RICHARD GOULD,.
15th June 1840
Reference Numbert18400615-1696
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceTransportation

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1696. RICHARD GOULD, alias Arthur Nicholson , was indicted for burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Templeman, at St. Mary, Islington, about the hour of eleven in the night of the 16th of March, with intent to steal, and stealing therein, 1 half-sovereign, 20 half-crowns, 57 shillings, and 8 sixpences, his monies. Three other Counts, laying the property in the Ordinary of the Dioeese, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Lord Bishop of London.

MESSRS. BODKIN and BALLANTINE conducted the Prosecution.

MARY THORNTON. I live in Pocock's-fields, Islington. I know the residence of the late Mr. John Templeman—that is also in Pocock's-fields, and in the parish of Islington—I was in the habit of doing work for Mr. Templeman about the time in question. On Tuesday morning, the 17th of March, about half-past eight o'clock, I received some information from my daughter, in consequence of which I went to Mr. Templeman's house—I found the door closed and fastened—I went to the parlour window after

knocking at the door, as I could not get in—I found the window open about a quarter of a yard—I could see nearly all over the room as I stood at that window, but not quite—it was usually fastened inside by a little button just below the glass which was broken—the glass was broken at the side where the button was—the window opened on hinges—I could put my three fingers into the hole—by doing so the button could very easily be reached—when I left it, there was a piece of paper over the hole, and a nail to fasten the paper, and a piece of glass in it likewise—it was a broken window mended with a piece of paper and a nail to keep the broken glass in—the nail was at the side—that was the state of the window when I had observed it before that morning—I did not notice which was gone in the morning, the paper or the glass, one of the two was—I did not look for the glass—after looking at the parlour window, I went round to the bed-room window, it was shut—I could see between the two curtains all over the room—the bed-room is on the ground floor—there are only two rooms in the house—on looking through the bed-room window, I saw the body of Mr. Templeman lying on the floor—he appeared quite dead—he was undressed, in his night-shirt.

Q. What aged man was he? A. They put him down as seventy-two on his coffin—he told me he was four years older than me—I am sixty—I had seen him the evening before he was murdered, about six o'clock, within a very few minutes—I think I had not cleaned his place for a fortnight before—I had not noticed the window the day before—on the Sanday morning I observed that it was broken, and mended as I have stated—I know he had a little square box—when I saw it he had silver money in it—I saw it on the Monday evening that he was murdered, about ten minutes before six, when I left him—it was on the table—he opened it to show me the money—I think there was about 3l. or 4l. in it, or there might be 5l.—it made a great show—it looked all in silver—I saw no other coins—I could not see in what coins it was—he said, "I have been to receive my rent this morning, and they have paid me all in silver, " and pointed it out—after seeing the body of Mr. Templeman I went home—I had received instructions from him, in case any thing happened—the moment Caprani, my son-in-law, came home I mentioned it to him; but I mentioned it to my landlady almost directly I found it out myself—when Caprani came home, in consequence of the directions I had received, I sent him off to Mr. Templeman, jun.—I had been directed by the old gentleman, if any thing should happen to him, to send to young Mr. Templeman.

Prisoner. Q. You were very often in the habit of being with Mr. Templeman, and cleaning in his house? A. Yes—I have seen you serve him with beer while you were at the Castle public-house—I cannot say how long that is ago—the last time I saw the window was the Sunday before the murder—I have seen you stop to converse with Mr. Templeman.

FRANCIS CAPRANI. I am a watchman at Sadler's-wells Theatre, and am son-in-law of Mrs. Thornton. I used occasionally to work for Mr. Templeman, in his garden—I saw him on Monday, the 16th of March, about ten minutes or a quarter to six o'clock in the afternoon—that was after Mrs. Thornton was there—I saw him at his own house—my motherin-law brought me a message that he wanted to see me, and I went overhe said, "Now I will settle with you"—he paid me 7s. which he owed me—he took it from a little mahogany box which stood on the table—there were a quantity of half-crowns, shillings, and sixpences in it—I was there

about ten minutes—he left the box open on the table, when I went away—there appeared nearly between 3l. and 4l. in the box—there might be more or less—I saw nothing but silver—my duty, ae a watchman, keeps me at the theatre all night—I leave the theatre at eight o'clock of a morning, but my partner did not come till about ten minutes to nine o'clock, on the 17th, and I did not leave that morning till then—on this being discovered, I was taken into custody, and detained till next morning, when the Magistrate discharged me—I have resided there ever since.

Prisoner. Q. How long had you been at work for Mr. Templeman? A. I was at work for him about a fortnight or three weeks before—I finished the piece of ground on Monday, the 16th of March—I know Jarvis's cottage.

Q. Did you ever, while you were at work on that ground, see me in, at, or near Mr. Templeman's or Jarvis's cottage? A. Not that day—I did not see you—I never noticed you in the garden—you could go there without passing me, but not in the ordinary path, without pausing me, when I was there—you might pass without my noticing you—I did not see you—I should not think you could have passed without my seeing you when I was working in the garden.

JANE LOVETT. I live at No. 2, Northern's-buildings, Somers-town—I am married—I held my house of Mr. Templeman. On Monday, the 16th of March, I paid 3l. to Mr. Templeman, on account of my rent—it was from a quarter to ten minutes to twelve o'clock in the day—he came by appointment—I paid him five or six half-crowns, one half-sovereign, and the rest in shillings, and as near as I can say, six or seven sixpences—3l. was the turn I paid him.

HANNAH MORGAN. I am the wife of James Morgan, of Skinner-street, Somers-town. On Monday morning, the 16th of March, the late Mr. Templeman came to my house at half-past eleven o'clock—he went away, and returned again in a quarter of an hour—he sat for some time, and asked me to lend him 3l.—I lent him 3l.—it was fourteen half-crowns and twenty-five shillings—he returned me one shilling—he had 2l. 19s. from me—he left my house at half-past three o'clock, and went straight for his own house, which is about two miles from mine.

Prisoner. Q. What could occasion you to notice so particularly the coins you paid him? A. Because I counted it out into his hands—the fourteen half-crowns I had noticed from where I took them from—none of them were marked, to my knowledge.

Q. Have you never said they were? A. I have said no more than that I had a marked shilling in my possession, but whether I gave it him or not, I cannot say—he did not say he was going to pay any money away.

MR. BODKIN. Q. Have you, since you said that, looked for that marked shilling? A. I found it in my possession when I got home, and therefore I did not give it to Mr. Templeman.

Prisoner to JAMES LOVETT. Q. I think you stated that Mr. Templeman told you he was going to pay some money away that day? A. He never said a sentence, nor did I ever say that he did say so to me—he never named it.

HENRY WRIGHT. On the 12th of March I was potman at the Duchess of Kent public-house in Devereux-street, Dover-road. I had known the prisoner about nine months at that time—I saw him on the 12th of March, about twenty minutes to eight o'clock in the evening, at the Duchess of

Kent—he came into the tap-room, called for half-a-pint of porter, and threw down a penny—he said he had got no more money—I brought him a pint of porter—I did not take any thing for it—I did not take up the penny—I then went out with my eight o'clock beer—I came back about half-past eight o'clock, and on my return saw the prisoner standing opposite the house—I came past him—he was talking to a person named Squires—I had some porter in my tray, and I, and Squires, and Gould, drank some porter together—it was some of the porter which was not taken by the customers—I pay my roaster for what beer I take out, and he keeps a check on me—after finishing the beer, Squires left us, and went home—I and the prisoner walked up the street—in going up the street, he said he had been very badly off, he was without money, he had been ill, and was getting worse—he said he knew an old man who had got money—I asked him how he knew the old gentleman had got money—he said he had bid 25l. for a cottage, and had flasheda 50l. note, and said if that was not enough, he had got more—I asked him where the old gentleman lived—he said it was no matter, it was not far from home—I knew the prisoner lived in Pocock's fields—I do not know that he lived there at that time—I knew it a week previously—I know Mr. Templeman's cottage—the prisoner said the money would be like a gift to him, as he well knew where it was, and could put his hand on it—he said he kept it in a drawer, and that there was more—he also said he was b—pinched, and he would be d—d if he would not have the money—he said he should like a right onealong with him—I said, "A right one? "—he said, "Yes, a right one, or I could do it myself"—we then parted company—I went round with my porter at nine o'clock, and about half-past nine I met Squires.

Prisoner. Q. How long had you lodged with me at Allen's? A. Fire or six months—you did not lodge there the whole time with me—you were away a fortnight, or it might be longer—in the course of that six months I never knew you to be out for any improper purpose—I hare known you out till past twelve or one o'clock—I cannot say that I have known what you have been upon, perhaps you have been after a situation, and stopped at public-houses—I never saw a lantern lying about Allen's cottage during the six months I was there—it is the custom with potmen to treat one another when out of place.

Q. Suppose I had come to you, and said, "I have 5d. or 6d. in my pocket, I do not know how soon I shall want it, will you treat me with some beer? " would you have given it me, or expected me to pay for it? A. I should have given it to you—I cannot say that I have frequently denied having money, for the sake of getting beer for nothing—I recollect being at the Craven Arms public-house, at Paddington—I have no recollection how much money I had in my pocket then—I cannot recollect that I denied having any money then, when I had 1l. in my pocket, taken for an old debt—I do not live at the Duchess of Kent public-house now—I work at tailoring—I am looking after a situation—I have not been able to take one—I life upon my savings now, which I have put by—I once lived at the Hope and Anchor public-house—I left there, because I bad a few words with my master—nothing occurred to my fellow-servant—I have never been in custody for felony—I was in custody, but never convicted—it was on suspicion of stealing a cash-box—after I was discharged I got a situation, where I formerly lived—I had opened a beer-shop before that, and failed, after I had had a service of nine years.

Q. Was I not generally in the habit of collecting my debts on a Sunday morning, while you lodged with me? A. Yes, you used to go out for whatever there was—you have told me you had got 4s. or 5s. owing to you at the cottages—I have had as little as 4s. or 5s. owing to me from customers—when I saw Squires, I asked him if you had said anything to him, he said, "No"—I told him what you had said, that you had been talking of committing a robbery—I did not tell Squires the whole that passed between yon and me—I told him what you had said about intending to commit a robbery on an old man—I was never detected in the cellar of the City of London public-house, City-road—I never left my hat in the cellar.

MR. BODKIN. Q. How long is it since you left the Duchess of Kent public-house? A. Four weeks—since that I have been attending at Bowstreet and other places, on this inquiry—I was not tried for stealing the cash-box—I was taken to Hatton-garden, and had a bearing—the Magistrate discharged me, and the person in whose service I had lived nine years took me again.

Prisoner. Q. Was that the house the cash-box was stolen from? A. No, close by.

JOHN RICHARD JOBSON. I am a print-colourer, and live at No. 7, Dorset-street, Spital-fields. In March last James Rogers lodged in the same house as me—on Friday, the 15th, the prisoner came there—I heard him inquiring for Jem—he did not say Rogers—(I did not know the prisoner before by the name of Gould—I have known his person for the last four or five years, in the capacity of pot-boy—I only knew him as Dickor Richard)—I went down stairs, and found him in the passage—I said, "Well, Dick, how do you get on? "—he said, Middling-like—he wanted to see Jemvery particularly—I asked what he wanted to see Jemfor—he said he wanted to borrow a screw—as far as reading goes, I consider that means a picklock-key—I have read that term in a published work—I asked him what he wanted a screwfor—he stated to me that he was going to servean old gentleman in a lonely cottage—the term "serve"specifies to commit a robbery—I told him he had better not do any thing of the kind, if he did he was sure to get transported—he said he might as well be transported for that, for if he was taken as a deserter, he should be sure to be transported—a fight then took place at the bottom of the street, and I and the prisoner went down to look at it—I knew the prisoner by being up at our place—I gave him shelter eight or nine nights, and lodging and victuals, as well as I could for a poor man—I have seen him in what they call an undress—he was in the 11th Light Dragoons, I believe—after the fight was over we returned back to my own door—Jemhad not come then—I had not seen any thing of Jemat all—I said to the prisoner, "Good night"—he said, "You had better not go yet, for I want to see Jamvery particularly"—I said, "What do you want to see Jemfor? "—he said, "I want to borrow a darkey, it might be handy"—a darkeymeans a dark-lantern—I told him if he went over to the public-house (the Bluecoat-boy in Dorset-street) and waited a quarter of an hour, no doubt he would find Jemthere—he said it was no use going to a public-house, for he had no money—I then bid him good night, but be said he was going to servethe old gentleman on Saturday night, and should go and see his aunt on Sunday, and if he did servethe old gentleman, he would call and let me know on the Sunday—it was about half-past seven o'clock when I first

entered into conversation with him, and I got into John-street, Spitalfields just as the clock struck eight.

Prisoner. Q. Now, Mr. Jobson, what work is this to which you allude, as having seen these words in? A. Tom and Jerry—I have seen it in two works—I have seen it in——

Q. Have you never stated that it was in "Bell's Life in London" that you saw them? A. That was a misunderstanding altogether—you were in my company twenty or twenty-five minutes altogether—I said before that it might be about a quarter of an hour—I am speaking from the time of seeing you in the passage till I got to the public-house, butit✗ was half-anhour from the time I left my room—as I am lame, it would take me five or six minutes to walk to thep ublic-house—I went to the Weavers' Arms public-house, Brown's-lane.

MR. BODKIN. Q. What did you go there for? A. To take a pint of beer—that was after I had been with him—I should say it is not further than from here to St. Sepulchre's church.

Prisoner. Q. You say there was a fight at the top of the street? A. At the bottom—seven or eight rounds were fought—none of this conversation took place while the fight was going on—the fight lasted six or seven minutes—they were no sooner up than they were down—I colour caricatures, or any thing I can to get my living—I have done some hundreds or thousands of religious prints, and through seeing you I have not got one to colour—my work has been stopped—I am not in the habit of dealing—I have been to fairs and races for pleasure—I never buy things there and bring them to London—I have been twice in custody, once for being drunk and disorderly, and once for being in company with a drunken man who give me into custody for robbing him of a shilling—you were in my company then, and offered the man 5s. to abandon the charge; and after being there the man came and wanted the policeman to let me go, but he said the charge was booked—I should say your character was equally as good as mine at Spitalfields at that time, only you were a deserter at the time.

MR BODKIN. Q. The charge of stealing a shilling was entered on the sheet, and you could not be liberated? A. Yes—I went in the morning to Worship-street, and was discharged without witnesses being called—I have worked for the last fourteen years for Mr. Marks and Mr. Fairburn.

JAMES ROGERS. I am an umbrella-maker, and live at No. 7, Dorsetstreet, Spitalfields—I have known the prisoner five or six years—I knew him when he first enlisted. On Friday night, the 13th of March, when I was coming home, the prisoner was between the door and the window, in Dorset-street, between eight and nine o'clock—the first word he said was, "Jem, you are just the chapI want to see"—I said, "What do you want to see me for? "—he said, "I want you to lend me two screwsand a darkey"—I thought he meant two skeleton keys, but he did not say skeleton keys.

Q. Is that the slang term for skeleton keys? A. I do not know much about the slang terms myself—I told him he might as well ask me for a 500l. note as for such things as those—he said nothing more—I said, "I am sorry to see you as you are, but I have got no money, or else I would standsome beer"—he said he had no money—I asked my brother-in-law, who had been with me coming from Thames-street, to pay for a pot of beer—he said he had no money, but he went home to fetch some, and I

went with Gould to the public-house—we called for a pot of beer, and while we were drinking it my brother-in-law returned and paid for it—I parted with Gould about nine o'clock, or not so much.

Prisoner. Q. Before you came to give any evidence against me, had not you had some conversation with Jobson? A. None in the least—I now and then read the newspaper, but very seldom—if I heard any thing of the newspaper, it used to be more told me than reading it myself—it was tn consequence of what I saw in the newspaper that I came to give evidence—it was stated in the newspaper that I was not yet in custody, and I thought, not having any crime against me, that the best way would be to make my appearance.

Q. That was the cause of your making out this tale? A. I believe it it truth what I have stated—I had heard the phrase screwsbefore, as meaning skeleton keys, and darkeyas meaning a dark-lantern.

Q. Do umbrella-makers generally keep such things? A. No; but I formerly kept an old-iron shop, and I suppose you thought I might have such things—you did not want to purchase them, but to borrow them—I could not say whether you were serious or joking—I passed it myself y a joke, but I cannot say what your intention was.

Q. If you had not seen your name mentioned in the newspaper, should you have thought of coming to give evidence? A. You are the last person in the world I should have come against, or thought of coming against, or seeing in the situation in which you are placed—I said I was sorry to see you as you were, because you seemed to be so poor, and when you were in the public-house you always had a shilling in your pocket—you told me you had no money—I believe you said so after I said I was sorry to see you as you were, but I will not be positive.

MR. BODKIN. Q. What was his general appearance? A. He was generally dressed in a plush waistcoat—he was not dressed so well as I had formerly seen him.

JOHN FRIMLEY. I am landlord of the Rainbow public-house, Liverpool-road, in the parish of St. Mary, Islington. I know Mr. Templeman's cottage—it is nearly half a mile from my house—I know the prisoner—I saw him at my house on Monday evening, the 16th of March—I first saw him about five o'clock—he was then in the tap-room—he was in the skittle-ground during the evening, but I was not there myself—I remember an altercation occurring in the tap-room about eleven o'clock—Gould was in the tap-room at that time—I cannot say whether he had continued at my house from five till eleven o'clock—he might have left and returned again—I saw him leave my house, about twenty minutes before twelve o'clock, in company with several others who were in the house at the time—the prisoner appeared sober then—I saw him again on the Tuesday about three o'clock in the afternoon—to the best of my recollection, he was there the whole afternoon—the last time I saw him was about seven o'clock—I had only seen him on one occasion between the time he came and seven o'clock—he had been drinking a portion of beer in the tap-room, and he afterwards went into the skittle-ground on that day.

Prisoner. Q. In the course of your experience as a publican, have you not frequently seen persons who prefer denying having money in their pocket to throwing it away foolishly in beer, if they can get it for nothing? A. I have sometimes seen people reluctant to pay for beer after they have drank it—I do not recollect taking any money of you on the Tuesday after

noon—you were not more forward in paying for beer that day than on the Monday—what you have had at my place has been very little.

ROBERT PIZEY. I am a shoemaker, and live in Elder-walk, Islington—I was at the Rainbow on Monday evening, the 16th of March, in the skittle-ground along with King—I went there about six o'clock—King was there before me—the prisoner came in between seven and eight o'clock—he said he should like to have a game at skittles, but he had but 1 ½d., and if any one would lend him a 1d. he would make one of four for a pot of beer—a pot of beer comes to 5d.—if two persons lost a game, they would have to pay 2 ½d. each—Gould said the potman there would be answerable for a pint for him—Gould and I were partners, and we won—he had no occasion to pay any thing—when we came out of the tap-room after playing at skittles, it was about a quarter to twelve o'clock, as near as possible—I had lost one pint, but I was not the prisoner's partner then—I gave him 2 ½d. to play off, but that was not spent—he won the pot of the other man—on the whole, he was a winner, because he did not lose any thing—about eleven o'clock, before I left the house, I had occasion to go out for half-an-ounce of tobacco—the prisoner asked me to fetch him a rushlight, and gave me two halfpence to pay for it—I got one at the same shop I got the tobacco at—I returned with the rushlight and gave it to him—he put it into his pocket—he had a fustian coat on, similar to a shooting jacket, with an outside pocket—about a quarter to twelve o'clock, I left the house—I parted from him at the door of the house—I saw no more of him that night.

Prisoner. Q. How far is the shop where you bought the rushlight, from the Rainbow? A. I should say forty yards, not more—it was on Felix-terrace—you did not make any secret of it—I brought it back in the tap-room before all the rest.

Q. Don't you think, if I meant it for any secret purpose, I should have fetched it myself? A. I do not know; you are not the first man I have fetched a candle for.

ROBERT KING. I am a chimney-sweepar, and live at No. 8, Felix-street, Islington. I know the prisoner—I was in his company on Monday the 16th of March, at the Rainbow public-house, playing at skittles with him—he came in about half-past seven or eight o'clock into the skittle-ground—we continued playing till very near eleven o'clock—we then went into the taproom, and had two pots of beer—I paid for it—I bad lost it—when the prisoner first came into the ground, he said that be had only three halfpence in his pocket—I left the house about a quarter to twelve o'clock, with him—I did not see the prisoner pay for any thing while he was there—I did not see him pay for the rushlight—I did not see it brought in.

Prisoner. Q. After we left the house, how long did we stay talking outside the door? A. A very few minutes, not five minutes—we were not together five minutes after we came out of the house—I did not leave you there, because you went up towards the workhouse, up by Laycock's, towards Park-street.

COURT. Q. Did he go away by himself? A. Yes—he crossed over from the Rainbow on the workhouse side—he did not go before I left the Rainbow door—we bid one another good night, and parted; he crossed to the workhouse, and I had to go right facing down my street—no one was with him when he parted from me—he went towards Allen's cottage where be was living—he went the way that would lead there.

Prisoner. Q. Did you see any thing unusual in my manner? A. No—I did not tee any thing in your possession at all.

MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Do you know Mr. Templeman's house? A. Yes; he went towards that way—it is near Allen's.

MARY ELIZABETH KING. I am wife of the last witness. On Monday, the 16th of March, I went to fetch my husband home from the Rainbow publichouse—I found him in the tap-room—Gould was there—we all came out together about twenty minutes to twelve o'clock—I noticed something in the prisoner's pocket, it was long and it stuck out—we parted from the prisoner about three minutes after we got out of the house—I and my husband went home—I saw the prisoner go away, he went towards Mr. Templeman's—no one went along with him; he went alone—what I observed in the prisoner's pocket was larger than a rushlight; it appeared long—the cost pocket stuck out a good deal on one side.

Prisoner. Q. How long were you at the Rainbow? A. About a quarter of an hour—it wanted twenty minutes to twelve o'clock when we came out—the thing in your pocket was long, and apparently, it was a bundle in one corner of your pocket—while I was in the Rainbow, I was against the door—I sat down—I was in company with some one—the room is divided into boxes—you sat against the fire-place.

Q. Have you the audacity to swear that you could see, in those few minutes, from one box to the other, what I had in my pocket? A. When you got up and turned yourself towards the fire-place was the time I saw it—I have never said I saw it sticking out of your pocket—I saw something in your pocket—I was subpoenaed this morning—I do not know why my evidence was not taken at the Police-office—I was at the office.

COURT. Q. Could you form any judgment what this was in his pocket? A. As well as I could see, it was a piece of wood, or something.

MR. BODKIN. Q. About what was the site of what you thought was the bundle? A. It was round—it was larger than that inkstand, or about the size of the bottle—I did not see any part of it, nor any part of what was like a piece of wood—I should say it was about a foot long—I was fetched as a witness this morning—I had not been told to be here to-morrow—I was examined on the last trial.

CHARLES ALLEN. I am a shoemaker, and live at Wilson's cottage, Pocock's-fields. I have lived there three years next Michaelmas—I have known the prisoner about a twelvemonth last March—on Sunday, the 15th of March, he slept at my house—he had been stopping there seven or eight days—he was out of employment at that time—he had lodged at our house several times, for short periods—he slept in a room with two of my young children, one about six, and the other four years old—he did not generally take his meals at our house—I do not know where he usually did, during the eight days—he got up between seven and nine o'clock on Monday, I think—I never saw him any more that day at all—I was awake when he came home in the night or on Tuesday morning—I cannot exactly say the time—it might be between twelve and three o'clock—the day was beginning to break when be came in—it must have been nearer three than twelve o'clock—my wife was also awake—the door of the house was left unfastened, for him to let himself in; that was the custom—I did not speak to him myself when he came in, but my wife said, "It is very late, Richard, " or "early"—I am not confident which, and he said, "It is early"—nothing more passed then—he went to bed—I am confident he

was sober—he would not have to pass through my room to get to his—he would have to open my front door, and exactly at the same time as he opened the front door, he would open his own door—it was quite light, so that I saw him pass from one door to the other—the front door opens immediately opposite to where I was sleeping—he merely bad to pass the corner of our room—he had to come into it—he got up next morning about the same time as the morning before, between seven and nine o'clock—when he came out of his bed-room, be came right across our room, and went out at the door leading to the wash-house—I and my wife were sitting at breakfast in the same room as we sleep in—there is a privy which you can go through the wash-house to go to, or there is a way round without going into the wash-house—you can get to it without coming through the house, by coming up the garden, and going round the house—the privy is in the same wall as the wash-house is—a person outside the house could get to it without having to get over any fence or wall—I have half an acre of garden, and the house stands in the centre—it is not enclosed in any particular way—part is fenced, and part not—you can get to the privy from the garden without coming into the house, or getting over any fence or wall—no stranger has a right to come into my garden—I am confident the prisoner went into the privy when he went into the wash-house, because I beard him lift up the latch of the door—I heard the latch of the privy door close, so I am confident be either opened or shut it, I cannot tell which—I do not recollect whether my wife went into the wash-house while he was there—I saw him come out of the place again—he had been there between twenty minutes and half-an-hour—he had on a pair of heavy nailed shoes, which I had made, and when he came out of the wash-house they were blacked, and shined—he frequently cleaned his shoes of a morning—he left the house immediately he came out of the wash-house—he passed through the house, bid us good morning, and went out—I saw him again between seven and eight o'clock that same evening at my house—I had been out to fetch a pint of porter for supper, and when I came home I found him sitting in my place—my wife was there with him—I had at that time heard of the murder of Mr. Templeman—my cottage is between 300 and 500 yards from Mr. Templeman's—when I came in, my wife was holding conversation with the prisoner respecting the murder—I sat down, and did not interfere with the conversation, till Richard turned round, and said, did not I suppose that Mr. Templeman bad done it himself? —I said, "Richard, it is not very likely that after his hands were tied, and his head bound up, that he had committed suicide; it did not look feasible"—I do not remember that he made any reply to that—my wife still continued conversing with him—whilst I was sitting, having some supper, Richard said he should like something to eat, and he asked me if I would go and fetch him a slice of bacon, and a pot of beer, and some tobacco—I said, "Richard, why not fetch it yourself"—he said, "You know the reason why I do not wish to go out"—I knew no reason why he did not wish to go out, otherwise than there was an assault warrant out against him—I went and bought the bacon, beer, and tobacco for him—he gave me 1s. to pay for them—he did not take any more money out of his pocket—I noticed that he had a pair of new shoes on, and while I was looking at them, he said he had been over to his aunt's at Clapham, or somewhere in that neighbourhood, I cannot exactly be certain where, he had been very fortunate—he had called on his cousin who had a pair of shoes which fitted him,

and be had jumpedinto them, and he had called on his aunt, add the had given him some money—I had no more conversation with him—after I had fetched the beer, and bread and cheese he went to bed—I believe my wife and him had some conversation, but I do not recollect it distinctly—I did not pay much attention to his conversation—he slept with my two children that night as usual—when he went in, I fastened the door of his room, and said he should never come out any more—I said so to my wife, and I never intended him to come out again, and he never should, unless he did it by force—my suspicions were at that time excited, so much so I was determined he never should go out of my house—I was not it home when the officers searched the wash-house—I never recollect going to the place with the officer—he told me some money had been found there—I never placed any money there—I have placed things there—(looking at a lantern)—I know this lantern—it was my father's forty years ago—my father was a shoemaker, and was a constable many years it Wormley, in Hertfordshire—it came into my possession from him—I had used it about a year and a half ago, when I had occasion to go to see the pigs in the night—I was in this cottage when I used it—I am satisfied this is the same, because I had burned the horn at the time I used it last, when I used it to go to the pigs—I had not seen it after that to my knowledge—it was kept in a cupboard in the wash-house, or in a box, I am not certain which—it has been in both since I have been at the cottage—neither the cupboard or box were kept locked—the box was in the prisoner's bed-room, I believe, at that time.

Prisoner. Q. Have you never said it was two years ago since you saw the lantern? A. I never swore so—I do not recollect saying so—I said I had it to go and look at the sow—the pig-stye and the house are all attached together—it is all one brick wall—the privy and pig-stye is all one building, and all attached, but you must go out of the house to go to the pig-stye—I have been frequently in the habit of putting different lumber and garden tools over the wash-house ceiling, but for the last month or two, I had not had power to lift my hand so high—I did sot keep my garden tools there last winter—I could not put them there—I did not cause any body else to put them there—after I used the lantern I placed it in the cupboard—I am confident I put it there, but after using it for the pigs I used it in the wash-house, and in the course of that week I used it four or five times, and then my wife put it either in the cupboard or the box—she can speak more clearly where it was—you washed every morning, but did not clean your shoes.

Q. Have you not been often troubled by persons crossing your garden, both after you have been in bed, and in the day time? A. Sometimes there have been people gone across my garden, and I have noticed it, but I was not troubled with any body, because I did not see them—I have had occasion to go out to stop them from crossing the garden, but I do not term that trouble—I only did it as a friendly action—I have not been frequently robbed of little things by my neighbours' children—I have lost things twice since I have been there, but I always found them again—I have used the lantern so often I can almost swear it is my father's lantern—I never carried one when I was in the police—I used only to lock up prisoners that were in the watch-house when I helped my father.

MR. BODKIN. Q. Since that lantern has been found have you looked for your own? A. Yes, every where, and can find none.

MARY ANN ALLEN. I am the wife of Charles Allen. The prisoner slept at our house seven or eight nights before this occurred—I have known him for twelve months—on Saturday, the 14th, he slept there—on Sunday, the 15th, he complained of being ill, and he went to bed in the afternoon—when he got up he asked for a little tea, and he gave my little boy 6d. to fetch him some tea and sugar—he had some bread and butter with me, and with the tea and sugar, that came to 6d.—the 6d. was all expended—he said he had taken 1s. since he had been out—he slept at our house on Sunday night, and did not get up on Monday morning till half-past eight o'clock, when Mrs. Jarvis called him up—she is the wife of a man living in a cottage in the neighbourhood—she had called at my house for him three or four times—I do not know where he generally breakfasted—he went out about a quarter of an hour after she called him—I did not see him after at all that day—I was in bed very early that night, by eight o'clock—I slept till the prisoner came home, and awoke me—I had an infant weaning—I expected him home early, and had left my door ajar, as I thought I should awake my baby, by getting out of bed—he pushed the door, which awoke me—it was two o'clock, as near as I can guess—I did not hear the clock strike about that time, but he awoke me and my baby, and I did not go to sleep any more—I had to get up with my child—it was day-light very soon after he came in—I did not hear any clock strike soon after he came in—I judged the time by the light—when he came in I said, "It is morning, Richard, " and he said, "It is early"—he then went into his own room—I got up next morning about six o'clock—I had my fire lighted before six o'clock—he did not get up till half-past seven o'clock—when he got up he went through our room into the wash-house—we live in the same room as we sleep in—a door opens out of the wash-house into the privy—I heard him open that door into the privy—I am quite sure I heard the noise—I went into the washhouse about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after, and found him standing by a table, doing something to his trowsere—I did not pay attention whether the door into the privy was open or shut—I came out directly—he remained there about ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour after I went in—he then came out, and asked me for a towel—I gave him one—he had washed himself, and wanted the towel—he merely said, "What time is it? "—I did not answer him, for he said, "The clock is striking eight"—I heard the clock striking just as he asked the question—he left the house directly—I saw him again, about a quarter after seven o'clock the same evening—I bad heard of the murder and robbery of Mr. Templeman about twelve o'clock in the day—when he returned in the evening, I said, "Richard, I am glad you are come home, as I should not have left my door open for you any more, " in consequence, I told him, of the murder and robbery which had occurred so near us—he made answer, and said, "I expected as much"—I did not mention the person who was murdered, at that moment, I did directly after—he said, "I have just heard something about it, but I do not know any particulars, " as he had called in at the Rainbow public-house as he came along—my husband had gone out, and he came in about that time—when the prisoner said he had just heard of it, I asked him where be had been that he had not heard of it before—I believe he then walked through the house, and went into the wash-house to the privy—as soon as he came back, he said he had been to his aunt's, and asked my husband

to fetch him some beer, and a rasher of bacon, and some tobacco—he did not say where his aunt lived—he had represented that he had an aunt, but I had never seen her—he gave my husband 1s. to pay for the beer and bacon, and when he gave it to him, I fancied I heard more money in his pocket—he told me he had been to see his aunt, and she had given him tome money—I noticed that he had a pair of new shoes on—he told me he had called on his cousin, who had a pair of shoes too large for him, and had given them to him—we proceeded to have supper—while at sapper some conversation took place respecting the murder of Mr. Templeman—I asked him where he had been the night before—he told me he had been playing at skittles at the Rainbow—I made answer that he could not have been playing at skittles till that time of morning, and he said he had been gossipping after he came from the Rainbow—he did not say with whom—he went to bed very soon after—the moment he went in, my husband went and bolted the door of his room on the outside—he made an observation to me when he bolted the door—about an hour and a half after he was bolted in the police came and took him into custody—I was in his room on the Monday, and noticed a pair of stockings lying on the box, dirty—they were rolled up the same as a clean pair of stockings—I merely took them up to see what stockings they were, and laid them down again—I did not undo them at all—I looked at them, because it was an unusual thing to have any of his clothing in the house—he never left any thing in the house, and I looked to see what it was—I am quite tore there was more than than one stocking there—they were rolled up so that I could only see one stocking, folded op as clean white stockings usually are—I had washed for him some months before—latterly, I believe, Mrs. Jarvis washed for him—(looking at a stocking)—this is a cotton stocking, and this is the stocking which was folded outside—it laid in this direction—I took hold of it, to see what it was, and laid it down again—this is exactly the same sort of stocking, the same make of stocking, and I judged, when I saw it, that it was Richard's stocking—(looking at another stocking)—this is not the fellow-stocking to the other—they are two odd ones—they are both cotton—when I washed for him, through getting wet in his feet one day, he put on one fresh stocking, and so they got mismatched—they continued to be washed as a pair afterwards, though they were odd ones, the whole time he was with me—the first stocking I have looked at, was shown to me on the Wednesday by a policeman—at that time it contained money—I was afterwards shown where it was taken from—I had never put any money or property of that sort in that place, nor did I ever know of its being there—(looking at the lantern)—I remember that my husband had such a lantern as this in the house—it may be twelve or eighteen months, or longer, since I saw it—my husband used it about two years ago, to go to the sow when she pigged, and I have some recollection of putting it into a cupboard or box, I do not know which—I know I put it away—the cupboard and box were both in the wash-house—the box was not removed to ray knowledge for a length of time—it was never in the room the prisoner slept in—it was never moved out of the wash-house, that I remember—my box was in the prisoner's room—that is a rubbish box—it was not in that box I put it—it was in the wash-house—I have some recollection of putting it away myself—I cannot positively say—I never burnt a rushlight in it, when it

was used—during the time the prisoner slept at our house, I never knew him have a light—if I offered him a candle he would not have it.

Prisoner. Q. What sort of a night was this? A. Very moonlight, very light—I have stated it was about two o'clock when you came home—I judge so because my baby awoke me, and I was awake the remainder of the night, and did not go to sleep any more—I was out of bed three or four times.

Q. If you had been awake, could not you have heard the clock strike? A. I might not be attending—there is no fastening to your bed-room window—I could not have got out of it myself without difficulty—I do not know whether you could have got out of it—I do not know how high the window is from the ground—you can stand in the room and look out of it—you cannot reach to the top of the window, you can to the centre—I remember taking the lantern off the table and putting it away after my husband used it—we have never had any one lodging in our house since we had the lantern, but you and Wright—I cannot say whether you were in the habit of going to my boxes or cupboards, you were often in the house, you could go to them if you liked—I have not washed for you since you went to the Barnsbury Castle public-house, that was about six weeks before Christmas.

Q. You say that is like the stocking you saw on the box, is there any nark on it which causes you to think so? A. It is exactly the same kind of stocking, and here is the mark round the top, and the appearance of the stocking altogether—I looked at it, and when I saw it next morning, I saw it was exactly the same stocking—I have not found any stockings in my room myself—I have never seen any found in a bedstead since, nor have I heard of it—you were poorly when you came home on Sunday—you told me you had been drinking some beer.

Q. Was it not the custom for me, all the time I lodged with you, to go regularly every Sunday morning to collect what money I had due to me by weekly instalments? A. Not since you left the Barnsbury Castle—you owed me about ₤1 or ₤2, at this time, but I have never cast it up.

Q. Now tell the truth, if you had known that I had money in my possession, would you not have thought me unprincipled not to pay you? A. You have had money and offered to pay me, and I have said, "If you are short, you had better let it alone"—I have said so in many instances, and I never expected you would pay me, being out of employment.

Q. How could I be without money when I offered it you? A. You have had 1s. or so, and said, "I will pay for my tea, " and I have said, "Never mind"—you have said, "I have a trifle, " and I have said, "Never mind"—I knew you were in distress, and did not wish to trouble you—we have one door into the garden, and one into the wash-house—we cannot fasten the outer door, nor do I want—it is off the hinges—I have footed stockings for you when I washed for you—I have no recollection whatever of mending this one—you had two pairs when I washed for you a month before Christmas—I had mended them for you.

Q. Do you suppose two pairs of white cotton stockings in constant use would last me that time, and be as good as these? A. I can't say whether you wore them all the time or not—I know nothing about your replacing those stockings.

Q. Have you ever known me out for improper motives, or any thing unlawful? A. I do not know what you were out for—I am not obliged to give you a character—I know nothing of your conduct out of my house.

MR. BODKIN. Q. Have you ever had any quarrel or difference with him? A. Never in my life—I was not present when the stocking was found; I was in the room when the policeman brought it in.

Prisoner. Q. Have not I purchased shoes of your husband? A. You had one pair of me.

WILLIAM KERR (police-constable N. 131.) I was on duty on the 17th of March, at Islington—I came on duty at nine o'clock in the morning—I received information at half-past eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and went to Mr. Templeman's cottage, the door was closed—I got in by the sitting-room window—it was about a third open—I found the sitting-room in a confused state—there was a chest of drawers in it, and I observed the top drawer was open—two drawers were open—they had been opened by a chisel—there was a mark on the drawer—I afterwards went into the bed-room and found Mr. Templeman lying on the floor, dead—I returned to the sitting-room, and found inside the top drawer a small box which Collins took possession of—there was nothing in it—it was open, there is a lock to it—I cannot say what it had been opened with—there was the mark of a chisel close to the lock of the tap drawer—I observed the window by which I had got into the room, there was a pane of glass in it with a small bit out—it had been an old break, and a nail was put in to keep it in its place—it was knocked down, so that a finger could be put into open the window—I do not remember seeing any paper there—I went in by myself—I did not fit any chisel to the marks myself.

Prisoner. Q. Is the cottage situated within your beat? A. No; this was not my beat at that time—Middleton, No, 235, was on that beat that morning—he came on at nine o'clock—Peacock had been on at nine the night before and off at six—the man before him came on at six and went off at nine—neither of those officers are here—I do not recollect seeing any broken glass about.

Q. The window did not appear as if any violence at all bad been used to it? A. There was the violence of just shoving a finger in—I saw where the window was broken—I went there with two surgeons.

Q. From what you saw, how many persons do you think had been engaged in the murder of Mr. Templeman, and robbing him? A. I cannot tell—I think one strong man might do it himself, he being a feeble old man—I have never said I was certatn✗ there were two or more—I was never asked the question—Mr. Roe, the surgeon of Canonbury-square, first gave me information.

JOHN COLLINS. I am a police-sergeant. I went to Mr. Templeman's cottage on the morning of the 17th—I got there a little after eleven o'clock, soon after Kerr—I examined the state of the sitting-room, and looked at the window particularly—one coiner of the pane of glass appeared to have been broken out, so that a person might put his finger through on to a button with which it was fastened inside—there was then nothing to prevent pushing it up—it was a swing window opening inward—a person could only get his fingers in—I looked at the drawers and found marks of violence on one drawer—in that drawer I found a quantity of bills and

memorandums and two boxes, one mahogany, and one covered with paper, and among the papers I found two notes of the "Bank of Elegance"—one for 50l. and the other for 5l.—they are flashnotes—I produced them at the last trial, and have not seen them since—(looking at some)—I believe these to be the same—they were notes like these—this is the box—it was not fastened—I should think either a small crow-bar or chisel had forced the drawer open—on the 12th of May last, in consequence of directions which I received from Inspector Miller, I searched a pond in Pocock'sfields, about three or four hundred yards from Mr. Templeman's, or it might be five hundred, and about thirty yards, or not so much, from Allen's—I found this lantern in that pond, with the piece of rushlight in it the same as it is now, except that this was fast in the frame—I did not find or see any thing else found—I had not heard the prisoner make any statement to Sergeant Otway.

Prisoner. Q. Do you recollect accompanying Sergeant Bradshaw to Coldbath-fields on the 11th of May to fetch me from the police-office? A. I do—I do not recollect any conversation taking place about searching for some wood in consequence of your statement—I never said any thing to you about any thing of the sort—I am not aware that Sergeant King or any one else went on Sunday to search—I never mentioned to you about any rails which would have stopped such a thing had it been there—there are railings all the way along the New River—I never said any thing to you about it—I said nothing about any search—I said nothing about the statement you had made on Saturday night—you and Bradshaw had some conversation together, but I did not hear it—nothing was said about any pond then—we were all in a cab, and from the rumbling of the cabon the stones I could not hear what you said.

JAMES MILLER. I am an Inspector of the N division of police. On Tuesday, the 17th of March, I was stationed at Islington. Pocock's-fields are in the Islington-station—I know Mr. Templeman's house—it is in the parish of St. Mary, Islington—I first went to Mr. Templeman's house between twelve and one o'clock on the 17th of March—I examined the window of the sitting room, and found it open, and the top pane of glass broken—a small piece was broken out of the corner—I found a piece of glass on the sill of the window inside—it was in such a situation as it would have fallen from the vacant space if pushed in—I saw a chest of drawers in the sitting room—the top drawer had been forced open and there were two marks on it—I produce a chisel and the drawer—I have compared the marks on the drawer with that chisel, and they correspond—the chisel has got a notch in it, and there is a mark on the brass of the lock, corresponding with the notch—it is a vacancy in the mark, a part where the chisel has not touched—there is a second mark in the wood-work, which also corresponds, but that is cut into the wood-work rather deeply, and there is no defect in the chisel mark there—the drawer appears to have been opened by those means—I took the prisoner into custody at a quarter after eleven o'clock the same night (Tuesday) at Allen's cottage in the same fields—he was in bed—the bed-room door was bolted outside—he was in bed with two children of Allen's—he appeared to be asleep—I disturbed him—he did not get up then—I procured a light, and he then got up, after my arousing him a second time—I searched his clothes, and found in his trowsers pocket 9s., all in shillings—while I was counting the money I asked if he knew what money he had—he said, 9s.—I found seven lucifer matches

in his waistcoat pocket, and two pawnbroker's duplicates—while he was dressing himself he asked me where my warrant was—I told him I did not need a warrant—he asked what I wanted him for—I said, "I suppose you have heard of the murder here, it is that I want you for"—I do not think he made any reply to that—he said at one period, "If I was at innocent of every thing as I am of that, I should not have much to fear, but give a dog a bad name and hang him"—I then took him to the station-house—on the following morning I took a pair of new shoes off his feet—these are them—(producing them)—I have not had them ever since—I gave them up when the prisoner was acquitted of the former charge—the same marks are on them now as then—one is marked 98 C, and the other 97 C—these are the shoes I produced on the last trial—I asked the prisoner where he got them—he said he bought them in Kent-street, Borough—I asked what he had done with his old shoes—he said "Thrown them away"—I hare produced one of the stockings which I found on a chair by a box in the bed room in which I apprehended him—he had a pair of stockings on besides—I did not find any portmanteau or place where he kept his✗ clothes—there were no other stockings about the place but that one—I did not see where he kept his clothes—there were boxes belonging to the Allens—I examined them, but found no stockings—this other stocking has been in my possession ever since the last trial—I received it from King and have produced it to-day—I did not myself search the pond in Pocock's-fields—I ordered it to be searched in consequence of a communication I heard made by Otway in Gould's presence—Otway said the prisoner had stated that he threw a lantern away into a pond in Pocock's-fields—the prisoner heard that statement made—I do not recollect that he made any observation upon it—it was in consequence of that I ordered the pond to be searched—I did not tee the lantern or chisel found.

Prisoner. Q. Where was this communication made? A. At Bowstreet police-court, on Monday, the 11th of May—persons had not been searching on the Sunday previous for wood—I saw Sergeant Otway on Saturday night the 9th of May—he did not come with the intention of stopping some of my proceedings on account of what you had said—he told me you had implicated Jarvis and his wife—he told me you had made a statement—he did not tell me all—he did not show any statement to me—you had not mentioned any thing about a chisel before, to my knowledge—I did not hear any thing mentioned about one previous to its being found—I think there are six ponds in Pocock's-fields—you pointed out no particular spot—you said, "a pond in Pocock's fields"—when I first apprehended you, the stockings you had on were a pair—you were given into my custody the last time at the station-house in Gardener-lane—I remember your saying you should not say a word about it—that was in answer to my question if you wished to say any thing to me—you said, no, you had already said too much—Sergeant Otway said you were no prisoner of his, he handed you over to me—he did not say you had no occasion to mention any thing which had taken place between you, as he did not intend to do any thing against you—he said you were no longer a prisoner of his, and he handed you over to me, he had no evidence to give—I do not recollect any thing more—when I first apprehended you, on the 17th of March, you said you had been to Norwich—I put a question to you concerning a pair of shoes which you had, the next morning—you were in

the cell at that time—I think there was no prisoner there but you, but I will not be positive—your shoes were taken off in the cell, and I asked you, as a matter of course, where you bought them.

GEORGE OTWAY. I am a police-sergeant. On the 7th of May I received directions to go to Gravesend—I went on board a vessel bound for Sydney—I found the prisoner on board—he was known by the name of Kelly on board—I had the copy of a letter with me offering a reward for this matter—I showed it to the prisoner—after he had seen it he made a communication to me—I afterwards took him into custody on this charge—in consequence of the communication he made to me, Inspector Miller directed search to be made in this pond in Pocock's-fields—the prisoner told me he had thrown the dark-lantern into a pond in Pocock's-fields—he did not say any thing about a chisel.

Prisoner. Q. How long had you known I was at the Compter previous to your coming to Gravesend? A. Not more than three or four hours—I first visited you there at eleven o'clock at night—I represented myself to be an officer—I was dressed in plain clothes—I had no Macintosh on my arm—I left you in about half an hour—I said I had come by desire to show you a copy of the letter of the Secretary of State—you asked me to show you the letter—you were in the cuddy when I first came on board—you read the letter twice, I believe—you had it time enough to do so—after reading it you put it on one side, and said you had made up your mind you would have nothing to do with it—you did not tell you knew nothing about it—the paper offered 200l. reward for the discovery of the parties who committed the murder of the late Mr. Templeman—you asked me to show you the letter again—I did so, and then you said, "I will hare nothing to do with it, but I will tell you what I will do; if they will give me 100l. I will tell who the parties were"—I then asked you who the actual parties were that committed the murder—you said, "I shall be required to remain in England"—I told you you would so—you then said, "I will tell who the parties are that actually committed the murder, if you will give me 100l. and pay my passage-money"—that was about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after I had been with you—it might be twenty minutes, I am not certain what time I stopped, whether it was half or a quarter of an hour.

Q. On your oath, did you not persuade me, as I had seen so much trouble through this affair, to make something by it now I had the opportunity? A. Certainly not—I did not tell you how serviceable the money would be to you, as you were about to leave the country—I did not ask you to come to town—I said I should not ask you any questions—I said nothing about a gentleman coming to be security—I said, "It is not likely you will see me again in the Downs."

Q. Do you pretend to swear, that for a quarter of an hour, nothing was said after I refused to have any thing to do with it for the 200l.? A. The greater part of the time, you were leaning your head on your arms, thinking—in consequence of what you said, I made a report to the Commissioners of police—I did not ask you to have any thing to drink—we did not have any thing—you asked me whether you could be tried again for the murder—I told you no, but you could be tried for the robbery—I did not say you could be punished, as you had said you knew who the parties were, if you did not make a disclosure—scarcely any thing further passed on the subject on the way to London—I was not with you, you were in one part of the vessel,

and I in the other—I let you walk about just as you liked—you went down to breakfast by yourself—I gave you into Inspector Miller's custody it the station-house—I do not recollect that you made any remark at that time—I did not say there that you bad no occasion to take notice of any thing that had taken place between us, for I did not intend to do so against you—the conversation you allude to, took place in a cob, in the presence of Inspector Miller, after you had been placed at the bar at Bowstreet and charged with robbery—I accompanied Mr. Miller to the lock-up place to you—I was not there by myself a moment—I went in and came out with Mr. Miller—you asked me whether I should be disengaged next day, and if I was whether I could step up to the prison—I said I did not know whether I should, but if I could I would come up after chapel—you asked me to bring you a clean shirt and some shoes—I did not advise you to make a statement and get out of it—I never mentioned any thing about it—I do not remember telling you any thing in presence of the principal turnkey at Coldbath-fields prison—you sent for me there one night—when I got to the prison you said you had made up your mind to tell all you knew about the affair—to the best of my recollection, my reply was, "I am very glad of it; " I do not believe I made any other observation—I cannot tell on what conditions you made the statement; you had made it to the turnkey before I got there—I did not tell you in the presence of the turnkey, that by making a statement you would be entitled to the whole reward and be perfectly clear—I did not with to retire with you—we did retire, by your wish—I believe, the principal turnkey and the governor were present as well—you were very anxious for me to take Jarvis into custody, but I wanted to hear a little more about it before I took him—I same there next day by your directions—you said there were several other things connected with the case which you would write down, and if I would call up, you would have them ready in writing for me.

THOMAS HOBBBS KING (police-sergeant N22.) On the morning of the 18th of March, between six and seven o'clock, I went to Allen's cottage and searched the privy and wash-house—I found this stocking which has been produced; it contained nineteen half-crowns, forty-eight shillings, and seven sixpences—on the 14th of May, by inspector Miller's directions, I assisted in searching a pond in Pocock's fields, the same pond in which the dark lantern was found—it was quite emptied—I saw something in the mud—I told a man to see what it was—he stooped down and picked up this chisel—this is the money that was produced at the last trial—(examining it)—here is a half-crown which I believe to be part of the money—I found this money in Allen's back washhouse, in this stocking, concealed behind the first rafter, between the ceiling, it was between five and six feet above the seat of the privy.

Prisoner. Q. What time did you first go to the New River to search for any thing? A. I never went to search for any thing in the New River—I believe sergeant Bradshaw went to ascertain whether there had been any thing found answering the description—I cannot say whether that was on Sunday the 10th of May.

MR. BODKIN. Q. How far is this pond from the house of Mr. Templeman? A. Between 300 and 400 yards—there are two or three other small ponds near it—I believe it was not the nearest pond to Mr. Templeman's house.

THOMAS FRANCE, Esq., (Under Sheriff.) This money was produced at

the last trial of the prisoner—a shilling of it was then lost—it dropped down when it was on the bench before Mr. Baron Alderson—I made a memorandum of the loss of that shilling—I have kept the rest sealed up ever since—it was sealed up in the presence of Miller.

BENJAMIN HAWKINS. I live in Liverpool Cottages, Islington. I knew the late Mr. John Templeman—I was in treaty with him to sell a cottage a little after Michaelmas, last year—it was not my cottage—he offered to deposit 15l. in my hands to pay for it—that was the price of the cottage—I saw a quantity of money in his possession, which I think was about 17l. 10s. in shillings and gold, and two notes which appeared to me like Bank of England notes—he put them down on the table before me, but I did not notice the amount of either of them—I mentioned his dealing for the cottage among the people living in the neighbourhood.

Prisoner. Q. At the time this conversation took place about the cottage, was I there? A. No, you were not—I never mentioned it in your hearing—I know Mr. Templeman's cottage very well—there are six or seven, or eight or ten cottages near it—Jarvis's, where I have seen you, I believe, is the nearest, and then Mrs. Thornton's—I suppose they are about a dozen yards from it—I was in the habit of serving Mr. Templeman with beer—I have seen you there sometimes—I saw you there with Mrs. Jarvis, and said, "Halloo, Richard, is that you? "—you held up your head and said, "Don't say you saw me here"—that was about a month previous to the murder—I never saw you talking to Mr. Templeman—I heard him complain of your getting over his palings, against his wish—I repeatedly heard that, and he was very much offended with you for so doing—it was not a general thing to make a short cut that way—it was Mr. Templeman's own premises, and no one had a right to go through them without his leave—he allowed me to go through his place whenever I liked—I never saw you go that way.

MR. BODKIN. Q. Did you at any time mention about the money to the Jarvis's? A. No.

JOHN WEST. I am a shoemaker, and live at No. 47. Lambeth-walk. I recollect serving the prisoner with a pair of shoes on Tuesday, the 17th of March, in the fore-part of the day—to the best of my belief these are the shoes I sold him, but I should not like to swear it—they are not my manufacture—he fitted them on in the shop—he paid 1s. 6d. for them—I believe he paid with silver—I really forget what money he gave me—I believe it was silver—I forget whether 1 gave him any change or not—he put on the boots which he bought of me—I observed his other boots—they were low ones—a woman and a child were with him.

Prisoner. Q. What was the first cause of your coming in to me? A. Mr. Cope came to me—you bad previously told him where you bought the boots, and I came to see if I could identify you—I said I should not like to swear to you then, if I saw you in your own dress which you won perhaps I could—I did swear to you when I saw you in your fustian coat—you had a fustian coat when you were in my shop—your own boots were not very old—I thought they were very serviceable boots—I did not see any holes in the upper leather—I did not notice the soles—you took away the old boots in a handkerchief, and walked away in the new shoes.

MR. BODKIN. Q. Were you here at the last trial? A. Yes—I was brought here on the part of the prosecution—I was not examined.

FANNY SYMMONDS. I live in Oakley-street, New Cut, and deal in second-hand clothes. On the 17th of March, between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning, a woman with a child, (at least she spoke of a child, but I do not remember having seen it, ) offered me a pair of men's old boots, and begged I would purchase them—they were very heavily nailed—I should call them ancle-boots, they laced in front—I gave her 2d. for them, as she begged me to give the child a trifle to buy a bunn—I have since sold them for some china.

JOHN JARVIS. I live in a cottage a short distance from Mr. Templeman's. I know the prisoner—I know he used to supply Mr. Templeman with beer, till within a fortnight after Christmas last—he was then potman at the Barnsbury Castle, a public-house in the neighbourhood—I had seen him there often at that time—I never saw him serve beer above once at Mr. Templeman's—I have seen him about there, and crossing the ground there about that time, or just after.

Prisoner's Defence. My Lord, as this is a very intricate case, I am totally unable to explain the nature of the evidence myself. I most earnestly crave your Lordship's protection, as I am undefended. There are some portions of the evidence which, I think, perhaps it is necessary that I should make some remarks upon, although I am not aware that I am compelled to explain every little thing that might transpire. It appears, gentlemen, although there is a great mass of evidence produced against me, that there is very little of it which appears at all to affect me; but I shall explain, in the best manner I can, to you, that part that I think does. And first, the witnesses state that I was in the skittle-ground, playing at skittles, and had no money but three halfpence. Now, gentlemen, the very name of a skittleground will convince you of the motive of my denying my pocket there. It is not likely, if I had a few shillings of my hard earnings and savings in my pocket that I should go and throw it away among a parcel of men in a skittle-ground, especially when I could get as much beer as I liked by saying I had no money. One of the witnesses states that I sent him for a rushlight. I did so, I acknowledge, but I made no secret of it. If I had wanted a rushlight for any particular occasion, I should have gone and got it myself, the shop is but a few yards from the public-house. I sent for it in the open tap-room, and he brought it to me in the tap-room. Then, as to the time at which I am stated to have gone home that night, I would ask you whether it is likely, on a moon-light night, like that was, that they can tell what time I went in? In their own evidence they state that it was as light as day, and still they take upon themselves to swear that it was two o'clock. With regard to my telling the Aliens that I had no money, my reason for that must be very obvious to you: I owed them between 1l. and 2l., and there was still something standing for boots: if I had told them that I had money in my pocket, or that I had been and bought new boots, Allen, being a shoemaker, would naturally have thought it very unprincipled of me to go and lay out my ready money at another shop, at the same time that I owed him money. There are a parcel of witnesses who come and give some and very various accounts of conversations that they say took place between us previous to the murder; but you see with what caution they have managed it, so that there should never be a third person to hear those conversations. First notice Mr. Wright—he can recollect every thing I said to him, but he does not recollect any thing that was said in the presence of Squires; he does not recol

lect what he told Squires; and it also appears that Mr. Wright knew all these places as well as I did; he knew Allen's cottage, and he knew the wash-house, and the water-closet, and the garden, but he states he never saw a lantern; for what reason Squires is kept out of the way I am not aware; but he is not forthcoming to day to certify as to the truth of what Wright has stated. Next come Mr. Jobson and Mr. Rogers. I will ask you, whether their characters are worthy of the least attention. You must have been convinced, by the way they answered those questions which I put to them, that they are not to be credited for a moment. But there is one thing which I should particularly wish to draw your attention to, and that is, the very unfair, if not illegal, means by which I have been drawn into the predicament in which I now stand. This Sergeant Otway (although he comes here and denies it; why does he do so? for the sake of what he shall get, if I am convicted) knew that I was at the Compter; but he would not come there to me. No, he watches his opportunity, when he well knew I should be among strangers, and should wish not to be known; and mark the time he comes, at eleven o'clock at night, when I am in bed and asleep, taking me by surprise, and thinking that day being the first I had been at liberty for some time, that I should have been drinking a little, that that would be the best time. When he came to me he represented himself as a gentleman, sent to me by the Secretary of State, with an especial message to offer me 100l., if I could give him any information that would lead to the conviction of the parties concerned in the murder of Mr. Templeman. What did I tell him? I at once told him that I did not know any thing about it, that I would have nothing to do with it; he has confessed here to-day, that I told him so more than once. I said I would have nothing to do with it for 200l. He then sat down, and began reasoning with me, telling me as I was a young man, and about leaving the country, how serviceable money would be to me, how much better it would be to go out with 200l. in my pocket than nothing at all, and as I had seen a great deal of trouble, I should be very foolish if I did not now make something of it, if I could. Well, with these persuasions, and as he positively assured me that I could not be tried again, I am free to acknowledge, that I did feel inclined, if I could make any thing of it, to do so, and I made up my mind to tell a lie for the sake of the reward. Now, I will ask you, Gentlemen, if that was a fair way of transacting business? He then got me to agree to his proposal. After I had said several times that I would not have any thing to do with it for 200l., I said, "In the event of there not being a conviction, how should I be situated? for if I was to stop behind I should lose my passage, and lose every thing." He then said, "Putting that on one side, will you, or would you, if I was to bring you 100l., and lay it on this table, tell me who the actual parties were? " I said I would. He then asked me if I was required to lose my passage, what would I do so for. I said, "For the passage money." He then left me. I will ask you, Gentlemen, whether you think that the conversation he states was all that transpired, would occupy half-an-hour? and he was obliged to acknowledge that he was there at least half-an-hour. I saw nothing of him till the next morning, or the morning after, when he came down, and instead of bringing the 100l. that he talked about he brought a warrant. Of course I found I was very much taken in somehow; but I did not take any notice of it then. In the course of our journey to London, I asked him

how it was that I could be apprehended on the warrant. He told me how things stood; that I could be tried for the robbery, and at I had acknowledged to him that I knew who the parties were, I could be punished if I did not make a disclosure. I then saw, for the first time, that I had been taken in, and how awkwardly I was situated. He then took me to the station-house, and from thence to Bow-street, where I was charged with the robbery. After I had been so charged, he came to me in the lock-up place, and told me the only way for me to get ont of the scrape was to make a full statement of the whole affair, and then I should be not only entitled to 100l. but 200l., and likewise that I should be committed as evidence, and taken great care of. Of course I could not make any statement at all; but I told him I would consider of it, and if be came to me next day at the prison, I would give him a decisive answer. He then left me there locked up by myself, and finding they had driven me into a comer, and not knowing in what way at all to get out of it, I was driven almost to desperation, and I then made up my mind to make it appear, as though I really had been concerned, and also to accuse innocent parties, with the intent of getting out of it myself. You will say that that was a very rash proceeding; and so I will allow, and so I felt it to be, when I came a little to myself; but I never thought of there being a conviction at that time; it was merely because he promised me that I should be able to turn evidence; it was on that that I made the statement. After I had made up my mind to do so, I sent for him. He came to me in prison, and in the presence of the under-governor, and the principal turnkey, I told him that I was making this statement on condition that I was to be myself perfectly clear. He said he would tell me then, as he had told me before, that I should be admitted as evidence, and likewise that I should have the reward. For what reason the principal turnkey is kept away, I am not aware; he was a witness that would have been very necessary to have been here, to prove that part of my statement; but he is not. I had commenced making this statement to the principal turnkey when the officer came; but I had told him what were my motives for making it, and likewise told him that I would send for the officer. They thought; I was to be admitted as evidence, and on that account I was not treated as prisoners generally are. I was allowed sheets and tobacco, and to buy what I liked. Sergeant Otway also gave me some money there, and told me whatever I wanted I could have. Now, gentlemen, I will appeal to you whether, if it is not an unlawful proceeding, it is not, at least, a very unfair one? With regard to the lantern, it must be very evident to every, one of you, that I did not know it was there. The reason of my mentioning the lantern was, because there had been, a lantern mentioned on a previous occasion. Is it likely that if I bad known there was a lantern in Allen's house, I should have been running any where else inquiring after one? as some of the witnesses try so to make it appear I was, a day or two previous. If I had in reality been engaged in this horrid affair, should I not have given some convincing proof of it? Do you think that a transaction of that kind could be carried on, a crime of that kind committed, without something having been traced to the parties themselves? What proof is there about that lantern? None. Where has it been for two years? whose hands has it been in? If they were to speak the truth, they do not know whether they left it in the garden, or brought it in doors; and if they did place it in the cupboard, as they state, a child might take

it out. Their own children are in the habit of carrying things out, and losing them. It would be useless for me to comment any further upon the evidence, as I am sure his Lordship will explain it to you in a much clearer manner than I can.

GUILTY.Aged 23.— Transported for Life See Sixth Session, p. 1008.)

Fourth Jury, before Mr, Common Sergeant.


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