and not I that gave it to him—I do not allege that Sandy And Creeke betrayed me—Mr. Thomas so informed me—he prepared this affidavit; I read it—I thought it was true; I would not have sworn it if it were not true—I was careful to see that I was speaking the truth—I have no recollection of a consultation with Mr. Upjohn in reference to it—I remember we had a consultation.

Q. You remember this, do you not, that not one word being said about this concealed fraud in the statement of claim, it was necessary for you to explain to the Court how it came about that there had been no mention of that? A. I don't think it is so; it was not my business, my solicitor's—I did not realise it—he prepared the affidavit—it may have been prepared and settled in the presence of two of my Counsel—I don't remember, distinctly—I had very likely looked into "Taylor on Evidence" on this point—I think I had consulted the case of Gibbs and Guild about that time—I don't know when or how long ago—I bought the book containing "Gibbs and Guild" in London, at a book store; I don't remember where just now—the book was "Taylor on Evidence," two vols., or, rather, my solicitor called my attention to that, I should think.

Q. In your affidavit you say it was the perusal of this case that justified you in withholding it from your solicitor, and now you say your attention was called to it by Mr. Thomas? A. I think so—we discussed these

matters pretty freely—the matter was in the hands of my solicitor, and was none of my business really—I could not instruct Counsel, and I did not—I went to Mr. Rolt—he was instructed to make inquiry into the way in which the money that had passed through my hands had been spent—I requested him to do so—I do not know that he had received instructions from others before me—when I went to Mr. Rolt, in 1892, the claimant Lawrance was my principal—I do not know that he was making inquiry as to how this money had been spent—I don't remember the precise time when I met Mr. Rolt first; possibly I was in communication with him as early as September, 1891—I swear I did not concoct a series of letters which I represented to be copies of letters I had written to the prisoner—I gave Mr. Rolt some letters I had sent to the prisoner; I did not give him copies of some I had not sent; I swear that—I did not see the prisoner on 20th September, 1891—after that I saw him at Brighton, I should think, and at St. Leonards, and at a place near there—we were not staying together—we may have lunched together—I have no recollection of preparing letters to be written by the prisoner, and to be used by me and my wife in America; I depended upon him for instructions—this letter of February 2nd, 1886, to the prisoner is in my writing—I don't remember that I enclosed a paper of proposals in that—I think the suggestions came from the prisoner, and not from me to him—on the same date I received this letter in the prisoner's writing; it is word for word a copy of the document I sent on the 2nd, but my writing is a copy of his—I could not have written what is attributed to me there—"I have made a minute of what I think you can say with propriety of our case, and which will greatly aid Mrs. Jaquess in her contemplated work in America," was a copy I made of the prisoner's letter to me—I had got the original; I wanted the copy for use—I had known the prisoner then a few days—the letter of 5th September, 1889, is in my writing—the work in America was laying the facts before our people and friends, not especially with the object of getting money; we had to report our progress, and get the case complete—I wanted the prisoner to call my attention to the case of Lyell and Kennedy because he had not put it into writing; I wanted it to show or to carry with me—on 7th September the prisoner did what I suggested and wrote, "There has been decided during the last sittings the case of Lyell and Kennedy"—I have no recollection of enclosing this in the preceeding letter: "I send you herewith a statement, according to your suggestion. If satisfactory you can send it on, otherwise hold it till we meet on Wednesday noon, and we will make alteration, if any should be required"—I think it is my writing, but under the circumstances I don't remember it as you put it; I don't think it is—there was no suggestion of terms of settlement by the defendant's solicitors or counsel; they fought to the death—this letter from me to the prisoner of 15th November, 1886, means that the prisoner informs me with reference to my friends in America—the letter states what I was informed at an interview I had, that we had had a meeting to discuss that he should write to me, that there had been a trial which had been very successful to us, and that the defendant's Counsel had applied to our Counsel for a compromise—that was what he repeated to me in private conversation—I knew the prisoner could write a letter himself—I

simply embodied in my letters what we had agreed on in private conversation, I suppose—that is my recollection of it—we had not agreed in concocting the fraud—I only knew what he told me—this purported to come from the solicitors to the other side, and I never had a conversation with them; I never met them in private—the House of Lords decision against me was some time in 1890—in 1891 the litigation was under discussion—Mr. Thomas did not refuse to go on—he did not take me to Parker, Garratt and Parker; I took him—I went to consult them at the request of a party in America—I told Mr. Thomas how it came about—I learnt from him that further litigation was useless unless additional testimony could be produced—I think I consulted Mr. Rolt about September, 1891—I do not remember the exact date when I retained him—after that I was occasionally in communication with Mr. Thomas—I told Mr. Rolt the facts of the case—I did not tell him I was in communication with Mr. Thomas at the time—I think he knew every time I saw Mr. Thomas—I cannot recollect the date I first saw Mr. Thomas—the letter of 10th August I received in America I delayed answering till 19th September, 1891, because I was travelling in America, and had not time and opportunity to attend to it till I returned to England—it was a serious letter, possibly suggesting my hands were not clean, and to which I should think I ought to have indignantly replied—I waited till I got back to America; I was so busy the letter had to be sent out there—I did not see Mr. Thomas before I wrote the letter of 19th September, 1891—it must have been days after—weeks, I should think—two weeks—I saw him usually at his request, according to my recollection—I suppose "Colonel" means me in this telegram of 26th September, 1891: "Start to-morrow noon, Central Station—To Howell Thomas, 45, Grand Parade, Brighton"—I went to Brighton—I remember seeing him once there; I think that was all—I was trying to get my papers from him—I did not arrange with him as to the terms in which I should write him—I did not discuss with him the terms upon which I did write to him, not according to my recollection—there was no understanding that we were to correspond at all—I have no recollection of supplying Mr. Rolt with copies of letter alleged to have been written by me to the prisoner on 1st, 6th, 14th, 20th, 27th October, 28th November, and 23rd December, 1891—I don't know in whose handwriting these letters are—I received instructions from Mr. Rolt—he may have supplied me with copies of letters I was to write to the prisoner—I carried out his instructions, and wrote to the prisoner when he gave me copies—I never told Mr. Rolt I had written a letter which I had not written—about 9th March, 1892, Mr. Rolt was pressing the prisoner to answer questions, and render accounts to me, and I was still pressing to get the balance of my papers—I don't remember what I meant by writing to the prisoner on 9th March, 1892, that he was likely to be called on by letter to answer some questions respecting the case of Lawrance and Norreys, and that he should answer on the lines recently indicated to him—I do not think I had indicated to him; it might have been the people from America about wanting to see the papers—I was trying to get my papers from Thomas.Q. One way of trying was to suggest he had already given them to you? A. Well, he had—I wrote this letter of 22nd March, 1892. (This was to the effect that he had two satisfactory interviews with Mr.

Rolt, who had shown him a letter to the prisoner and the prisoner's reply, which should satisfy Mr. Rolt, as he (the witness) lead confirmed what he said as to all papers having been handed over)—that might include the letter of 26th November—parties from America, I suppose, were wanting to get hold of my papers improperly—the prisoner told me that he had turned over to me everything he had, but I found that he had not—I telegraphed to the prisoner on 24th March, 1892, "Write to you to-day; answer no letters till mine received"—I do not know whose letters he was not to answer; I wrote to him in answer to one of his—I do not know whether the letter came from Mr. Rolt, or whom—this letter of 24th March, 1892, is in my writing—the passage, "Mr. Rolt does not seem ugly, but he is exacting," will bear the construction that he was not believing me—I do not know what letters would puzzle him—I should say they were not letters, the copies of which you showed me just now—I do not remember that it was so—I was writing everything that Mr. Rolt instructed me—I do not think I meant that the letters would puzzle him very much, because he had never got them—I do not know what other explanations I had to give—I wanted to see the prisoner and consult with him before he answered my solicitor's letters, to get my papers out of his hand, if he had any left—I wanted Mr. Rolt and the prisoner to meet and discuss matters, and as they could not I was forwarding it as much as I could—I told Mr. Rolt that the prisoner and myself were in occasional conversation in reference to any papers he might have—I did not tell Mr. Rolt that we were consulting how Mr. Rolt's letters should be answered, I think—I never insisted, throughout these proceedings, on the prisoner implicitly following such instructions as I chose to give—I did not write out this letter from the Treasury of the 26th November, 1891—I never saw it, or read it, till the prisoner read it to me—I did not suggest to the prisoner the wording of those receipts—I did not tell him or dictate to him the mode in which they should be worded—he received the moneys and receipted for them without any suggestion from me—I did not take a receipt for the full amount of £1,121, because I had not the money then; I had it eventually—the second payment was the 8th January, 1887; I waited till then to receive funds for the purpose—on 6th December I had cabled to me from America £2,893—I did not pay then, because I had applied for a specific sum for a specific purpose—I had applied to my friends in America for funds for this specific purpose—the specific sum came over about the time I paid it over—I applied for a specific sum to pay these costs—it was not a particularly desirable thing to get a letter from him that these costs were due, because the moment I got it I proceeded to supply the means—having got the letter, I asked for a specific sum to meet them, and it took a little time to get it—the prisoner was making constant demands for funds, and I could only do my best to raise them—my wife's maiden name was Perigoid; when I married her she was a widow; her name then was Micheson; she had only been married once before I married her—I do not know the name of Cade.

Re-examined. The proposed compromise of the action mentioned in the letter was first mentioned to me by the prisoner—this letter of 19th November, 1886, from the prisoner, contained the first intimation I ever received of any proposed compromise—this is an original letter of 15th

November, 1886, written by me to the prisoner. (This contained the suggestion that the prisoner should write to him as to the proposed compromise)—I wrote that date 1886, and it has been altered to 1888—I should say I wrote it directly after the prisoner's letter to me—I think I was not living at 47, Woburn Place, in 1888. (The letter was dated from 47, Woburn Place)—I think I was stopping at the Alexandra Hotel, Hyde Park Corner, during part of 1888—it was expected that the prisoner would ascertain about the previous suit—I received this letter of September 18th, 1886, from him, written from King's Head, Newport—that was the first I heard from him of any previous suit—there were rumours that there had been previous suits, and I swore in my affidavit that there were; it was so understood—I handed over the affidavit to Thomas when I came over, with the request that he should examine into the the matter carefully—this letter, which it is suggested I drafted, the prisoner wrote and signed—the statement in it that proofs of the pedigree are now complete refers to the paper the prisoner brought to my wife for the £100, the Cade matter—I had not brought with me to this country any certificate or document purporting to be a certificate of that marriage—the signature of this letter from the prisoner, of 11th August, 1887, in his writing, saying that the defendant offered to compromise, I received without any intimation from me—we discussed matters of this kind occasionally, and it might have been mentioned, but I think not—I do not know that that letter was written by the prisoner in consequence of an agreement between us before that that he should write it—the letter of 15th August, 1887, is in the prisoner's writing—when he was called on to account, he said, among other things, that he had already accounted to me by a document which was a settled account between us—that was one of the defences he set up in the Court of Appeal, and for that purpose he relied on an account of September, 1890—he exhibited in his affidavit an account showing the expenditure by him of £6,350—I understand he relied on that as the settled account between him and me—that £6,350 is the only money he accounted for of the moneys he had received from me; he claimed that that was all he had received, and all he had expended—I can produce, and I have produced, his own receipts and his own endorsements on my cheques for £11,000; these are the receipts and cheques—on November 2nd, 1886, I paid him £2,000 by a cheque, and later in November, 1886, £1,000, for which he gave receipts, and on 19th November, 1886, I gave him another cheque for £1,000, and on 30th November, 1886, another £1,000.

ANNA MARIA JAQUESS . I am the wife of the last witness—I came with him to this country in 1885; he left me here at Woburn Place in October, 1885—before he returned to America in 1885, we met a Mr. David Lewis at Aberavon, Wales—my husband talked to him about the business we were over here upon—after my husband had gone back to America Mr. Lewis brought the prisoner and introduced him to me at 47, Woburn Place—I had never seen or heard of him before—he was simply introduced as Mr. Lewis's solicitor—about two days afterwards the prisoner called alone, and asked if I would permit him to see the Colonel's papers, which I declined—he said he was employed by the Lewis branch of the family as their solicitor in the case—they purported to be a

Lewis branch of the Towneley family—two or three days after he called again, saying he had investigated but found they had no connection with the Towneley family, and he said he had found the decree of the Court in the case pertaining to the Lewis family—I asked him if he would bring me an epitome of the decree—he called again in a few days, saying that he had found in his investigations some very important knowledge relative to the Towneleys; he had met with a young man (not giving me any name) who knew where to obtain the evidence of the marriage of Mary Towneley and John Lawrance—I asked him whom the young man was—he said he could not make his name known—I said, "What evidence have you that he has any knowledge?"—he said he was employed in making a search of papers in a case of Lord Norreys in Towneley Hall, and there he found the evidence of Mary Towneley's marriage recorded by her father in a book of pedigree—I asked if it was a matter of money—he said, "Of course"—he said he would see the young man and know what he would give me the information for—next day he called and told me £200—I said in the absence of my husband I did not feel I could pay out so large a sum; I was willing to divide the responsibility and pay £100—he left, and returned next day and said the young man was satisfied; he would take £100, and that he would accompany him if their expenses were paid—I paid him £25 in cash to cover his expenses to Burnley, in Lancashire, to visit Towneley Hall—on the 15th December, 1885, he returned and reported his success, and showed me a piece of paper with two or three lines written on it—it was only a copy—he left it with me—it was a written memorandum, "Mary Towneley, born 17th May, 1670, and clandestinely married in March, 1695, at P."—he said he understood by inquiry at Towneley that "P." meant Paris—I asked him why Paris—he said he understood that two of Mary Towneley's sisters were in a convent in Paris, and that she had crossed there, and was clandestinely married while there—I replied that it looked a very small matter to pay so large a sum of money for, but as I agreed to do so I would do it, and I drew a cheque for £100—I asked the prisoner to whom I should draw it—he said himself—I said I could not do that—I preferred drawing it to the party he had employed, as he was a stranger to me, and in my husband's absence I preferred knowing the name—he hesitated a few moments and then replied that I could draw it to S. Cade—I did so—he then gave me this receipt, "Re Towneley Estates. Received of Mrs. Jaquess cheque for £100 for Mr. Cade for private information relating to the above"—on my husband's return I told him what I had done, and handed him the receipt—I knew the action was going on—after my husband's return the prisoner told my husband at 47, Woburn Place, that he had a friend in the Treasury who had given him very valuable information, and he had also received a letter from the solicitor of the Treasury, stating that a prior claim had never been settled for, and that this action could not proceed until that was settled—I heard him say that at one time there were £14,000,000 sterling of funds belonging to this estate—when he told my husband about the £14,000,000 and the Treasury letter no one else was there but myself.

Cross-examined. I made an affidavit about 1st June, 1893, in this case; in that I answered what questions were put to me—I was not before the

Magistrate; I was ill in America, and I give my evidence in Court now for the first time—I had been over here with my husband before 1885; I travel with him generally—it would be fifteen years since I first came over with him in relation to the claims to the Towneley estates; he was engaged then on the business—we were back and fro a good deal; I could not say how often—I am not aware that we were deficient in funds towards the end of 1885—my husband told me from time to time what his proofs were and how he was completing it—he never told me that the case was complete, and that the marriage of Mary Towneley and John Lawrance had taken place at a church at the Hague in 1695, and that he had documents to prove it—I have heard it intimated in America by persons interested in the case, not subscribers—if my husband had brought complete to this country the proof of the marriage of Mary Townley and John Lawrance in 1695 at the Hague, I was in ignorance of it—I do not believe he brought such proof, or that he said so—my husband came back early in January—I was then at 47, Woborn Place—I told him all about Cade directly, and gave him this receipt, and told him why the moneys had been paid to Cade, and gave him the paper—I cannot think my husband would say he knew nothing of it till he got the cheque—I had pledged my word to pay £100 for the information brought to me, and I paid it—I have never gone through the pedigree; I had not seen it—I was foolish enough to pay £100 for the paper the prisoner brought me—he told me he had found the record of that marriage in a book—my husband sent me over no money to America—he sent me money over to America at different times it is true, when I was in America, but it was in connection with business; it has nothing to do with this case.

Re-examined. The prisoner stated that he obtained the information from, I think, the pedigree of the Townley family, written by Sir Richard Townley in Townley Hall—he said the book was in a small room, chained to a table, and this was on the latter pages of the book—he described the room—my maiden name was Perigord.

THOMAS FREDERICK WAKEFIELD . I am clerk in charge of the accounts in the solicitors' department of the Treasury—I know nothing of any accumulated funds in the Treasury with reference to the Towneley estates, although I have made every search—in August, 1891, I received this letter at the Treasury. (Read: "Dear Sir,—In this action I paid you about £1,100 for costs of an action, etc. I have mislaid the receipt and shall be glad if you will inform me who the defendants were. Yours truly, H. Thomas"—on the receipt of that letter I proceeded to make search and inquiry at the Treasury—I made search in the account books under my charge, and also in the letter books to see if there was any trace of such a matter—I also made inquiries of Messrs. Hare and Son, who acted as agents for the Treasury at that time, and they said they knew nothing of it—while those inquiries were going on I received this letter of 10th August from 40, Chancery Lane—on receiving that letter I made no further inquiry; I marked the paper "Nil," and treated the matter as a mistake, and sent the letters to be put on the Treasury file—I did not think it necessary to communicate with Sir Augustus Stephenson, because he would open the letters and distribute them to the gentlemen in the department who had to deal with them—I did not think it necessary to carry it any further.

HENRY ERNEST F. COMYN , I am a first-class clerk in the solicitors' department of the Treasury—in that capacity I have to deal with any administration suits that come in to the Treasury—I became acquainted with the defendant, Mr. Thomas, about January, 1886, in connection with some suit that was being administered by the Treasury, in which the name of a person named Barber was introduced—from January, 1886, to October, 1889, I was in correspondence with Mr. Thomas on the subject of that suit—these are the letters; some of them are in his own handwriting, and others are signed by him—I saw him occasionally during that time, perhaps half a dozen times—during the whole time I was in communication with him no reference was made to the Towneley estates, or to any suit in connection with them.

HENRY SEYMOUR METCALFE . I am a solicitor practising at 40, Chancery Lane; I bought the business of Mr. Thomas, in May, 1890—that was just after the litigation in Lawrance against Lord Norrey was over—I had nothing whatever to do with that—I kept his name in the business, but he had nothing to do with it—he came to the office from time to time—about 1st August, 1891, I remember Colonel Jaquess seeing me at 40, Chancery Lane, with reference to the alleged claim being made to the Treasury—as the result of that interview I wrote the letter of 1st August, 1891, to the Treasury; my clerk wrote it, and I signed it—at that time the name of Thomas had not been abandoned; I was carrying on business in the name of Thomas and Metcalfe, but he was entirely out of the business—I think he had began to take steps to go to the bar at that time, or shortly afterwards—I think I was away on 10th August, when Mr. Thomas came to the office—I think Colonel Jaquess had left the office, when the letter to the Treasury was written; it was written on his instructions—I don't think I communicated the fact of that letter being written to Mr. Thomas personally; I think my clerk did—I had some conversation with him afterwards, and he said, I ought not to have written such a letter without instructions—I know of his writing a letter to the Treasury, saying that the matter was a mistake; that might have been about three weeks after the letter had been written, or about a fortnight after the 10th August.

Cross-examined. I first saw Colonel Jaquess probably in May or June, 1890, coming to the office—he appeared to be taking an active part in the business—I was not aware of any consultations with Counsel at that time; the proceedings were all over—I think Colonel Jaquess was at this time pressing upon Mr. Thomas to continue the case—I did not accompany Colonel Jaquess to procure an extension—the object of the interview with a firm of solicitors was to lay before them the facts of the case, and ask whether they would co-operate with my firm in renewing the proceedings; to take their opinion as to whether it was expedient to continue the litigation—I think it was Colonel Jaquess who recommended these gentleman being consulted; I think that was about June, 1890—that was after the adverse decision in the House of Lords—I was aware that Colonel Jaquess had been borrowing of Thomas, to the extent of £20—I cannot remember that he was attempting to obtain larger sums from him—I think that was a private matter which was arranged—I have no recollection of it myself, or that Colonel Jaquess was pressed hard for money—he repaid the £20 loan to me on the 15th September, 1891—

I do not know how long he had owed it—I think I only knew of that £20 debt on 15th September, when he repaid it to me, and asked me to forward it to Mr. Thomas—I was not aware of any other debts—I was not aware of the settlement that had been come to, it was before my time—I have no recollection about it—I was not aware of it at the time—I was aware of the litigation that subsequently ensued between Thomas and Colonel Jaquess—Thomas told me there was an agreement between them for a specific sum—I understood he was to account for all moneys—he told me that he should like to have Mr. Jaquess cross-examined, but that Mr. Jaquess expressed a preference to appear in the form of an affidavit.

Re-examined. This account (Produced) is the account that was alluded to in the Court of Appeal, in which he accounts only for £6,000—I don't know the details of that; I only heard generally—the Colonel was pressing me to continue the litigation for him, but I understood that was subject to Garrett and Parker approving of it—I declined the invitation—I thought there was no evidence to support it.

CHALTON HUBBARD . I am a solicitor, of 40, Chancery Lane—in November, 1886, I was clerk to the defendant, then carrying on business as a solicitor at that address—this letter of 29th November, addressed to Colonel Jaquess, 67, Woburn Place, is not my writing—the endorsement on the envelope is mine—the letter is in the writing of Mr. Merton, a fellow clerk—it is signed by Mr. Thomas—the copy letter enclosed is written by me—it purports to be a copy of a letter from Sir Augustus Stephenson, addressed to Mr. Thomas—at the present time I do not remember where I copied that letter from—I wrote it from another document certainly—I should say I had before me the original of which this purports to be a copy; I had something to copy it from; I have not any recollection about it—I should say I copied it from what purported to be the original letter—I don't know where I got it; I should say it was given me to copy by Mr. Thomas. (The original was called for and not produced.)

Cross-examined. I do not remember in whose handwriting the document was that I copied; as far as I remember it was a strange handwriting—I saw Colonel Jaquess; he called frequently at the office—I should certainly say he took an active part in the proceedings; whenever Mr. Thomas was going to counsel, he left with him, as far as my memory goes, on all occasions—he came on the occasion of the letter of 1st August, 1891; I was the clerk that was there—it was the Colonel who wanted that letter written; he gave me a sovereign on that occasion—I know Mr. Thomas's handwriting perfectly well—the Colonel came and asked me to find the receipt, in order that he might know who were the defendants in the action of 1819, the old action; that was what he told me.

GEORGE LUBBOCK . I am a clerk in the London and Westminster Bank, Temple Bar branch—I produce this certified copy of the prisoner's account there from the beginning of December, 1885—his balance was then £14—on 16th December, 1885, he had a credit balance of £2 0s. 10d.—on that day this £100 cheque, drawn on Brown, Shipley, and Co., was paid in, and was credited to his account—on 1st December, 1886, I find a credit of £500, by a £500 note, No. 69978, dated 14th March, 1885—on 8th January, 1887, there is a credit of £600 by cash—this cheque for

£600, payable to Howell Thomas, bears the stamp of our bank; I don't know if the credit was 8th or 9th, I fancy a Sunday intervened—if a cheque came in late one day it would be credited the following day.

Cross-examined. The stamping, "London and Westminster Bank," on the cheque of 15th December, 1885, would be done after it came to us—it is payable to "S" or "T. Cade or order"—it is not crossed, and in the ordinary way of banking it could be presented and paid over the counter—I take it there was no necessity for "H. Thomas" on the other side—we enter London cheques as cash on the day of payment in—we enter country drafts as "country drafts" unless we specify the drawer's name, which some of our customers require—I cannot tell if the cheque of 17th December for £150 was a country cheque—we take three clear days for collection; a cheque paid in before ten a.m. would save a day—it is unlikely that a cheque of 13th December, paid in after ten a.m., would appear as an entry on the credit side on 17th; we do not count the day it is paid in as one of the three clear days—a cheque paid in after ten on the 13th would be credited to the account on the 16th, three days is the limit—if this cheque had been paid in on the 14th it would appear rightly to the credit of the account on the 17th in the ordinary course of business—the credit balance at the end of 1885 was £258 9s. 6d.

Re-examined. The cheque for £100 on Brown, Shipley, and Co., drawn to Cade, is endorsed "H. Thomas," and bears the stamp of the Temple Barbranch of the London and Westminster Bank.

ROBERT GREEN . I am cashier at Brown, Shipley, and Co., bankers—Colonel Jaquess had an account with them, upon which Mrs. Jaquess had authority to draw during his absence in America—on 30th November, 1886, this cheque for £600 was cashed over the counter, and I gave for it a £500 note of 14th March, 1885, No. 69978, a £50 note, six £5 notes, and £20 in gold—the £100 cheque drawn to Cade by Mrs. Jaquess was paid by our bank when presented by the Temple Bar branch of the London and Westminster Bank.

Cross-examined. These are copies of the account—I have not taken the total payments into the account, nor can I tell you without referring whether the amount remitted to Mrs. Jaquess in 1888 was £2,273 6s. 8d., or that in 1&89 £743 8s. 9d.—on 2nd June, 1888, 5,000 dollars was cabled out—this order is signed by Colonel Jaquess, and he paid us £1,031 5s.—he bought a cable transfer, and in part payment he gave us this £500 note of 15th March, 1887, No. 39537, and these five £100 notes of 15th March, 1887, Nos. 24618 to 24622, and six £5 notes, Nos. 77477 to 77481, and 77483—in the ledger, "Cable for B., S. and Co.," means cable sums from New York, and those would go to Colonel Jaquess's credit.

GEORGE STOREY . I live at the Priory, Harrogate—I was agent and steward of the Towneley estates from 1864 to 1891, and am still the agent for the Lord Norreys' portion—in 1885 I had the keys of the muniment room, where deeds were kept at Towneley Hall, and also the key of the library—no person named Cade was employed to prepare any history of the family or for any purpose, nor did he have access to the Hall—I never heard of any action before this one as to these estates—Lord Norreys inherited from the death of John Towneley, the last of the Towneleys—he became owner of a third or of a half under his wife's will in 1878; a friendly Chancery suit was instituted by Lord Norreys in his name (so that he

might have command of the whole suit, the whole family being interested, he having married the eldest daughter of John Towneley) for the division of the estate in 1878—I was agent for John Towneley—I never heard any question about his right or title; he succeeded his brother Charles, but only lived eighteen months afterwards—so far as I know, any suggestion of claim to the estate is complete fiction.

THOMAS SALTER . I am a clerk in the central office of the Royal Courts of Justice—I produce the affidavits in the matter of H. Thomas ex parte Jaquess—this is the affidavit sworn on 22nd December, 1892, by Howell Thomas. (In the seventeenth paragraph of this it was stated, "The receipt, 'J. 34,' December, 1885, for £100, was for money I received from Mrs. Jaquess, the applicant's wife, for Mr. Cade, and which I paid to Mr. Cade.")

Cross-examined. This is Colonel Jaquess, affidavit of 25th January, 1893. (This affidavit was read.)

FRANK FROEST (Detective Inspector Scotland Yard). I had a warrant for the prisoner's arrest, and on 13th April, at 10.30 a.m., I saw the prisoner at 42, Grand Parade, Brighton—I said, "Is your name Howell Thomas?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am a police officer, and I am going to arrest you on a warrant for unlawfully obtaining by means of certain false pretences of and from one Jaquess £500 of his moneys with intent to defraud"—he said, "May I see the warrant?"—I handed him the warrant—he read it, and he said, "I will go with you; I have a perfect answer Co the charge"—I brought him to London, where he was charged.

HENRY BALDWIN RAVEN . I am a solicitor, and a member of the firm of Hare and Co., 139, Temple Chambers—we are agents for the Treasury solicitors—we generally have conduct of Chancery matters for the Treasury solicitors—I remember inquiry being made in August, 1891, by Mr. Wakefield, to ascertain if I knew anything of any suit concerning the Towneley estates in 1814—search was made in our office—no trace of anything of the kind was found.

THOMAS LEWIS . I am Assistant Paymaster-General for the Supreme Court—if any money was standing to the credit of the Towneley estates in Chancery, I should know of it—there is none—many inquiries have been made at my office from time to time by different people on the subject for the last twelve years, perhaps longer—they have always been told there was no such fund—the total amount of dormant funds now lying in Chancery is about a million—there is no sum of £14,000,000 standing to any account unclaimed—a list of dormant funds is published every three years—I am quite sure that there has never been any such fund in Chancery, quite apart from the Treasury—we have no record of the property being thrown into Chancery in 1813—we have no order dealing with it.

GEORGE STOREY (Re-examined by the COURT). I never heard of any claims in 1813, 1814, 1820, 1827, or 1837; I don't believe there were any—there was never any litigation, so far as I know, and I had a good chance of knowing, because I had a good deal to do with the re-settlement of the estates, and I also had the whole of the preparation necessary for the division of the estates in the ten years from 1878 to 1888—I had to prove the existence of the whole of the property before the Court of Chancery, and I had the whole of the deeds under me—I and the solicitor

in London went into the whole thing, and I never heard of any such thing.

GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

MR. JUSTICE GRANTHAM expressed the opinion that no doubt Colonel Jaquess had conspired with the prisoner to defraud the people in America, and that proceedings ought to be taken against him.

OLD COURT. Tuesday and Wednesday, 3rd and 4th July, 1894.

Before Mr. Justice Grantham.

580. FRITZ BRALL , Feloniously having in his possession certain explosive substances, under such circumstances as to give rise to a reasonable suspicion of his having them for an unlawful purpose.

MESSRS. C. F. GILL, BODKIN, A. GILL,and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted; and MR. FARELLY, MR. SURRAGE,and MR. CLEAVER Defended.

LOUIS KELTERBORN . I live at 20, Pitt Street, Tottenham Court Road—I occupy the parlours on the ground floor with my wife—I know the prisoner as living on the second floor front for about two and a half years; he had one large room divided into two by a partition—he was a cabinet-maker—he had a small workshop in the back of the yard of No. 20; he kept that workshop to himself, but only partially—I had heard of the Autonomie Club in Windmill Street, a few yards off; I was not aware that the prisoner was a member of it—I never had any conversation with him about it—a large number of persons came to see him, nearly all foreigners; I might say all—I have seen them in the middle of the day, but mostly of an evening; some would stay all night—they would stay very late at night, and go away at an early hour of the morning—they went into the prisoner's room—I have sometimes seen boxes brought on a hand-barrow, and taken away sometimes next morning—I think on one occasion I have seen a box or two brought and taken away the next morning; but at other times boxes have gone away without returning—I think on three or four occasions I have seen boxes go away; I think they were mostly brought in the daytime—about two or three brought the boxes; they may have stayed there till the next day—the visitors brought boxes with them; I thought it was luggage—I remember once hearing the prisoner speaking to someone at the street door; I believe he was out of employment at the time, and he was complaining of the state' of society—I heard him say the shops were full of goods, and yet at the same time you would see shoemakers without shoes, tailors without clothes, and cabinet-makers without furniture; but I do not remember the exact words of anything beyond that—he was generally very excited at such times—I cannot remember anything else he said at the time; he was somewhat incoherent in his utterance—I remember on one occasion a foreigner coining to the house and staying there for some little time—the prisoner engaged an empty room for him on the first floor back, and introduced him as his friend, saying his furniture was coming from France, but it did not come from France—the prisoner found the furniture; furnished the room for him—I could not remember the friend's name, but to the best of my recollection it was Schmidt, the German of Smith—I remember hearing of the visit of the police to the

Autonomie Club, and early the next morning, or the following morning, Brail hastily removed his goods—I have ever been on friendly terms with him—I had no knowledge of his going that morning—his wife went as well, and the rooms were left vacant.

Cross-examined. I do not fix the date of his going away—I say he went away a day or two after the raid on the Autonomie Club—that was a rather important event, and I had my own ideas on the subject why the prisoner went away: I connected the two together—I only knew the club as a neighbour—I don't know the business of the club; all I know is a club of that name existed in Windmill Street—on two or three occasions luggage was left at the prisoner's—he had a great many visitors always—there was no concealment about leaving the luggage; it was always done openly—I was aware that for a considerable time the prisoner was the secretary of a Trade Union—I always thought his visitors looked very much like German Jews—I am an Englishman of foreign parentage on one side—I believe the prisoner is a German—I should naturally expect his friends to be Germans.

Re-examined. I never held any political conversation with the prisoner; I merely passed the time of day with him as one neighbour would do to another—I never heard from him anything about this friendly society.

By The COURT. He never suggested to me that he was a member or secretary of a Trade Union.

ELLEN KELTERBORN . I am the wife of the last witness, and live at 20, Pitt Street—I remember a man named Schmidt taking the back room first floor—Mr. Brall brought him—I cannot tell the date; it was a year and nine months ago—he had no furniture—Brall supplied him with a bedstead—Schmidt paid his own rent to the landlord—he never went out much—I could not say whether he went out during the day—I do not know whether he wore glasses; I did not see him much in the day time—he was a dark man, that is all I know, with curly hair—I don't know whether he wore glasses when he went out; I do not know anything about it; I only know the man—I never saw him in glasses; he may have worn them; I do not know—I made a statement to the inspector of police; I did not sign it, I never signed any paper whatever—the inspector came and asked me for my statement, that I let a room to a Frenchman named Schmidt—the statement was read over to me—this (Produced) is it, it is quite right—I never said, "He never went out of doors during the day, and he always wore glasses"—I never saw him in glasses; I never mentioned those words—I never saw the man out of doors at all—I was shown a photograph of him (Looking at a photograph)—that is the man—that is the man I let the room to—Brall paid the man's rent once or twice I believe; he did when his wife was away.

Cross-examined. Mrs. Fox told me that he wore glasses, but I never saw him in glasses; I was never told that he had any other name.

ELIZABETH FOX . I am the wife of Charles Fox, a cab driver, of 20, Pitt Street, Tottenham Court Road—we occupy the third floor front room, and the prisoner's room was just below us, the second floor front—I had no talk with him while in the house—a good many foreigners came to see him—I did not notice whether they brought luggage with them—I heard of this raid on the Autonomie Club, but do not know whether

he was living at 20, Pitt Street, then—I remember his leaving, but cannot say how long that was after the raid—I was in my room about Christmas, and heard a very sharp noise, just like a gun—I was kneeling, scrubbing the floor, and the vibration moved the boards—I felt it on my knees, and jumped up directly—the noise came from underneath—it was about two o'clock in the day—Mrs. Foster was in my room, and we both ran on to the landing, and about ten minutes afterwards Mr. Brall came out, and went downstairs—I said nothing to him—on another day I noticed nothing as to the window of his room—I have heard similar noises since that on several occasions—I heard three one Sunday afternoon one after the other from the same place—I stopped in my own room, but my husband went on the landing, and halloaed down the stairs to them, and then I saw smoke coming from the room underneath me—I have not heard any similar noises since—I heard one similar noise before the Sunday afternoon; that was eleven o'clock at night—I heard them two or three times in the evening between ten and eleven, but only once on each evening—I have noticed two or three men who wore glasses in the house with the prisoner; one of them lived in the first floor back while the prisoner was living in the house.

Cross-examined. I was frightened when I heard these explosions—I did not see the man who wore glasses very often, and when I did I took no notice of him—I do not think I should know his photograph—I complained once to Mrs. Kelterborn about the explosions, but not afterwards; I did not think anything about what they were—the fireplace in the prisoner's room was one with an oven—I cannot describe it; I never was in the room; I only knew the room when he took it—I don't know what stove he had himself—I have seen the Dutch stoves which stand out in the middle of the room—they have a large pipe, a flue running from the stove and going up the chimney—I think it is very difficult to keep that flue clean—I don't know whether it has to be taken to pieces or a little gunpowder used to take the soot down—I did not complain to the prisoner when I saw him on the stairs—I take an interest in this case—I do not remember telling Mrs. Kelterborn that Schmidt used to wear spectacles, but it is a long time ago—I think this is the man (Looking at a photograph)—I am not certain—I cannot see a name in the left hand corner—I do not know that the man was acquitted—I merely passed the time of day with Mrs. Brail—I never had any conversation with her.

Re-examined. The first explosion I heard was just before Christmas, and it was a fortnight before I heard any more—I cannot say when the last one was, but they went on for about a month or six weeks—I think there were seven or eight explosions in that time.

MARY ANN CHARLOTTE FOSTER . I am the wife of William Foster, of 20, Pitt Street—I was in Mr. Fox's room one day before Christmas and heard a very loud report, which appeared to come from the room underneath, occupied by the prisoner—Mrs. Fox called out, but there was no answer—I heard a similar noise about a fortnight later, in the night—I heard three noises altogether—one Sunday afternoon I was asleep, and heard Mr. Fox call down the stairs—I did not know that the prisoner was going to leave till I saw his room empty in the morning—I had to go downstairs for a bundle of wood at 6.30 a.m., and saw him and his wife outside with a barrow.

Cross-examined. I was greatly frightened at hearing these dreadful explosions, and complained to my landlady—I do not know whether the prisoner was moving his tools and some cabinet-making work in the barrow that morning—I was at Westminster Police-court, and opposite Scotland Yard, and at the Treasury, and then at this place—I was never at the Police-court as a witness in any other case in my life—I only knew Mrs. Brall to pass the time of day with her—I only saw one gentleman with glasses.

Re-examined. I saw him up and downstairs when I passed—I cannot tell whether he lived in the house; I only saw him early in the morning—I have seen him in the house during the day; he came from Brall's room—I cannot say whether he occupied a room in the house.

JAMES BARTON . I live at 118, Titchfield Street—I am landlord of 20, Pitt Street—the woman who lives in the parlour let a room to the prisoner—he or his wife paid the rent—I used to collect it every Monday night or Thursday—the woman in charge of the parlour lets the rooms, I only collect the rents—tenants should give notice when they are going to leave, but I am sorry to say they never did—Brail was a weekly tenant—I never got any notice of his intention to give up his room—as far as my knowledge goes no notice was given, and when I went round there on the Monday evening I found he was gone—the room was empty, and three weeks' rent was due, which has never been paid—no statement was made to me as to where he had gone, or where I could find him.

Cross-examined. He was my tenant about two and a half years, and he or his wife paid the rent all but three weeks—I read of the raid on the Autonomie Club, but I do not know anything about it—I do not belong to any club; I would not.

ANNIE ROSE WOOD . I am the wife of Joseph Thomas Wood, of 30, Jubilee Place, King's Road, Chelsea—on February 24th the prisoner came to lodge in our house—in the first instance, a woman came and took the rooms, giving the name of Mrs. Ravine, and afterwards the prisoner came and gave his name as Mr. Ravine—they took the kitchen and top floor front—they stopped with me ten weeks—they had a good many visitors, principally foreigners—a man stopped with them a portion of the time, who Mr. Brail said was a Dutchman—I do not know what his name was—I remember some loud talking downstairs, but did not go down; I stood on the stairs and asked them to be quiet and shut the door and make a little less noise, and next morning he gave me notice—I believe the Dutchman slept in the kitchen, and the prisoner said he was going back to Holland.

Cross-examined. The prisoner had a Dutch stove—he kept some rabbits in the cellar—I believe he is a foreigner; his wife told me that she was Dutch—one of the rabbits died while they were with me, but they took some away when they left—I did not notice a peculiarly shaped box when they were moving out.

Re-examined. They kept about three or four rabbits, I think—he had the kitchen and the third floor; the cellar is in the front, on a level with the kitchen; I mean the area; it is quite under the street—the rabbits lived in a hutch—I know that one died, because I saw it dead when I was going to fetch some coal; my cellar was opposite theirs; it was lying

on the stones—I do not know why it died, or how it came to die; it was about a month old, I should think—it was born while he was there—I do not believe they killed them, or ate them—I do not know who attended to them.

JAMES COLAN . I live at 8, Little Smith Street—in February last I was working for Mr. Vitz, a cabinet-maker—about the month of February the prisoner came there to work as a cabinet-maker—I knew him by the name of Fritz when he came first—I became acquainted with him by being a fellow workman—after he had been there some little time, and I had been working with him, he asked if he could have letters addressed to the shop—I said, "No," he could leave them at the corner—I knew he was living at this time at Jubilee Place, to the best of my knowledge—he said he did not think he should remain there long; he was not satisfied, and he talked about removing; something to that effect—he asked if he could have some letters addressed to me—I said, "Yes"—I gave him my name and address in writing—he said, "Can I have some letters addressed to you?"—I said, "Why?"—he said, "There is nothing in it, no more than I am not going to stay long where I am. Leave it on a piece of paper," and I gave it to him—he said they were foreign letters in the ordinary way—after that letters were delivered at my house, No. 8, Little Smith Street, and a few papers came and a post-card or two—they were mostly letters from the Continent—he afterwards gave me the name of Ravine and afterwards Brail—I could not say exactly whether he gave me the name of Brail before the letters came or when they were coming—how was it he gave me the name of Brail? I do not know—he wrote it on the table, and I said, "Then Fritz was your Christian name?"—he said, "Yes"—afterwards he said, "That is my proper name, Brall"—I helped him to remove his goods from Jubilee Place to Park Walk in a builder's van—two other friends helped him to move; they were not foreigners—there was a little fellow that worked in the shop—I do not know in what name the house at 54, Park Walk, was taken—I did not give permission for it to be taken in my name—I was in the house, 54, Park Walk, on the 31st of May, when the officers came—I was engaged in doing some work there to a chiffonnier for the prisoner—I do not know if it was one of the things removed from Park Walk—I had not been at Park Walk long, perhaps not half an hour, when the officers came—the officers showed me at Park Walk on that day an agreement bearing a name very similar to mine; the Christian name was not the same, and the other name was not quite the same; there was an "o" instead of an "a."

Cross-examined. I was working on a piece of work for the prisoner when the police came—he used to get work done in his off hours on his own account—I had done a piece for him before that he manufactured himself—he was the leading hand at Vitz's; there were not a number of men there—the prisoner is a hardworking man; he came early in the morning and left at the usual time, and he would work later if required to do so—in workshops men are known by their Christian names as a rule—I was not surprised to find that Fritz was his Christian name—I was with the prisoner when he brought the rabbits some weeks before—he took them in the van from Jubilee Place to Park Walk—he had them in a cellar in Park Walk, I think—in Jubilee Place they were

in a cellar loose, I believe—they were taken in a basket or small box in the van—I believe that a young rabbit died in the cellar—when helping to move the furniture to Park Walk, I did not notice anything broken—there was nothing unusual about the prisoner—I cannot say I ever heard him advocate violent measures—I worked in the same room with the prisoner at Vitz's—I had a good many opportunities of speaking to him—before he asked me to take letters for him he asked the number of Vitz's shop—there was no number to it; it is only a loft over a stable—I understood that he did not intend to have letters addressed there as there was no number—when the prisoner removed to Park Walk there was no attempt at concealment; it was a middle-sized builder's open van with no cover—it was five o'clock, I think, when we started; they went to get the van at out three, but there were no horses in—it was light; everything could be seen—I had merely started to unscrew the piece of furniture when the police came—there was polish there, methylated spirits, and varnish—at Vitz's brasswork on cabinets is generally sent to the brass finisher to be regilded, and if it is inlaid we rub it down with pumice and oil—the van came back a second time for the rest of the goods—we filled the four-wheeled van twice out of the two rooms.

Re-examined. I saw the rabbits running loose in the kitchen and cellar at Jubilee Place; they were moved in a basket or box—I saw no hutch—I saw the rabbits at Park Walk the night they moved in, not afterwards—the methylated spirits I was using were ordinary methylated spirits such as French polishers use.

ALFRED JOSEPH HOLLAND . I have an office at 120, King's Road, Chelsea, and am a surveyor and estate agent—I was agent for 54, Park Walk, which was to let, and on April 28th I let it to the prisoner in the name of Johann Colon—this is the agreement; it was for—36 a year for the whole house, at a month's notice.

EDWARD FLOOD . I am a police sergeant in the Criminal Investigation Department—on May 31st last I went, with Inspectors Melville, Sweeney, and Walsh, to 54, Park Walk—in consequence of a message from Inspector Melville I went to Vitz's, a cabinet-maker, in a street near by—I saw the prisoner there and told him that Chief Inspector Melville and other officers were at his house and would require him to be there—he said, "Hallo, what's up now? Are you looking for some more dynamite?"—a little time after, while changing his clothes, he remarked, "I wish I had nothing to do with these fellows"—I then took him in a cab to 54, Park Walk—he was there when the officers searched the house—I found this pocket-book on a table.

Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner for some long time—I had previously been to his house in Pitt Street, on two occasions, for the purpose of making inquiries with reference to the man Francois, not to search the house—I said on the first occasion that I was a police officer—at the time I found the pocket-book the prisoner and his wife were downstairs, not detained there—I kept it in my possession till the following morning; that was all I found—on the previous occasion I called at his house I was not inquiring for Francois—the prisoner had no conversation with me about Francois—I was concerned in the search made at the Autonomie Club; it was a club composed of foreigners of different nationalities—us far as I knew they were Anarchists—I do not know

that there are two distinct classes of opinion amongst them—I do not know much about the prisoner—I believe he is a hard-working man—I was aware that he was in Mr. Vitz's shop as a cabinet maker—I did not find him unwilling to give me access to his house—I was at his house on an occasion about some person I was looking for—the prisoner was in the room at the time; he opened the door—on this occasion I saw several heaps of literature, principally in German—I became acquainted with the prisoner about twelve months ago—I went to his lodgings to make inquiry about Friedingsdorff; that was the first time, a year ago.

Re-examined. The Autonomie Club was composed almost entirely of foreigners living in London—the premises of the club were in Windmill Street—it had been under the observation of the police for a long time—it was on the 16th February that I went there with other officers to make inquiries—every person in the house was searched, and a number of documents were taken possession of—the club has since been broken up—the fact of what happened there was well known in the neighbourhood the following day.

By the JURY. It was from information I received that I went to the prisoner's house—it was not at the cabinet-maker's that I first knew him; I knew him twelve months before—I knew him as Brail; that was in Pitt Street.

By the COURT. He had not been communicated with in any way as to the raid en the Autonomie Club, after it was made; he was not there—I knew he was an intimate friend of some of the members of the club—Friedingsdorff was a member of it; that was nine months previous—I think the prisoner had been working for Mr. Vitz about four months; I don't know what he was doing before that.

CHARLES ALBERT . I am an interpreter—I have made a translation of the pamphlet entitled "Revolutionary Scientific Warfare"—it is quite correct—I revised and corrected it, and swear to it being correct—it was done by somebody else—I have seen the pocket-book and the sheets of papers, and have made correct translations of them; they are in German.

EDWARD FLOOD (Recalled by MR. FARELLY). When I first went to Pitt Street I was in company with Sergeant Walsh; I believe he did all the speaking—he inquired if the prisoner knew these foreigners that we were inquiring about—I believe he said, "I have come to inquire about a foreigner"—of my own knowledge the prisoner's house was visited at one time in Pitt Street, and at another time in Jubilee Place—I am not personally aware of any other visits—I do not know that there are two distinct sections of the Anarchists, one section of whom hold moderate opinions on the subject of violence—I know a journal called Freedom—I have seen it, and read it.

JOHN WALSH (Police Sergeant Criminal Investigation Department). I am one of the officers who went to 54, Park Walk, on the afternoon of 31st May—after our arrival there the last witness was sent for the prisoner, and on his return with the prisoner a search was made of the house; in fact a search was made while he went away—it is a six roomed house, and the prisoner, his wife and two children were living there—I went up to the top front room; it was perfectly empty, with the exception of the cupboards—it was not used as a bedroom; there was no furniture whatever

—in the cupboard, on shelves, and on top of the cupboard, I found a number of articles; they are here (Box produced)—they were not found in this box; this box was found in the house, but has nothing to do with it—I found a bottle containing dried herbs, two empty glass vessels, also five bottles with glass stoppers containing various fluids, one labelled "nitric acid," two bottles containing a kind of white powder, a grey powder in a piece of brown paper, four empty bottles, two Florence oil flasks, a glass funnel, a spirit lamp, a box with some black powder, a small crucible, with a piece of metal apparently molten, a piece of lead, a box, and some small scales, Dr. Dupre' has them, I think; a box with some glass powder, a piece of copper, a box containing ten blank and twentytwo ball cartridges, a piece of metal piping, some electric wire, a quantity of glass tubing, ten pieces, and an electric battery; there was also a quantity of literature, German, Dutch and French—I made a list of the newspapers, which was produced at the Police-court, it is marked "D"; I have a copy of it—one is called The Anarchist, in English, and there are two copies of it (The witness gave the names of oilier foreign journals, copies of which were found)—most of the literature was in another cupboard, in the same room—there were two cupboards in the same room; the contents of this box were in one cupboard and the literature was lying on the other—I went down Again in the front parlour and found a chest of drawers, with two drawers taken out of it—Colan was repairing that chest when we went in—I searched those drawers and found there a large number of letters in the Dutch, French and German languages—there were also in that room four sheets of paper, apparently recipes for making explosives, one headed "Explosive Vaillant"—I also found this photograph of Vaillant, and a book in German in a pink cover, entitled "Scientific Revolutionary Warfare"—this is it—I also found a photograph of a person I knew, named Rabe, a German—Inspector Melville asked the prisoner how he became possessed of these things, and the letters—he said, "They are ordinary letters from comrades and friends, such as anybody would have"—referring to these things Inspector Melville asked him what he wanted them for—he said, "They do not belong to me; only the battery belongs to me, the others belong to a Russian Pole. He was with me about twelve months ago, he was studying chemistry. He lives somewhere in the Whitechapel Road, I believe, I don't know the name," but subsequently he gave the name and Inspector Melville wrote it down—I do not know what the name was; I did not take any notice of it—I then went into the back parlour and made a further search there; that was used as a bedroom—it was the only bedroom in the house—under the bed I found this portmanteau, and in it I found sixteen plaster of Paris moulds, apparently for making counterfeit coin; fifteen of them were for making five franc pieces, and the sixteenth for an English half-crown; they were packed exactly as they are now—I took three of them out of the portmanteau and took them up to the prisoner—I said, "How do you account for these things we found under your bed?"—he said, "Oh, they don't belong to me; they belong to a Frenchman named Fritz, who was in my house when I lived in Jubilee Place"—I said, "Where does Fritz live?"—he said, "In Charlotte Street or Cleveland Street, I don't know which n—he said, "The box is downstairs"—I said, "What box?"—he said, "The

box in which those things came. I knew nothing about it until we were removing, and the box came undone and the things fell out, and I know nothing more about them"—I said, "What are these herbs?"—he said, "I know nothing about them"—those were in the portmanteau; they were exactly similar to the herbs contained in the bottle upstairs—in the portmanteau there was also some literature of a similar character, of a revolutionary character—here is one, a French paper,L Eclair—I was with Sweeney in the basement of the house when this box was found—the basement is parallel with the cellar—apparently it had been a wine or liqueur box—I was also with Sweeney when some batteries were found in the kitchen; these are two of them—there are two coal cellars in the area; in one there was a little coke, and in the other nothing—in the further one, in the left corner, there was an excavation about two and a half feet wide, by about two and three-quarters in depth—it was lined with wood, sides and bottom, and the earth from the excavation was lying by the side—the top of the wood was about an inch and a half below the surface, so that a lid could be put on it, and be so covered up—there was also some loose wood lying at the side—it had been recently done; the condition of the earth showed it—the prisoner was brought down into the basement—we took him into the cellar, and said, "What is the meaning of that hole? What is the hole for?"—he said, "That is where I keep rabbits"—I said, "It is a funny place to keep rabbits, about three feet under the ground"—he said, "It might be so, but that is what it is for"—a great many foreign newspapers were found in the prisoner's sitting-room, newspapers of a revolutionary character—the prisoner was shortly afterwards taken into custody, and he was searched, and in his possession were found five cards of membership of the United Socialist Society of London—I found no rabbits, or any trace of rabbits having been there—I looked particularly—I asked him where they were, and he said they had died—I produce a photograph of the man Francois—that man arrived in England on the 27th June, 1892—I made inquiry for him at 20, Pitt Street, subsequently to October, 1893—I arrested Francois in Hinde Street, Poplar, on October 13th, 1892—he was passing in the name of Brall—he had papers of Brail about him—in November, 1893, I saw the prisoner—he said, "You have made a great fuss about the running about you have had after Francois; if you had come to my house you could have found him easily. You could have had him without any trouble," or words to that effect—I was present on 16th February at the search of the Autonomie Club, Windmill Street—immediately afterwards the houses further down, within two hundred yards of Tottenham Court Road, were searched the same night.

Cross-examined. I produce everything I found, except a lot of dangerous literature; what has been read is a specimen of them—there were bundles; we took one or two of each—Inspector Melville and myself and other officers took them just as they came—the chemicals were in a cupboard in the top room; the cupboard was not locked—we did not seal them up before taking them away—we found them before the prisoner came; when we found them we sent for the prisoner—the prisoner's wife came upstairs with us; she was in the room when we got them from the cupboard—she was first asked about them, and she said, "I know nothing about them; you had better ask my husband"—she had free access to get about the

house; we did not let her leave the house—I put the name "Vaillant" in pencil on this photograph soon after I got it for simplicity of reference—the moulds are exactly in the condition in which I found them; they were not fitted with string—they were closed, in pairs—the prisoner said the box came undone when he was moving—this is the box (Produced)—it is not broken; the lock is imperfect—it would depend upon whether the lock was fastened or not whether it would remain shut if anyone tried to move it—I did not find the key; the box was lying open when we found it—the inscription on the box is: "Absinthe Superieur, Period Fils, Maison Fondee, 1805, Convert Suisse et Pontarlier Doubs"—I produce the newspapers as I found them; this one is L Eclair in French—the prisoner said as to the excavation in the cellar, "It is for rabbits"—I do not know anything about keeping rabbits—I never heard that Dutch rabbit hutches are sunk underground—it seemed to me strange to keep rabbits three feet underground—they live underground in their native state—I have not seen them kept in Holland—I found these cards stamped with the name of the Autonomie Club—I was concerned in the raid on the club—it was resorted to by a most dangerous section of people; people known to me and other officers, and dangerous from their inflammatory speeches and general demeanour—two or three different groups of Anarchists meet there—one of these groups does not deprecate and denounce the use of force; on the contrary, the whole of them advocate force—they take in these socialistic journals for the benefit of criticism—I have frequently seen this journal Freedom; I have not read this copy—the editor of it is a violent man himself; he is an Englishman—the Anarchische Communistche Bibliothek Krapotkine bears the imprint "Antwerp"—I don't say that that connects it with the Autonomie Club—on the occasion of the first visit to the prisoner's house I went to try and apprehend Francois, who was wanted on a warrant for murder within the jurisdiction of the French Republic—he was acquitted when he got to France—when I went to the prisoner's house then I said I and my friends were the sanitary inspectors—I did not find Francois then; I was a bit too late—I found he had been there—Flood was not with me then; McIntyre was—on a subsequent occasion Flood was with me—on the second visit I went to inquire about a well-known Anarchist—he has not yet been tried—I only visited the prisoner three times—I daresay the prisoner might think it highly probable that we might call again—I don't think he knew that anyone knew his address at 54, Park Walk—I am not here to express an opinion whether he would think it possible that we should call again—he said he saw the contents of the box when it came open—I never got possession of any of the prisoner's letters before he was arrested—I got a letter addressed to him on Francois—we only paid two real visits to the prisoner's house—I have met the prisoner in the street and just had a word with him; said "Good day," and that kind of thing; a matter of five or ten minutes' conversation—he simply spoke about general matters—he spoke to me about Francois, and said the papers had made a lot of fuss about Francois' moving about, and had we come to his place we could have got him easily—I don't know if that was a joke, as much as to say, "You are not very sharp after all"—I thought he said it meaningly—I knew it was true—it was a difficult thing to get Francois; he never came out till the evening, as has

been shown—the third visit to the prisoner's house was the same as the second; it had nothing to do with Francois—it was in connection with another man who has not yet been caught—there were little weights with the scales and metal piping, and they are with the scales now—I think they were given to Dr. Dupre—the prisoner referred to his comrades—that is not a term usually employed by English workmen referring to others; nor so far as I know it is by foreign workmen—I have had a good deal to do with foreigners here, and except Anarchists I have never heard them use the word comrade—I have been much abroad—I have not mixed much with workmen abroad—I have not heard them use the word camarade—I am prepared most absolutely to say that the prisoner was not making fun of or chaffing me and the police for not finding Francois; he said it meaningly, to inform us that if we had gone to his house we should have got him there—I cannot see much fun in that—I had no special interest in capturing Francois—I have received as large rewards for capturing Englishmen as foreigners—the prisoner is a man who has worked, but I know him in connection with Anarchists—individually I know nothing against his character otherwise than as an alleged Anarchist—so far as I know he has worked pretty regularly up to twelve months ago—I saw Colan repairing something in his house—I never heard before that the prisoner previously to coming to London was secretary of the Amsterdam Cabinet Workman's Union and Sick Benefit Society.

By the JURY. I have known him four years—I became acquainted with him as an Anarchist, as he associated with Anarchists—he worked in Eden Street, before he went to Chelsea, as a cabinet-maker—he worked twelve or eighteen months ago at Emanuel's in Arlington Road, Camden Town, for eight or ten months or more—that was when he lived at Pitt Street with his children—I did not see a rabbit hutch in Park Walk—there was no lid for the hole—the bottom of the hole was of wood, and it was cased round with wood; the wood was there to make a top, but the top was not complete—there was a Dutch stove at Pitt Street, about two feet high, standing out six or seven inches from the wall, like an American stove—I did not examine whether it had a flue pipe through the fireplace; I never searched Pitt Street—I did not see a stove in Park Walk like that—a flue like that to go into the chimney can be taken out without much difficulty; it would come into short lengths, and would not require gunpowder to clean it.

Re-examined. Francois was arrested in October, 1892, and extradited about Christmas, 1892—the prisoner's observation made to me was not till November, 1893—no effort was made to search any of the premises occupied by the prisoner till 31st May—I found this bottle (Pro-duced) in the cupboard in the upstairs top room at 54, Park Walk, with these other articles.

By MR. FARELLY. I do not think it would take long to clean the flue of the stove—I did not take much notice of it—I do not know that that particular kind of stove is very difficult to clean; that each little bit has to be taken to pieces and cleaned; I expressed an opinion about ordinary stoves—this bottle was not sealed when I got it; it was taken in the presence of the prisoner's wife, not of the prisoner—it was carried to Dr. Dupre just as it is—no search was made at Pitt Street—I do not think

there was any stove at Park Walk; there might have been one in the kitchen, but I did not see it; I had very little to do with the search down-stairs—there was an ordinary kitchener downstairs, so far as I remember.

LOUIS KELTERBORN (Re-examined). There was a stove at Pitt Street previous to the prisoner moving in, and it was left there, and he had an American stove, which he purchased himself, placed on the hearth as foreigners generally do—he took it away when he left—he had an iron pipe fixed to carry the smoke into the chimney underneath the register of the ordinary grate—the stove was two feet or two feet three inches high—the pipe had a straight arm and then an elbow as the stove was higher than the register—the aperture for smoke was at the back of the stove—I do not understand how they cleaned the pipe out.

ALFRED HOLLAND (Re-examined). I never saw an American or Dutch stove at 54, Park Walk—as far as I know the prisoner never had one there.

MRS. WOOD (Re-examined). The prisoner used a small round stove at 30, Jubilee Place; they brought it with them—I believe they took it away with them when they moved—I did not see it go—it was not in the room afterwards—I believe they used it up to the time they left—they kept it on the dresser—it had two burners and burnt paraffin oil, I believe—they always used the fireplace for coal or coke—so far as I know no stove that required a flue was brought to my place.

JOHN SWEENEY (Inspector, Criminal Investigation Department). On. 31st May I was at 54, Park Walk, when the prisoner was brought there—the house was searched before he arrived—I found in the front area or basement this square wooden box—there was in it a small tin box containing three pieces of metal, several hooks used for hanging base coin on, called ladders—in the kitchen in the basement I found these two batteries, these four large bottles containing various fluids, chalk, plaster of Paris, sulphate of copper, and some white powder—upstairs Walsh found the portmanteau under the bed as he has described—the prisoner pointing to the coining implements and moulds, said, "They belong to a Frenchman who lived in Cleveland Street; I don't know the number or name"—on the way to the station the prisoner said, "You know the man well enough, Fritz"—referring to the things found in and on the cupboard in the top room the prisoner said, "All those things except the battery were left with me twelve months ago by a Russian Pole named Shapirer, who lived in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel; he was studying medicine"—the prisoner said the battery found upstairs in that room belonged to himself—the prisoner was taken to the Chelsea Police-station—I was going back past the house and saw Franz Ricken knocking at the door—prior to 31st May Melville arrested "Meunier at Victoria Station on a charge of causing an explosion at the Cafe Verey—Meunier was extradited to France—Ricken was charged with attempting to procure the escape of Meunier, and was dealt with at Bow Street by Sir John Bridge—I was acquainted with the Autonomie Club—I did not take part in the raid—Ricken was a member of the club—I have looked at the names in the pocket-book which was found—I find the name F. Ricken there, and the names of persons in regard to whom I, as a police officer, have received certain information—I know the photograph of Rabe I do not

know Rabe himself—in April last I was making inquiries about a person alleged to be an Anarchist in the neighbourhood of Chelsea, and in the course of those inquiries I met the prisoner in the street—he said there was a young Frenchman who had recently come from France staying with him at 30, Jubilee Place—he invited us to the house to see him; we went—I saw in the kitchen a young Frenchman who could not speak English—I recognised him as Fritz—he said, through Brail, his name was Fritz—I knew him by the name of Fritz Lebras—Flood was with me—when Ricken was arrested in March the name of Colan was found on him, and in consequence of that the inquiries at Chelsea were made—all the articles produced to-day found in the house were handed to Dr. Dupre.

Cross-examined. I produce a bottle labelled "Poison"—as far as I know all the things were shown to Dr. Dupre—I did not know what the articles found were—I believe a lot of empty bottles were left behind—I don't remember whether they bore labels—I brought the bottles containing fluids, and left the empty ones—we have not got those that were left behind—the last witness produced some empty bottles—all the bottles and things found upstairs were brought—the other empty bottles left behind were found in the back kitchen downstairs—the bottles downstairs were with workmen's tools and other things, and we thought they had oils and so on in them, and we left them—none of the articles were locked up—they were quite open, in and on top of a cupboard in the room upstairs, which was not used—it is a six-roomed house—only one room had a bed in it—we knew Ricken as an Anarchist—I do not know to what group he belonged—he was charged with attempting to rescue Meunier from custody—I don't know what Francois was accused of, or anything about him—I have seen and read Freedom before—I believe the editor is an Englishman—the prisoner made no attempt at concealment when he invited us to Jubilee Place—the man there was not the man we wanted—we sealed up none of the articles we took from the prisoner's house—the prisoner is an industrious sort of man—I only know that he worked at Vitz's shop as a cabinet-maker—I saw unfinished articles of furniture at the house, and Colan was working there—the prisoner is a German, I believe—he was speaking French with a Frenchman in his room—I do not know French, but Flood speaks French, and the prisoner told me he was a Frenchman—I was not concerned in the search for Francois—the prisoner never spoke to me about the Francois affair—I saw the box in the area; it was in the same condition then as it is now—I can only speak to one search of the prisoner's house; that was at Jubilee Place—I cannot say that his house was not visited six times.

By the JURY. Steps have been taken to trace the people who are alleged to have given the prisoner these things—I have not been able to trace them.

By MR. FARRELLY. He did not give me the address of the young Pole or the Frenchman; he said "Whitechapel."

Re-examined. The bottles that were left downstairs were empty—there might have been a little oil in some of them, but as far as I remember they were empty—there was nothing in them to implicate the prisoner, and therefore I did not take them away—his wife was left in the house

after I went away—what was left behind would be in her custody—I have only known the prisoner eighteen months.

WILLIAM DICKSON . I am chief clerk to the Inspector of Explosives at the Home Office, and, as such, I have control of the books containing a list of persons who have licenses for explosives—the prisoner does not hold any license for the manufacture or storage of explosives—I can find no such name as "Fritz Brail" registered—a person may have a license from a local authority, and he would or might be inspected by the local authority, or by the authorities at the head office—there is an Order in Council under the Explosive Acts which forbids the storage of fulminate of mercury in a private house—it is not at all allowed to be stored on any private premises, because of its dangerous character.

Cross-examined. For nitric acid, sulphuric acid, mercury, methylated spirits, electric batteries and wires, no license is required; not by themselves.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Counterfeit Coin to the Mint—the moulds in this portmanteau have not been used—they could not be used; there is no place for the get—the metal could not be poured in.

AUGUST DUPRE . I am a lecturer on chemistry, Fellow of the Royal Society, and Chemical Adviser to the Explosives Department of the Home Office—on the 1st of June I received from Inspector Sweeney a box containing a number of articles—this (Produced) is not the box, but these are the contents—I found a number of bottles, some solids, and a number of pieces of glass apparatus, electric batteries, and some wires, two Florence oil flasks, such as are often used in chemical experiments, a spirit lamp, a bottle containing three and a half ounces of sulphuric acid; that is a strong acid, this is a pound bottle—in another bottle there is a very small quantity of nitric acid; that is a pint bottle—there were two bottles which were empty, but which smelled of methylated spirits; they are not here now; they were submitted to me by Inspector Sweeney—methylated spirits is alcohol mixed with methyline and naphtha—there was another bottle which did contain methylated spirit; it is not here now—I made an analysis of the contents of that bottle—the strength of the ordinary methylated spirit is 63 over proof—I have since found that you can get that same strength at ordinary oil shops; there was one and three-quarter ounces in the bottle—the bottle was large enough to contain about a pint and a half—another bottle was submitted to me containing 72 grains of mercury; that bottle was large enough to have held 900 grains—this 23-ounce bottle contained 210 grains of fulminate of mercury; the bottle, when I saw it, was more or less coated with it—that led me to conclude that it had contained more, and that it had been emptied—fulminate of mercury is a very high explosive—in causing legitimate explosions it is never used by itself, it is too dangerous to handle—it is the chief material in starting so-called high explosives; in fact many of them can only be fairly started by means of it, dynamite and gun-cotton, for instance, you cannot fairly explode without the fulminate as a detonator—it greatly increases the force—it is made of mercury dissolved in nitric acid, and then spirit is added to it—it is not boiled, simply heated, and sometimes it need not be heated—methylated spirit, such as I found an ounce and a half of,

would be perfectly adapted for making fulminate of mercury; I made some of it with that identical spirit—the nitric acid I found is also of the quality for making fulminate—it was not from the materials I found in the various bottles that I made fulminate of mercury; there was not enough nitric acid; I only used some of the spirit—in that other box I found an electric battery—I should think it was in working order; it would require the addition of the necessary acids—it is now broken, but the mechanical part of it was in good order—I also found a quantity of electric wires of two kinds, one covered with indiarubber and an ordinary electric wire covered with cotton, like ordinary electric bell wire—it would be possible to start an explosive, such as fulminate of mercury, by the use of batteries and wires, and to explode it—the action of the battery would generate heat at the end of the wire—heat generated by such a battery as I found, when properly charged, would be sufficient to explode fulminate of mercury—the wire must be ended by a fine wire, which is put in the fulminate; the fine wire gets red hot, and sets fire to the fulminate—it is a very general way of doing it—it depends on the length of the wire whether it is safer to the operator—the length of the wire does not deteriorate the heat; that would be generated at its end—I had also shown to me a number of glass tubes, no retort, a Florence flask, and a sent glass—nitro-glycerine is made of nitric acid, and sulphuric acid with glycerine, in proper ascertained proportions, and it is a very high explosive—it is the very high explosive that is practically used—the small quantities of nitric and sulphuric acids are at present rather weak, but I have no doubt they were much stronger; nitric acid gets weaker in time—taking out the stopper would not weaken it, it is the light on it, but it is strong enough to make nitro-glycerine now—when nitroglycerine is absorbed by cotton, or something, it becomes dynamite—I had a translation handed to me of a number of recipes for manufacturing explosives, Nos. 2 and 3 for fulminate of mercury, 5, 6, 7 and 8, for making gun-cotton; No. 9 for making nitro-glycerine; No. 9A is for making dynamite; Nos. 1 and 12 are two recipes for making an explosive which requires sulphuric acid to explode it; that is called here "Explosive Vaillant"—that would be a very powerful explosive—I have had shown to me a quantity of cartridges, some with bullets, and some without; they are loaded with gunpowder—blank cartridges have been used for causing explosions—they have been used in such a way as to start a detonator; scarcely in place of a detonator, but for starting one—I have knowledge of the book containing directions and recipes, from which it would be possible for a person following that to manufacture the explosives which are named in the book, including fulminate of mercury, very nearly—it is some years since I read the book, but this apparatus given to me by Sweeney is perfectly well adapted for use in following out such recipes and directions as are found in this book; for nitro glycerine it might be used—the passage in the book headed "Appendix" gives a practical recipe and direction for making fulminate of mercury in this apparatus there is retort, but it might be made quite easily to manufacture fulminate of mercury, with the flask and condenser—a retort has advantages—there is no cork provided for this—if a cork were provided, one of these Florence flasks would be the retort.

Cross-examined by MR. FARELLY. Many of the substances submit

to me were innocent and capable of being used for lawful purposes—quicklime, sulphate of iron, sulphate of copper, French polish, cod liver oil, borax, bichromate of potash, emery, and bottles containing acid which might have been used for a battery; weak acid not connected with any explosive—I have put a mark against two, which could be used for an unlawful purpose—these were found all together in a big box. (INSPECTOR SWEENEY identified the articles in the box as those which he found upstairs)—ferro-cyanide of potassium may be used for an unlawful purpose, and is referred to in Most's book—in the other box was hydrochloric acid and another solution, also salammoniac and mother-of-pearl, and pumice stone; that may be used for lawful or unlawful purposes—also nitric acid and oxide of mercury—there was some quicklime—oxide of mercury may be used for fulminate—mercuric-oxide is used with ointment and sometimes for experiments by students, but not in making oxygen—it is too expensive, and you get so little oxygen out of it; but it was the means by which oxygen was discovered—I can give you authority on the use of oxide of mercury, but I rely on myself—I am not aware that the inventor, Howard, suggested it should not be used for fulminate—the cartridges could be used for starting explosions in infernal machines—not all of them, but they could be used to start a detonator—as I told the Magistrate the blank cartridges are used for other purposes than starting an explosion—they would be useless without other appliances—the battery I examined (I looked at two others) was in good working order—there was nothing more to interfere with its action than you could set right in a few minutes—I have not seen one like it before—it is a carbon and zinc battery—any battery might be used for causing an explosion, but I have had no experience of one like this—it was incomplete for causing explosion—there was no switch or communicator—it is disconnected—there was twenty-seven to thirty feet of wire, allowing the man fifteen feet distance to start an explosion—I did not know it was alleged to be used for explosive purposes—it could be used for a telephone, or many lawful purposes, or an electric bell, or electro gilding—I would not deny that it was used in the prisoner's business—it had been used very little—the carbon shows signs of some use—the zinc rod has to be amalgamated—the process is, the zinc rod is dropped into the acid, a small amount of mercury is put on, and the mercury amalgamates with the zinc, and as long as the battery is not closed, the zinc is not acted on—all batteries are now amalgamated—mercury is used to amalgamate the zinc in a battery of that kind in a lawful way—I find no trace of its having been charged as a Bunsen; my opinion is, it has been charged as a bichromate battery—if it were charged as a Bunsen it would require nitric acid and sulphuric acid—hydrochloric, orany acid would do for amalgamating—sulphuric acid is generally used—with the other appliances there would be sufficient force in that single cell to ignite the fuse—the wire used is finer than hair; a very small battery would do it—I have seen an electric fuse used with a battery you could put in your waistcoat pocket and causing ignition—I am not an expert in electricity, but I have examined many hundred electric fuses—not one ingredient of the "Explosive Vaillant" recipe was found—for the gun cotton there was nitric acid, but it was rather weak, not at present of the strength recommended in the recipe—there was no glycerine, and

no ingredients for blasting gelatine except nitric acid and sulphuric acid—there were no ingredients for dynamite—salicyliate of soda is a common drug used against rheumatism, and quite incapable of being used in causing explosions—I never heard of its being so used—Most's book would give sufficient information for preparing nitro-glycerine—we have experience that perfectly uneducated men have done it—Whitehead was indicted for manufacturing it in Birmingham; a large quantity, and he was uneducated—he made it from this prescription, and with the possession of Most's book it could be done quite easily—in regard to 10A, blasting gelatine, and No. 4, nitro-gelatine, Most's book gives no directions how to do it—you might use the glass tubes found for innocent purposes—I do not think I said at the Police-court they could be used for making explosives—I must have misunderstood the question; certainly the tubes would not be necessary—a rod might be used for stiring; there is no virtue in the rod—a spirit lamp might have been used for making the fulminating mercury—sometimes it boils of itself—the application of heat is recommended in Most's book, not in the recipe—it depends on the strength of the acids whether it would be required—Florence flasks are very useful for making fulminate of mercury—two were given to me—the neck of one is broken and the other is bent over—that is a flask it is intended to make a kind of retort of—a chemist might have it—the other is a flask of commerce—many chemists would buy an ordinary flask and bend the neck over, or it might have been bought at a chemical apparatus shop—it would hold ten or eleven ounces—in one of them was ferro-cyanide of potassium—that is commonly used for making amorces—it would not be used for making any explosive on that list—methylated spirit is used by cabinet-makers, and in the spirit lamp—1 3/4; ounces of spirit were found, none was left—I thought at first it was something else, and that made me use it up—I thought, in favour of the prisoner, I ought to examine it and make sure it was not something else—I found an error in division had been made by my assistant of two per cent, as to its strength, and I at once informed your chemist—I gave the evidence at the Police-court, not my assistant; everything was done under my supervision—you cannot swear always to every division being right; it is very unfortunate, and I am very sorry about it—the present strength is exactly the strength for making fulminate of mercury—the error was small, and the figures are practically identical—the spirit I bought at the time I was at the Police-court was always 60 or 61 over proof, and when I found this out I got samples from different oil shops, and found it was stronger commercially than I thought it was; it has got stronger lately.

Wednesday, July 4th, 1894.

DR. DUPRE'S Cross-examination continued. The strength of the methyllated spirit I analysed was 63 over proof, although at the Police-court I said it was 65—I got methylated spirit of 63 over proof at three out of four ordinary shops, so that it can be procured at any shop without any special search—I was speaking of 65 over proof when I stated my belief that it could not be so procured—the specific gravity of the spirit I tested was 8.229—the error of two degrees crept in by my assistant making a mistake in the calculation—I told him to divide the weight of the spirit by the weight of an equal bulk of water, and he made it 8.228 instead of 8.229—my assistant was not produced as a witness; you cannot do everything yourself—nearly one-eighth of an ounce of nitric acid was handed

to me—to an ordinary observer the bottle would appear to be empty—I did not weigh nor measure the acid; the one-eighth of an ounce was a rough guess—I only tested that it was nitric acid—there are sixty grains in one-eighth of an ounce—I only used a few grains in my test; I suppose the rest of it is still in the bottle—part of it was used by Dr. Teed; some of it is here still—I determined the strength in conjunction with Dr. Teed, when he called to analyse it under the order of the Court—its strength was 64 per cent.—I had not determined the strength previously; the appearance of the bottle was quite sufficient—a specific gravity of about 1.4, or perhaps a little less, corresponds with 64 per cent.; the gravity corresponding to that strength is stated in my book to be 1.42—that is a common gravity for nitric acid—nitric acid of that gravity is not referred to in any of these recipes—in making the formula there is a gravity given, and that happens to be almost exactly the strength to be used—the gravity of the nitric acid given in the recipes is 1.48 to 1.5—there are not the constituent elements of gun-cotton or nitroglycerine here—it might he that the thistle funnel, the Florence flask, spirit lamp, glass tubes, and other apparatus and chemicals suggest that whoever used them knew how to buy chemical apparatus and chemicals—I don't know what acid he bought; nitric acid gets weaker by keeping—the present gravity of the nitric acid found in the prisoner's possession is a little less than 1.42—I stated at the Police-court that this acid was suited for the composition of all these different substances given in the recipes, because the appearance of the bottle showed it was a strong acid—I judged by the appearance—I have made nitro-glycerine with acid of that strength—nitric acid would be necessary for making a Bunsen battery, and it is used for staining wood—it is almost exactly the strength for making fulminate of mercury—the fifty-four grains left in the bottle would make about four grains of fulminate—it would require about four grains or one-fifth less of mercury to make four grains of fulminate; 100 of mercury would make about 120 of fulminate—mercury is necessary for amalgamating the zinc for the battery—there is no evidence that any of the mercury had been used for amalgamating zinc—the zinc rod of the battery was amalgamated—mercury had been used for that—three and three-quarter ounces of sulphuric acid were given to me—its strength was 1.82, the common strong commercial acid—I suppose anyone could buy it—it is of the exact strength given in the recipe—it may be used in the battery, and in amalgamating the zinc—I believe it is used for cleaning some metal work; not for brass, so far as I know—I don't know if it is used for staining wood; I have no experience of that—it blackens wood, but destroys it at the same time—the bottle containing fulminate of mercury is a twenty-three ounce bottle—it contained two and one-tenth grains—I used about half a grain for my analysis—the bottle was not sealed when I got it—Inspector Sweeney handed it to me—an ordinary person might have called the bottle empty; I do not—I suppose about one and a quarter or, one and a half grain was still in it when Dr. Teed called—that quantity is still in it, and it is ten times more than is necessary to test it—I took out about a quarter of the two and one-tenth grains to test—I did not know at all what it was when I started, but I am quite certain now—I did not say at the Police-court I took out two and onetenth grains to test—I said the whole quantity was two and one-tenth grains—I

took it all out and weighed it, and put it back again—some is now at the bottom and some at the side, because I wanted to illustrate how it was when I found it—there is a passage in the depositions, "The whole interior was more or less coated with a grey powder, some of which I have taken out to analyse. I got out two and one-tenth grains for analysis"—I did swear I got out two and one-tenth grains, but I did not use it all for analysis—this recipe found in the prisoner's possession for making fulminate of mercury is a workable one—I am acquainted with Liebig's process—Recipe No. 3 is an exact copy of Liebig's process—it is based on Liebig's evidently; the quantity of alcohol is slightly different, the proportions of mercury and acid are the same, three parts of mercury, thirty-six of acid, and twice seventeen of alcohol—I understand Trail's hydrometer referred to by Liebig—as far as I remember he gives 90 per cent., and he might mean either weight or volume; it is not stated—he gives it by specific gravity, it is neither weight nor volume—Trail's hydrometer gives the percentage by volume—Liebig refers to that—the 90 per cent, in the recipe does not say weight or volume—the range is so wide that it may be weight or volume; it does not matter—by weight is a much more convenient method than by volume—I took 62 over proof, Liebig says from 90 to 92—the recipe gives 90—57 8 over proof would correspond to 90 per cent, by volume—I took it by weight—Trail's hydrometer is not mentioned here at all—I don't know whether Trail's is the ordinary Continental method; it is in very general use, but it is not in use here—the spirit and the nitric acid are slightly different from those given in the recipe—the nitric acid is almost exactly the same—the gravity of the small quantity that represents the whole is 136—the percentage of nitric acid corresponding to 1 36 is a little less than 55—that is 9 per cent, different from that which I give—I cannot just now give an authority who recommends 90 per cent, by weight—the powder in the bottle was in crystals, exactly the same as those of fulminate of mercury—I dissolved a small quantity of it in hydrochloric acid; it gave a taste which has the effect of another acid, and has a peculiar effect on the throat—then I put a drop on a piece of gold and touched it with iron and it gave a spot of mercury—I also exploded it—I did all that with half a grain; I could do it all with one-tenth of a grain—I know of no other substance which would have answered the tests I have enumerated and which led me to think it was fulminate of mercury—I stake my professional reputation on that—have often used a Florence flask for preparing fulminate of mercury—this one could be used for it—the vacant air space in the vessel used for making the fulminate ought to be about twenty times the volume of the acid—Liebig gives very large space; I don't remember exactly his figures—I think you could use one ounce of the mixture of alcohol, nitric acid, and mercury in this flask at each charging—about one twenty-fourth of an ounce would be the proportion of mercury in that, and you would get one-fifth more than one twenty-fourth of an ounce, or about twenty grains of fulminate of mercury—it is never kept in the dry state; always mixed with water—this bottle holds twenty-three ounces of water, not twentythree ounces of fulminate of mercury—I should say it would take quite 1,500 operations with this Florence flask to fill this bottle with fulminate"—each operation would take about a quarter of an hour, which would be

365 hours for all the 1,500 operations—I washed the fulminate out of this bottle with water—I never get bottles sealed in these cases; I get them personally handed over, which is quite sufficient—this bottle was not sealed—two other compounds of mercury have the same percentage composition as the fulminate, but they do not explode—Watt's "Dictionary of Chemistry" is an authority to some extent, not much—I dispute the statement in the second volume of that work, "The only fulminate of which a satisfactory analysis has been made is the silver salt," and I can give a very good authority for disagreeing with it.

Re-examined. Some of the herbs submitted to me are Indian hemp, which has a stupefying, intoxicating action on the human frame—ferrocyanide of potassium (or yellow prussiate of potash) is a component part of a number of explosives, only one of which may be lawfully manufactured in England—nitric acid deteriorates, or becomes weaker, by exposure to light and air—removing the stopper tends to depreciate it—it should be kept in a dark place—I made experiments last Thursday evening with strong acid of 91 per cent, and on Monday morning it was only 85 per cent., or a little over; it lost 5 1/2 per cent in four days—sulphuric acid deteriorates by unstopping the bottle; it attracts water, which weakens it—the nitric acid had unquestionably been stronger than it was when I saw it—I have made nitro-glycerine with acid of the same strength as that found in the bottle—ferro-cyanide of potassium is not directly used in the making of amorces, but indirectly it is, as it is used for making ferro-cyanide of lead, which is used—amorces are used as toys or pipe lights—dots of the mixture are put on long strips of paper, and by pressing a spring they go off—they are used very largely here—I cannot say that I have noticed that amorces are mentioned in Most's book—I know they have been suggested in place of the detonators, and as a means of starting detonators—detonators are difficult to buy, and these are very easy to buy. (MR. BODKIN read a passage from Most's book with reference to the use of amorces)—those are a different kind of amorces—they would be practically a substitute for detonators—in consequence of information years ago we made experiments with all the various compounds of that kind, and found they could be used as detonators; we had reason to expect they could be used—I used a portion of the methylated spirit out of the bottle handed to me by Sweeney, and with it I made fulminate of mercury—in addition to the other tests I found that the fulminate was insoluble in water—I poured water into the bottle to get the stuff out—it did not dissolve—I got a very loud explosion—it was quite enough to fill eight percussion caps—Christmas crackers are generally started by means of fulminate of silver, which is more violent still, and gives a sharper crack—twenty or thirty grains of fulminate of mercury would have to be used to give the explosions for a thousand Christmas crackers—no doubt is possible in my mind that this is fulminate of mercury in this bottle—the apparatus shown to me by Sweeney I should describe as of a very simple, common class—I would not go so far as to say it is the rough outfit of a person studying the branch of chemistry that deals with explosives; it only contains all the essentials to make fulminate of mercury—the substances and materials shown to me are not suggestive of a general study of chemistry—the Explosive Vaillant is in the list of explosives; it is exploded by means of sulphuric acid—

the method how to do it is given in No. 1, and is illustrated; the illustration shows a glass tube—a tube about the diameter of some of these in the box would be requisite—with a blow-pipe it would be possible to seal up the end of one of the glass tubes, not with the spirit lamp alone—it is usual to seal up one end of a tube meant to contain sulphuric acid; the other end is blocked with something, and when it is used the tube is inverted, and the acid eats away the substance and drops into other substances; it allows the operator time to get away—I found in this black pocket-book a list of the ingredients of the Explosive Vaillant; it tallies with the recipes Nos. 1 and 12 on the translations shown me, only it is partly in French and partly in German—the substances named are the same, and they are in the exact porportions.

By the JURY. Fulminate of mercury is much heavier than water; it would be too dangerous to keep it other than in water—you would put a very small deposit in this bottle—a cabinet-maker would not require fulminate in his business; he would not be allowed to use it—it is used chiefly for detonators and percussion caps—I do not think it would be used in conjunction with detonators; they would act themselves—these glass tubes could not be used as blow-pipes—the ends of the tubes could not be closed without a blow-pipe; it might be done with the glass tube.

The prisoner's statement: "I reserve my defence and call no witnesses. I plead not guilty to both charges; I reserve my right to call witnesses."

Witnesses for the Defence.

FRANK NITHERLAND TEED . I am a doctor of science of the London University, and public analyst to Islington and Camberwell—under an order of the Court I attended Dr. Dupre's laboratory last Thursday and analysed certain substances submitted to me—I wished to examine the spirit, but there was none left; I then said I should like to ascertain the strength of the nitric acid—I asked the doctor if he had the strength—he replied in the negative—I suggested we might do it together—we ascertained the strength to be slightly under 64 per cent.—63.9 was my actual figure—that, as Dr. Dupre says, is a gravity of 1.42—I examined the sulphuric acid, and came to the conclusion that it was an ordinary commercial sample, and not chemically pure, but a common acid—we looked at the mercury, but got nothing out of that—seeing the small quantity of fulminate of mercury present I said I would not take the responsibility of examining that on myself—I found a number of chemical apparatus, which, in my judgment, were quite innocent—they are very much the list Dr. Dupre has given—the opinion I formed was that it was a sort of rubbish swept from an amateur chemist's laboratory, a sort of residuum—mercury oxide might be used for making fulminate as well as any mercurial compound, but the inventor Howard, in 1800, recommended it should not be used—he was the discoverer ninetyfour years ago—in the first instance he actually made it from that substance, but in the same paper in which he gives the results he states that metallic mercury is much better—it might be used for making oxygen, as Dr. Dupre has told you, and in medicine as ointment—it is one of the ointments in the British Pharmacopoeia—chemists use it in the elementary part of their studies, as an experimental method of making oxygen—oxygen was discovered first by heating this compound—it is described in

every elementary text-book—I agree with Dr. Dupre that the cartridges might be used for starting a detonator, but probably not for causing an explosion directly, and for starting a detonator there would necessarily be other apparatus associated with them—by themselves they are practically harmless—no such other apparatus was shown to me—I was shown a single-cell battery which might be charged as a Leclanche or a Bunsen—if charged as a Leclanche, it would require di-oxide of manganese, and as a Bunsen it would require nitric acid and sulphuric acid—I have never known such a single-cell battery used for causing explosions—I agree with Dr. Dupre on the length of wire, thirty feet—I think that is not sufficient; you could only get fifteen feet away from the explosion—I should consider that distance dangerous—I was shown no switch, fuses, or other apparatus for causing explosions, electrical or otherwise—it was a peculiar-shaped battery; I cannot say I have ever seen one exactly like it before, but it might be used for electric silvering, gilding, or ringing bells, or almost any of the purposes for which batteries are used—I agree with Dr. Dupre it has been used, but not recently, for several hours or a day or two—the zinc has been amalgamated, and, as Dr. Dupre told you, you can see minute globules of mercury on it—the dustiness and corrosion of the brass work at the top, and the corroded condition of the wire, suggest to me it has not been used for about a year or more, but it is difficult to tell—the elements of it, as Dr. Dupre told you, are frequently used, carbon on one side and zinc on the other, with a porous pot between, but the carbon is usually a large rod inside, and the zinc is outride, but here the zinc is inside, and the carbon in many rods outside—to cause amalgamation I agree with Dr. Dupre hydro-chloric acid or diluted sulphuric acid is more frequently used; you dip the zinc rod in the weak sulphuric acid, and then put it into the mercury, and it absorbs the mercury and becomes like a mirror—supposing there was sufficient apparatus with that cell I should not think it was strong enough to ignite a fuse, but I am not an expert in electricity—looking at the recipe, "Explosive Vaillant," I agree with Dr. Dupre none of those materials were found, certainly not shown to me—there were none of the constituents of gun-cotton—I think Dr. Dupre agrees with me that acid of the strength mentioned in those prescriptions is not present in that bottle, for the preparation of gun-cotton, or glycerine, or for fulminate—there are three varieties of nitric acid used in commerce: 1.5 acid is recommended here for guncotton and nitro-glycerine; 1.42 acid, which is present in that bottle; and 1.36 acid, which is recommended for fulminate, which requires 1.36; the other explosives require 1.5—absolutely no ingredients for dynamite were found—I think the directions are not sufficient for the fabrication of an explosive by a man uneducated in chemistry—if I recollect rightly it was the fulminating mercury that Dr. Dupre agreed there was sufficient instruction as to—I vary from him by Haying what he subsequently told us, that there is no reference to how far it is safe to fill your flask, and that an unskilled man might fill it to such a heigth that the whole of the liquid might boil all over the place, and you would have your explosive compound all over your table, and so on—in nitro-glycerine (No. 4) there are absolutely no directions; as to guncotton, I should think not sufficient, but I would not insist on that; No. 9

not sufficient; blasting gelatine, insufficient; there is a general deficiency of instructions—Liebig, writing for his original paper published in 1855, gave far fuller directions, although writing for chemists, than are given here for men who presumably are not chemists—I think that paper, if intended to be used, must have been for a highly skilled man—I look on it rather as memoranda—I agree with Dr. Dupre that none of the glass tubes could have been used for making explosives—the spirit lamp is not mentioned in any of the directions—it is not necessary, and I do not see how you could use it—the two Florence flasks are slightly different; the neck is wanting from this one, but from its general appearance I should say it had been used for oil; this other is a different shape, and clear glass—I do not think it has been used for oil, but for chemical experiments—as Dr. Dupre suggested the glass has been turned out, but I should not think by an amateur, because the piece of tube shown to me was evidently turned out by an amateur, and the style of workmanship was different—this is a piece of lead glass, and the operator has evidently not known that it was lead glass, and he has not known how to use it, and was not able to turn it out neatly; one is an unskilled, the other a skilled piece of work, which could be procured at any dealers in chemical apparatus, of which there are many in town known to Dr. Dupre—they are sold openly—this one is a ten-ounce flask; I measured it in the presence of Dr. Dupre—there are slight traces of ferro-cyanide of potassium in this flask, the only trace in the whole collection, and it shows that the flask could not last have been used for making fulminate, for if so, and it had not been very thoroughly washed, you might have a trace of acid left—I do not think there is any evidence on that point; I understood from Dr. Dupre this flask was clean, that is, that nothing was alleged to be in it—Dr. Dupre said ferro-cyanide could be used for making an explosive; I was not aware of it until to-day—methylated spirit is used for furniture polish in the cabinet trade and in the spirit lamp—taking Dr. Dupre's figure, it is not the strength required by these prescripttions for making fulminate in the ordinary sense of 90 percent, of alcohol; the degrees over proof are not mentioned; on the Continent they use Trail's hydrometer graduated, so that the degree of the hydrometer gives percentage by volume of the alcohol, and that strength, as Dr. Dupre said, would be 57.8; I make it 57.76, but practically I agree with him, a little under 57.8, and the strength of that found on the proof scale is fifty-three, a difference of rather over five degrees between the spirit I found, and the spirit recommended—looking through the literature on the subject I did not come across a single example of spirit of 90 per cent by weight being mentioned; there are several instances of 90 per cent by volume being translated into 76 or 77 by weight, and there are other instances in Thorpe's "Dictionary of Applied Chemistry" where 90 and 92 volumes per cent are mentioned; most of these directions are simply copies of Liebig's directions which you have had before you this morning—we drained this bottle, and got under ten grains of nitric acid—we turned the bottle up, and weighed it, and we agree as to its strength—as I understood I do not think anything has been removed since—there are, perhaps, two or three grains left now: it is difficult to estimate such small quantities by the eye—the nitric acid was not that recommended in any of the recipes—nitric acid is used for staining wood—sulphuric

acid is used for almost everything; it is one of the commonest chemicals used—I believe it is used in cleaning metal work—I don't know if it is used for staining wood—I know it darkens wood—I should think it is dangerous to conclude so decisively as to the fulminate from such a small quantity; for that reason I declined to test—you could prepare a very small quantity of fulminate in a Florence flask—I should not recommend a Florence flask for manufacturing it, you would want a far larger vessel, but it would do very well for experiments in a legitimate way.

Cross-examined. I have never been called or given evidence before with regard to explosives—I am an analyst—in certain cases if an inspector of weights and measures took some butter which he was a little suspicious of it would come before me; Dr. Dupre is a public analyst also—I have made no special study of explosives; only as a student—I went on behalf of the prisoner to test the accuracy of Dr. Dupre's analysis, which was challenged—I did not make any attempt to test the fulminate because I was acquainted with a mixture which will give most of the reactions of fulminate of mercury; that was my reason—the least quantity of fulminate of mercury with which you can get an explosion is the least quantity you can see—you can see a grain of it with the naked eye—I don't doubt Dr. Dupre's word as to the tests he applied to half a grain; but I read his depositions and I understood he had used two and one-tenth grains for analysis—when I called at his laboratory he offered what he estimated was one grain—I did not assume I was twice as clever at Dr. Dupre, and therefore I did not presume to do with one grain what he had used two and one-tenth grains to do—I did not ask him how much he had used, I thought it was so obvious—that, coupled with the fact that certain other substances give the same results, to a great extent was my reason for not testing what was left in the bottle—I cannot remember any substance to which those four tests Dr. Dupre gave this morning yield the same results; but I did not know what tests the doctor applied at that stage—the nitric acid is not strong enough to make nitro-glycerine according to the recipes—I know of no authority for it; I feel inclined to deny it—I heard that with the spirit of the strength that I and Dr. Dupre agree about fulminate of mercury was actually made—I was not surprised to hear that, because you can make it from any strength of spirit—I have seen a few of the residua from amateur chemists' laboratories—this is not rather the residuum of a student of the explosive part of chemistry, except the fulminate—the two chief ingredients of nitro-glycerine were not there, the nitric acid is not of the right strength—I do not agree that nitric acid becomes weakened to that extent by unstopping it and exposing it to light—slight weakness might occur—I heard Dr. Dupre say that from Thursday to Monday the deterioration was from 92 to 85—I did not hear the conditions under which the experiment was performed, but I heard the fact that it had deteriorated on exposure to light—I have not come across a battery like this before.

By the JURY. You would find some cartridges in my house; I do not use them—I am not an Anarchist—I should not have fulminate of mercury in this condition in my laboratory—I do not keep any except that I have a little with me in case it is referred to—I should have it in a widermouthed bottle, with a cork, and if I had any quantity I should keep it wet—you could explode this, of course, if it is fulminate.

By the COURT. This is not a thin capillary tube, it is what we call a soft German one; there is another piece here which I did not notice before; there are three pieces—a thin capillary glass tube is an extremely thin quill tube; there is nothing here that answers that description—this could be welded together by a blow-pipe by a skilled man—a capillary tube means generally a thick tube with a thin bore that could be bent, but to draw it out and seal it you would want a blow-pipe—I fancy the expression must mean a piece of such tubing as this, heated and drawn out into a capillary tube, which is not usually called a capillary tube—this book refers to the thick tubing with the small bore; there is none of that here.

GERADUS J. BOSMAN . I am a cabinet-maker, of 3, Whitecross Street—I have been in London about three years—I have known the prisoner about five years; I know him from Holland—I always knew him there as a good fellow, a hard-working man, a cabinet-maker; he was all right—he was the secretary of the Cabinet-makers' Society over there—I saw him the first time I came over here—he kept my box, and my brother's; some boxes of mine he kept for about three weeks—he was visited many times by fellow-workmen, a lot of them came over—he was in the habit of taking care of a lot of boxes for them—I knew about five whose boxes he kept—I was at his house in Jubilee Place, Chelsea, about three months ago; he was not in—I only saw the missis and the little Fritz, his children—I stopped there half an hour, and said to the missis, "I want to go away; I have no time"—I live so far away from there, and some man knocked at the door and inquired for the prisoner and brought a box about this length and this height into the house—I took only a little notice of it—I saw the same one before; the bottom part was bigger than the top; it was joined in the middle, and it was locked up—the missis said, "Where do you come from"—he said, "That is no matter; I know Mr. Brail, and if you take the box a few weeks I think it is all right"—he took it in, and it was taken downstairs, and I left at the same time—I never saw the box again—I did not help to take it in—I think this is the same box—I did not notice any inscription on it—I took a bit of notice of it because I never saw a box like it before—a man took it downstairs, and Mrs. Brall helped him—I think the man's name was Renaud, or Recordi—I think he was a Frenchman; he spoke with a French accent—he was tall; taller than I am, with a black moustache and a little beard, a Napoleon beard; that is all I know of him—Mr. Brail kept rabbits in Jubilee Place; I saw them—I am from Arnheim—I gave the clerk a sketch of the rabbits I kept myself in Holland (Produced)—one is at the top of the ground, the other is down under the ground—you have no room for it here—this shows the rabbits under the ground, and it is boarded all round; it is always right for the rabbits—if you put in four you get fourteen or so—you make a little hole round the boards, and the rabbits make the hole bigger—they eat the wood; they eat everything—it is boarded at the bottom as well—if you do not put the boards on it they go down every day—it would take about two feet to keep three rabbits, and three feet to keep half a dozen—you leave a little opening, or bore a hole—the rabbit makes the hole himself to go always to the same place, and he won't go to another hole—they come back

to the wooden box to sleep—I saw a Dutchman in England the other day who keeps rabbits just in the same way—I saw a Dutch stove at the prisoner's place in Pitt Street—I put it on the sketch—the usual way to clean the flue is with a little bit of gunpowder—I have seen the pipe of the flue taken out, it takes about a quarter of an hour, and another quarter of an hour to get it back—I have often seen the prisoner, but never heard him advocate violence or the use of explosives to procure any change of social affairs—I have seen those rabbits eaten by the prisoner—I had a letter from him to come to his home, and there were two rabbits died the night before, and on the 22nd it was better to kill one before he died, and I know myself I put one rabbit on the rail, and perhaps another died—he hung him up on the railings in Park Walk, a big rabbit like that—they died from damp, I think—there would be no damp in that underground hutch; that was all right.

Cross-examined. I never saw in Holland a box without any space between the boards for keeping rabbits let into a cellar—a cellar in England is much different to one in Holland—these rabbits died of dampness, being in, a damp place—they died at Jubilee Place—I visited the prisoner at Park Walk, and saw rabbits there running about the kitchen; he moved them there from Jubilee Place—they did not die in Jubilee Place; they died in Park Walk, two of them, and one was killed in Park Walk, for to eat him—there is an open place in Park Walk at the back of the house—I never saw a rabbit hutch at Park Walk or in England—I visited him at Pitt Street many times—this was not an American stove; it was a Dutch-stove; he moved it from Holland over here—they always burn coal and always have these flues—I have seen the flues taken to pieces twice, I think, at Pitt Street—I think Mr. Brall took it to pieces himself; he helped the missis; it was not a difficult thing to do—I do not know if it is the practice in Holland to use gunpowder in cleaning flues; it is the cheapest and quickest way of doing it—I do not know whether there was plenty of time to take the flue to pieces on Sunday—the prisoner sometimes worked on Sunday; I never do—I think Jerome was the name of the person who brought the box—I do not know where he lives; I never saw him before—from what I saw they did not expect to see him there—Mrs. Brail did not appear to know him—I am sure the box was locked—that was three months from May 31st, rather more than four months ago.

Re-examined. The coal used in Holland is not the same as that used here; it is a lot different; it is too fat here—English coal is too greasy for Dutch stoves, and therefore there is soot.

JACOB CHRISTIAN STEARGEL . I am a cabinet-maker, of 9, Stanley Road, Sands End, Fulham, and a friend of the prisoner—I was working at Mr. Vitz's in Chelsea, and the prisoner was foreman in the shop—he was then living at 30, Jubilee Place—I worked mostly out of doors—I used to call at Brall's house early in the morning for the key of the workshop, and I saw a box standing under the dresser in the kitchen—when he opened the door you could see everything that was under there—it was like a French absinthe box, and had a padlock on it—it was not kept secret—when the prisoner removed to Park Walk I gave a hand to load up the furniture—the box was brought out, but it was open on one side; I cannot remember whether the back or the

front, as we were in such a hurry to bring the furniture to the van—it was broken open in some way—I helped in unloading the furniture at the other end, and found lying at the side of the box, a few plaster things tied up with something—I brought them in and put them in the front parlour at Park Walk with the box, and went away and finished the first load, and we had a glass of beer together, and I went away—later on I came back, and saw Mrs. Brail wrapping the plaster things in an old apron or cloth to put them away in a portmanteau—rabbits were kept in the coal-cellar in Jubilee Place; I noticed them several times—they ran out from the area, as there was from the front kitchen a glass door that you would see out into the area, and there they were running, as the cellar door was left open—I did not go to the cellar; I saw it through the glass door in the front kitchen—I have been in the cellar, and saw rabbits there—I went there when I left Vitz's place; I moved to the West-end, and I borrowed from Mr. Brail two four-foot cranks, which I fetched from the cellar—I know about polishing cabinet work; I do not apply methylated spirit and so on, with my fingers, but with a woollen rag and a linen rag round it—the polish is a mixture of methylated spirit and shellac.

Cross-examined. I was friendly with the prisoner—I have known him since January this year—I never saw him at Pitt Street, or knew him there—I only knew him working at Chelsea—I have not heard from him that he was connected with any friendly society—I belong to a friendly society for cabinet-makers in London—it is spread all over the United Kingdom—I have heard of the Autonomie Club premises—I have not been in for a number of years, and as a visitor then, and at the outside three times—I was brought in there by a member of this very society—I only saw the box once at Jubilee Place; it was in the front kitchen under the dresser—it was locked; I did not touch it—I saw it twice—I removed it to Park Street with care; but one or two plaster of Paris things came out of it by the shaking on the journey, I saw them come out.

Re-examined. I have heard someone say that the prisoner was secretary of the Amsterdam Cabinet-makers' Society.

HENRY SHWANKERFORD . I am a cabinet-maker, of 39, Newman Street, and also a decorator and carpenter—I have been in England forty-live years, and am naturalised—I am a member of the Church of England—I have been a cabinet-maker since 1860—plaster of Paris is very seldom used in the trade, but it has been; also glycerin, oxalic acid, and spirits of salts, when oak turns black and we want to get it a lighter colour—we also use sulphuric acid when there is a stain in the wood, to get it out—sometimes a blue spot is left in the veneer, and we take it out with that—I have two electric batteries in the shop, with electric bells put on—I do not like to take them off, but they are not used in our business—electric batteries are sometimes used for cleaning brass which turns black; and sometimes we have gilt antique work, and clean it in that way—I exhibited in 1851 and 1862—I found Brail a very steady and industrious workman—I never heard him advocating violence in political matters—I have known him fifteen or eighteen months—I have kept rabbits in my house and in my shop in Newman Street in the coalcellar.

MR. VITZ. I am a builder and cabinet-maker, of 11, Oakley Road—I

have lived in England a little over fourteen years—I came from Belgium, and have carried on business here about nine years—the prisoner was in my employment—he is a first-class man, an industrious, honest man; he always had the key of my shop—I have never heard him advocate the use of violence in political matters; he is a very quiet man—I remember taking an estimate of a house, and he gave me a small pocket book of his to write on, because I had no paper in my pocket—this is it (Produced) and this is my writing—it is a description of rooms; I took it from this book into another book—the book was in my possession five or six days—this was three months ago from now—it was before Easter.

Cross-examined. I did not look at any other part of the book—he asked me to give it to him back when I had done with it, and I did so—I cannot say whether this is his writing or not.

MR. WESTRUS. I live at 33, Lever Street, Poplar—I have lived in England two and a half years, and before that in Paris—I knew the prisoner in Amsterdam—he is a cabinet-maker, and was treasurer of the sick benefit society of which I was a member—the society was not political—there were about 300 members, sometimes more and sometimes, less, all cabinet makers—when I came over here I went to him—I knew he was working at a factory—it was customary for workmen of his former society to call upon him—I know of two men who wrote to him before they came over, and when they came over they went to him to ask about cabinet work—he obliged members of his society by keeping boxes for them—he used to befriend workpeople who were in distress, and put them up, and had them to stop with him—his wife is Dutch—I never heard him advocate the use of violence or explosives—I have met him in the streets and in the park, and we have only talked about the topics of the day—I have never kept rabbits, but I know how they are kept in Holland—in some places they keep them underground, and put something to keep them from going through.

Cross-examined. The prisoner used the name of Thomas Brail as the officer of the society—the people he used to befriend in England would know him by that name—I do not know him by any other name.

MR. JERED (Interpreted). I am a tailor, of Hammersmith; I belong to Holland, and so does my wife; she knows Mr. Brail—we used to go to their house in Pitt Street two or three times a week—once when I was there a man from Windsor called between ten and eleven o'clock—he was about my size, not so well set, and a dark moustache and hair, a very swarthy man—Mr. Van Vincent, a friend of mine, was there—that is eleven or twelve months ago, on a Saturday afternoon—he had a portmanteau in his hand, which he put on the table, and asked Brail to take care of the contents till he came back, or sell them for 30s.—there was a pocket-book with some writing in it, and glass bottles and tubes of various sizes, and curiously-shaped bottles—I recognise some of the articles, this spirit lamp and funnel; I think this bottle was among them, and I see some resemblance in the other things—I had many discussions with the prisoner, and he was always opposed to violence, I cannot understand how anybody holding his opinions could stretch forth his hands to commit violence on anybody else—I have visited him constantly for two years, and we have had conversations on these subjects, and I never heard him express any other but those sentiments—as far

as I have heard from his comrades he has always been an industrious workman, and though he was sometimes out of work he generally earned £2 a week—I do not go in for politics—I am not an Anarchist, hut I have a slight tendency towards social democracy—the flues of Dutch stoves are frequently swept, but they are also frequently cleaned by placing a cartridge or loose powder in, which causes the soot to fall down—I have done that myself; when I was sixteen years of age I did it in my mother's house—there are various ways of keeping rabbits in Holland; some place a barrel in the ground, and some a box—putting the box underground is usual, and they cover it over, and make a hole at the top where the rabbits can go out.

Cross-examined. I have seen Van Vincent before I got to know him through a friend of mine, Mr. Albert—I have known him fifteen or sixteen months—I may have known him first in a lodging-house or an inn—there is a public-house at the corner of London Street, Tottenham Court Road, where many Hollanders come together—Van Vincent was living then in Charlotte Street, Tottenham Court Road—he is a cabinetmaker—he belonged to a society of cabinet-makers in Holland; I don't know whether he belonged to one here—he and I went to Brall's house together on the Saturday afternoon a year ago—I may have met him in the street or in a public-house—I do not make appointments—I worked at home always, and have not regular hours—the cabinet makers have regular hours till one o'clock on Saturday—I met Van Vincent by accident; he had no portmanteau—I went with him to this house on this Saturday afternoon—I did not expect to see Brail at home; but when I was in his neighbourhood I called there, and when he was in my neighbourhood he called on me—I found him at home that day—he did not say that he was expecting anybody, but the same man brought a portmanteau and placed it on the table and took the things out and laid them down—Brail appeared to know him—his name is Shapirer; I have seen him several times—I met him in Grafton Hall, Tottenham Court Road; that is an International Union, where people of all nations come and meet, and you can join it, pay a shilling a week or something, and you can go there on Sunday afternoon when the public-houses are closed, and meet your friends—I had never spoken to Shapirer—I do not know where he works, but he works at tigers' and lions' skins, fur—I never had any conversation with Brail about him except that he told me he was a farrier—Brail never spoke about the things in the portmanteau on that Saturday, nor did I he said so many things I did not take any further notice—I never remember seeing him again, because he had only two rooms, and rubbish was put in the back room—the man asked Brail if he could not sell the things in the portmanteau or keep them, till he came and fetched them—he did not say where he was going, and he did not know how long he was going to be away—he may have been there five, ten, or fifteen minutes—I have never seen him since—I cannot mention the name of a single person he used to be with at Grafton Hall, they were Tom, Dick and Harry—Mr. Brail came to me, and said, "I recollect your being present on the day that the man brought these things, what do you remember about it?"—I said, "Yes, I was there," and I thought it over; and later I said, "Yes; I remember all about it"—that was three weeks after the remand—it was a fortnight

before I knew of the arrest—I am not a member of anything—if you go to the Graf ton Hall with somebody who is a member he can take you in, and if you pay 3d.

VAN VINCENT . I understand English a little—lam a cabinet-maker—I work at Harman's factory, Dodd Street, Poplar—I have been in England one half year—I know the prisoner very well—I knew him at Amsterdam as a cabinet-maker—he was secretary of the Cabinet-makers' Society—I called on him, I think, the second day he was in London. (At this stage the evidence was given through an interpreter)—I often saw the prisoner up to five or six months ago—cabinet-makers from Amsterdam called on the prisoner—I remember being at the prisoner's house in Pitt Street last year, when a German came from Germany, and brought his clothes, boxes, and things, as soon as he landed, and wrote letters to Brall before he came about his coming—he had bottles and glass tubes, and so on in a little box resembling these produced, but I did not very much notice, because I was sitting by the window, talking to a friend—he gave a pocket-book or a book—he put the things on the table, and went away—the man spoke in German, which I do not well understand, but the man said, "If you like you can sell them for 30s."—I have never heard the prisoner advocate the use of explosives or any violence in politics—I am not an Anarchist—in Holland rabbits are let run about the yard, put in a box, a hutch, and underground, and kept in various ways, and in gardens much.

Cross-examined. I remember the afternoon well when the man brought the things—the friend I was talking to in the room was Raheholt, who has just been called—I went with him to the house—I do not know Shapirer—I have never seen him before or since—I did not hear him give any reason for leaving the things—I heard the man say why it was and what it was for, but could not understand, because I speak so little German—I did not hear what they should be used for—I have never spoken to Brail since about these things, nor seen them.

MRS. BRALL. I am the prisoner's wife—I have been in England nearly three years—we first came to live in the East-end, where we lived one year and three months—then we went to Jubilee Place—I think we lived there ten or twelve weeks, and then went to Park Walk—at Jubilee Place we had the front room, kitchen, and the front room second floor—we kept rabbits in the coal-cellar—at Pitt Street we had a Dutch stove—it troubled us with the smoke—the English coal is very fat, gives very much smoke, it wants a very long pipe in the chimney, and I cannot take it out—I did not take the flue to pieces, it was too long, and required too much work—my husband put something in the pipe, and then it gave a very loud noise, and I got a long stick with a hook on it, and could take the soot out—no complaint was made to me about the noise or using gunpowder in the stove—in Amsterdam my husband was the secretary of the Cabinetmakers' Society and Sick Fund—many people wrote to him asking how the work was in England, and he would write back, "The work is better," and "Come to London," and then when one came to London he would always come to my husband—many times they left their boxes—I remember Shapirer, who studied chemistry, visiting our house—he brought bottles in, and long glass pipes—he put them in a portmanteau—all these things were in it, the pipes, the

glasses, and the bottles; I remember it all very well—he said to my husband, "Will you keep that so long for me when I go to Paris, and if you can sell it for thirty shillings you can sell it, and after I come back we will speak of that"—I have seen that man since; I saw him in January—Mr. Jered and Mr. Van Vincent were present when he brought these things in a portmanteau—I have sought to find the man, but cannot; I do not think he is in London now—besides the chemicals, there was a book where you put letters in, a pocket-book, and he put a little book in there and two letters, and said, "Take this away for me," and he had a small box of cartridges—I put some things in the pocket-book, and put it in a drawer, and afterwards I put some letters and tickets in—the police took everything out that was in them—I think this is the book—no, that is not the book—I put the things in a cupboard, where there were things for my children to play with, and my children's clothes; anyone could see them, I did not lock the door—I took these chemical things from Pitt Street to Jubilee Place—these are the articles—I remember a man bringing the box to Jubilee Place; my husband was not at home—Mr. Bosnian was there at the time—this is the box, "Absinthe "was printed on it—the man knocked at the door, and said, "Is Fritz at home?"—I said, "No, he is not at home, perhaps he comes in"—he said, "Can I leave the box here?"—I said, "I do not know if it is right for you to leave the box here"—he said, "Yes, I want to go for two or three weeks, and after I come back I will fetch it away," and I said, "Yes, you can lay it here"—he took it downstairs—he said, "I know your husband"—I think it is all right, and I take it in—I was accustomed to people asking my husband to take care of boxes, many times—the police often called at our house—I think altogether six times—the first time he said he was a doctor, at Pitt Street—he said he came looking for the cholera—I don't remember their names—I think one was Mr. Flood—I do not know if one was Inspector Melville, I think it was, he was a very tall, big man—I never saw him before—he came at dinner-time, one o'clock—first in the morning came two detectives, and at dinner-time came Mr. Melville—I do not know who it was—then two detectives came—my husband was not at home, and they asked me for a man's address, and as I never spoke to the man I did not know the address—they came three times for that—all these calls were in Pitt Street; and they called in Jubilee Place—they came to see a man, and my husband went out, and he came back with two detectives and brought them in—then I had gone out of the room, and afterwards my husband came—and they said, "No, that is not the man who went; we want a tall man, and that is a very little man"—the box was in the house at that time—we had the chemical things in Pitt Street; they were there when they came and asked for the address—I remember when the police came to the house in Park Walk—they came in like thieves—two or three came in the back, and three or four at the front—I had gone into the yard, and Mr. Sweeney said, "Come in the house, you have got lodgers!" and he went up—I was upstairs, and Melville said, "No, no, Mrs. Brall, you cannot come downstairs, you must stop up here"—I remember when the box was moved from Jubilee Place to Park Walk; Sterken, a friend of mine, was there—the box fell down and then it broke—I never saw these plaster casts before the morning—the bottom of the box was broken, and I was

afraid it might come wet, and I put the things in a dirty apron, and put it in another portmanteau—my husband never made use of the things—he used to work after hours; he was always working after he came home, and the last time he made a wardrobe—he had many bottles, and used chemicals; sometimes he would do it with gloves, and sometimes with other things—he always said he must use leather for that—I never attempted to hide them; every bottle was in the place where my husband was working, in the back kitchen—he bought rabbits for the children in Jubilee Place, and kept them in a coal-cellar—we removed them to Park Walk.

Cross-examined. I have been nearly three years in England—Pitt Street was the second place we went to—my husband got work in the West-end—he was first working in the East-end, and afterwards he got work in the West-end, and then we took a house in Pitt Street—afterwards he got work in Chelsea, and then he thought it would be too much money to go every morning and night in the train, and he said it was best for us to go and live in Chelsea—so we went—we left in February early in the morning at five or half-past, because he could help early to move—I knew our landlord, Mr. Barton, he was a nice man—I never spoke to the other people in the house—I paid the rent to Mr. Barton—he knew that we always paid him the rent—I do not know why we did not give him notice—I don't know if I left word where we had gone—I knew of the Autonomie Club—I heard of the visit of the police there—not before we left Pitt Street, I can swear I did not hear of it before—it had nothing to do with our going away—a Dutch Jew helped us to move from Pitt Street—we occupied two rooms there, one big and one little—we always slept in the little one—people did not come and sleep all night and go away in the morning; that never happened—I never heard the name of Schmidt—I did not know a man of that name living with us in Pitt Street—I was three months in Ireland; it may have been when I was away—that was in the summer, nearly two years ago—I took my children with me, and my husband was left alone in Pitt Street—I heard from my husband that Schmidt was living in the back room first floor at Pitt Street—I don't know who he was—I never heard of him as Francois; I have never heard of the name of Francois at all—I have read in the paper of Francois; I never heard the name in my house—I did not know him before, nor did my husband—my husband said he was in the club, and he said, "Do you know a room for this man?" and he said, "Yes; there is a room to let in my house; the back room," and afterwards I found he had been there—he knew him as Schmidt; he spoke of him many times—I never saw him—I saw him once—I know not this photograph (Produced)—I cannot say I know the man; I saw him once only—he had a blonde, fair moustache, that is all; no other hair on his face; no whiskers, no beard, only a moustache—I did not see glasses—it was in my house at Pitt Street that I saw him—that was after I came from Ireland—I came back in September, I think—my husband used to be at home on Sundays at Pitt Street, and I also—the flue of that stove has never been taken to pieces—it is very much trouble to take it to pieces; it takes a very long time—it has never been taken to pieces by my husband—I know Bosnian; he is no relation of mine—I have never heard that my husband has taken the stove to pieces—perhaps

it had been cleaned once while we were there, I don't know—as the pipe was very long my husband put something in, and I put in a long stick with a hook on it—I never spoke to Mrs. Kelterbron, or Mrs. Fox, or Mrs. Foster—they have never spoken to me about explosions in our room—it is a lie to say that I said it was my little boy with a pistol, they never have said something about that—they said nothing to me, and I said nothing to them—we left there and went to 30, Jubilee Place—Leoni stopped with us there—he had no room, and no money for a room, and my husband said he was a Dutchman, and we would take him home, a man cannot sleep on the street—he slept a fortnight in Pitt Street, and a fortnight in Jubilee Place—afterwards a Frenchman, Fritz, lived there—I cannot speak French, I cannot speak to his business—I saw him at the Autonomie Club before that—I went there with my husband sometimes when there were theatricals or a festival there—my husband went sometimes, not many times, on other occasions—I saw some of the other people who went to the Autonomie Club—the other people out of the club did not come to Pitt Street—my husband talked to one or two of them there, not much, the others were all Dutch people and German—my husband knew some of them who went to the Autonomie Club—I never asked their names—Leoni and Fritz went to the club—I do not know that Schmidt went—I asked my husband the name of the man who brought the box, and he said Gerondine—I never heard the name of Jerome—Gerondine never lived at Jubilee Place—I only saw him there once—we were known as Brail at 20, Pitt Street, and as Ravine at Jubilee Place, because we lost letters at Pitt Street and Jubilee Place—in Amsterdam we were known as Brail; my husband was secretary of the society in that name; that in his right name—we did not get letters from my mother and sister—we took the house in the name of Ravine; I going first to take the rooms, and my husband joining me afterwards—we took the name of Ravine, so that letters might reach us more easily—I wrote to my mother to say she must send letters in the name of Ravine, because some had not been received—we lost letters in Pitt Street, addressed to Brail; and we lost two letters afterwards addressed to Ravine—we never had the name of Ravine in Pitt Street, only at Jubilee Place—I never complained to anyone at Pitt Street of losing letters—there was no one in the house of a similar name to ours—my husband's stepmother's name was Ravine—I have never been known by the name of Ravine at any other place than Jubilee Place—I got acquainted with Colan at Jubilee Place; I saw him several times—we had letters at Jubilee Place; two letters were lost there—we thought it best to have letters addressed to Colan at his private house—my husband asked him, right to have letters come in the name of Colan, and Colan said, "That is all right"—my husband spoke to the postman at Jubilee Place about losing letters—one of the lost letters was from my sister in London, and one from my mother; I don't know if there were others—we left Jubilee Place because we thought we would take another house—Mrs. Wood said she had heard loud talking between my husband and some Dutchmen, and we gave notice next day, and then our things were moved to Park Walk—the house was taken in the name of Colon because my husband had lost letters and he thought he would take another name—he asked the postman, and he said

it was the Director of the Post Office, and we thought it better to take another name that might do better than Ravine or Brall—we thought Colon would be a good name, and we took the house in that way—I don't know of Colan knowing anything of that—the people my husband was in the habit of corresponding with were his mother and my mother and my sister; that is all—my sister lives in London, my mother in Amsterdam, and my sisters and brothers in Germany; they wrote lots of times, many letters—I wrote to say they were to send letters in the name of Colon and Ravine—I went with the things when they were removed from Jubilee Place to 54, Park Walk, and I helped to put things straight there, and to put the things on and in the cupboard upstairs—I took some of those things out of the box and afterwards I took the box into the area—those things had been in the front room second floor in Jubilee Place—that was a bedroom—at Pitt Street they were in the room where I lived—I put the box containing the moulds in the area at Park Place—when the officers came on 31st May, before my husband was brought there, I went round the house with them—I went with them into the upstairs room, where all these things were—they asked what they were, and now I became possessed of them—I said, "I have got them from a man; he has gone to Paris; he has gone away"—Mr. Melville said, "What is this?"—I said, "That is a bottle"—he said, "Yes, I see; who brought you the bottle?"—I said, "A man brought them"—he said, "Where is that man?"—I said, "He has gone away"—then he said, "Take Mr. Brall"—I did not tell Melville that I knew nothing about them—Melville called me down to the cellar, and said, "What is this hole?"—I said, "I don't know"—it was for the rabbits—I said I did not know Because I was very cross; night detectives came in like thieves, and my husband had not come in, And I was at home with the children, and you do not know what you must think when so many people come in a house—they asked me so many things that I was cross, and I would not answer everything they asked me—the only name of the Dutch Jew who asked me to take the things from Pitt Street was Leoni—that is the same name as the Dutchman who used to live with us—he is not a member of the Autonomie Club; he only came here looking for work, and he found no work and went back—I do not think he ever told me he was a member of the Autonomie Club—Shapirer was the name of the man who brought the portmanteau a year ago—I saw him three or four times before at my house—I think he was a friend of my husband—when he brought the things he said, "Fritz, I go away to Paris, can I leave these lying here?"—he lived in Whitechapel, he said in some street off the Commercial Road—I saw him last January at my house at Pitt Street—I only saw him once in January for five minutes—he said he had come back from Paris and wanted to look here for work—my husband did not go out with him—he did not know he was coming; he never got a letter from him—neither I nor my husband said anything to him about the things that had been lying at Pitt Street for eight or nine months—my husband thought he would come back.

Re-examined. My husband asked the postman about the letters, and he said, "It is not me who keeps them; if it is anybody it is the Director of the Post Office"—I thought that by changing our name we should prevent our letters from being intercepted by the Post Office—three weeks' rent was

not paid at Pitt Street, because my husband was out of work for a fortnight, and I thought those people could wait tatter—I have heard the name Francois; I know he was acquitted.

JOSEPH GREENBAUM (Interpreted). I live at 16, Kinder Street—Shapirer lodged at my house, leaving about two months ago—he went away from here about a year ago—I don't know where he wont—he took his boxes and a portmanteau with him—he was a young man a little smaller than I am; a fur cutter.

Cross-examined. Kinder Street is a turning from Cannon Street Road, Commercial Road, Whitechapel.

JOSEPH FIERSTEIN . I am a bootmaker, at Cannon Street Road—I know Shapirer, who lodged with Mr. Joseph Greenbaum in Kinder Street—he left England about six weeks ago—about two years ago he bought a pair of boots in my place—I took his measure for the boots, and Shapirer said, "I shall send you money, and you shall send me the boots"—he wrote this name on the paper measure.

Cross-examined. That was written since six weeks ago, when I took the measure.

FRITZ BRALL (the prisoner). I am a cabinet-maker—I have been in England about three years—when the police came to my place at Park Walk I was in Mr. Vitz's employ at Chelsea—I lived in Amsterdam, and was a cabinet maker—I was second foreman in a steam cabinet factory—I was secretary of the Cabinet-makers' Society and of the sick fund—members used to communicate with me when they were in England about daily news, what was going on in Holland and other countries, and sometimes politics—they often asked me about getting employment—very often they left boxes at my house—I had a Dutch stove—the pipe was in five pieces joined together and coming from the top of the stove—I cleaned it by putting in a cartridge and exploding it—no one ever complained about any noise that was made—Shapirer was a friend of mine—he was a Russian Pole; he spoke German, Russian, Polish, and English—one Saturday afternoon he came in when two other friends of mine were present—he said he was going to Paris, he had no work here, and could I take in these instruments, pipes, bottles, and some powders for him, to save them for him—if I could sell them I was to do so; if not, he would take them back afterwards—I said, "Is there anything in that which is dangerous?"—he said, "No"—there was a bottle of nitric acid left—I said, "What do you want to do with that?"—he said, "I don't want it"—I have acid like nitric acid for polishing work—Van Vincent and Jered were there—Shapirer went away first—he was no politician; he was a furrier—he studied chemistry—I saw his card of the chemical night school, 89, Commercial Street—he brought me these bottles and this box, with two cartridges and a letter pouch with the recipes—at Jubilee Place I kept the rabbits in the coal-cellar—I kept rabbits, before I came to England, at my brother's place in Germany—some of the rabbits I had in Jubilee Place died, and I asked my friend how it was, and he said perhaps it was too cold; and I was making a foundation in the ground at Park Walk for the hutch, so that the wet could go through the holes in the planks to the bottom to keep it dry; but when I had started on the hole another rabbit died, and I had only one left, and I said it was

better to kill it and eat it up, or else he would die; and we did so, and the hole was left as the police found it—I had seen that sort of sunk rabbit-hutch in Germany once—this is the box that my wife told me a stranger had left at Jubilee Place—I see by the stamp on it that it is an absinthe box—I never use absinthe—I never opened that box or looked at its contents—I never secreted the chemicals—I was visited several times by the officers from Scotland Yard, and those things were in the cupboard always—I changed my name for the purpose of letters, because I lost letters—I thought my name was known to politicians on the Continent, and there might be force from other nations to keep my letters away, and for that purpose I changed my name on several occasions—I never advocated the use of explosives or terror for political purposes—I never made explosives—I know nothing about making them—one morning Sweeney and Flood met me in Jubilee Street, and said, "Have you got anyone staying with you?"—I said, "Yes, a little Frenchman"—he said he came looking for a Frenchman, a tall one—I said, "I do not think that is the one; you can come and have a look"—they came, and Flood spoke to him in French, and then said, "No, that is not the man we are coming for"—we then went out and had a drink—I lent this pocket-book to Mr. Vitz on one occasion—the names and addresses in it are those of several customers—in 1893, when I left a shop in Arlington Road, I worked six months for myself in Pitt Street, and I had to buy a shop and get customers, and the easiest way was to go to the club where I was a member, and I asked other members for work—I can show by letters I have worked for these people—I use acids and methylated spirits in my trade, and also bichromate of potash.

Cross-examined. I am not an Anarchist, but a Socialist—I was a member of the Autonomie Club, and went there—that club was not founded by the extreme Anarchist party, who differed from the Socialists, but there were members in the club who belonged to the extreme party—that party had nothing to do with the German party, it was the French section, and these two sections always had trouble together—I could not say if some of the members belonged to the extreme party, who were in favour of violence to property and person, but I have heard on several occasions there were people there who propagated outrage—I do not think the club-room was hung with pictures of men who had committed wellknown murders; I saw several pictures hanging in the club of revolutions, not of individuals—I cannot give the names—I did not see there a picture of Lesciex; he had committed an outrage—Stowmacher's picture was not there; I have not heard of him—there were pictures of the Chicago Anarchists—I had been a member of the club for about one year and ten months—on joining the club I mostly went on Sundays when there was dancing, with my wife, and danced there—I seldom went on other occasions, because almost always in the evening I was working at home for myself—the names of the men in my pocket-book were customers I had met at the club—Ricken used to visit at my house at Pitt Street, Jubilee Place, and Park Walk—he came the day my house was searched—he was the man who attempted to rescue Meunier when he was arrested—Meunier was arrested here for an outrage in Paris; I do not know him; I had heard of him—Bailon's address is given; he is a Russian professor—he is an imbecile—he may be an Anarchist, but I

know him as a very quiet man—I could not say if he was a member of the club—nearly all nationalities were likely to come to the club; they had to take a card of membership like these found on me; a fresh one every month—I made a tailor's table for Pietroya, whose address is Hammersmith—I do not know if he is a prominent Anarchist; I cannot understand him much; he speaks very little English—I know Rabe, a German—I had a photograph of him in my possession—he was sentenced in Germany, as an Anarchist, for making propaganda literature, but you can publish in England what you cannot in Germany—he is now in prison for it—I know Vandeberg; he has been several times in England—he is not an Anarchist—I know two different Vandebergs from Holland; the one from Antwerp was a carriage-builder; I don't know his political views—Gunderson is an Anarchist—that is one of the addresses in my pocket-book; he was the editor of a newspaper issued by the Autonomie Club—I should not describe him as a violent Anarchist; he is a peaceable man—I know Sicard, because I asked him once if he had got some work for me—Rabe came from Switzerland to London, and he brought several photographs from Switzerland—I asked him for his picture, and I put a frame round it—the newspapers found at my house had not been sent to me by comrades at different places; the most part of them I took from several friends when the Autonomie Club was closed—several newspapers were left, and I use a lot of newspapers in my trade for glueing veneer work—I only had one for myself, which came from Holland; those found at my house were mostly used for the purposes of my trade—I have asked for them; I say, "If you have newspapers, bring them up here; I can use them"—I had one bound volume of the Anarchist newspaper—I did not take the room at Pitt Street for Francois—one friend came to me, and said, "There is a French family coming over; do you know a room?" or "Can you take a room?"—I said, "Yes; I believe there is a back room empty in the house lam living at"—I do not remember Francois coming there in the first three weeks after; I remember his being there—he did not stay in the house during the day and go out at night—the first time he was living there, and I knew him in the name of Schmidt; he was working in a cabinet-maker's factory—I never saw him wearing glasses—I did not know that he was under suspicion, and wanted by the police, not in the first time, afterwards I remember—I do not know that he was arrested in the name of Brall—I read it in the newspaper—when he left Pitt Street I did not know where he went—I found the furniture for his room and paid the rent at first—I had a bedstead, table, and chair left, and I let him have them—I paid the first week's rent, and afterwards he paid for himself—in the first three weeks I did not know who he was; three weeks afterwards he told me—he said he was Francois, passing in the name of Schmidt—I did not know there was a warrant for him—he told me he was suspected of being concerned in the Cafe Verey explosion—he said if he came over just now to France, it would be very likely he would be arrested and condemned—I could not say for certain how long he remained with me after I knew that, but I know it was a couple of months—I could not say that I gave him papers to enable him to pass in the name of Brall; I did not—I did not give him papers when he left, so that he might

say his name was Brail, and not Francois—I read in the newspapers that he was living at first in the name of Francois, and then Brall; that he represented himself as Brall when he was arrested—I had a memorial card of Bourdin, who blew himself up at Greenwich—it was a mourning card, with a black border—I did not buy it myself, it was in the room—I read in the papers that he blew himself up—I know nothing about Most's pamphlet, "Guide to Social Revolutionary War"—I never read it, but, as far as I know, it was in this letter pouch of Shapirer—I have heard from my wife that there were several recipes, and this book as well, that were left by Shapirer—I have not read it myself—Shapirer left this letter-pouch—there were receipts in it and that book, not left with me—he put it on the table, and he said, "Cannot you save that for me?" and my wife picked it up and put it in the drawer—I had the pouch in my possession twelve months—I moved it from Pitt Street to Jubilee Place, and from Jubilee Place to Park Walk; it was all together removed—I never read it, because it was in the drawer where my wife had all her things, and I never tumbled things about—I left that to my wife, and I went to work—I was sometimes out of work, sometimes I was working for myself, and I have soon had a job back again—about Christmas I was out of work for some time, and I was looking for it again—I never troubled to read this book—I did not trouble about other people's property—unless I heard of it in Court, I never heard of it—I never read the title of it—I only saw it was a red book—I did not know the name of the man who wrote it—I have many times read the name of Most in the papers; I knew him as a violent Anarchist—I never knew the name or title of the work—I do not hear of it now with surprise—I do not know that the bomb that Bourdin was blown up with is one of the same description as that in the pamphlet—I do not know now that it contains all the necessary directions for preparing bombs—I did not take much notice of it—I heard this morning that there were directions in it for making bombs and things, but I never read it for myself—I can swear that solemnly—I don't know what the name of the book is in English—the name of the author is Johann Most—the title and the name I certainly saw many times in the newspaper, but I never saw the book—I took the name of Ravine for the letters—I heard Colon give his evidence—I heard him say that I had asked whether I could have letters addressed to the workshop—I had letters addressed to Colon at Little Smith Street—I don't think he is an Anarchist, a man in favour of violence—as far as I knew he was a perfectly respectable man, not a member of this club—I wanted my letters addressed to him because, as I said before, I remembered and noticed I lost my letters in Pitt Street, and afterwards in Chelsea as well—I lost letters in the name of Brall and Ravine—I knew my letters fell into the hands, on the Continent, of people watching the letters—I was not afraid of my letters falling into the hands of the authorities, and I changed my name because I did not want to lose letters—I thought people on the Continent knew I was a Socialist, and very possibly might stop my letters—I signed the name of Johann Colon to this letter; I got a friend to write it because I do not write English enough—I wrote in that name because I took the house in the name of Colon—I first knew

Shapirer about two years ago—I met him at the docks—I have seen him a dozen or half dozen times in my life—I have seen him in the presence of a lot of people—I am called Fritz—the last time I saw Shapirer was in January this year at Pitt Street, when I came from my work—I moved these instruments from Pitt Street to Jubilee Street because I had to take care of them—they were no good to me; I did not know where the man was, but he was a friend of mine, and I knew he was studying chemistry—I never had a chance to sell them—I never noticed that the name of the chemist where the acids had been got had been rubbed off—one bottle of nitric acid was open, and I used that—I moved them because I would not leave a man's private property in another house—I knew, having read in the newspaper, that some violent Anarchists were making explosives and committing outrages—that did not make me curious as to what these things were, because the bottles were all empty; not even after the police visit to the Autonomie Club, because I was living then in Chelsea—I was not in possession of the things after Francois' arrest—when the policeman came to me when the house was searched I said to him, "What is up now? Are you looking for more dynamite?"—I said it out of fun, because I heard the last time they had found dynamite, and I thought I was on a friendly footing with the detectives—I did not think of explosives; I have never propagated outrages in my life—when I said I wished I had nothing to do with those fellows, I meant the members of the Autonomie Club, because I expect that was the only reason I had so many visits from the officers.

Re-examined. There are different sections of Anarchists—one section are Anarchists for knowledge, to educate the people, and they have nothing to do with violence—there is an Anarchist pamphlet denouncing violence.

NOT GUILTY .

MR. JUSTICE GRANTHAM stated that the police were thoroughly justified in every step they had taken, and that it was a case for thorough investigation.

ESSEX CASES.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

581. JOHN FRYER , Stealing a mare, a dog-cart, and a set of harness, of Louisa Ellen McLean.

MR. ELLIOTT Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

LOUISA ELLEN MCLEAN . I am the wife of William McLean, and live with him at The Laurels, North Cheam; I had been living at Bristol for some time—on 13th December I saw this advertisement in the Daily Telegraph: "Would any lady or gentleman advance £100 for six months? Would have board and lodging for the same, large house, carriage, etc.—ADVANCE, London Street, Kingston-on-Thames"—in consequence of that advertisement, I communicated with the prisoner—after some correspondence I went to see him at The Laurels, North Cheam—acting on my solicitor's advice, I refused to advance the money unless he gave me a bill of sale, which he declined to do—this (produced) is part of a letter that I received rom the prisoner after this interview—the letters were thrown away,

and I picked up this; I did not know it was of any service, but I kept it—the letters were torn up in London among other things; my solicitor tore them up—it is a letter written by the prisoner to me; I kept this half, the other half is lost—on the first half is, "Dear Madam,—I do not care for a bill of sale; I can borrow money on a bill of sale at any time; that is what I wished to avoid, or I should not have advertised n—then it is torn—I have not been able to discover the other half of the letter—I was not present when Mr. Tilston tore the letter; this part was found in the waste-paper basket, the other part was not there—I can't remember what it contained—after receiving that letter I communicated with Mr. Tilston, who advised me not to have anything to do with the sale, and the matter fell through—Mr. Tilston was then acting for me; I subsequently went to Mr. Marsh—in January the prisoner wrote to me again, asking me to purchase the place—I have not got the letter; I suppose it was destroyed; I have looked for it—in it he said he had not succeeded in borrowing the money, and asking me to buy the contents of the house—I again communicated with Mr. Tilston, and on his advice I came to London on January 13th, and he went with me to The Laurels and saw the furniture and effects—I then saw the mare, dog-cart and harness, among outdoor effects—prisoner offered the things for sale for so much—Mr. Tilston told him to prepare a schedule of the things he offered for £100, and two days later I received a letter from him enclosing the inventory—this is the letter; it is the defendant's handwriting, and this is the inventory—it includes the mare, cart and harness on January 31st, and this was signed by the defendant—at the bottom of the inventory are the words, "Received of Mrs. McLean £100 for the purchase of the whole property and effects in the inventory.—J. FRYER"—that was signed by Mr. McLean and myself—I gave a cheque for the £100 on the 31st—we took possession before the money was paid, and I drove the mare in the dog-cart on many occasions, and my husband rode the mare—I have a side saddle, which I purchased, to ride it—for the first part of the time the mare was kept in the stable attached to the house—the prisoner continued to reside in the house—after a time the mare was removed to an iron stable to make room for a pair of horses, which the prisoner had from London for approval or trial—afterwards on Easter Sunday I told him I was going to use the mare to go to Richmond—he looked very much surprised and confused—during February and March the mare was at times continued to be used by myself and my husband, but on Easter Sunday the prisoner said he had sold the mare, the dog-cart, and harness—I was very much surprised, but before I could ask him any question she went out of the, room—I at once communicated with my solicitor in London, and told him what had happened, and he wrote to the prisoner, and these proceedings were taken in April—I was twice before the Magistrate at Epsom—I had given no authority for the sale at Aldridge's.

Cross-examined. I say that, in consideration of the £100, I was to have the whole of the furniture, the mare, dog-cart, and harness, the fifty head of poultry, and other property—the loan of the money was for six months—I was to pay for my husband's board, £1 a week—the groom and female servants were paid, according to arrangement, by the prisoner—he said he had no rent to pay—I did not take over the lease

I bought the furniture, by arrangement with him—Mr. Tilston was my solicitor from the beginning; he is not now; Mr. Marsh is—I can't say whether Mr. Tilston is here; I have not seen him—Mr. Fryer paid for the keep of the mare—he was allowed the use of it; he did use it very often—my husband was not cognisant of this purchase till afterwards; he knew nothing about it—I don't know whether the prisoner told me that if there was a bill of sale on the property it would destroy his credit, because it would have to be registered—on 9th January I wrote this letter to him—on 18th I saw this letter from Mr. Tilston to the prisoner, making an appointment—Mr. Tilston did not lead me to believe that my lease would be a sufficient security for the loan; Mr. Tilston is not here—I say that the mare and cart were my property—this letter of 3rd April, 1894, is in my husband's handwriting, in which he says, "I hereby agree to pay for any damage done to your horse, or pony, or vehicle under my control"—my husband is not here as a witness, that I am aware of; he had nothing to do with the transaction; I was using my own money—he knew there was some arrangement—it is not the case that this property was given as a security for my money—I did not get the prisoner's life policy for £500; he left it with my solicitor when he was trying to borrow the money—I don't know whether he gave it him back; he said it was of no consequence—it was not given as a security for the money—Mr. Tilston did not appear for me at Epsom, Mr. Marsh did; Mr. Tilston was engaged—the property, as described in the inventory, was very much exaggerated.

Re-examined. Scarcely any of the furniture is left now, not £20 worth, and we have been nearly starved—the horses and ponies were not included in the inventory; my husband hired them—I paid £1 a week for my husband's board.

ROBERT E. SPRANGE . I am a clerk to W. and S. Freeman, at Aldridge's Repository, St. Martin's Lane—on 19th March the prisoner came there with a chestnut mare for sale, and it was sold on the 21st for 21 guineas, and one dog-cart and harness for £15 2s.

WILLIAM GUNSTON MCLEAN . I am the prosecutrix's husband—I live on my means.

Cross-examined. I lived at Bristol before I came to North Cheam—I am living there at present—I know this mare—she was tricky at starting; I may have driven her up and down the street; I have ridden her—I was told by the prisoner's brother she had gone away to be sold, or something of the sort—I was not cognisant of a great many things in this case.

By the COURT. I was to pay £1 a week for board and lodging—the other matters were arranged between Mrs. McLean and Mr. Fryer; I did not understand what it was; she had money of her own—I wrote this letter of 3rd April, at the prisoner's request; it referred to the pony.

NOT GUILTY .

582. CHARLES GEORGE EATON WHITE (43) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining 4s. 6d. from Louisa Franks, 5s. 6d. from John Martin, and 5s. 6d. from Eliza Phillips, by false pretences, having keen convicted of misdemeanour at Wells on November 1st, 1893.**— twelve Months Hard Labour.

Before Mr. Justice Grantham.

583. EDWARD WOOLEY (32) , Stealing a chain and locket, the property of Mary Dempsey.

MR. GRANTHAM Prosecuted.

MARY DEMPSEY . On Monday, 4th June, about 1.40, the prisoner came and asked for lodgings—I called my mother, who said she had a doublebedded room—he said it was just what he wanted, as he had a friend coming up—I took him upstairs—he said he did not care to go to the top of the house—I slept on the second floor; I said I would change my room and let him have mine—he said it was better—he asked me to get a tape measure to measure it—I went outside to call for one, and when I came back I saw him fumbling about, as though he taken something—when he had gone on downstairs I looked in a little box on the drawers and found my locket and chain gone—I took the box downstairs and said my locket and chain were gone from the box where they were that morning—he said, "Do you accuse me of stealing?"—I said, "I don't know; you know whether you have got it or not"—he asked me to search him—I said, "No, I shall not search you"—my mother told me to fetch Mr. Williamson, who sleeps on the first floor, and he said he would fetch a policeman to search him, and walked out and walked on the other side of the way—my mother went after him to find a policeman, and when they came back I saw my locket and chain lying down in the passage—these are they (produced).

Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not go downstairs to fetch the measure, only on to the landing tocall for it—I was not outside the door more than a second—I did not ask if you had a piece of string to measure it—I saw your hands coming from your pockets—I did not see you take anything from the chest of drawers—downstairs you turned a few papers out of your pockets—you waited till Mr. Williamson came, and then you went; it was not five or six minutes before he came—I did not go out.

MARY ANN MIDDLETON . I am the mother of the last witness—on the 4th June she called me, and I told the prisoner I could let him a double-bedded room—my daughter took him upstairs, as he wished to see the room—coming down he objected to being so high up; my daughter offered to let him have the lower bedroom, and he went to see that—when they came down my daughter told me something, and I would not let the prisoner go out, because I knew he had taken something; and I asked my daughter to go and fetch Williamson, who sent for a policeman—the prisoner asked my daughter to search him when she accused him—she said, "No; you know whether you have got it or not"—he asked Williamson to search him—he said, "No, I won't search you; I will fetch a policeman to do so"—the prisoner said, "Come down to the bottom of the road"—I and Williamson could not walk so fast as the prisoner, who walked out of the house, turned the corner, and ran away fast—when the chain was found I recollected hearing the sound of it falling in the passage.

Cross-examined. I am sure I said at the Police-court that I heard it fall—you waited two, three, or four minutes in the passage—I halloaed out after you, "Stop that thief."

FREDERICK FORTH (Detective Sergeant K). On Tuesday, 5th June, I

looked for the prisoner, and found him in the Lord Gough public-house—I said. "I shall take you into custody on suspicion of stealing a locket and chain from 106, Chobham Road"—the prisoner said, "Who will prove it?"—I said, "The occupants of the house, if they identify you"—shortly after he said, "Housebreaking at Chobham Road?"—I said, "No, larceny; looking at apartments"—when the charge was read to him at the station he said, "I offered to be searched, but they would not search me"—I searched him—his right hand trouser pocket was torn away; there was the opening for the pocket—if anything were put in it would drop down on to the floor.

Cross-examined. I never mentioned housebreaking—you said when in custody that you had called at the Police-station on the evening of June 4th; I did not hear it from anyone else.

JOHN WILLIAMSON (not examined in chief—cross-examined). You offered to let me search you—you made off out of the house as fast as you could—when we got to the bottom of the street we could not see you—I did not see you run—you walked pretty sharp—I was with Mrs. Middleton—I could not keep up with you—you must have run when you turned the corner to have got out of sight.

Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "For twelve months I have been canvassing. I shall be glad if you will settle it here."He denied any knowledge of the locket and chain.

GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in November, 1892, in the name of Thomas Adams.

Three Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Recorder.

584. ALBERT FULLER (24) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully and maliciously wounding Martha Shepperd, and causing her actual bodily harm. Three previous convictions were proved against the prisoner for assaults on the police, and four for other offences.— Fourteen Month's Hard Labour.

SURREY CASES.

Before Mr. Recorder.

585. SIDNEY GORDON DIPLOCK (29) , Feloniously marrying Mary Ellen Green, his wife being alive.

MR. PASSMORE Prosecuted, and MR. BESLEY Defended

JAMES STRANGE . I am verger of St. Dunstan's, Fleet Street—I produce the register of marriages, which contains an entry of Sidney Diplock and Charlotte Elizabeth Wellstead, on March 30th, 1886—the prisoner is the man, to the best of my belief.

Cross-examined. It is eight years ago—Sergeant Gardiner summoned me to appear.

HENRY TULL . I am registrar of marriages of St. George's, Hanover Square—I produce a certificate of marriage between Sidney Diplock and Mary Ellen Green—he is described as a bachelor—he gave me a cheque for £37s. 1d. to cover all the fees, and on 20th June they were married—they were not the worse for liquor, or I should not have allowed the marriage to proceed.

Cross-examined. It was not in the church, it was in the office—I took the particulars from him, and wrote them down—he signed this in my presence—they were strangers to me—the signature was after the ceremony—I do not think this is a drunken signature; I do not think he could write better—I think it is a better signature than the notice—the cheque was not brought ready signed; it was written in my presence—he signed the notice first, and then the cheque—I think the signature at the time of the marriage is the best of the three.

MART ELLEN GREEN . I am an artist's model, and live at Shepherd's Bush—in June, 1893, I was employed at a restaurant, 29, Westbourne Street, Pimlico, where I made the prisoner's acquaintance—the first time I remember seeing him was on June 10th, 1893, and on that day I went to Maids tone with him, and from there to Aylesford—he was driving a trap—we did not go back to town—I was thrown from the trap and was too late for a train, and had to sleep in a barn—I came to town the next day with the prisoner, and went to the Great Northern Hospital on the Sunday; I do not recollect the date—I went through the ceremony of marriage with the prisoner on June 20th, 1893—we lived together a few weeks, and then he left me—I next saw him at a house in the London Road on May 31st, 1894, when he was charged—I had no idea that he was a married man.

Cross-examined. Mr. Wright kept the coffee-shop—his wife and daughter were sometimes there—I was manageress, and took care of the shop—the very first day I saw the prisoner I went out with him—I slept with him at Kingsdon, near Aylesford—he took me to a doctor, my face was strapped up with cotton wool; he was not strapped up—we had had a drink or two—I did not hear him refused shelter at different public-houses before going to the barn—I do not know that he spent £45 on me—I do not know whether other young men came and slept in the barn, I was too ill—I was not the worse for drink during the few days he was with me; I do not know whether he was—I know Barnell, the brother-in-law; he did not say at the Pine Apple public-house on June 11th that the prisoner ought to be ashamed of himself to marry, for he was a married man with two children—I never heard that he was a married man—I do not know the man (Alfred Parker)—I did not use a filthy expression in his presence—I never saw him—the first time I saw that man (Rhodes) was here yesterday—I do not know the constable Dare—I was not told in July in their presence and hearing that he was a married man with two children—Miss Wright, the daughter of the man to whom I was manageress, did not come home and tell me that she had met a friend of Diplock's, who said he was a married man—I never heard before the ceremony that he was married—I lived with him a few weeks after the ceremony, it was longer than a few days—this letter to his wife is in my writing—he had left me before I wrote it—I do not know how many days before—I was with him nearly all the time from the time I was in the barn with him up to the ceremony—this letter is written from the city of Rochester, Kent—I was in a business there—I wrote to his wife to return the pawn tickets he had taken from me—I had been an artist's model for about six months before I was at the Police-court—in August, 1893, I was working for Molloy, a fishmonger, and was walking with him near the Sessions House, Clerkenwell, but I did not say as the prisoner

did not take notice of me, "If he won't speak, let us have a drink," nor did I take Molloy into one part of the house while he went into the other—I was a waitress then, and had not commenced being an artist's model then—I told the prisoner on 19th May that I wanted to be free from him—Mr. Ward was in the house, but not in the room—I then prepared an agreement, and he signed one and I signed the other—there was no lawyer, and nothing was due with the agreement—Mr. Ward lent me £—I had not asked Diplock for any money before that; I did not want any money from him or from his wife—I did not write to her for money that I remember—I do not know that he has been reconciled to-his wife—I do not know his mother—it was not for the purpose of getting married that I wanted the agreement signed—immediately after it was signed he followed me to the Grapes public-house—I had not got a policeman there—I gave him in custody—that was on the same day as I signed this. (By the agreement the witness undertook not to take any proceedings against the prisoner)—I did not give him that because I wanted to marry somebody else.

JOHN GARDNER (Police Sergeant L). I took the prisoner on May 31st—he said, "It is all a mistake; I was drunk at the time"—he has two children.

Cross-examined. I am always in plain clothes—I was in the Grapes public-house—I was not waiting for her to entice him—she was not aware that I was a constable, but I heard some people speaking about a woman who was in trouble—she did not give him in custody at the Grapes, but at Blackstone Street, 150 yards further on, where he came up while I was speaking to her.

MR. BESLEY stated that he could not resist a verdict, but called the following witnesses.

MR. BURRELL. I married the prisoner's sister—I live at Purley—the prisoner was the worse for drink at the Military Tournament on June 7th, and went back home—I did not see him again—he had just left his public-house in consequence of drunkenness—I saw him and the prosecutrix on June 11th in the Pine Apple, next door to White's coffee-house—they were both the worse for liquor—I said, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself; you a married man with two children"—he said, "You be d—d; what has that to do with you?"—I saw them again on the 19th, and I repeated the same thing—she said, "It has nothing to do with you"—I said, "Yes, it has; he is my brother-in-law, and I will see him right"—I never saw them afterwards.

ALFRED PARKER . I am a horse-keeper—I am not related to the prisoner—on Saturday night, June 10th; I was coming home from London with a pair of horses, and was in the presence of the sergeant and constable Dare—and then I saw them again in the evening at the old public-house, when the new tenant had gone in—the prosecutrix was with them—they asked for a bed, and Mrs. Brammall said she could not think of giving them one—I knew Diplock well, and I told the prosecutrix he was a married man with two children, and that she could go and sleep with my wife—she told me to axe.

—ROSE (Police Sergeant). I knew the prisoner when he kept the Portobello—with the exception of drunkenness he is a well-conducted man—other tenants went in—on the night of June 10th I saw Parker,

Diplock and the prosecutrix—they both appeared the worse for liquor—I told them to go away—she said, "I shan't go without my husband"—I said, "He is not your husband"—she said, "Where shall we go?—Parker said, "You can have lodgings at my house," and that he was a married man with two children—Dare was present.

MAT WRIGHT . My father kept the coffee-shop where the prosecutrix first saw Diplock—I once met a man named Drew when I was with Diplock; and Drew said, "Halloa, Diplock, how are your wife and children?"—I went back and told the prosecutrix I believed Diplock was a married man—that was before June 20th.

JOHN WARD . I keep a public-house in London Road—I know Diplock as a married man with two children—with the exception of fits of drunkenness he is a well-behaved man—I warned the prosecutrix on, I believe, June 18th—the prisoner called on me for some money, and one of the customers said, "You are a nice young man to leave your wife out-side"—I went outside and found Miss Green—I said, "This is not Lottie"—I lent her a sovereign when she called at my house, which she said was for a solicitor—when the signature was given to the agreement she took away one and kept the other.

STEWART HARDY . I am a County Court bailiff—I was at Middlesex Sessions last August in a case in which Diplock was a witness, and coming out I saw Miss Green—Mr. Wright introduced the fishmonger of Chelsea—Miss Green said, "Come here, I want to speak to you"—he said, "What is it?"—they seemed to have high words, and he said, "Well, Wright, as he won't speak to us, come and have a drink"—we went into the public-house, and she stood the drink.

MRS. DIPLOCK. The prisoner is my son—with the exception of fits of drunkenness he is a good son—he is reconciled with his wife and with me, and expresses contrition.

GUILTY .— Four Weeks without Hard Labour.

586. JOHN EARNE (28) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Henry Mitchelberg, and stealing four watches and other goods;also, to a conviction of felony in December, 1891. Three other con victions were proved against the prisoner, upon one of which he had been sentenced to five years' penal servitude.— Four Years' Penal Servitude.

ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JULY 23RD, 1894.