The Proceedings of the Old Bailey

 

1561.   MARGARET KELLY was indicted for feloniously assaulting   John Dimmock, and stabbing, cutting, and wounding him on the left side of his face, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

  JOHN DIMMOCK . I live in White Horse-court. On the 6th of May I was in bed—the prisoner came into the room, and my wife with her—the room was dark—the prisoner had a knife—I never spoke a word to her—she cut me with the knife—when she had done it she said, "Take what I give you"—she did not address me before—I did not interfere between my wife and her—she stabbed me in the cheek, right through into my mouth—I was taken away to the hospital directly—she shoved the door in when she came in—I do not know whether she addressed my wife—I had been in bed two hours—I started up when she stabbed me, and then fell backwards—I had not risen from my bed and approached her—when she stabbed me I had got about a yard from the bed—I did not utter a word when I rose from the bed—I said "Peace" to my old woman—that was not because there was any altercation going on—she did not mention my name when she stabbed me—she said nothing about old Dimmock then.

Prisoner. Q. Did not you come down stairs and break open my door? A. No—nor did I strike you—I never had any words with you—my wife came home late from work that night—I had nothing on but my shirt and night-cap.

  MARY DIMMOCK . I am the wife of the last witness. The prisoner and I had a quarrel on the Sunday before as this happened on the Monday night—we did not meet together on the night of the 6th—I met her on the top of the place—she jawed me, and called me names—I made no answer but begged her to let me alone, I was tired and wanted to go to rest—she came to the window and chucked bricks in at the window—I ran up stairs into the room—she bounced in and stabbed my husband at his bedside—we had no quarrel, only having words—the quarrel the day before began because I mentioned the man's name that came into her place—I made her no answer on the Sunday all the while she was jawing—I fastened the door—I said to her, "You have got so and so in the room"—the man was a pensioner—his name is Mr. Fred—she said she would have him in spite of me—I said I did not care who she had, and she kept on all the while—she went to drink with this man, and kicked up a row all the while—nobody answered her—she was coming home about ten o'clock at night and met me—she jawed me and called me names—I never answered her—she came to the window when he was in bed and asleep, and chucked bricks in at the window—the neighbours came and said, "What are you about?" and she ran up stairs—I had no light—she had a candle in her hand—she shoved at the door, I shoved it against her, she shoved it and came in—he got out of bed and she stabbed him at the bedside—I have one of her shoes which she left in the room—I found the knife against the bed along with her shoe—I gave it to the policeman.

Prisoner. You called me all manner of names, and threw a brick-bat on my shoulders? Witness. No—your witnesses were in liquor—my husband did not break open your door.

  GEORGE RYDE . I am house-surgeon at St. Bartholomew's hospital. On the night of the 6th of May, between eleven and twelve o'clock, the prosecutor was brought to the hospital with an incised wound in the cheek, about two inches long, completely through into the mouth—it appeared to have been inflicted by some sharp instrument, such a knife as this would do it, used with force—he lost a considerable quantity of blood from the wound, which might be dangerous considering his usual habits—the wound itself was not dangerous, but I feared erysipel as from the excitement of the system.

Prisoner. I know I threw a piece of a bason at him. Witness. It decidedly could not have been done in that way—it was a clean cut wound, and one of that depth could not have been so produced.

  JOSEPH PARFETT (police-constable G 38.) On the 6th of May I was on duty in Red Lion-street, Clerkenwell-green—the prosecutor's wife said something to me—I went to White Horse-yard, and found several persons holding the prisoner, and saying, "This is the woman that stabbed the man"—at the station, she said it was done by a bason—I went back and searched, and the prosecutor's wife produced this knife—there was about a pint of blood on the floor—the blood was on the knife at the time—it is on now—a broken bason was produced to me, but there were no signs of blood on it—that was in the adjoining room to where this happened—a person in the next room produced it.

Prisoner's Defence (written.) I was waiting at my own door, about a quarter past eight o'clock in the evening, when she began to abuse me; she then went up into her own room, and threw a brick out of her window, which fell on my shoulder, and hurt me very much; she then threw a second, which fell on my arm, and hurt me; the prosecutor then came down, and struck me, in presence of the neighbours; I went to my own room, and fastened my door; he followed, and forced it open with great violence; I screamed, "Murder," Burke came to my assistance, and said, "Are you going to murder the woman in her own room?" the prosecutor's wife threw a bason at me; it missed me; I threwit again, and it hit him in the cheek, but I had no intent to injure him; Mrs. Mulligan saw it; I never had the knife in my hand, neither did I ever see it before it was brought to the office; the prosecutor has been convicted at this Court.

  ANN MULLIGAN . I live at No. 6, White Horse-court, Turnmill-street, Clerkenwell. The prisoner and Mrs. Dimmock have been quarrelling for these five months—the prosecutor never interfered between them until this night—they were jawing one another—the prisoner was down stairs, and Mrs. Dimmock was up stairs—something was shoved out of Dimmock's window, I do not know who by, or what it was; it was like a bit of brick, or some kind of dirt—the prisoner ran to the dust-hole, and gathered up whatever she could, and resented the blow back again—I then saw the prosecutor get up, and come down stairs in his shirt—he took the prisoner by the shoulder, shoved her about in the court, and shoved her against the wall—she then took the candle out of my room, which is just opposite hers, on the ground floor, and ran up stairs—the prosecutor followed her, and broke in her door—I went up, on hearing them kicking the door, and Mrs. Dimmock told me to come down, she did not want to hurt me—I said, "It is no use breaking the woman's door"—when the prisoner's door was broken, she opened her door, came out, and kicked a board off Dimmock's door—I had hold of the prosecutor all the time, outside, on the landing—he then went into his own room—Mrs. Dimmock was then in her own room—she was standing just at her own door—you can step out of one room into the other—they shut the

door, and whatever Mrs. Dimmock shoved out to the prisoner I cannot say, but she resented the blow again out of her own room—the prisoner cried "Mercy"—there was a man down stairs, who came up and said, if any one offended a lone woman he would be the man for them—the prisoner did not go into Dimmock's room—she never left her own room—she was in her own room when she kicked their door in—the doors are close together—a woman who lodges in the house said, "Put your shoulder to the door, Margaret, and bolt it"—the prosecutor kicked half the prisoner's door off—when she kicked their door Mrs. Dimmock opened it, and shoved in a basin or something—I saw it coming into the prisoner's room, it was like a saucer—I was in the room, and she resented the blow back again out of her own room—I was the first that went into Dimmock's room—I did not think at first it was so great a cut till a candle was brought—he got the cut by the prisoner throwing whatever she threw into his room, it caught him on the face—I did not see it, I had no candle—I saw her throw the thing, but did not see what it was—she then ran down stairs, I did not see her go into Dimmock's room.

  BRIDGET BENTLEY . I am a servant when I am able to be so—these two women have been quarrelling for five months, there has been no peace in the place—they were at it early and late—on this night I heard them abusing each other, and heard a great many people in the yard—I looked out of the window and saw the prosecutor there in his shirt, he had hold of the prisoner by the neck shaking her, and she said, "What have you got to do with me that never offended you?"—the prisoner ran up stairs to her own room, and put her back to the door—I was in bed in her room, my bed was close to the window—the door was broken in on her—I said, "Bolt the door, and nobody can break it"—a a few minutes after I saw the prisoner putting her hand on the table as if looking for something to heave into the room after him—what she heaved I cannot say, but she heaved something, and I heard the prosecutor say, "I am slaughtered"—Mrs. Mulligan went into the room to wipe the blood off his face—Mrs. Dimmock went for a policeman, who came and took him to the hospital—the prisoner was taken to the station—then two policemen came and searched the prisoner's and prosecutor's room for the knife, but could not find it—between five and six o'clock next morning Mrs. Dimmock put her head out of the window and said, "Here is the knife"—I said, "Where did you find it?" she said, "Under the side of the mattress"—I said, "Show it to me"—she said, "No, I won't, it is a white handled knife"—I said, "Why I have been two years and nine months in this room, and I never knew Margaret Kelly to have a white handled knife, unless it was borrowed from your room"—the prisoner did not go into Dimmock's room at all.

  JOSEPH PARFITT re-examined. I got the knife at the police court at eleven o'clock next day—the prosecutor's wife produced it there.

  GEORGE ROYDE re-examined. The wound might have been inflicted by throwing a knife out of the hand, if thrown with considerable force, but I do not think it likely—it could not have been done by a part of a saucer, or anything of that sort, it was much too cleanly cut—the edges of the wound were so closed that I had to insert a fine probe—the wound was about two inches long—it could not have been done by a throw, unless it took a slanting direction—it is much more likely to have been done by holding the instrument in the hand.

  JOHN DIMMOCK re-examined. This is not my knife.

  MARY DIMMOCK re-examined. I do not know whose knife it is—it is not mine.

GUILTY . Aged 42.— Confined Twelve Months.