SEVERINO KLOSOWSKI.
9th March 1903
Reference Numbert19030309-318
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceDeath

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318. SEVERINO KLOSOWSKI (36) alias GEORGE CHAPMAN , was Indicted for, and charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with, the wilful murder of Maud Marsh.

THE SOLICITOR GENERAL. MR. SUTTON, MR. CHARLES MATHEWS. and MR. BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. ELLIOTT. MR. HUTTON, and MR. LYONS. Defended.

Mr. Elliott submitted that the prosecution were not entitled to prove the

death of any other women at previous dates, and which were alleged to have been brought about by the prisoner, as he was separately indicted for then. He referred to Reg. v. Winslow (8, Cox's Criminal Cases) and Reg. v. Oddy, before the Privy Council in 1893, and Reg. v. Makin (Appeal Cases, 1894). The solicitor-General submitted that he was entitled to open the facts and give, evidence of the death of other women with whom the prisoner had lived and submitted that the case of Winslow had been over-ruled he quoted Reg. v. Gill (18. Law Journal, Magistrates' Cases, pp. 66). and Reg. v. Flemington (15. Cox, p. 403) and also the case of Neil Cream. Mr. Justice Grantham ruled that the evidence was clearly admissible.

WOLFF LEVISOHN . I live at 135, Rosslyn Road, South Tottenham, and am a traveller in hairdressers' appliances—I have known the prisoner since 1888, when I met him in a hairdressers shop in Whitechapel—I spoke to him in Yiddish—he said he came from Warsaw—I knew him as Ludwig Zagovski—we met from time to time up to 1890—he told me that in Warsaw he had been practising in the medical line as a "faldscher" at the Prague Hospital—f have been a "faldscher "myself—I had seven years' training in the Russian Army—a "faldscher "is an assistant to a doctor—I talked to the prisoner about medicines—he asked me if I could get him a medicine—I said no; I did not want to get twelve years—I had a customer named Haddin, at 5. West Green Road. South Tottenham—about 1894 or 1895 I called at Haddin's and saw the prisoner there—he was an assistant—he afterwards bought Haddin's shop himself—it was in the High Road, Tottenham—he sold that, and went away for several months, and then came back to a shop opposite Bruce Grove railway station—I called upon him there—I lost sight of him for a time, and I next saw him in custody—when a man becomes a "faldscher" in the Russian Army we get a book given us which states everything right through the service, and in the civil hospitals they get certificates—the prisoner could not be a soldier because he was too young when he came over here.

Cross-examined. I have been in this country since 1862—in 1870 I was called home to do my service, and then I came back here again—the prisoner never showed me any of his certificates as a "faldseher'—I never saw any of his papers—I did not see him from 1895 to 1902—I have seen a great many people in those seven years from Russia and Poland—I go into the Borough at times—I only "call at barbers' shops, not at public-houses.

ETHEL RADIX . I am the wife of Abraham Radio, of 82. Riveter Street. Shoreditch—some years ago we kept a hairdresser's shop in West India Dock Road-we had an asistant there named Klosowski—the prisoner is the man—he said he had been a "faldscher "in Warsaw—he had some papers with him in Russian and Polish—he read them to me—they were about his study—he was with us five months—during that time my baby was ill, and the prisoner helped me with it.

Cross-examined. Before I identified the prisoner, a gentleman came to our place with a photograph—I then went and picked the prisoner out—I am quite sure of the prisoner.

Re-examined. When I saw the photograph I was quite sure it was Klosowski.

STANISLAUS BADERSKI . I live at 406, Hoe Street, Walthamstow, and am a tailor—I come from Poland, and have known the prisoner thirteen years—I first knew him at a Polish club in St. John's Square, Clerkenwell, as Severino Klosowski—he told me he had had a barber's shop—I have two sisters—one is named Lucy Baderski—she met the prisoner at the Polish club—they kept company together for four or five weeks, and then got married—I was not at the wedding, but I went to the party in the evening after it—the prisoner and my sister were there—that was August Bank Holiday, 1889—my sister and the prisoner lived together in Cable Street and then in Greenfield Street—they were known as Mr. and—Mrs. Klosowski—my sister had a son—about eighteen months afterwards she left the prisoner—she is alive now—I last saw her two or three mouths ago at Southwark.

Cross-examined. The prisoner was not a member of the Polish Club, but he came there every Sunday night—I went to his house once or twice after he married my sister—I did not have much to do with him—after he left my sister I did not see him until he was in custody—I read the prisoner's name in the paper—the Police came to me—they showed me a photograph—I went to the Court and saw the prisoner—I did not see the photograph before I went to the Court—I am quite sure of that.

STANISLAWA RAUCH . I am the wife of William Rauch, of 292, Burdett Road—I am the sister of the last witness, and have a sister named Lucy—I last saw her about four weeks" ago—she left German Poland before I did—I came over about three years ago—at that time my sister was married—her name was Lucy Klosowski—I met her husband in a public house in Whitechapel Road—I think he is the prisoner—when I came to London my sister was living with him in Greenfield Street—I used to go and see them there—when their first baby was born I saw the prisoner washing it like a nurse—he said he had been a "faldscher "at the Hospital of the Infant Jesus at Prague, near Warsaw—I remember him and my sister going to America—she came back in February, 1891, by herself—another child was born on May 12th—when it was about a fortnight old the prisoner came and said he had come back from America—next day I left my sister, who was going to live with the prisoner—I left them both together at the same lodgings—that was the last time I saw him.

Cross-examined. I was shown a photograph before I went to the Court by Mr. Godley—I saw another one before I came to London thirteen years ago it was sent to my father—I saw the prisoner very often before he went to America—I came over here in August, and they went to America about the following Whitsuntide—when I went to pick the prisoner out I was not quite sure of him at first—afterwards I was quite sure—there was no other man like him among them.

Re-examined. I think there were about twenty men there—I saw two photographs of the prisoner.

ALFRED WICKEN . I am a hairdresser at 2, Market Terrace. Lea Bridge Road, Leyton—some years ago I-was employed by Mr. Haddin, who had

a hairdressers' shop in West Green Road, Tottenham—the prisoner was employed there—we used to call him "Schloski"—he worked there about nine or twelve months with me and after a time he took a shop in High Road, Tottenham—it had formerly belonged to Mr. Haddin—I left the neighbourhood before the prisoner did—I next saw him at Southwark Police Court a few months ago.

Cross-examined. I never heard the prisoner called Ludwig Schloski, or Severino Klosowski—it was in 1892 or 189.3 that I saw him—I only know Levisohn—I do not know any of the others—I may have known Levisohn at the time I knew the prisoner—I did not know that Levisohn knew the prisoner as Ludwig Zagovski until after this case commenced—I never heard the prisoner called by any name except "Schloski"—I was shown two photographs before I wont to the Court—when I identified the prisoner, he was in the dock.

Re-examined. I am an Englishman, and have no experience in the pronunciation of Russian names—I did not know how the man's name was spelt.

STANISLAWA RAUCH (Re-examined.) That lady standing there is my sister Lucy, and is the woman who was living with the prisoner, and who I understood was married to him.

WILLIAM LEMON BRAY . I am managing clerk to Mr. Braund, solicitor, of 6. Gray's Inn Square, and I live at 82, Park Lane, Tottenham—I know a Mr. Pincott—he is a personal friend of mine, and in 1893 was the owner of 518. High Road, Tottenham—about December, 1894, I was consulted by him in reference to the letting of that shop—the man who proposed to take it came alone to sot—me on several occasions—he gave the name of Severino Klosowski—he gave me some references, this is one of them—that name is on the back of it—he wrote it as I could not make anything out of it, and I put the address underneath it in pencil—this agreement was drawn up (Produced) and is signed by the same man in my presence—on January 14th I was at Southwark Police Court—I saw several men there and I picked the prisoner out from amongst them as the man who had signed the agreement—I have no doubt about him—I remember a young woman coming to me several' times—I have no doubt she gave me her name—I do not remember it now—it may have been "Annie Chapman.'"

Cross-examined. The prisoner called upon me eight or nine times, and I afterwards collected his rent as it became due—that was eight years ago—I have not had ranch to do with people of his nationality.

GEORGE GODLEY (Detective Inspector M.) I arrested the prisoner at the Crown public house—I found a number of documents, and amongst others I found this book in the box room, containing some prescriptions (Produced)—on the front and back of it is written S. Klosowski—I also found this photograph (Produced), and also a number of documents in the Polish language—they were in a drawer in the prisoner's bedroom—I also found this diary (Produced) for 1893—I find this entry in it "Hair dresser wanted, indoors. 30s. to W. Holton, Clifton Baths Market—in the same book there are some newspaper cuttings pasted in. "Hair brushing machinery, send for price? to the manufacturers complete sets;

easy payments arranged; new patterns"—in the pocket of the book there is a sheet of notepaper, and on it "Came from America in 1893, independent," also, "Deposits £100, when from America I had £1,000."

Cross-examined. Some of the things I found in a chest of drawers, and others in a back room, but that pocket book I found in a small office off the bar—I had no difficulty in getting the documents; I received them on the same day that I arrested the prisoner—I locked all the things up, took him to the station, and then went back to the house.

JOSEPH BETRIKOWSKI . I live at 30, New Street, Kennington Park Road, and know Polish—I have made a correct translation of these documents, and also of this little book, which is a book of 500 household prescriptions—on the front page there is S. Klosowski—one of the papers,. dated October 29th, 1882, certifies that on December 15th, 1865, Antonio Klosowski, a carpenter, and native of the village of Nagorna, with two witnesses, arrived at Kolo, and stated that Emilie, the wife of Klosowski, had given birth to a child on the previous morning, whose name was Severin—the next paper is dated December 19th, 1880, and is a certificate to the effect that Ksaverii Klosowski, son of Antonio, attended the Krasseninsk school from October 1873 till June 1878 and completed the full term of his studies, and that his conduct was good—the third paper is a certificate from the magistrate of the county of Zvolen to the effect that Severin Klosowski, a resident of the village of Zvolen, was a well-behaved man, and had never been found guilty of any crime, it is dated November 16th, 1882—the next paper is a certificate issued to the surgical apprentice Severin Antoniovich Klosowski was in die surgery in the village of Zvolen from December 1st, 1880, to June 1st, 1885, that he had accurately discharged his duties, and that he was diligent, of exemplary conduct, and studied the science of surgery with zeal, dated June 27th, 1885—the next is a certificate dated October 22nd, 1885,. to the effect that Severin Klosowski had been employed for 4 1/2 years in the village of Tymenitsa, as a surgery pupil, and had given skilful assistance to patients—there is also a certificate dated January 2nd, 1886, to the effect that Severin Klosowski from-October 1st, 1885, to January 1st, 1886, had received instructions in practical surgery at the Hospital at Praga, and that: his general conduct was good—(There were other certificates to the effect that Severin Kloswski had been employed as surgeon-assistant; that he had fulfilled his duties with zeal; that he had been of good behaviour; and that he had performed his surgical functions with a full knowledge of the subject.)

GEORGE SHERMAN . I am a barber at 33, Hill Street, Hoxton—I know a barber's shop underneath a public house in High Street, Whitechapel—it was kept by the prisoner—I saw him twice—the first time was twelve years ago—it was eight or nine years before I saw him again—that was at Hastings—he was outside a barber's shop—there was a short woman, assisting him in the shop—I am not sure of his name—it was some foreign name like Klosowski.

Cross-examined. I have called on hundreds of people each-year since. I have been in England—I have been here fifteen years.

WILLIAM HENRY DAVIDSON . I am a chemist., and now live at 49, Upper Lewes Road. Brighton—in I 1897 I was living at 66. High Street, Hastings, and carrying on the business of a chemist there—I have now retired—I was at Hastings for about eighteen years, and while there I used frequently to go to a barber's shop to get shaved—the prisoner was employed there, and he shaved me on many occasions—one day he bought several things from me, and asked me to let him have a particular poison—he came to my shop and purchased one ounce of tartar emetic—we have to keep a copy of the sale of poisons—this is my poison register book (Produced)—there is an entry here of the tartar emetic sold to the prisoner: it is "April 3rd 1897, name of purchaser, Mr. G. Chapman. I ounce of tartar emetic."—that is in my writing—then there is "purpose for which it is required," but I cannot make out what is written here, it is in the prisoner's writing—it looks like "take" or "teke"—he wrote that in my presence after he signed G. Chapman—I knew him as Chapman—I do not recollect his Christian name—I gave him the ounce of tartar emetic—it was in a white powder—this label is in my writing—it is the one I put on the bottle containing the tartar emetic (Read)—"W. H. Davidson, dispensing chemist. Poison, tartar emetic. Dose:,', grain to grain: to be used with caution. 66, High Street. Hastings."-The word "poison" is printed—I used a red label to indicate poison—I also sold the prisoner two or three medical books—they were old editions—I have no doubt these are the ones (Produced)—I cannot find any other sale of tartar emetic in my book—I saw in the newspaper an account of a woman named Chapman having died of this poison, and F went to the Police and gave such information as I had.

Cross-examined. I am a registered qualified chemist—the prisoner was not a stranger to me—I cannot recollect having sold so large a quantity of tartar emetic as this in any one year—if I had sold it, it would be entered in the book—it is very seldom used—during my professional life I have Several I times sold as large a quantity as this—I cannot say that it was a very unusual request to have made to me because the prisoner had had several transactions with me—I think he did have some other poisons, but they would not come under Schedule I.—T do not know if I demurred at his wanting so large a quantity—F cannot say what was passing through my mind at the time, but from my conversation with him I knew he had a good knowledge of medicines, and so F let him have it—I knew he was not practising as a medical man—no doubt he gave a cogent reason why he wanted it, but I cannot say what it was now—two grains of tartar emetic might be a fatal dose, and twelve certainly would be—I conformed to the law by answering the questions in the book and by knowing the man well—no doubt I asked him what he required the poison for—I do not know now what the word "take "means—I cautioned him—I entered it-in the book—I labelled it poison—I could not do any more—I also put the dose on the label—some years ago I sold a man I 1b. of tartar emetic, that was for horses—T did not know if the prisoner kept horses—I cannot give the slightest information at this period—I did not say at the Police court that he entered the particulars,

and that I wrote the word "take"—I do not know that it is "take"—I do not know if I knew what it was then, but then—must have been some reason—the object of the Act is to trace the poison—I do not suggest what reason the prisoner gave me for buying the poison—this label has certainly been on a bottle—if you put a label on a bottle and let it dry you can still get it off if you wet it, and you can stick it on to another bottle—the books that I sold to the prisoner did not specially deal with poison.

Re-examined. There is no doubt that I sold the prisoner an ounce of tartar emetic—under the Sale of Poisons Act I was entitled to sell it to him provided he signed a book in my presence, stating the purpose for which he bought it—I had no idea he was going to make any improper use of it—as far as I knew he was a respectable man—whether I know the man or not I am bound to enter or cause to be entered in the book the purpose for which it is required—I cannot say now if the word "take" means that he or somebody else was going to take it as a medicine—but I think that there is no doubt that that is the reason why I put the dose on the label—1/4 to 1/4 grain is the right dose for a. diapheritic—in larger doses it is an emetic—the dose I named is an infinitesimal quatity compared to the quantity I sold him—I knew the prisoner fairly well, I had had several transactions with him—an ounce of tartar emetic costs about 2d.—I used to buy about a pound at a time—I cannot recollect if he bought anything else on the same day.

By the JURY. I found him a very intellectual man to converse with—I am positive he is the man.

GEORGE GODLEY (Re-examined.) In searching the Crown on October '25th I found the two books identified by Mr. Davidson, and in one of them I found them small red label.

ELIZA MARSH . I live at 14. Longfellow Road, Croydon, and am the wife of Robert Marsh—Maud Eliza Marsh was my daughter—she would have been twenty on February 17th last—she had been a barmaid in a situation at Croydon, and in August, 1901. she was out of a situation—she advertised for a situation as a barmaid—she got an answer, and in consequence I went with her to the Monument public-house, in Borough High Street, where we saw the prisoner in the name of Chapman—we had some talk with him—he had a ring on his finger, and I asked him if he was married or single—he said he was a widower—it was arranged that my daughter should live in the house—I asked him if there was anyone else there, he said the top floor was occupied by a family—my (laughter was engaged that day, and a little while afterwards she went to live there to take up her situation—in September ray husband was ill in hospital at Croydon—I had letters from ray daughter from time to time, and about the middle of September she and the prisoner came to visit me at Croydon—the prisoner told me he had taken a great fancy to Maud and that they wanted to be engaged, and that he wanted to many her—I said I would see her father when I went to the hospital—they went to visit my husband in the.' hospital on another day, and they, came down to see me several times—f remember on one occasion the

prisoner brought down a paper which he said was a will in Maud's favour. (This purported to be the will, of George Chapman, appointing Maud Eliza Marsh to be the executor and trustee for her and her own use and benefit; and that all interest in his business and household furniture, etc., were to be taken by Maud Eliza Marsh as well as all money found on the premises at the time of his death. This was dated December 13th, 1901, it was unsigned, but teas witnessed by Eliza Marsh and Alfred Samuel Marsh.)—That is my signature and my son's—on October 13th, 1901 I went to the Monument—f saw some confetti lying about—my younger daughter Nellie was staying there on a visit, and when I got there on the 13th I saw her and Maud and the prisoner—in the prisoner's hearing Nellie said, "Maud was married this morning—that was the first I had heard of any marriage having taken place—the prisoner asked me to stop and have some dinner, which I did and in his hearing it was said that the marriage had taken place at the Roman Catholic Church—Maud was wearing a new wedding ring and several other rings which the prisoner had given her—I asked about the certificate, and Maud said, "George has got it and put it with his other papers"—Maud was not a Roman Catholic—I spent some part of the day there, and then went home—just before Christmas, 1901, Maud and the prisoner moved to the "Crown"—I did not go there until my daughter was ill—in July, 1902, I got a letter from her—I went to Guy's Hospital and saw her more than once there—after she came out I did not see her again until she was ill in October—I had a married daughter named Mrs. Morris, and about October 10th or 11th I got a message from her, and on October 20th I went to the "Crown"—I was only with Maud for two days before she died—my husband had been on the Saturday before I went to see her, and Mrs. Morris was there when I got there—on the 20th I saw the prisoner—I asked him about Maud—he said she was no better—he did not then say what was the matter with her—I went up to see her—Jessie Toon was in attendance upon her—she was in bed, and seemed very bad—she complained of very much pain in the lower part of her stomach, and of excessive thirst—she kept vomiting—after I had been in the room a little while the prisoner came in—he went to the bedside and asked her how she felt—he lifted her hand and felt her pulse—she then complained of thirst'—he gave her a drink—I do not know if it was brandy and water or only iced water—sometimes she had brandy and water and sometimes iced water—i-ice was kept on the landing—she took what he brought her—after she had taken it she vomited—the vomit was of a greenish colour—the pain continued, and hot towels were put on her—I stayed there that night—the prisoner was in the room—Toon went home—I attended to my daughter during the night—the vomiting continued—it was still green—only drink was given to her during the night—sometimes she wanted brandy and water and sometimes only plain water as long as—it was cold or with pieces of ice—I gave it to her during the night—the prisoner gave it to me—Maud vomited every time she took it—I saw Dr. Stoker on the Tuesday—in the prisoner's presence I asked him it he could do nothing for my daughter—he said he was at his wits end

to know what to do—the prisoner did not say anything to that—on the Monday I left the house for an hour or two—Toon was attending to my daughter then—she had injections—I saw the prisoner administer them—he used to use miles—I did not see any liquid injection—the prisoner was frequently in the room during the daytime—when he came in, as a rule he went to the bedside and felt her pulse—I asked him what made Maud so bad—he said he did not know, unless it was the rabbit she had eaten—he said they had all partaken of it—I asked if it had made the others bad—he said that he' felt bad, and that he had been sick, or something to that effect—on the early Tuesday morning I made some gruel for my daughter, which the servant, Louisa Cole, had got—I gave it to Maud—she did not retain it—I do not know how many times during the night drink was given to her—I got the gruel out of the kitchen—the servant got the milk—I saw Dr. Stoker towards mid-day, and shortly afterwards, my own doctor from Croydon, Dr. Grapel, called at my husband's suggestion—he saw my daughter with Dr. Stoker, and after they had examined her Dr. Grapel made a statement to me—I afterwards said to the prisoner, "Dr. Grapel thinks Maud has been poisoned"—he said he could not think how, unless it was the rabbit—I said, "Dr. Grapel says you don't find arsenic in rabbits"—the prisoner said, "I cannot think what it was, then"—the vomiting had continued during Tuesday, and there was diarrhoea—the thirst continued—she had nothing to drink except water or brandy and water—the prisoner generally brought the brandy—sometimes I. went down into the bar and asked him to give me a little—I remained in her room on Tuesday night—Toon left about 1 a.m.—the prisoner was in the bar till closing time, and then he came up to the room—the same symptoms continued—after Toon left prisoner remained in the room with me—after she had gone the prisoner brought up some brandy in a small glass, which was placed on the safe by the bedside—I did not go to bed that night—I sat in the arm-chair—I may have fallen off to sleep for a minute or two while my daughter—slept—the prisoner lay on the couch in the same room in his clothes—during the early hours of the morning my daughter slept—she woke up about 3 or 4 a.m.', and asked for some drink—I gave her a little brandy and soda, which was kept in a small bottle on the landing outside—I only gave her about a tablespoonful of brandy—after she had taken it she vomited, and that was the last time she did so—between 5 and 6 a.m. I took a little of the brandy myself in some iced water—after I had taken it I had severe diarrhoea and sickness and pain in the lower part of my stomach—that continued till about 7 a.m.—I had about six attacks of diarrhoea and vomiting during that time—Maud's bedroom was on the second floor—the w.c. was on the first floor—when I had to go there the prisoner was left with my daughter—he opened the house to the public about 8 a.m., and a little while afterwards I gave the servant a message—about 9 a.m. Toon came—after having spoken to the servant I had again to go to the w.c.—when I got back to the room the prisoner was standing by the bedside—I do not know if he had anything in his hand then, but he got a little more brandy for Maud, because she said she was

Thirsty—Toon was there then—when I got back to the room die brandy was on the sale—I had told the prisoner what I was suffering from, and that he must send for the nurse—I told him I had both sickness and diarrhoea—I do not know what he said—he did not suggest any cause for it—he said that it was perhaps from sitting up for two nights and having no rest—he did not stay in the room after Toon came, and when he had gone Maud asked for something to drink—Toon offered her some brandy in the glass which was standing on—the safe—I do not know if it had water in it also—as Toon offered it to Maud she put up her hand and said.' "No, no, no"—Toon then gave her a little water—Toon then tasted the brandy because she thought it was too strong—that was about 9 a.m. and about that time Maud had a kind of fit—there had been purging since the early morning, but not from the back passage—we used some cloths—that which came away from her was green—her lips and hands were dark and changed colour—I went and told the prisoner—he came upstairs—he did not bring anything with him—he went to the bedside—Maud said, "I am going, George."—the prisoner said, "Where?"—she said, "Good-bye, George," and that is all she uttered—the prisoner stayed little while, and then went out—I saw him on the landing—he was crying, and appeared greatly upset—the soiled cloths were taken out of the room, and I told the servant to put them in the dust-box—Maud had died at 12.'50, and a little while afterwards Dr. Stoker came—I heard the prisoner ask him for a certificate of her death—Dr. Stoker said he could not give one—I asked why—he said he did not feel satisfied the way she had died, and he was surprised to find her dead—the prisoner said. "Why not?"—Dr. Stoker said because he could not think why she had died so suddenly—the prisoner said she had died from exhaustion caused by diarrhoea and sickness—Dr. Stoker said he should like a post mortem, and also said, "What caused the diarrhoea and vomiting?"—the prisoner did not make any answer—I stayed in the house a day or two after the death—I remember the Police coming on the Saturday—in the presence of Inspector Godley I asked the prisoner if he really had been married to Maud, and he said, "No"—Godley had told me something before I asked that question.

Cross-examined. Maud was always a good daughter and a very well behaved girl, and at the time I first saw the prisoner I was exceedingly anxious she should have a good situation, and that she should go there under respectable circumstances—the prisoner told me that Maud would not be alone with him at the "Monument," and that he had a woman in to help with the rough work—I did not ascertain if there was a family on the top floor—Maud afterwards said that the people upstairs had cleared out on the Monday that she went there—she, was to have gone there on a Thursday but the prisoner wrote and asked her to go on the Monday instead, his reason being that he wanted to get the people out before she came in—he did not tell me at the time—there were no servants there then—I do not think that they had one at the "Monument "at all—I only went there three times at the outside—my youngest daughter was fifteen years old—I do not know how often the woman went in to clean

up except by what my youngest daughter told me—Maud often wrote to me, she appeared to be happy and contented by her letters, and she spoke in kindly terms of the prisoner—he often came with her to see me, he seemed kind to her and gave her some handsome presents—I gathered from the tone of her letters that she was fond of him—her letters to me stopped just before Christmas, 1901—I had no letters from her during 1902 until she was in the hospital, because my son used to go up every week, so I heard of her through him—I gathered that Maud was still in the same happy and contented condition up to the time of her going to the hospital—until Maud's illness the prisoner always treated me nicely, and always seemed to welcome me when I went to the "Monument"—I first knew that the prisoner was in love with Maud about three weeks after she had gone into the situation—the prisoner did not tell me on my first visit that he was going to marry Maud or that he was very fond of her—he told me that, when they came on bicycles to see me at Croydon—my husband was then in the hospital and they went to see him there—the prisoner on that day did not tell me that he was a Roman Catholic—my daughter told me that he was—I did not go to the hospital when they went to visit my husband as it was not visiting time, but the nurse let them in because they had come down from London—I went there in the afternoon—it was on a Sunday after that that the prisoner brought down the will—my husband was still in the hospital—I did not ask the prisoner if he was going to marry Maud or anything about it—I asked Maud to let me know, which she promised to do—I did not hear anything more about it until my other daughter told me that they had been married at the Roman Catholic Church in Bishopsgate Street—Maud was ill for about three days while at the "Monument"—I did not visit her then—I do not know the date—I do not know Florence Rayner—she was not at the "Monument"—Maud had severe pains in the stomach while at the "Monument," and a Mrs. Bolling attended her—it was a kind of flooding, Maud told me—I think the symptoms were something of the same kind that she had in her last illness—she got quite well again—that was a long time before November 1902—she gave me no reason to account for that illness—she confided more in her married sister than she did in me because I was always away—she once told me she thought she might be pregnant—that was "some time after her illness at the "Monument"—I do not know if she had a doctor when she was ill there—Dr. Grapel had attended her at Croydon for her teeth and hysteria—during the whole of my daughter's last illness she never suggested any cause for it—she never said one word to lead one to suppose that she doubted her husband for a moment, or that, he had been unfaithful to her with other women—she appeared perfectly happy and contented to the last, apart from her illness—I only saw her at the "Crown "during the last three days of her life—during those days the prisoner appeared to show her every possible attention that could be expected from him—I thought he was very kind to her—I was quite satisfied with his conduct up to the time of the suggestions by the doctor—I believe the servant was a respectable girl—I have no cause to complain with regard to her, and Toon treated Maud with every care and

attention, and seemed anxious to do everything for her—I think Maud had engaged the servant—I think she had been there about four months—I did not know Dr. Stoker until I went to the Crown, but I then learned that he had attended Bessie Taylor who had lived with the prisoner before my daughter had—the prisoner appeared to be quite contented at Dr. Stoker coming and attending Maud, and had a conversation with him as to her condition—I asked Dr. Stoker on Tuesday if he thought that Maud would get better—he said no, he did not think she would ever get up again—I said, "Is there nothing you can give her to stop the sickness?"—he said, "No. I am at my wits' end to know what to do"—I said, "If she dies don't you think you ought to have a post mortem; if you will have one I will pay all the expense out of my own pocket"—that was before Dr. Grapel came—my husband suggested that Dr. Grapel should be called in—I did not speak to the prisoner about him, I did not know he was coming—I was surprised at Dr. Grapel coming, and so was the prisoner—I do not know that the prisoner had arranged for Dr. Stoker to meet Dr. Grapel in consultation—when Dr. Grapel came the prisoner sent the servant to Dr. Stoker to say that Dr. Grapel was waiting—I do not think the prisoner was present at the doctors' consultation—after they had seen Maud Dr. Grapel said he would like to see me with Dr. Stoker—the prisoner was not present then—the brandy that I gave to Maud was obtained from the bar—it was the best the prisoner had got—I do not know if it was Martell's Three Star brandy—he got it out of a bottle, he generally brought it up in a glass—the bottle out of which it was poured I believe was kept in the bar—the servant also served in the bar, and would be there when the prisoner was absent—I did not see the brandy poured from the bottle into the glass in the bar—some I fetched was—he took it from a bottle in the bar—I do not know if that was the only bottle open at the time—Toon may have brought up the brandy once or twice, and I may have fetched it two or three times—when it was brought up it was put on the safe in the tumbler—there was nothing in its appearance-which excited my suspicion—when I drank some myself I did not suspect it was wrong—it was not till nearly two hours afterwards that I was taken ill, and it was not until I began to suffer discomfort that I knew it was the brandy and water which caused my illness—at the time I took it I had been nursing Maud continuously since the Monday—I had not taken my clothes off and I was feeling very tired and worn out that was the reason I took the brandy—I felt that I wanted something—I had not had anything to eat—I had only had tea and draught stout—the stout came from down-stairs—I asked Maud what she thought had made her bad, and she said she did not know unless it was the rabbit—I think I told the prisoner that—when Toon drank some brandy and water on the Wednesday morning she said, "Good God, that has burnt my mouth"—she had only sipped it—I do not know if it was neat—it was just as it was on the safe, and as the prisoner had brought it up—I think it looked like neat brandy—when the prisoner came up to see Maud he seemed to be anxious about her—he was frequently up and down stairs to see how she was—I regarded his actions as those of a husband who was really anxious about his wife's

condition—when she died he closed her eyes and went out on the landing where I saw him crying, and he seemed dreadfully upset—when Dr. Stoker refused to give a certificate the prisoner did not plead for one because the doctor said he would have a private post mortem—the prisoner paid the funeral expenses—he had nothing to do with the making of the gruel in the kitchen—he did not object to my having anything I wished—the food was all prepared down stairs by the servant—Maud did not have anything to eat while I was there.

Re-examined. As far as I know, from the time that Maud was ill at the Monument until she went to Guy's Hospital she was quite well—when the prisoner brought brandy upstairs I do not know where he got it from—I do not know anything about its quality, I suppose that he would give her the best—I do not know whether it was mixed with anything or not—the water outside the room was kept in a jug, which stood in a pan with ice in it—once or twice I got some water from the bar tap, because Maud said it was nicest there—I do not know how much brandy Toon took, she went downstairs and washed her mouth out—until Godley spoke to me I had no suspicion that Maud and the prisoner were not married—when she was in the hospital I had asked her if they were, and she said, "Yes."

By the JURY. The prisoner was in the room when I took the brandy which made me ill—he did not tell me not to drink it—I do not know if he saw me do so, because he was lying down—when. I gave Maud the gruel, she said, "It is no good taking anything, everything makes me sick."

ROBERT MARSH . I am a labourer of 14, Longfellow Road, West Croydon—Maud Marsh was my daughter, and in August, 1901, I remember her going to the Monument—in the autumn of 1901 I was in the hospital on two occasions—whilst there Maud visited me, and while I was there the second time, she came accompanied by the prisoner—on one of the occasions that she came alone I saw a plain wedding ring on her hand—she made a statement to me with regard to it—I left the hospital just before Christmas, and went to the Crown—I went there again in July, 1902—Maud was then in Guy's Hospital—I saw the prisoner and asked him how Maud was—he said she was ill and in Guy's, and asked me if I wanted to see her—I said, "Yes, that is what I come for."—I did not ask him what was the matter with her, and, he did not tell me—I went to the hospital that same evening and saw Maud—she complained of vomiting and pains in her stomach—I went back to the Crown again and saw the prisoner—I told him what Maud had complained of—he did not give me any explanation—in October my married daughter, Mrs. Morris, stayed for a day, or two at the Crown—I afterwards heard from her something with regard' to Maud, and on October 18th—I went to the Crown and saw Maud between 6 and 7 p.m.—passing through the bar I saw the prisoner—I asked him how Maud was—he said she was very ill in bed—he did not say what was the matter with her, and I did not ask him—I went upstairs to Maud's bedroom on the second floor—Toon was nursing her—the—prisoner went upstairs in front of

me, and when we got into the room he took hold of Maud's pulse—he did not say anything—I asked Maud what she thought was the matter with her—she said she did not know—she had pains in her stomach, diarrhoea, and vomiting—I stayed in the room about three hours—she often showed signs of thirst—the prisoner gave her some water—he came up and down-stairs every few minutes the whole of the time that I was there—when she asked for water the prisoner went out of the room to get it—he was not absent long—I did not know where anything was kept—when he gave her the drink she vomited it nearly every time—I did not notice the colour of the vomit, but I noticed that the water was discoloured and not clear—I saw the prisoner as I was going away—nothing passed between us—on Tuesday, October 21st, about 9 a.m., I made a communication to Dr. Grapel—he was our family doctor at Croydon—about 6 or 7 p.m. the same day I went to the Crown and saw the prisoner—I did not know if Dr. Grapel had been by then, but the prisoner told me that the doctor had been—I asked how Maud was; he said she was very bad—I went upstairs with him—I thought Maud was better—I went up to the room twice—I remained there a little time—I went down again and saw the prisoner in the bar—I said, "Maudie is very bad is not she, George?"—he said. "es'"—he did not say any more—I went upstairs again with him—I said to him. "I think my daughter will pull through now, George"—he said, "She will never get up no more"—I said, "Have you seen anyone else like it?"—he said, "Yes"'—J said. "Was your other wife like it?"—he said, "Just about in the same way"—he told me that Dr. Grapel had been—he said that he had already got one doctor in attendance and he did not know what we wanted another for; we did not want fifty—I told him it was no good to make a fuss about the doctor as I had sent him up—before I had gone downstairs I thought Maud seemed better, I was quite pleased at the way she spoke to me—that was the last time I saw her alive—next day about 4 p.m. I had a telegram announcing her death—I showed it to Dr. Grapel about 5 o'clock.

Cross-examined. I was always on the best of terms with the prisoner—I minded his house for him on two occasions—I always found him pleasant and agreeable—he always answered my enquiries about my daughter perfectly frankly—he used to come down sometimes to see me with Maud, and as far as I could see she was very happy with him—I thought he treated her very well—when I said to him, "'Have you seen anyone else like it?" he said. "Yes," quite readily, and he had no hesitation in saying about his other wife. "Just the same way"—when the prisoner went out of the room to get anything he did not appear to be gone any longer than Toon was when she went to get anything—I suspected the prisoner on the 18th. that is why I told Dr. Grapel to go—I did not like him getting the water, and giving everything to her himself—I did not offer to do it—the woman was there to do it, but he would not let her—I did not do it because I did not know where the things were—I did not see him mix anything—I never saw Toon fetch anything; she was not always in the room when I was there—I do not know whom the brandy came from or where it was kept—when I Kepi the house for him the brandy was

kept downstairs—I do not know if there was any Martell's Three Star—I did not see any of the brandy which was for Maud poured out—I do not know what class of brandy it was—I was not left alone with Maud for more than five or six minutes at a time—when I was alone with her she did not ask me for anything to drink—no obstacle was put in my way to go and see her.

By the COURT. In consequence of something that occurred to me on the Saturday, I went and saw Dr. Grapel on the Tuesday—I did not think it necessary to see him on the Sunday, but somehow I kept thinking it over and I got my youngest daughter to go up—she came back and said Maud was very bad.

By the JURY. I did not call in Dr. Grapel because the prisoner said that his former wife had suffered in the same way—I was suspicious before that.

LOUISA SARAH MORRIS . I am the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marsh, sister to Maud Marsh, and wife of Edward Morris—at present I am living with my parents at Croydon—I have been married five years—I visited Maud at the "Monument" from time to time—I remember her being in Guy's Hospital in July and August, 1902—I went to see her there, and afterwards on one occasion I went to see the prisoner at the Crown—I told him that Maud had asked me to come down for some things—he said he would take them himself, but not then—I stayed at the Crown while he went to Guy's—on one occasion he told me that Maud was suffering from, constipation—Maud had told me it was diarrhoea—I said it was funny, and I could not make it out—he said, "She should have done as I told her"—I asked him what that was—he said, "She should have took the medicine I give her"—I said, "She never would take medicine," and that it was funny that the doctor could not find out what was the matter with her—he said, "I could give her a bit like that," snapping his fingers, "and fifty doctors would not find out"—I said, "hat do you mean?"—he walked away and said, "Never mind"—I saw her on more than one occasion at the hospital—I saw her on the day that she left, at the Crown—I do not know the date—she was sitting on a chair in the bar—she appeared very ill, and I told her she had no business there—I made her go upstairs and he down—she could not go up by herself, and I had to help her—I visited her subsequently—sometimes I found her well, and sometimes unwell—she was generally up—on one or two occasions I found her lying down—on Wednesday, October 8th, I went there—I see the prisoner in the garden—he said I should find her upstairs—I found her not at all well—she was complaining of diarrhoea and sickness, and said she did not know what was the matter with her—on Saturday, the 11th, I got a letter from her, and in consequence I went and saw her—I stayed there until the Monday—when I saw her on the Saturday she was very bad and in bed; and suffering from vomiting and diarrhoea—on the Sunday I gave her some bovril, which I prepared myself—the servant brought it up from downstairs—she had a small piece of toast with it—she was not sick immediately afterwards, but about half an hour later I give her some draught ginger-beer, which the

prisoner gave me from the bar, and she was sick after it—she had brandy at different times—the prisoner brought it up from downstairs—it was left on the safe by the side of the bed—she was very thirsty, and told me her throat seemed to burn her—I did not see the prisoner bring up anything besides brandy—on Saturday she was too bad to take anything; in fact, for some time she did not know me—on the Saturday evening she only had brandy and soda—she kept on asking for it—she kept on being sick—on the Sunday morning she seemed better up to dinner-time—she sat up in bed and read a newspaper—on the Saturday evening I washed her, and made her comfortable—I then went home to get some things—I was away about an hour and a half—when I returned she did not know me—the prisoner was with her when I left, and I asked the servant to give her an eye every now and again—she vomited a little on Sunday morning—she brought green water up—I saw no sign of the bovril—for dinner she had pork, potatoes, greens, a piece of bread, and a glass of ginger-beer—that meal stayed on her stomach—she remained in bed—I stayed with her until 3.30 or—4 p.m.—when I left she then appeared pretty well—she was propped up in bed, reading the paper—I did not go out of the house—I was out of her room for about an hour and a half—I left the prisoner in the room with her and when I came back she was very bad and quite helpless—before I went into her room I saw the prisoner in the bar—he asked me if I was cold—I said. "What do you mean? How is my sister?"—he said, "I don't know; I will go and see"—I went up to her room, and found her very bad—I do not know if she saw me, she seemed so drowsified—we just lifted her out of bed and back again, and she seemed to go to sleep—I sat in the room with her all the evening—she complained of pain in her side—she asked for drink, and was given ginger-beer or brandy—the brandy was brought from downstairs by the prisoner—during the evening he brought up a bottle of champagne and gave Maud some—I stayed with her till between one and 2 a.m.—after the prisoner had finished in the bar, he came upstairs—I said, "Can I stay with her?"—he said, "There is no need"—I said, "ill you call me if she is worse?"—he said, "Very likely"—I then went upstairs to sleep in a room overhead—I did not leave the house—I saw her next morning—she seemed very drowsy and no better—she had a little drop of tea—I do not remember if I made it or the servant—I do not think that agreed with her, because she only drank half of it—the nurse was not there during these days—I left her at 2 p.m. and went home—I returned to the house on Monday, the 20th—I found Maud very bad—she did not speak to me—the nurse was there then—Maud vomited during the day—she had diarrhoea, and was in great pain—the vomit was green—she could not take any food—she was having injections—I did not see who gave them to her—I saw the prisoner in the bar, and asked him if he ought not to have another doctor to her—Dr. Stoker had been to see her when me and my mother was there—he said he was at his wits' end to know what to give to her—the prisoner said he had got the host doctor, and if one could not do it fifty could not—my mother said to the prisoner, "Don't you think you had better have another

doctor?"—as far as I can remember, he said, "No, it is no good"—I left that evening, leaving my mother with Maud—I never saw her alive again.

Cross-examined. I saw a good deal of the prisoner and Maud when they were living together—I do not know if there was much trade at the Crown, but they seemed to be getting on nicely—the prisoner had no barmaid or barman—there were only himself, Maud, and the servant to serve in the bar—when my sister was ill, and the prisoner had to leave for a few minutes, the servant looked after the bar—I did not see much of my sister when she was at the Monument—I do not remember her being ill for three days while she was there—I heard of it—she did not speak to me about it—I was—on very good terms indeed with Maud, and she took me into her confidence—up to the time of her last illness she seemed happy and contented at times—she used to complain that the prisoner would not let her go out—she had to stay in the bar or up in the house—I do not know if he was jealous of her, or if he went out himself—he was generally working in the bar—Maud was very much distressed about not having a family—she told me she was very unhappy to have no family—I used to take my baby to the house when I went to see her, and she would sometimes on such occasions get very distressed and cry a good deal—she was very fond of children—she said how grieved she was that she had not a baby of her own—she said she had been married thirteen months, and she thought it was nearly time she had some little ones—I said, "I do not know anything about it, speak to George about it"—she said, "Oh, he don't want-any, but as soon as he has done business and made enough, he does not mind how many I have"—I thought she wanted matters hurried up a bit—she never said anything to me about taking anything herself—I never saw her take anything—I told the prisoner that Maud wanted some things in the hospital, I said she wanted some cream cracknells and Peter's milk chocolate—sometimes I found her better than at others while she was in the hospital—I think, she was there three weeks—I saw her shortly after she came out—she did not seem then at all well—she ought not to have been in the bar—she ought to have got up and laid on the couch like a convalescent—while I was staying with her from Saturday to Monday I said to the prisoner, "Don't you think it is funny Maud has turned—like this"—he said, "It is constipation"—I said, "That seems funny, as she had diarrhoea when she was with me just a short time ago"—she had been over to see me before she went to the hospital—she had diarrhoea then and complained of pain—when the prisoner said, "She should have taken the medicine I gave her "I thought he meant she should have taken it fox the constipation—Maud told me that the prisoner had given her some medicine and she would not take it—I do not know that she objected going to the hospital at first, but when they said she would have to go a second time, she objected—I did not hear her say she did not like being messed about by a doctor—she asked me not to let her go—when I went to the Crown on October 11th, she kept on having drinks, and if she only took a drop of water she was sick—I did not have any of the ginger beer—

when the prisoner brought up the champagne I sipped it, but I did not like it—I have had some champagne which I liked—the prisoner did not have any—he gave Maud two or three lots—I drank out of the same glass as she did—when he poured hers out I asked him what it was, he said. "Champagne"—I said, "Give me a drop"—he poured a drop out and I tasted it—I said, "I do not like that," and I pushed it away—I do not know if the glass was empty when he poured what he gave to me into it, because he was turned away from me—it had a funny taste, not like champagne generally has—when I said I did not like it, he threw it into the chamber—me and the servant had cooked the pork and vegetables for dinner, and Maud said she would like to have some—she seemed so much better I had a good mind to go home that night—she eat her dinner and seemed all the better for it—the ginger beer that she had I drew myself from the barrel in the bar—I did not see where the brandy was that was brought up by the prisoner—I saw a bottle with "Martell, Three Star" on it—I did not see any of the brandy that the prisoner brought up poured out—the brandy was never brought up by anybody else—I only took up some ginger beer—I do not know if my mother took any up when she came I left—the soda water was drawn from a syphon in the bar.

By the COURT. My sister told me that the prisoner was an American—I never had any idea that "Chapman "was not his real name, or that he was a Pole.

DAISY HARRIETT HELEN MARSH . I am a sister of Maud Marsh, and live with my parents at West Croydon—I am fifteen years old—I remember Maud going as a barmaid to the Monument—I went and—stayed with her there—the prisoner was living there—one Sunday they went out together between 10 and 11 a.m.—they returned just before 1 p.m.—Maud showed me a wedding ring on her left hand—the prisoner was present—Maud said she was married—she did not say anything as to where the marriage had taken place—I understood they had been married that morning—later that day my mother came to the house and dined there—I cannot fix the date—I stayed in the house for about two months after that—I only went to the Crown twice with my father.

Cross-examined. Maud said she had been married at the Roman Catholic Church in Bishopsgate Street—I had not seen a ring on her finger before that Sunday—the prisoner was very kind to me—he and Maud seemed very happy together—he seemed to be kind to her—I helped my sister in the house.

ALICE MAY MARSH . I live at 63, St. James's Road, Forest Hill, and am a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marsh—I went to the Crown last summer and saw my sister and the prisoner there—I took her to Guy's, and after she came out I got a post card from her and went again to the Crown—I saw the prisoner in the bar—I did not expect to see him—I said, "I thought you were ill in bed," he said, "It would not do for both of us to be in bed"—he did not look ill—I asked him where Maud was—he said, "In bed, dying fast"—I went upstairs and found Maud sitting

up in bed—she complained of constipation and great pain—she had some senna tea in her hand—I then went down and saw the prisoner and said to him. "I think Maud ought to have a doctor, or else go to the hospital"—he said she was not to go to the hospital but to a doctor, and that she was not to go to the hospital because he did not want the fellows to mess her about—I went up again to Maud—she got out of bed—she was very weak—it took her an hour to dress—when she was dressed we went out together, before we left the prisoner gave her 2s. 6d.—we went to a doctor round the corner, I do not know his name—he was not at home, so we went to Guy's—she was examined there, and had some medicine—I left her there and went back to the Crown—I told the prisoner where we had been—he appeared cross and said, "That is all she wanted to go for, for those fellows to mess her about"—I said, "The doctor was not at home"—he said, "She could have waited a little while"—in about an hour Maud returned, she told the prisoner where she had been, and that she had fainted at the hospital—I did not hear what he said to her then, as I went to the other end of the bar—I next saw Maud when she was in the hospital, and after that I saw her on October 20th—she was vomiting—the vomit was green, she complained of pains and had diarrhoea—she appeared to be thirsty, water was given to her—Toon and the prisoner were attending to her—the prisoner injected a beef tabloid—I saw him feeling her pulse—I left about 6 p.m.—that was the last time I saw her alive—on October 23rd I went to the Crown again—Maud's body had then been removed to the mortuary—I had tea with my mother and aunt and the prisoner—while we were having tea the prisoner said to me, "There is a chance for you as barmaid now, will you come"—I said, "No thanks, London does not suit me."

Cross-examined. I do not know where the meat tabloids were purchased—I do not know who got them—I did not hear my sister object to going to the hospital the second time—I do not know if I took it as a joke when the prisoner said there was a chance for me as barmaid.

By the JURY. The prisoner had asked me to go and live with him and my sister.

JESSIE TOON . I live at 23, Eltham Street, Borough, and am the wife of Frank Toon, who is a labourer—I used to go into the Crown—I knew the prisoner—on October 16th I went in there and he asked me if I could do a bit of nursing—I said, "It depends what it is, is it a miss or is it ii premature?"—I meant a miscarriage—he said, "No, nothing of the kind; she has been sick and the doctor has ordered her to have food injected"—I said, "I do not understand anything of that kind, you want an experienced nurse"—he said, "Can you recommend me anyone?"—I said, "Yes. I think I know an old lady who would be all right to do that" he said, "Will you go and see her?"—I said, "Yes, I will go now"—I went and saw the old lady—she said she could come at six o'clock—I went back and told the prisoner—at six o'clock I went and fetched the old lady and we went In the prisoner together—she vent upstairs with the prisoner, but soon returned and said he wanted someone to be there

altogether, which she could not do—the prisoner then asked me to go and see Maud—I went upstairs—she was in bed and crying—I asked her what she was crying for—she said she was ill, and if she could not get anyone to look after her she would have to go to the hospital, which she did not want to do—I said, "I do not understand it, Mrs. Chapman, but would you like me to look after you?"—she said, "Yes, please, Jessie, if you will"—I noticed that she had been sick—I stayed with her that evening—she drank a great quantity, and everything she drank she vomited within a few minutes—the vomit was green—she complained of thirst—she chose anything she wanted to drink and I would go to the foot of the stairs and ask the prisoner for it, and he would give it to me—at first I used to get water for her to drink from the tap, but the prisoner told me I was not to fetch any more, and he gave me what I wanted in a jug from the tap in the bar—he took the jug from me and filled it and Drought it back—everything I gave her was given to me by the prisoner—she had diarrhoea that night—it was green—she was taking no food through her mouth when I went there—the prisoner told me she was fed with a small syringe with an india-rubber thing with beef tea and egg and milk—he prepared the injections in the kitchen and administered them—he brought them up into the bedroom in a half pint tumbler—after he had given the injections he took the tumbler and the syringe and washed them himself—the injections did not stay with the deceased, they were back again quickly and she was in terrible pain—no one ever brought anything into the room for her use except the prisoner—I did not see where he got what he brought in or how it was mixed—Dr. Stoker sent some medicine to be kept by the side of the bed, but she never took any of it—it was in a little phial bottle—the prisoner took it into the kitchen with him and would bring it back when he came in with the injection—I saw two partly full bottles of medicine there—they remained there until after her death—there were labels on them—when the attacks of diarrhoea came on I had to help her out of bed—she appeared to be in suffering and to go into a fit—it was as much as I could manage to hold her, there was such dreadful pain—her limbs would go stiff and she complained frequently of thirst—on October 19th she said her throat was burning and that it seemed to be always burning—on October 20th the prisoner came in with this stethoscope in his hand (Produced)—he first pulled the deceased's eyes down and examined, and then he undid her nightdress and put the stethoscope to her heart and listened—I never saw him use the stethoscope on any other occasion—there was nobody else there with me—on October 22nd I went home about I a.m.—I was sent for about 7.45 a.m.—I saw the prisoner—I said, "What is the matter, is she worse?"—he said, "No, the old mother is bad now"—I said, "What is the matter with her?"—he said, "Sickness and diarrhoea"—I said, "What, two of them now"—he said, "You had better go upstairs, Jessie, and tell her to get to bed out of your way the old cat"—I then went up and saw the deceased—her arm about half-way up was port wine colour, and her face and round her mouth was black—shortly after I got there the prisoner brought half a tumbler of brandy into the room—I saw him put some water to it

and give it to the deceased to drink—he nearly filled the tumbler with water, which he got from a jug on the side of the safe—The deceased drink some of it, and shortly after the prisoner had gone out she asked for another drink—I picked up the brandy she had left—she said, "No, no, no I"—I said, "What will you have, then?"—she said, "Water," and I gave her a drink of water—I then said to Mrs. Marsh, "Perhaps it is too strong for her"—I tasted the brandy myself and it burned my throat—I went downstairs and took a cup from the dresser and cut a piece of bread and butter, and washed my mouth out, to take the nasty taste away—the day before I had had a conversation with the prisoner about something I had overheard Dr. Stoker say—he had told Mrs. Marsh that should anything happen he would go to the expense of having a post mortem examination himself—I told the prisoner what I had heard—he said, "That is her doings; he wants to have her cut about and show me up, the old cat. Be careful, Jessie, what you say to her, and take particular notice what she says to you, and in the course of conversation just ask her if there is anything wrong or any foul play"—he never asked me afterwards if she had said anything—the deceased was not sick on the Wednesday morning—everything passed through her, and I had to use a number of towels—I put them with the dirty clothes in the lumber room—the day after the deceased died I went into the Crown to see the body, but the prisoner would not tell me if it was removed or not—Mrs. Marsh told me it had been removed—the' same day the prisoner said to me, "What colour was the motion you took from her?"—I said, "What do you mean?"—he said, "Was it black?"—I said, "No, green, just the same as she vomited"—he did not say anything to that—on Friday I went to the Crown again—I saw the prisoner and he asked me how much he was in my debt—I asked was he satisfied with what I done for her—he said, "Yes, perfectly, Jessie, you done all you could for-her"—I said, "15s. won't hurt you," and he gave me £I—he asked me if I could do some washing—I said, "Yes"—he said, "When can you come in?"—I said, "Any time that it suits you"—he said, "On Tuesday"—I said, "You ought to have had those things washed out before, Mr. Chapman, they will be getting nasty"—he said, "I have destroyed them"—he said he would not give "me any rum to drink—I said, "What for?"—he said, "Because you talk, Jessie, when you have rum"—I said, "People ask me about Mrs. Chapman"—he said, "Well, I don't want you to have anything to say"—I said, "Very well, if it is your wish I won't say anything; if they ask me no questions I won't tell them no lies"—he said, "That is right, Jessie, I don't want you to say anything of what occurred upstairs."

Cross-examined. I had been employed by the deceased about a fortnight before to clean the billiard room for her—it was her wish I should nurse her—I was not sleeping in the house—on Friday I stayed all night—the other nights I left about I a.m.—I went there again the first thing in the morning—I had free access to the deceased's room—I was always there when food was given to her, and when the injections took place—the first day I had my meals by her bedside, but being so sick she could

not bear the smell of my food, and I wont and had it with the servant in the kitchen—I was never told not to go into the bar—when the prisoner was not there he was in the deceased's room—the servant did the cooking and served in the bar as well—I was there five days altogether—I once tried to get the deceased to take the medicine, but she said she could not—Dr. Stoker came every day—I told him she would not take the medicine—that is why he had it put into the injections—he did not tell me to tell him everything that happened, but if anything was the matter I told him—I did not tell him that she refused to take the brandy because it burnt her mouth, because she was dead when he came again—I burnt my mouth with it about a couple of hours before she died—I saw the doctor after her death—I did not then tell him anything about it burning her mouth or mine—I did not tell the prisoner about it—I told Mr. Marsh—I did not tell the prisoner because I did not think it important—I first mentioned it when I saw Godley—I did not tell him of it the first time that I saw him—I made a statement to him, which he took down in writing—I do not know if in that statement I said anything about the brandy burning my mouth—I told him about the deceased's throat being burnt—he took two or three statements from me—I went into the witness-box at the Police court on two occasions—a week had elapsed between each—I did not see Godley in between, or make a statement to anybody—as far as I could see, the prisoner and the deceased appeared to be on very good terms—he appeared to be fond of her, and she fond of him—he got everything she asked for—he constantly came to her while she was ill, and seemed anxious about her.

LOUISA BEATRICE COLE . I used to live at 6, Bodysbridge Street, Blackfriars, and I was servant at the Crown—I was engaged by the deceased in July—I did the cooking—I remember the deceased being ill and going to Guy's, and coming back again—one Tuesday in October, before her last illness, I remember having cold meat and potatoes for dinner—the prisoner and I had cold meat and potatoes, but the potatoes alone were put aside for the deceased, who used to take her dinner by herself in the middle of the day—in the afternoon she called me—I found she had been sick—she went to bed, and stayed there the rest of that day—she got up next day, but towards the end of the week she took to her bed again—I remember Mrs. Morris coming—I did the cooking whilst the deceased was ill and prepared anything that was wanted—I remember Toon coming—I did not do anything for the deceased after that or go into the deceased's bedroom—I remember some medicine bottles coming from Dr. Stoker's—the prisoner came into the kitchen occasionally, and once I saw him pour the injection from one glass into another—that was on October 19th in the evening—the injection was already mixed—I did not see it prepared—I then went into the front room, and when I came back the prisoner had gone upstairs with it—I did not see a glass from which it had bee" poured left in the kitchen—a syringe was kept in a glass of cold water on the kitchen window-sill.

Cross-examined. The prisoner poured the injection from one glass to another perfectly openly, and anybody could see the syringe—I did not

prepare any beef-tea for the deceased, or see the prisoner do so—he put some beef-tea on the fire to cook, but I was not there at the time—I sometimes attended to the bar, which is close to the kitchen—I know he made beef-tea, because when he went upstairs I went down, and then he took it up to the deceased—the deceased's sister frequently came to the Crown, and had every opportunity of seeing her—while I was there the prisoner and the deceased got on well, as far as I can tell—he appeared to be fond of her, and she to be attached to him—he always treated her kindly, and as far as he could, gave her everything she wanted.

Re-examined. The beef-tea was prepared by the prisoner alone—I went into the bar after he had prepared it and he took it upstairs.

By the COURT. When I saw him pouring something from one glass to another I thought he was cooling it—it was not something taken from the medicine bottle—I do not know how to make beef-tea.

JAMES HENRY TARGETT . F.R.C.S. I am assistant obstetric surgeon at Guy's Hospital—I remember a woman named Maud Chapman being admitted to a ward at Guy's on July 28th—I do not know the address she gave—she remained an in-patient till August 20th—I attended her—she complained of great pain in the lower part of the abdomen—it came on in attacks of great severity—at times she had. Considerable fever—her, pulse was more rapid than it should have been, she had occasional sickness, her abdomen was extremely tender to the touch, and so much so that I could not make a complete examination—she began to improve about August 10th; during the first fortnight her temperature went up to about 102—on August 10th her temperature began to fall, her pulse also improved, and there was a general improvement until she left—I thought she had peritonitis, but we never discovered any cause for it—we did not discover the cause partly because she was so tender and there may not have been any cause—we could never form any clear idea what she was suffering from—her temperature was normal when she went out—when she came in she was very ill.

Cross-examined. I do not know if she was anxious to leave—I had no conversation with her—the tenderness was rather more marked on the right side of the abdomen than on the left—I am not prepared to say whether great pain always increases the temperature—when she came in she was constipated, that "was relieved by the next day—when the pain began to abate we made an examination, but we could not come to any clear conclusion as to what had been the matter with her—I heard the history of her illness before she came to us from the student in the ward—he would get from her an account of her illness.

By the COURT. I have had no experience of antimonial poisoning, but I should think that ten days would be a reasonable time for a person to recover from that poison, if during that time no more was administered.

FLORENCE RAYNER . Last June I became acquainted with Maud Marsh, who I knew as Mrs. Chapman—I was afterwards retained to go as barmaid at the Crown—when I went there in June the deceased was apparently in good health—after I had been there about a fortnight the prisoner kissed me and asked me to be his sweetheart and to go to America

with him—I used to take my meals with him alone, and when he asked me to go to America with him I said. "You have got your wife downstairs you don't want me"—he said, "If I gave her that she would be no more Mrs. Chapman,"' and he snapped his fingers—he said he would first send me to America then sell the business and come on after me—during the second or third week after I went there the deceased had diarrhoea and sickness—I left before she went to the hospital—she was all right when I went away—I left because the prisoner came upstairs into my bedroom in the afternoon—he did not kiss me more than once or say anything more about selling the business—I went to the Foresters at Twickenham—the prisoner came there once—I asked him how the deceased was—he said she was in the hospital suffering from constipation—he then said, "If you had not been such a fool you would have been at the Crown now."

Cross-examined. I was employed by the prisoner as barmaid and servant—I did not take much notice when he asked me to go to America with him—my dignity was hurt at the idea of a married man asking me to do such a thing—he had kissed me constantly when we were at meals together—he did not kiss me in front of his wife—his kissing me was a matter of daily occurrence—I did not object, I could not help myself—I did not tell his wife, because I did not like to—I do not know if I wanted him to go on kissing me—I did not want to leave because I had gone there against my parents' wish—I stayed on three or four weeks and then the deceased told me that the prisoner said he must have someone stronger—I had fainted on the Saturday night from the stuff the prisoner had given me—it was not on account of drink that I was discharged—the prisoner told my brother he had discharged me on account of drink, but it was not true—I will swear that I said at the Police Court that I left because the prisoner had attempted to come into my bedroom—I may have said it before the coroner, I know I said it somewhere—after I had left I went to the prisoner for a reference—he told me to go away because I was the worse for drink, and not to come again until I was sober—I was not drunk—I was locked up next morning for being drunk, but I was not drunk then—the Police said I was—I was brought before the magistrate and he fined me 2s. 6d.—he and the Police were all wrong on that occasion—I did not think that the prisoner was in earnest when he asked me to go to America, I thought it was a joke—during the time that he was asking me to go he and his wife were on good terms—I never saw them quarrel—he was always kind to her—she always behaved well to him—there were only signs of her being ill on one day—she was all right the next day.

By the COURT. When I went to the prisoner to get a reference, he took me by the throat and threw me out.

ANNIE CHAPMAN . I live at 9, Hartington Road, Tottenham—I first became acquainted with the prisoner towards the end of 1893 under the name of Klosowski—he was employed as an assistant at Mr. Haddin's hairdresser's shop in West Green Road—I went in there one day, I saw the prisoner there, and made his acquaintance—after that I went out with him for a little while—I think he said he was single or a widower—he was having at Haddin's and he proposed I should go as his housekeeper,

and after a time I did so—I lived with him as his wife—we passed as Mr. and Mrs. Klosowski—I went to live with him in November, 1893—I left him is November or December, 1894—at the time I first met him my name was Annie Chapman—in January or February, 1895. I went to consult a Mr. Bray a solicitor's clerk.

Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner in February or March, 1895—he came to Albert Road, Tottenham, where I was living, on a bicycle one day—I do not remember the number—I have had no letter or communication from him since February, 1895—my sister read this case to me in the newspaper and I went to the Police court—I did not give evidence there—I am living with some friends at present—I identified the prisoner in a passage at the Court from about ten other men—there was nobody else there like him—I went there expecting to see a man like him—he was very much the same as he was when he left me eight years ago.

Re-examined. I lived with him for a year—there is no doubt the prisoner is the man—after I left him I heard he had gone to Whitechapel—he also had a shop opposite Bruce Grove Railway Station—I went there one evening in January or February. 1895—I asked him to help me in my trouble, and if he would give me a reference to get a situation—I was going to have a baby—I told him that: he did not take much notice—he did not give me anything—I recognise that woman—he brought her to the shop where I was living with him—he said she was his wife—we all three lived in the house for some weeks after that and then I left—that was the reason—the prisoner is the father of my child—I am English—the prisoner never used my name while I was with him.

By the COURT. The Police came to me and I told them my story—I did not know for certain that the father of my child was the prisoner until I saw him at the Court—I was told to see if there was anyone there I knew—I picked the prisoner out directly.

FRANCIS GASPARD GRAPEL . M.R.C.S. I practice at 303, London Road, West Croydon, and have been the medical attendant to the Marsh family for some time—on Tuesday, October 21st, Mr. Marsh called on me, and in consequence of what he said I went about 3 or 4 p.m. to the Crown—I saw the prisoner and told him that I was a medical man from Croydon, and had come to see Dr. Stoker in consultation about his wife—he gave me the idea that he had never heard about it, so I asked him if it was the Crown, as I thought I had come to the wrong place—he said there was a doctor already in attendance, and something about fifty others—I could not distinguish exactly what he did say—I asked to see Mrs. Marsh—I sat in the bar and then saw Dr. Stoker, and together we examined the deceased—her skin was sallow, jaundiced, and muddy in appearance, her tongue coated, her pulse fairly quick, her breathing shallow—she was in a semicomatose condition—I examined her stomach—it was extremely tender to the touch—when I touched it she groaned and retched—I had a consultation with Dr. Stoker downstairs and then saw Mrs. Marsh—before leaving the house I asked for and was shown some of the vomit—it was green—Dr. Stoker and I were of the opinion that she was suffering from some acute irritant poison, probably ptomaine—later on the suspicion

crossed my mind that it was not ptomaine poisoning, but repeated doses of arsenic—I formed that opinion before there was a post mortem—after I heard of her death I sent a telegram to Dr. Stoker.

Cross-examined. It crossed my mind that it was arsenical poisoning, on my way home—I did not go back and tell Dr. Stoker or send him any communication until after she was dead—bringing in a diagnosis of repeated doses of arsenic is tantamount to accusing someone of murder, and I had no proof whatsoever—I did not believe she was likely to die then—I was going to communicate to Dr. Stoker next day—the first person I saw at the Crown was the prisoner—I had a desultory conversation with him—he sent for Mrs. Marsh before I saw Dr. Stoker—he also sent for the doctor—the prisoner did not put the slightest obstacle in my way of seeing the deceased—it did not strike me that he seemed anxious—I did not question him about the symptoms—he said she had been suffering from constipation—he did not tell me how she had been treated—I did not say more to him than I could help—on the Wednesday morning I told Mr. Marsh that I was going up to London as early as I could on that day to see Dr. Stoker, with the idea of having the excreta saved and examined—I did not examine Mrs. Marsh—I heard of the rabbit—I think it was Mrs. Marsh who told me that her daughter had been poisoned by a rabbit and also the servant—I afterwards told the father that you did not get arsenic in a rabbit—it did not occur to me to investigate the story of the rabbit—I did not feel justified in at once telling the father what my suspicions were—even a doctor must have time to think about a case before he renders himself liable to anything legal—I did not go to London on the Wednesday because I heard of the deceased's death—I did not take part in the post mortem.

JAMES MAURICE STOKER , L.R.C.S. I practice at 221, New Kent Road—on October 10th. about 5 p.m., the prisoner called at my surgery, which is about half a mile from where he lives—he said he wanted a bottle of medicine for diarrhoea and vomiting—he led me to believe it was for his wife—he said she had been at Guy's, suffering from the same thing—he said she was not his wife, but she passed as such—I gave him a bottle of medicine, it was catachew, chalk, bismuth, and opium—the same evening about 10.30 I went to the Crown, I found the deceased in bed on the second floor—the prisoner went into the room with me—the deceased said she was suffering from diarrhoea and vomiting, and great pain in the stomach—I examined her stomach—there was great pain and tenderness all over the abdomen—I told her to continue taking the medicine I had sent, and said she was to have no solid food, but to go on a milk diet—I ordered her soda water and milk, boiled milk, brandy, beaf-tea and ice—I ordered the ice to stop the sickness—she did not complain of any great thirst then—I went to see her the next day—the prisoner again went into the room with me—she was no better—the prisoner then said that she had been treated at Guy's, but they did not quite understand what was the matter with her there—the deceased told me that they had said she had peritonitis—the symptoms she complained of would be consistent with peritonitis—I saw her again next day.

Sunday—she was very much better—I changed the medicine and gave her bismuth, morphia, and ipecacuanha, that was for the soothing of the stomach—I saw her again on the 13th, she was then as bad as ever—she had diarrhoea and vomiting, I saw them both, they were mixed together—it was an ordinary yellow brown mixture—I saw her again on the 14th, she was no better—about the fifth day I noticed she had spasms—they came on with great pain in the stomach, she got rigidity of the muscles of the leg, they passed off in about half a minute—they did not synchronize with the sickness—they came on independently—on one occasion she had two in about five minutes—I could not then form an opinion as to what caused them—I saw her again on the 15th, she was no better—I asked the prisoner if she was having the milk diet, and he lead me to believe she was having all I ordered—there was no one else to ask—I was not there when anything was administered—she was very much worse on the 15th, and on that day I stopped all food through the mouth except the bismuth powders—she could not even keep the medicine down—I ordered her to be fed by injections through the rectum—she was to have egg, milk and beef tea as a mixture—I could not then form any opinion as to what she was suffering from—I thought the symptoms might be those of gastro-enteritis, which is inflammation of the stomach and the bowels—at that time I had not the slightest suspicion of any foul play—I suggested to the prisoner that she should be taken to the hospital, but the deceased objected and began to cry—I then suggested a nurse, but the next day, finding there was still not one there, I spoke to the prisoner about it—he said he had tried to get one and that she would come in the following day—on this day I found that the deceased could not retain the bismuth powders—they were to allay the irritation of the mucous membranes of the stomach—I stopped them and advised her to be fed entirely with the injection—I got beef tea suppositories and told the prisoner to give her everything iced—I do not know whether up to that time she had had any injections—on Friday I saw the nurse, Toon, for the first time—I gave her directions about the food and injections—I did not know if she knew anything about giving injections—the prisoner was there when I gave Toon the instructions—I thought Toon—was carrying out my directions—I called again on Saturday, the 18th—I found the deceased very bad, vomiting and diarrhoea—I saw the vomit, it was slimy and green, the green would be due to the irritation of the stomach and gut—I do not think I visited her on the Sunday, I know I missed one day, I think it was the Sunday—the next time that I saw her after the Saturday I found her much weaker and with the same symptoms—I asked the nurse about the injections—she told me she did not even retain these—I told her she ought to reduce them to half the quantity to try if she could retain any liquid—the prisoner was there when I said that—I had no idea that it was the prisoner who was giving the injections—I remember seeing Mrs. Marsh on Tuesday, the 21st—I had some conversation with her, and later that same day I was sent for to meet Dr. Grapel—the prisoner was not present—the deceased was very weak and semi-unconscious—I had some conversation with

Mrs. Marsh on the landing about the death certificate, on the Monday—I called on the Wednesday about 3 p.m. arid then heard that the deceased had died at 12.30—a message had been sent to me, but I did not receive it as I was out visiting—when I went there the Crown was open for business—there was nothing to indicate' there had been a death there—when I saw her on the Tuesday I had no reason to anticipate that she would die so soon—on the Monday she was about as bad as she could be, and I could not say if she would get well—on the Wednesday I went into the bedroom—the prisoner and Mrs. Marsh were there; he was wiping his eyes—I asked when the deceased had died—I was told—I then went out on the landing and had a conversation with the prisoner—I said I should like a "p.m." as I could not account for the cause of her dying—he said, "hat use is it?"—I did not say anything about the certificate then—I went back into the room with him—Mrs. Marsh was there—I told her that I wanted a "p.m." as I could not account for the cause of death—she said, "I must leave it to her husband"—I said, that I did not know what was the cause of death, and I might be asked what had caused her death—the prisoner said that she had died from exhaustion—I asked what caused the exhaustion—he said, "Diarrhoea and vomiting"—I asked what caused the diarrhoea and vomiting, and he made no answer—I said I could not give a certificate for her—I would have to have a "p.m." or an inquest—I told the prisoner I only wanted a private post-mortem, just to satisfy myself as to what caused the diarrhoea and vomiting—I then said I should have to make arrangements for the removal of the body to the mortuary, and I went to the proper authorities and the mortuary keeper—the body was removed early the following morning—I communicated with Dr. Cotter, who lives in Caledonian Road—next day I got a telegram from Dr. Grapel before I made an examination of the body—on October 23rd I made a post-mortem examination with Dr. Cotter—I examined the liver, the kidneys, the lungs, and the ovaries—they were healthy—I examined the intestines and the stomach externally—I could not arrive at any opinion as to the cause of death—T did not see anything to account for the symptoms causing the death—I had taken two glass bottles with me when I went to make the examination—I had taken pains to see that they were chemically clean—I removed the stomach and its contents from the body without opening it—I tied it up and put it straight into one of the bottles—I also removed portions of the rectum and the liver, and put them into the other bottle—the deceased was not pregnant—there was' no traces of pregnancy or any affection of the womb—I took the bottles away myself and sealed them up, and next day took them to Dr. Bodmer, of the Clinical Research Association—I got a communication from him in the evening, and then I had a consultation with Dr. Cotter, and as a result, in the early morning of Saturday, the 25th, I communicated with the Police—I also inquired for the Coroner's private address and immediately sent a communication to him—that Saturday was the Royal Procession through South London and the Coroner's office was shut—I could not got his private address at the Police station, and although I sent a letter to his ordinary address

I knew he could not get it until Monday morning—I took the letter up to the City myself about I a.m. to post it as it was after posting time at Croydon—the inquest was not held until the Tuesday—I think the Coroner's officer came to me on the Monday—after the prisoner was arrested I saw these bottles of medicine (Produced) which I had sent to the deceased—I make up my own medicines—I made these up—this small one had opium and water in it, that is a sedative, that was for injection to relieve the pain in the rectum—I cannot fix the date that I ordered that—this other bottle I should say had bi-carbonate of soda and prussic acid in it—I did not put any antimony or tartar emetic into any of them—I do not keep any antimony in my surgery—I had none at this time—I have had none for ten years—I do not know if antimony now is an accepted medicine—I do not know much about it—I never use it—I kept a preparation, of arsenic—I did not put any arsenic in the medicine—I think these are some of the bismuth powders I prescribed (Produced)—I had some of it remaining in my surgery after the death of the deceased—I handed it to Inspector Godley with a view to it being analysed—I was—present at the post mortem made by Dr. Stevenson.

Cross-examined. I have been in practice ten years in London, and have had a good many cases of ptomaine poisoning, but not of arsenical or antimonial poisoning—I have never had a ease where poison had been deliberately administered—this is my first experience of a case of this kind, and I hope it will be the last—I know that tartar emetic is in the Pharmacopoeia as a medicine, I have never had occasion to employ it—I-have never had any practical experience of the tartarisation of antimony—I do not think I should recognise it if I came across it in a post mortem—if antimony was present in the deceased's stomach when I took it out and placed it in the glass jar I should not recognise it—I do not put myself forward as having any special knowledge on that subject—I should not have analysed the deceased's vomit myself—I should not have tried to trace the presence of antimony—the prisoner did not in any way object to my making an examination of the vomit or the excreta—I could have taken it away for examination, the vomit was only unusual because it was green, but not more so than you would see if the patient was suffering from a bilious attack—I have constantly seen vomit as green as that—I did not see any blood in—it, it may have been there when I did not see the vomit—I only saw it on two occasions—I only saw the foecal matter once—I saw no blood then—I prescribed altogether six five-grain bismuth powders—I am not aware that bismuth gives rise when tasted to the same burning sensation in the throat, as is alleged with regard to antimony—I do not know if it gives rise to a metallic taste—I have often taken bismuth but never tasted it—I have taken a piece on my finger—I have never had a case of poisoning from bismuth—I know there are such cases, but you would want an enormous quantity—you can get diarrhoea and vomiting from an overdose of bismuth—you might get spasms in the arms and legs—I do not know if you would get inflammation of the throat, windpipe and gullet—I prescribed the

ipecacuanha in three minimum doses I should say about 60 minims would give rise to a sense of sickness—I have never known 10 or 12 minims doing so—the ordinary dose goes up to 10—some people are more sensitive than others—I did not keep any record of the medicine I prescribed—I never do so except with a patient coming into the surgery—I do not enter in a book die medicines I send out—I put down the visits I make—it is not unusual to have no record—I am almost certain that my memory is accurate as to what I gave the deceased—the beef enules came from Burroughs and Welcome—I did not say anything to the deceased with regard to the injection of the enules, there was never any conversation as to who was to inject them—the patient generally gets the nurse, the prisoner had no objection to having one—I did not know what Toon's experience was—I did not think it necessary to satisfy myself that she could carry out my instructions—I thought the prisoner would get a good nurse because he knew what had to be done—I should not as a rule witness the injection—the prisoner asked me to call and see the deceased—I did not suggest to him during the last twelve days that he should call in another doctor—I did not know Dr. Grapel—the prisoner was not present at our consultations—I think I was nearer the prisoner when he left the Crown than when he left the Monument—I think that I first met him in January, 1901, in connection—with Bessie Taylor, who at that time was living with him as Mrs. Chapman—I was in consultation with three or four other medical men in connection with that matter with the prisoner's consent and approval—he paid the fees—I was always under the impression that any suggestion of mine with regard to food was carried out—he appeared to be kind and solicitous to his wife—she appeared to be fond of him—I had never the slightest idea of anything being wrong—the vomiting and diarrhoea was consistent with my experience of gastro-enteritis—I should have been perfectly ready to give a certificate to that effect.

Re-examined. I did not think of submitting the vomit to chemical analysis because suspicion was entirely eliminated from my mind—I had no idea of any irritant poison, it would not be possible for me to recognise antimony when examining a body—it would have to he submitted to a chemical anaylsis or to somebody with more experience than I have—I have never seen a case of poisoning by bismuth; I have read of one—there has not been a case in recent years—the number of grains in a case I read of was very great, at that time bismuth had arsenic in it—the bismuth in my surgery was found perfectly pure—a five-grain dose of bismuth is a medium one—I was prescribing it with a view to allay the vomiting—it is a well known remedy for doing that—I have never heard of these small doses causing vomiting or irritation—it always has the opposite tendency—I use about half a pound in a fortnight—I did not know whether my instructions as to diet were carried out or not.

By the COURT. I know Bessie Taylor died at the Monument—her sympsoms were something similar to those of Maud Marsh—even that did not make me think at first that I ought to have further inquiry.

By the JURY. When I asked the prisoner to keep the vomit my suspicions were not aroused, but I wanted to see the colour of it—I should not have given a certificate of death had not Dr. Grapel been called in, she could not be buried without one.

By the COURT. I knew that the prisoner and Maud Marsh were not married—I knew he had no authority to prevent her father and mother having a post mortem—the mother did not know they were not married, and I did not like to tell her so.

RICHARD BODMER . I am a Fellow of the Institute of Chemists and public Analyst for the Borough of Bermondsey—I am consulting chemist to the Clinical Research Association, I, Southwark Street—I received two sealed jars from Dr. Stoker, one of them contained a human stomach and a small piece of human liver—the other contained a lower part of the bowel and some pieces of liver—I had a conversation with Dr. Stoker, and in consequence I applied some tests in order to discover whether there was any arsenic present—the stomach was tied at both ends, and on opening it I found its contents were from about 1 1/2 to 1 3/4 ounces of a yellow gruel like fluid—I applied Reinsch's test to a small portion of it, that is a well known test for arsenic—I discovered arsenic was present—some slips of copper are used in the test, they became a purple colour, indicating the probable presence of antimony in addition to arsenic—I communicated what I found to Dr. Stoker—on Monday, October 27th. Inspector Godley saw me and in consequence I subjected another portion of the contents of the stomach to Marsh's test, which is also a test for arsenic and antimony—I discovered both present by that test, and also found that there was far more antimony present than arsenic—I did not open the second jar—I replaced the stomach in the first one, and a part of it which I had used in my tests I placed in a perfectly clean glass-stoppered bottle, and on October 28th I handed all three jars to the Coroner's officer.

Cross-examined. The violet deposit suggested antimony to me—it is not always a conclusive proof of its existence—other substances will hardly produce the same colour, but something which might be taken for it—I have not read a report of Pritchard's case in 1865—I cannot at present remember any other substance which would produce the same violet colour—sometimes arsenic will come out and almost look like antimony—I do not only rely on the colour of the copper—I subjected the copper to a cleansing process before I used it.

FRANK LOVELL GILBERT . I live at 9, King's Place, Borough High Street—in October I was mortuary keeper at Collier's Rents, South wark—on October 22nd, just before midnight, I saw Dr. Stoker, and in consequence of what he said, I went to the Crown—I saw the prisoner and asked him if he was Chapman—he said, "Yes"—I told him I had been sent by Dr. Stoker to remove the body to the mortuary—he said that he required it moved that night—I said that it was rather late, and having paid a visit to the undertaker, the removal was arranged for 5 a.m. next day—the prisoner went to the mortuary with me then—we got there about 4.55-after we had taken the body from the

shell. I asked him who she was, he said, "Maud Marsh, my wife"—I asked him her age—he said "Twenty"—a, post mortem was held that evening, Dr. Cotter, Dr. Stoker, and Dr. French being present—parts of the body were placed in two jars, which were sealed up in my presence, and taken away by Dr. Stoker—I afterwards put the body back in the shell—on October 25th I again saw the prisoner at the Crown—he asked me if the funeral could start from the mortuary at 9 a.m. on the Monday—he said he had a business in the High Street, and he did not want no fuss outside the Crown—I told him he had better see the undertaker, and arrange with him.

Cross-examined. I knew he kept a public-house—the prisoner did not put any obstacle in my way to prevent me taking the body away.

JOSEPH HENRY VAUGHAN MARKS . I live at 31, Gaywood Street, and am Coroner's Officer for Southwark—on October 25th I got some information and went to the Police station, and an inquest was opened on the body of Maud Marsh on the 28th—that evening by the Coroner's order I went to Mr. Bodmer and received from him three jars—I took them to my house and kept them there till October 30th, when I gave them in the same state to Dr. Stevenson.

THOMAS STEVENSON , M.D. I am one of the official analysts to the Home Office, and also Lecturer on Forensic Medicine at Guy's Hospital—I have had experience, in analysis, particularly with reference to poisons, and have acted for the Home Office for thirty-one years—on October 30th I attended St. George's Mortuary to make a post mortem examination on the body of Maud Marsh—Dr. Freyberger, Dr. Stoker, and Dr. Cotter were there—there had been a previous post mortem—the body had been dead fully eight days, but there was not much decomposition, much less than I should expect in a body so long dead, considering the time and season—the scalp covering the skull was dry; that indicated that there was little fluid in the tissues—the skull and brain were normal—there was no hemorrhage or disease in the brain—the spinal cord was normal and no sign of disease there—the tongue was yellow, coated, and swollen—the air passages to the lungs were quite clear, and the lungs free from disease—there was a good deal of fat about the heart, but that would not have affected her health much, unless it had gone much further—it had invaded the muscles to the extent of about one-third—the mesenteric glands were much swollen—the stomach had been taken away, but it was given to me by the coroner's officer before the end of the post mortem—the blood vessels of the bowels were unusually red and injected with blood, but not to iv very marked extent—the mucous membrane of the bowels was swollen and slimy, and was in the condition which we generally know as sub-acute enteritis, which is inflammation of the membrane lining the bowels—there was a good deal of liquid in the bowels, but only a little semi-solid faecal matter, which was about the sigmoid flexure of the colon—one of the glands showed that she had probably been a person subjected to habitual constipation—the whole of the rectum had been removed—I found no ulceration of the bowels—I examined the pancreas, the spleen, and the kidneys they were all sound and healthy—the liver had been

detached, but it was in the abdomen—a small portion had been removed—it was rather dry and greasy, but there was no condition which would affect her health ma terially—I examined the womb and ovaries—they were perfectly normal—she had never apparently borne a child, nor was there any signs that she had been far advanced in pregnancy—menstruation was just upon ceasing—I found no evidence of any natural disease which would account for her death—I suspected that she had died from some form of irritant poison, which had set up enteritis—I had heard of the question of arsenical poisoning, but I came to the conclusion on making the examination that it was not arsenic but some other metallic poison—I then removed the brain, some blood from the cavity of the chest, the spleen, the gall bladder, which was full of bile, the liver, the kidneys, the contents of the bowels, the bowels themselves, and also some blood from the abdominal cavity—they were all rather light in weight—the drain on the fluid caused by the vomiting would account for that in a great measure—on the 31st I examined the stomach from the jar—there were signs of putrefaction externally and internally it was pink and injected with blood—the blood vessels were prominent and redder than usual—internally it was coated with a good deal of yellow slimy mucus, which became an orange colour at the bowel end—I did not find any ulcers or loss of substance—I examined the contents in the stomach and portion of the liver and rectum in the jars—I made an analysis of various parts of the body—every portion of the body which I examined had antimony in it—I found antimony in the stomach and its contents, in the bowels, and their contents, in the liver, bile, spleen, kidneys, the fluid which I took from the abdominal cavity, in the blood from the cavity of the chest, and in the brain—I made tests for arsenical poison—I found traces of arsenic in a small quantity, and I formed the opinion that death had not resulted from it—arsenic is sometimes found in antimony when it is impure—I came to the conclusion that death was caused by poisoning with antimony in a soluble form—that was tartar emetic or metallic antimony—that is one of the scheduled poisons—I did not find any bismuth there, but the tests for bismuth are not so complete—if there was any it must have been infinitesimal—I have never heard in late years of a case where bismuth has caused such symptoms as these, or caused death—bismuth is now purified from arsenic and other impurities—five grains is an ordinary dose—in the cases I have heard of where death was caused by bismuth I think that 120 grains must have been taken—I found no trace of impure bismuth in this case—I found 0.23 grains of metallic antimony in the contents of the stomach, 5.99 grains in the contents of the bowels—that indicated to me that there must have been a large dose of antimony given within a few hours of death, as it is soluble in water—it had not been got rid of by purging or vomiting—in the liver I found 0.71 grains of metallic antimony, in the kidneys 0.14 grain, in the brain 0.17 grain, in all 7.24 grains, which is 7 1/4, the bulk of which was in the bowel—I deduct from that that there was a good deal more antimony in the body—antimony can be made soluble in the form of tartar emetic or emetic tartar, which is a white powder, soluable in water—it does not change the appearance of

the water emetic tartar is not altogether antimony—724 grains of metallic antimony would represent 2012 grains of tartar emetic—the proportion is roughly 3 to I—I did not calculate the amount of tartar emetic in the whole body, but from my experience I should put it at between 25 and 30 grains—when tartar emetic or antimony is administered as a rule the greater part of it is very quickly ejected—purging relieves it—the effect of the poison itself generally takes a very considerable time before it causes death—death has occurred in many cases where it is given in repeated moderate doses—vomiting and purging makes people waste away—it produces gastro-enteritis and they also appear to die from failure of the heart—antimony depresses the circulation—it quickens the pulse, but gives it a very feeble power—two grains of tartar emetic has killed, but that is not ordinary—I should put the ordinary fatal dose at probably 15 grains—others put it at 10—even that might not be fatal if the greater portion of it is vomited—people have taken cream of tartar in much larger quantities and have recovered where it has been quickly vomited—I am of opinion if two or three grains were given repeatedly to a healthy person that it would eventually cause death—when doses of antimony are given from time to time the symptoms are great depression, profuse perspiration, followed by nausea and vomiting—purging is set up with pain in the abdomen, and usually after a time there is a burning or metallic sensation in the throat and stomach—there is a great thirst—spasms are quite common, and patients fall sometimes into a comatose or semicomatose state—they are generally very pallid, and sometimes they get quite jaundiced, and dark under the eyes, and thin and worn—it is sometimes the appearance, apart from other symptoms, which, indicates that the patient is approaching death—in the case of Mr. Braywood it was his appearance which excited the suspicion that he would die—Sir William (full and others who saw him, although he was apparently going on well, thought afterwards he could not get on so well—that was a case of poisoning by tartar emetic—if tartar emetic is taken in a strong solution it has a somewhat metallic but sweetish taste, but when taken diluted it does not have much taste—it can be covered up by food or medicine—people take antimony wine, which is sherry with antimony in it, and yet not know that anything is wrong—if doses had been going on for some time so as to set up irritation of the mucous membrane, that would set up the burning feeling in the throat—antimony can be dissolved and given by injections, or put into injections—that would be very dangerous; it would be quickly absorbed into the rectum and then into the body—the vomit in a case of poison by antimonial would be at first the contents of the stomach and then it would become green or yellow—I got a great number of bottles from Sergeant Kemp—I examined them—there was antimony or arsenic in one of them—some of them had contained photographic chemicals—I examined the bismuth powders found in the room, proved to have come from Dr. Stoker—they were free from antimony and arsenic—I also examined the bismuth from Dr. Stoker's surgery—it was pure and a very good specimen—these two bottles which contained medicine had no trace of antimony or arsenic—this other one had two or three drops at the

bottom of it—I do not know ii it kid been washed out—I found bismuth and antimony in it—I should say there was quite as much antimony as bismuth in it—there was enough antimony to give several full doses—emetic tartar can be dissolved in water so as not to be apparent, and then could be mixed with a bismuth preparation—tartar emetic is also soluble in brandy—brandy of ordinary strength will take up about two grains to the ounce—a tablespoonful of such medicine would be a full emetic dose—it is much more soluble in brandy and water than in plain brandy—these two bottles contain brandy and water, two parts water to one part brandy—there is tartar emetic in one of them—this one, which contains about an ounce, is probably a fatal dose—I could find nothing to account for death except poison by antimony—antimony might be given to produce perspiration and for bad colds, but only from one-twenty-fourth to one twenty-sixth of a grain to a dose—half a grain to a grain would be an emetic—death would not ensue from one dose of that strength or cause great pain—if vomited, it would not produce diarrhoea—all the signs I found at the post mortem would not be caused by such doses as that.

By the COURT. When I said I could find nothing to account for death, except poisoning by antimony, I meant antimony administered for the purpose of poisoning.

Cross-examined. There was not enough antimony left in this bottle for a fatal dose—if the bottle had been full of the same preparation of bismuth, antimony, and water, I think there would have been sufficient for a fatal dose, but I am not positive—it contained six doses—each dose of itself would not be a fatal one, but I cannot say what would be the effect of six successive doses—I should expect a person to be very ill after taking them—I examined the syringes—one of them is covered with an insoluble preparation of antimony, which is used in its manufacture—apart from that, I do not find any trace of antimony on either of them—I heard that they were used for the injecting of liquid beef tea, but also that they were soaked and washed afterwards—the immediate cause of death was acute sub-gastritis—I have had to do with a good many cases, but I never saw such extensive gastro-enteritis from ptomaine poisoning—it generally produces more inflammation of the bowels than of the stomach—in this case the stomach was worse than the bowels—persons who have died from ptomaine poisoning suffer from sub-acute enteritis—it is a question of degree—the fat which I noticed round the heart might point to old alcoholism, but fatty degeneration of the heart is well known in poisoning—the deceased was a very young woman to have had a fatty heart from alcoholism—tartar emetic is sometimes used as a check to drinking propensities—it nauseates the patient so that they cannot indulge in drink for the time being—in former times bismuth contained impurities which, apart from the bismuth itself, gave rise to arsenical poisoning; but at the present day bismuth is cleansed from those impurities, and is not itself poisonous—there have been cases on record of bismuth poisoning where the dose was only two drachms—I have edited Taylor's Medical Jurisprudence—a metallic taste, vomiting,

and purging, spasms in the arms and legs, which occurred in a, case of bismuth poisoning would coinside with a case of poisoning by antimony; but in a paragraph in my edition of Taylor, I think that that is explained—my reason for saying that I did not attribute the poisoning to arsenic was because the quantity of arsenic was very small, and it was present only in the contents of the stomach and bowel, and in the liver, but I could not detect any in the more remote organs, and if a person died from arsenical poisoning I should expect to find arsenic generally distributed through the body—there was not sufficient antimony to make me attach any importance to it—I ascertain its presence in various ways—the colour of the copper foil in Reinche's test is very significant—arsenic, antimony, bismuth, and mercury give very much the same colour, but none of them give the particular effect of antimony, so far as I know, and, of course, one does not rely on that one simple test alone—my tests are absolute, and not only probable—I discovered some orange sulphide, which was soluble in hydro-chloride acid, and separating it and treating it by Marsh's process, it was proved over and over again beyond all doubt to be antimony—that colour is not common to other mineral or vegetable poisons—putrifaction had only just commenced on the body of the deceased at the time of her death—there was only one day when the temperature rose above 50 degrees—I keep a record—I was engaged in the Bravo case, which was a case of poisoning by tartar emetic—I did not see the vomit in that case, but probably it contained blood—the purge contained blood, but it is not invariably present in the vomit and purge in cases of antimonial poisoning—I have not personally had a case where a person who died of antimonial poisoning vomited or purged blood—Bravo passed blood the same night that he had the antimony—I was at the inquest in that case—there are cases where there has been no vomiting of blood.

Re-examined. The question of blood in the stool would be according to the amount of the irritation, and in the faeces the blood might not appear as blood, but as a black stuff—to an unskilled person it might not appear to be blood—if the motion was black it would probably indicate that there was blood—if I as a medical man wished to know whether there was metallic poison, I should look to see if there was blood in the faecal matter—these glass tubes contain antimony in a sulphide form which I took from the deceased's body—here are some in the metallic form—this shining portion is the sulphide from the bowel—all the bismuth coming from Dr. Stoker was pure, and did not contain arsenic—I have no reason to think that the deceased was addicted to drink—I never heard it suggested until now—there was nothing in the fatty degeneration of the heart that would cause death—I daresay I have a much fatter heart than she had—it would not have produced vomit or gastro-enteritis—the main poisoning could not possibly bring about the production of antimony by any internal process—if the syringes were soaked in water, that would get rid of any traces of antimony—there would be no difficulty in mixing the antimony with bismuth if you dissolve it in water first—you could also put it into the bismuth without dissolving it.

By MR. ELLIOTT. Bismuth taken by the patient produces black motions.

By the JURY. There was Jess antimony in the rectum than higher up in the bowel—I cannot say if the whole of the last dose of antimony was due to rectum administration, but I think that she must have had during the last few hours of her life some given by the mouth—if the brandy was pure it would not take up enough antimony to give it any extra taste; but I should not like to take a mouthful of this brandy and water and antimony.

R. BODMER (Re-examined.) I took part with Dr. Stevenson in the chemical analyses of the different parts of the deceased's body—I have been in Court while he has been giving his evidence—I agree with him absolutely.

LUDWIG FREYBERGER , M.D., M.R.C.P. I was present on October 30th at the post mortem conducted by Dr. Stevenson—I have heard him describe the various organs of the deceased's body—I agree with his evidence—J took no part in the chemical analysis.

G. GODLEY (Re-examined.) I found the bottles which Dr. Stevenson has referred to—Nos. 2, 3, and 4 I found in the deceased's bedroom—I took them to my office and handed them to Sergeant Kemp, with instructtions what to do.

Cross-examined. I took everything that was there.

ELIZA MARSH (Re-examined.) The deceased lived with me until she was 15 or 16—she was afterwards in one or two situations as a housemaid—after she left them and until she went to the Monument, she lived with me again—she was sober and temperate and never in the slightest degree addicted to drinking habits.

WILLIAM WENZEL . I am a hairdresser at 7, Church Lane, Leytonstone—I have been there about eighteen years—about 1896 I advertised for an assistant—the prisoner came to me and remained about six or seven months—I knew him as George Chapman—he said he had come from Tottenham where he had a shop which was unsuccessful, so he could not give me references.

Cross-examined. I never knew him under any other name—I sometimes had men calling on me with hairdressers' sundries—I do not think anyone called while the prisoner was with me, but I am not sure.

JOSEPH SMITH RENTON . I am a corn chandler at 460, High Road, Leytonstone—my family originally lived in Yorkshire—I came to Leytonstone in 1881 or 1882—I am now about 41 years old—I had a cousin named Mary Isabella Renton—if she had been alive now she would have been six or seven years older than I am—she came to live with me at Leytonstone, and finally married Shadrack Spink, a porter at Leytonstone station—they had two boys named Shadrack and William—William was not born until a few months after Spink left his wife—he took Shadrack with him—sometime after ho wont away I noticed that my cousin was keeping company with the prisoner who I knew as Chapman, who was employed at Wenzel's; and about March. 1896. my cousin left Leytonstone—I was given to understand she was married to Chapman, she passed as Mrs.

Chapman—I saw her again in June, 1896—I first heard of her death in 1898 from a representative of Dr. Barnardo's home.

Cross-examined. I never spoke to the prisoner in my life—I never knew him under any other name than Chapman—he was in Wenzel's shop all the time I knew him—I do not know if he and my cousin were on good terms—I did not see sufficient of them.

JOHN WARD . I live at Ilford—I used to live at Leytonstone—I knew a man there named Shadrack Spink—he was a railway porter—I knew his wife, Isabella Spink, and also Wenzel's shop—I went there sometimes and made the prisoner's acquaintance—he came to me once and asked me to let him a furnished room which I did, and after he had been in my house some time my wife spoke to me and I told the prisoner that she "did not like the carrying on between him and Mrs. Spink—he said. "It is all right, we are going to get married on Sunday week '"—I had found him kissing her on the stairs—that was in October, 1895—early one Sunday morning Mrs. Spink and the prisoner went out—they came back about 10 a.m.—she had been living at my house before he had—the prisoner said, "Mr. and Mrs. Ward, allow me to introduce you to my wife, Mrs. Chapman—they said that they had been married somewhere in the City, at a Catholic place—my wife said, "Where is the certificate,"—he said, "Oh, our laws are different to your laws," or something to that effect—he said he was a Polish Jew—they stayed at my house for some little time, when they went to Hastings.

Cross-examined. I did not know the prisoner under any other name—I never heard Mrs. Spink call him by any other name;.

By the COURT. When she had her money she used to take a drop of drink, but she was not an habitual drunkard.

ARTHUR NEIL (Detective Sergeant M.) I searched the register of marriages at Somerset House from the' beginning of 1895 to 1897—I found no record between anybody named George Chapman and Mary Isabella Spink, or between Severino Klosowski and Mary Isabella Spink, or between Klosowski and anybody else.

ANNIE HELSDOWN . I am the wife of Frederick Helsdown, and live at Hastings—for some years we lived at 10, Hill Street, and I remember a Mr. and Mrs. Chapman and a little boy named Willie coming to live in the same house—the prisoner was Mr. Chapman—I did not know him before that—the boy was about five or six—after they had been there some time the prisoner opened a barber's shop in George Street—he and his wife had their meals there—I think she assisted in the shop—I have heard her cry out once or twice—I went to her next morning and she showed me a mark on her throat—she made a communication to me—she was not so well during the latter part of the time as she was at first—she was sick and said she had dreadful pains in her stomach—this was in 1896—I saw her vomit—it was greenish—no doctor was attending her—I left them there in 1897.

Cross-examined. It was generally early in the morning that she was sick.

HARRIET GREENAWAY . I am the wife of Frank Greenaway, of 14,

Braybrook Road, Hastings—up to March 22nd, 1897, I lived at I, Coburg Place—a family named Chapman came to live in the same house about a month before I left—there was a man, a woman, and a child—the prisoner is the man—he went to a hairdresser's shop in George Street—he said he was a Russian Pole and that he had been to America—he once wrote down a name, and said it was his name in Russian—I had some volumes of "Cassell's' Family Physician"—I gave them to Mrs. Chapman to keep for a time—I never got them back—these are they (Produced).

Cross-examined. I had not much to do with Mrs. Chapman, but "I saw her every day—I thought she was given to drink—I saw no unpleasantness between her and the prisoner—she told me she had been married before—I cannot say if she told me whether she was married to the prisoner or not—I thought that she was his wife—she said her first husband had been killed on the railway—when the prisoner wrote his name in Russian I did not understand it.

MARTHA DOUBLEDAY . I am married, and live at Richmond Street, Bartholomew Square, St. Luke's—for some years I have known the Prince of Wales beer house in Bartholomew Square—in the autumn of 1897 the prisoner became a tenant there—I knew him as Chapman—there was a woman with him, who I knew as Mrs. Chapman—her name had been Mary Isabella Spink—she was a nice little built person, with fresh colour—I became friendly with her—after they had been in the house about twelve months I noticed that she was white—she got very thin—she said she had pains all over her—she seemed to be getting worse—the prisoner came to me a fortnight before Christmas and asked me if I would go over and sit up with his wife at night as she was very ill—I said I would—I went up to see her—there was no doctor there—I asked if I should fetch one—he said, "Who is the nearest?"—I said, "Dr. Rogers"—he gave me a paper, and Dr. Rogers came—I sat with Mrs. Chapman every night—she was in bed in 'the front room on the second floor—the prisoner lay on the couch—I was locked in—Mrs. Chapman was in bed all the time I was there—she was suffering very much; she vomited, and had pains all over her—she vomited frequently—it was dark brown—I gave her nothing at all during the night—after the doctor came the prisoner gave her brandy and medicine—he brought the brandy up with him at night and put it on the table—after she had the brandy she vomited—I was only there at night—I saw Mrs. Mumford there during the day—Mrs. Chapman had diarrhoea very badly—I had to get her our of bed—Dr. Rogers asked me to go and get Mrs. Waymark to nurse her as I could not do it any longer—I did not find out what was the mutter with Mrs. Chapman—I did not ask the prisoner—towards Christmas she got much worse—the vomiting continued—at night she had only medicine and brandy—she complained of being thirsty—she asked for drink, and the prisoner brought it up—during the last few days Mrs. Waymark gave her some Liebig—that did not come up—when the prisoner came into the room he used to lean over her—once or twice he told me to go outside, and then I would hear her say, "Pray God, go away from me '"—I did not afterwards ask her or the prisoner what she meant

by that—on Christmas morning she got much worse, and became unconscious—she had been vomiting very much—a severe flooding came on—I called out for the prisoner—he did not come up for some time afterwards—when he did come he only leant over the bed and then went into the next room—before she died I called him again—he leant over her and said, "Polly, Polly, speak!"—she had just died then—he went into the next room and cried—I called him because she was dying—he did not come at once; when he did she was gone—he wont down and opened the house—she died at one o'clock—I said, "You are never going to open the house to-day?"—he said, "Yes, I am"—I saw Mrs. Chapman's body after she was dead—it was in a very shocking condition—it was very much bruised—there were signs of the flooding—it looked as if it was wrapped up in a sheet—the boy was in the next room when she died—she was buried on the following Thursday at St. Patrick's Cemetery, Leytonstone—the prisoner continued to carry on the house—I never ascertained what the deceased died of—Dr. Rogers, who is now dead, gave a certificate.

Cross-examined. I did not see Dr. Rogers very often—I was not a customer at the beer house until about six months after the prisoner took it—at that time Mrs. Chapman was a very healthy woman—I did not know that she was suffering in any way—she did not say that she had been ill at Hastings, nor did the prisoner—the first symptoms that I noticed of her becoming ill was when she began to get thin—the prisoner knew that I was great friends with his wife—it was through me that he had a doctor—Dr. Rogers came regularly—he prescribed medicine—nothing was recommended in the way of nourishment by Dr. Rogers until Mrs. Waymark come—I did not know her then—she washed Mrs. Chapman all over and put her on a clean chemise and nightgown, which I bought for her—the nourishment that Dr. Rogers ordered was obtained, and everything he suggested was done—the prisoner appeared anxious to do everything he could—while I was in the house the only thing I had to drink was a drop of stout, which the prisoner brought up to me—I did not taste the brandy—I did not drink the stout because I did not care for it—I did not have much to say to him—Dr. Rogers saw Mrs. Chapman before she was dead—he was a man of great experience.

JANE MUMFORD . I live at 74, Bath Street, St. Luke's—in 1897 I was living at 19, Bartholomew Square—I knew the Chapmans when they came to the Prince of Wales—Mrs. Chapman seemed very well indeed at first—in the autumn I saw her in bed, and I relieved Mrs. Doubleday in the night nursing—the prisoner was in the room during the night, locked in—I did not see Mrs. Chapman have any nourishment at night—she had some medicine given her by the prisoner, but I cannot say what it was—she always complained of thirst, but I do not know what she had when she was thirsty; the prisoner would never let me see it—she asked for a pony of stout—the prisoner went down and got it—she suffered from sickness and diarrhoea very much—the prisoner gave her something in a wineglass—I could not see the colour of it—I suppose he got it from the medicine bottle which was kept on the sideboard—

after she drank what he gave her she was generally sick—a utensil was kept there—I never emptied it or saw it done—the prisoner said that Mrs. Chapman was suffering from delirium tremens through drink—saw him reading books in the bar—he said they were doctors' books, and that he was giving her stuff to cure her of delirium tremens—I said, "She seems very bad"—he said, "Oh, she will get better when she gets on"—he said he had been a bit of a doctor—I did not know what he meant—I had very little to say to him—I was not present when Mrs. Chapman died—I attended her until some three or four days before her death.

Cross-examined. I have had no experience of nursing—I only went there out of kindness—during the last week that I was there, I was there all day and two nights—I was not paid—there was nobody else in the house besides the prisoner and myself—Dr. Rogers came once a day—the medicine stood on the sideboard—anybody could have examined the bottles if they wished to—the prisoner appeared attentive and fond of the deceased—she seemed fond of him—I did not speak to Dr. Rogers—I knew him by sight—he was well known in the neighbourhood as a very good doctor—as far as I know Mrs. Chapman took the medicine he ordered—sometimes he brought it, sometimes I called for it—the prisoner took the medicine from the bottles that Dr. Rogers sent, I never saw him change it—I never gave her any food—I do not know what the doctor ordered her to eat.

ELIZABETH WAYMARK . I live at 41, Windsor Terrace, City Road—I go out nursing sometimes—I knew the late Dr. Rogers of Old Street—towards the end of 1897 he sent me to the Prince of Wales to nurse Mrs. Chapman about a fortnight before her death—I saw the prisoner and made arrangements with him for the nursing—he said she was wasting away, but he did not say what was the matter with her—I saw her in bed—she complained of bile and vomiting and violent pains in her stomach—I very often saw her vomit, it was slimy and green, and as she vomited she was purged—she had diarrhoea—she did not take much food, only a little beef tea, brandy, milk and soda, and water—the prisoner generally gave them to her—I do not know whether the milk was mixed with water or soda—after she had had the drink she was sick, and then she used to go off in a stupor—she gradually grew worse—when the prisoner came into the room he would go to the bedside and feel her pulse—I told him that she was very bad, and I asked him what was the matter—he did not make me no answer—he said he knew—I was with her when she died—just before the end she had a severe flooding—once I felt her pulse—it was very low, you could scarcely feel it—when I saw that she was dying I sent down two or three times for the prisoner—at first he did not come up—when he did she said to him, "Do Has me"—she put her arms out for him to bend over to kiss her, but he did not do so—the last time I sent for him just before she died he did not come up in time—I prepared the body for burial—it was a mere skeleton—she died on Christmas Day, 1897—I did not go to the funeral—on December 9th, 1902, I went to St. Patrick's Cemetery at Leytonstone, where I had heard that she was buried—I saw Dr. Stevenson there—I did not see

the coffin taken up, but I saw the body in the coffin in a little shed—I recognised it as the body of the woman I saw die on Christmas Day, 1897—I had no difficulty in recognising it—it was in a state of preservation—I never heard from Dr. Rogers what she died of, and I do not know.

By the COURT. When she was exhumed she looked as if she had only been buried about nine months—the only difference was that her hair had grown a little longer on the forehead—the face was perfect.

Cross-examined. I have often nursed under Dr. Rogers—I knew him for a long time—he was a very experienced and clever doctor—it was through him that I went there—I had not seen the Chapmans before that—I did everything that I possibly could for Mrs. Chapman, but as far as I can tell she had everything that Dr. Rogers ordered—she was in a dying state when I went there—I knew she was past help when I got there—when Dr. Rogers came I said, "She is in a very bad state," and he said, "Yes"—he did not say what she was suffering from—I was not there when he gave the certificate—I do not remember another doctor being called in just before she died.

HENRY EDWARD PIERCE . I am an undertaker of 27, Featherstone Street—on the evening of Christmas Day, 1897, I was called to the Prince of Wales, where I saw the prisoner—he made arrangements with me for the interment and funeral of Mary Isabella Chapman, whom he described as his wife—he said he wanted the coffin the same night—I said it was impossible, but I promised it next day at 12—I went up and saw the body—it was very yellow and struck me as unusual—I took particulars for a name plate, which was prepared—it had on it, "Mary Isabella Chapman, aged 41 years, died December 25th, 1897"—the funeral and interment took place at St. Patrick's Cemetery, Leytonstone on December 30th—I was present; and on December 9th, 1902, I saw taken from the same grave the same coffin with the name plate on it—I removed the lid and recognised the body inside.

Cross-examined. I did not see the certificate given by Dr. Rogers—we only have to have the register of death and an order for burial—the prisoner did not give me any other particulars about Mrs. Chapman. Re-examined. This is my receipted hill for the funeral.

G. GODLEY (Re-examined.) I found this undertaker's bill at the Crown—I also produce the certificate of the registration of the death of Mary Isabella Chapman on December 25th, 1897—the cause of death is certified by Dr. Rogers to be phthisis.

THOMAS STEVENSON (Re-examined.) I attended at St. Patrick's Cemetery, Leytonstone, on December 9th, 1902, and examined the body in the coffin, bearing the name plate of Mary Isabella Chapman, who died on December 25th, 1897—I saw the lid removed—the body was altogether remarkable—the face and head were those of a woman who might have been coffined that day from the appearance—even the eyes were unruptured, a very unusual circumstance—there was not the least difficulty in recognising her—the muscles had a fresh appearance—all the parts of the body cut rather leathery, like shoe leather, and of course were dryer than in "a fresh body—all the parts of the body except the brain were

preserved—the stomach was unusually pink externally—that was from the blood in the vessels being more than usually good—it's inner coat was of a peculiar cinnabar red colour, and towards the bowel end there was a patch of black blood which had been effused—there was no sign of perforation or ulceration—there was no loss of substance in the mucus membrane—towards the bowel end there were some old scars of years' standing—the bowels were not ruptured—the tube was intact—internally the bowel had the same red colour as the stomach—there was no ulceration—the liver was pale but firm in texture "and fairly normal—the spleen, the kidneys, the bladder, the heart, and the lungs were all normal—there was no sign of phthisis; that generally indicates disease of the lungs—the cause of death was gastro-enteritis—there was no other cause—there was nothing to indicate that the woman had been a confirmed drunkard—if she had drank it had not produced any serious injury to the kidneys or liver—the inflammation which I found in the stomach was not attributed to alcohol—I removed the stomach, the bowels, liver, kidneys, spleen, lungs, heart, brain, and some of the muscles, and submitted them all to analysis except the lungs—they all contained antimony—it had permeated to the muscle of the thigh—in the bowels I found 0.41 grain of metallic antimony, in the liver 0'87 grain, in the kidneys 0.06, and the stomach 0.03, which makes altogether 1.37—that, would represent as emetic tartar 3.83 grains—there was more in her liver than I found in Maud Marsh's—that quantity points to a large amount of antimony having been absorbed into the body, and would indicate a considerable dose having been taken some hours before death or the continuous administration of small doses—the purging and vomiting would get rid of a good deal of the antimony—I came to the conclusion that the cause of death was poisoning by antimony, and I attribute the preservation of the body to the antimony—it has not been thoroughly recognised that preservation is one of the effects of antimony, but it has been found in previous cases to be a preservative—the fact of antimony being found in the muscles would not indicate that doses of antimony had been going on for some time, because I think it would quickly pass to every vascular part of the body—I tested the earth round the coffin to see if it yielded any water; evidently the body had not been touched by water; the coffin and its contents being well preserved.

Cross-examined. The condition of preservation in a measure depends on the surroundings of the body quite apart from anything internal—it was an elm coffin—the grave was eighteen feet deep—the depth of a grave to some extent helps to preserve a body, but if this body had begun to decay at the time it was buried, the depth of the grave would not have retarded it—the air generally reaches, a body before it is buried—this soil was very dry, clay and loam, which would assist preservation—it would take a few years for rain to get down eighteen feet—the grave was not a brick one—there were seven other coffins above, this one was at the bottom—the body was almost life-like—bodies buried in lead coffins, when opened years afterwards, have been found to be preserved to a wonderful degree—in those cases the air had been excluded—a wooden coffin would not be Hermetically sealed—the other bodies removed from

this grave had a fearful smell—we did not open the other coffins, they were reverently put aside, and a tarpaulin put over them—the whole of them had been buried within a month—I did not analyse the lungs, because I was told the woman had died from phthisis, but when I found no traces I put them aside in case questions were asked—if I had not known the history of the woman but was told that a certificate of death from phthisis had been given, I might possibly have found that consistent with her condition—when people die from phthisis there is generally great emaciation.

By the JURY. I am of opinion that antimony given in gradual doses for a long time would be more likely to preserve the body than a sudden dose—it would get more into the system.

R. BODMER (Re-examined). I took part with Dr. Stevenson in making an analysis of this body—I have heard his evidence, and I agree with him.

WILLIAM TAYLOR . I live at 62, Lausanne Road, Hornsey—Bessie Taylor was my sister—she was about thirty-six when she died—she had held the position of manageress in some places in London—her last engagement was at Peckham, before being, as I understood, married—about four years ago she introduced me to the prisoner as her husband—I cannot fix the date—I believe they were then living at the Prince of Wales—I afterwards learned that they had gone to Bishop's Stortford, and afterwards I learned that they were living at the Monument—I did not know my sister had gone there as a barmaid—in December, 1900, I heard that she was ill and my mother came up from Cheshire—I saw my mother, and after some conversation with her I went to see my sister at the Monument—I had not seen her for about three months, when she had called on me—she was apparently then in good health—this (Produced) is a. photograph of her—she looked strong and healthy—when I saw her at the Monument she appeared to be very ill and shrunken—she had gone into like a little old woman—she said she had violent pains in her inside, and that she had been very sick—the next I heard was in a message from my mother that she had died on February 13th, and on February 15th I met the prisoner at St. Pancras Station, and with him and other members of the family went to Lymn Churchyard in Cheshire, where my sister was buried—I was at the grave side, and in November, 1902, I saw her grave opened and the coffin in which she had been buried taken out—I only saw the prisoner and my sister together about six times—they seemed to be on good terms—he treated her kindly and properly—she seemed to be fond of him, and they seemed to be happy—he seemed to have been very sorry to have lost her when she died—he behaved in every way that I should expect a man to who had just lost his wife—I never heard my sister make a complaint about him—I did not know Dr. Stokes attended to her at the Monument—I knew that she was being attended by a doctor.

ELIZABETH ANNE PAINTER . I live at 8, Argyll Street, Oxford Street, and am a caretaker—for many years I was acquainted with Bessie Taylor—I remember her being: in a situation at Peckham—about Easter time,

1898, she left there and went to Jive at the Prince of Wales—I understood that she had been married—I visited her there and saw the prisoner—they were living as Mr. and Mrs. Chapman—she was in good health—I next heard of them at the Grapes, at Bishop's Stortford—shortly before Christmas, 1898, I went down there to stay for a week or two—just before Christmas Bessie went into the local hospital—she had lumps on her face from her gums—she came out of the hospital in about a week and returned to the Grapes—the prisoner was very unkind to her when she came back—he carried on at her all the afternoon, and in the evening he frightened her with a revolver, because he said she had been telling the customers that she was going into the hospital—she was not strong when she came out of the hospital, but she was better—I next heard of them at the Monument—he was not kind to her there—he was always carrying on at her—she seemed to be fading very much—she complained of pains all over her and her head was bad—she got very thin—towards the end of 1900 I visited her every evening—she always felt sick, it always came on after she had had anything to eat or drink—she was in bed and had pains in her stomach—I do not know if she had diarrhoea—when the prisoner came into her room he felt her pulse with his watch in his hand—after a time I saw medicine bottles in the room—the prisoner would shake them and then look up to the light through them—I asked him what was the matter with her—he said there was a complication of diseases—when I went into the bar I would ask him how Bessie was—sometimes he would say, "Your friend is dead"—I would go upstairs and find her alive—I saw her on February 7th—she seemed a bit brighter—I went again on the 14th—I did not know she had died the day before—I saw the prisoner—I asked him about Bessie—he said she was about the same—the nurse took me upstairs and told me something, and I found she was dead—the house was open when I went there.

Cross-examined. Bessie and I were great friends, we had been in service together—I saw her in the hospital at Bishop's Stortford—there was nothing else the matter with her except her face—I do not know how long she had been at the Monument when I first noticed anything the matter with her there—I think that when she came from Bishop's Stortford her health began to fail—the first time I saw her in London I noticed that she was in ill-health—the prisoner was pretty fair with me—most people are changeable, he was no exception to the rule—with the exception of his carrying on at Bessie, they were on very good terms—the carryings-on were only occasional, and generally took place after the house was closed—sometimes I assisted them in—the business—she took a prominent part in the bar—when the prisoner said, "Your friend is dead, "I did not take him seriously—I thought it was his way of putting it—when Bessie was able to get about she used to prepare the food herself; when she was ill I would ask the prisoner for anything, and he would get it—he got beef tea or milk—I could see everything he gave me—if he had put anything into it I should have noticed it—I never noticed him put anything into the food—I could have tasted it if I had liked—I was perfectly free to do anything I liked with it—when I visited Bessie and she was ill, I

had something to drink—I always thought it was all right something I had port, sometimes a glass of ale—it came from the bar—sometimes I would ask for it, sometimes the prisoner would give it to mo—it was not what had been got for Bessie—the brandy and things for her were always in the room when I got there—I had a glass of brandy once—it had not been brought into the room for her it was there for me—the prisoner told me to take it—I did so—there was a nurse named Stevens there—I do not know if she was properly qualified—she seemed to be competent, and paid every attention to Bessie—I do not know if she prepared any of the food, because I was not there when it was prepared—I did not see Dr. Stoker—Bessie seemed to have all she wished in the way of food—I never heard her complain that she could not get what she wanted.

By the JURY. The prisoner kissed me once or twice—he never made overtures to me, or said that I could be Mrs. Chapman—he kissed me while Bessie was about—he did not say anything when he did so.

MARTHA STEVENS . I live at 22, Fanshaw Avenue, Barking, and have been a nurse for a number of years—I used to live at Union Street, Borough—two or three months before Christmas, 1900, I got to know the prisoner and Bessie Taylor at the Monument—when I first knew Bessie she seemed pretty well in health—later on she complained to me of being fatigued, languid, and having pains in her stomach—I suggested that she should go to the doctor—she made a complaint to me and I mentioned Dr. Stoker's name—I went with her to his surgery more than once—he gave her some medicine—she seemed to rally, but not for long—I went to the Monument and nursed her about a week or ten days before Christmas—she engaged me herself—at first I only stayed during the day—she had vomiting and diarrhoea, and great pain—she complained a little about her throat burning, which was very red—about twice I noticed perspiration—when she vomited it was severe, and green, thick, and slimy—she did not complain of being thirsty—when she did complain I saw milk, water, brandy and water, and champagne given to her—at first I was the only person there in the daytime—the prisoner used to come up and see her from time to time—he used to ask her how she was—sometimes he held her hand in a friendly way—sometimes I prepared what nourishment she had, sometimes her mother, sometimes the prisoner—after a time I stayed there during the night as well as the day—the prisoner was there during the night until Bessie's mother came, and then he went and slept in the parlour—I went back to my home in the daytime for an hour sometimes—Mrs. Taylor did not go out very often—she took a walk sometimes—Bessie was sometimes better and sometimes worse—one Sunday after Christmas she got up and went about the house, then sat down and played the piano in the club-room adjoining her bed-room—as she was playing. Dr. Stoker who was attending her came in—he put his finger up so that I should not interrupt her—then he said. "apital '"—she looked round and discovered him there—I went home to sleep that night—I was sent for again on the Monday or Tuesday—Bessie seemed quite prostrated—she went to bed directly I got there

—she said she was very tired and languid—she did not complain of pain she had violent sickness and purging—Dr. Stoker came—I was with Bessie on February 13th, and about 1.30 a.m. I thought she was dying—I called the prisoner—he came up just as she was dying—he looked at her, and I think he said, "Oh, she has gone "and he commenced to cry—I stopped a day or two in the house, and on the 15th the body was removed in a coffin to the railway station.

Cross-examined. I knew Dr. Stoker before I went to the Monument—I introduced him to the Chapmans—three specialists were also called in while I was there—I do not remember their names—I believe Mrs. Taylor asked them to come—altogether there were five doctors—they examined Bessie, and had a consultation in the club-room—they came up and saw her again—the prisoner was not present, he came up afterwards—he seemed quite willing that the consultation should be held—he spoke to the doctors downstairs—I did not hear the doctors say what was the matter with Bessie—Mrs. Taylor was in the house about a fortnight—during that time Bessie had everything that was prescribed for her, she was looked after with every possible care—the prisoner seemed to be willing to have everything done that could be done—he got everything that was suggested—Mrs. Taylor generally prepared the food—the prisoner brought up some champagne—I do not remember him bringing any food up—I do not think he interfered with the doctor's treatment—I never saw him giving Bessie medicine, I took the responsebility and carried out Dr. Stoker's orders—I had some ale whilst I was there—I did not have any champagne—I could have had what I liked—the prisoner and Bessie seemed to be fond of one another—when she seemed to be better he seemed to be pleased—I could go about the house as I liked—the prisoner never sent me out of the room, or prevented me getting any food Bessie wanted.

Re-examined. I never had any suspicion of unfair play—the medicines were generally kept in the bedroom—I went out from time to time—the prisoner always had access to the bedroom—I did not go there until after Christmas.

By the JURY. I never drank any brandy—the prisoner never asked me to take any medicine.

J. M. STOKER (Re-examined.) I was called to the Monument on January 1st, 1901—I first saw the prisoner about a fortnight before that, when he came to my surgery—previous to that Bessie Taylor had called on me and asked for some medicine—I then attended her—Mrs. Stevens was there—I visited Mrs. Chapman "almost daily from January 1st to February 13th, when she died—when I first called she was in bed; she had vomiting, diarrhoea and pains in the stomach, which was very tender—the vomit was green—I cannot recollect if I saw her vomiting—I prescribed for her—she used to get better and then go back again—I suggested another doctor being called in—I had three separate consultations with three other doctors—one was Dr. Sunderland—he is a specialist in the diseases of women—he only saw her once—I was under the impression that "Mrs. Chapman "was suffering from some womb trouble—I do not recollect if Dr. Sunderland

suggested any alteration in the treatment—she did not nuke any improvement—I then suggested another doctor—somebody in the house suggested Dr. Thorpe of Southwark Bridge Road—he and I examined "Mrs. Chapman "ogether—he said he thought she was suffering from a severe form of hysteria—I then got Dr. Cotter—we examined the patient together—he thought she was suffering from some cancerous disease of the stomach or intestines—in consequence. I sent a portion of her vomit to the Clinical Research Association with directions to see if—there was any trace of cancer—that would be a microscopical examination—they found no trace—the constant vomiting and diarrhoea continued more or less during the whole time that I was there—I remember one evening going in and finding her playing the piano—I cannot recollect the date—she appeared very much better, and in consequence I said I would not call back again unless I was sent for—I do not recollect if I had any conversation with the prisoner on that day—I was sent for the next day—I found her worse than ever—I was with her the day before she died—she was very bad then with the same symptoms—I do not recollect whether on that day I thought she was dying or not—next day I heard of her death—I was asked to give a certificate, which I did giving the cause of death as intestinal obstruction, vomiting, and exhaustion—intestinal obstruction would cause vomiting and exhaustion—she was suffering from vomiting and ordinary stoppage when she came to my surgery—diarrhoea would follow when the stoppage was cleared—I did not put the particulars in the certificate, "G. Chapman, widower of deceased"—I thought the prisoner was married to the woman—I never had such a thing as antimony at this period, and I never prescribed it.

Cross-examined. I had seen Mrs. Stevens before—it was at her recommendation that I went to the Chapmans—up to that time I knew nothing of them—at first I regarded the case as one of constipation, and I directed my treatment with a view of removing that—I attended her at her home for excessive diarrhoea so the stoppage must have given way—I think that she came to my surgery twice—I do not remember what I gave her most likely a dose of salts—I next saw her at her home on January 1st, when I treated her for diarrhoea and vomiting—I do not know what I gave her then—I saw the prisoner—I do not remember if when I suggested to him that I should like further advice, it was within the month—he at once agreed—I believe that Dr. Sundertand came to the conclusion that she was suffering from some uterine trouble—I have no record of it—I have not seen him since—the prisoner saw Dr. Sunderland when he came, and asked him what was the matter with his wife—I do not remember that he was dissatisfied with our opinion—he was willing to have a third doctor—he paid the fees—I consulted with Dr. Thorpe—I think he told the prisoner that the woman had hysteria—he accepted that opinion, as he had accepted Dr. Sunderland's—it was at my suggestion that a fourth doctor was called in because the woman was getting no better—the prisoner agreed to that—I do not know what fee he paid in each case—he did not grumble—Dr. Cotter said it was some cancerous disease of the stomach or intestines—I think Dr. Bodmer examined the vomit that I sent—Dr. Cotter's opinion was not

sustained—I do not think the report was told to the prisoner—I do not think the patient lived long after that—I had many opinions—I have no record of my treatment—if the specialist had suggested an alteration in the medicine I certainly should have made it.

Re-examined. None of us suspected poison.

By the COURT. As far as I can tell she was cured of constipation—you can get vomiting with hysteria, and you can imagine a lot when you have hysteria—I think Dr. Thorpe thought the woman was imagining—it did not occur to me that she was not suffering—constipation was the primary cause—the vomiting and exhaustion had caused her death—it would probably have been wise to have had a post mortem before giving the certificate, as all the doctors were evidently wrong—I have never known a case where four doctors gave four different opinions, and when the patient died, still there was no post mortem.

ARTHUR NEIL (Re-examined.) I have searched the record at Somerset House between January, 1898, and March, 1900—I can find no record of a marriage between George Chapman and Bessie Taylor, or Severino Klosowski and Bessie Taylor.

WILLIAM TULL . I live at 11, Warwick Street, Blackfriars, and am manager to Mr. Smith, undertaker, at 122, Southwark Bridge Road—on February 13th I went to the Monument with a coffin—I saw the prisoner there—he had been to the shop earlier that day—I went upstairs and saw a woman's body—the prisoner gave the name as Bessie Chapman—I coffined the body and early on February 15th it was conveyed to St. Pancras Station—on November 22nd, 1902,1 went with Inspector Godley to Lymn in Cheshire, where I saw a grave opened and three coffins taken out—the third was the one in which the body of Bessie Chapman had been placed—I identified it by the name plate on it which I had myself engraved—the lid was removed, and Dr. Stevenson saw the body inside.

WILLIAM KELSALL . I live at Agden, near Altrincham, in Cheshire—I knew the late Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, the parents of Bessie Taylor—on November 22nd, 1902, I was present at Lymn Churchyard, and I saw in a coffin which was then opened, the body of Bessie Taylor.

DR. STEVENSON (Re-examined). On November 22nd I was at Lymn Churchyard, Cheshire, and I saw Bessie Taylor's coffin taken from the grave—it had a plate on it, "Bessie Chapman, died February 13th, 1901, age 36 years"—the body was covered with a mouldy growth, but otherwise, was fresh—there was no putrifaction and no odour—the tissues were dry—the muscles had a red and freshish appearance—there was a faecal odour in the abdomen, but no putrifactive odour—although the features shad mould on them one could follow the shape and general contour—the yeast was shrunken and the whole body dry—generally when bodies decompose they become wet and slimy—this was one extremely well preserved except for the superficial skin—I made an examination of the various organs—on the base of the right lung I found some old adhesions from old pleurisy—the lungs were shrunken and dry but otherwise healthy and free from deposits or cavities—adhesions are quite common in people of good health in middle life and after—the heart and its valves were

healthy—the stomach was empty, but its vessels were filled with dark blood to an unusual extent—on the inner surface of the gullet end of the stomach there was a patch about four inches in diameter of a cinnabar red colour which denoted gastritis—there was no ulceration or perforation or any loss of substance in the mucus membrane of the stomach—the cinnabar red colour extended more or less through the bowels, indicating enteritis—the inner surface of the bowel was coated with a yellow paint-like stun" which was sulphide of antimony—the pancreas, spleen, kidneys, and liver were all shrunken by time but otherwise normal—the womb, ovaries, appendages and bladder were quite normal—I found no trace of cancer nor uterine trouble—I could find no sign of any cause of death—I examined the brain—it was a good deal decomposed—there was no sign of hemorrhage, or any recognisable disease—I found no intestinal obstruction—I formed the opinion that she had died from gastro-enteritis which was due to some irritant poison—I removed the stomach, bowels, liver, spleen, kidneys, heart, brain, and lungs, and subjected them all to analysis and examination—the analysis showed that antimony was present in all those parts—there was no other poison—in the stomach there was 0.12 grain of metallic antimony, in the bowel 8.43 grains, in the liver 164 grain in the kidneys 030 grain, making a total of 1049 grains which equals 10 1/2—that represents of tartar emetic in the stomach 032 grain, in the bowel 2343 grains, in the liver 4.55 grains, in the kidneys 082. grain, making in all 2912 grains—I cannot find any recorded case of such a quantity having been found in the bowel after death—it suggests that she had some large dose not long before her death—I examined the earth about the coffin but found no poison.

Cross-examined. The woman had been buried about twenty-one months—Isabella Spink had been interred practically five years—neither body was putrid—Taylor was covered with ordinary vegetable fungi—there were conditions about the body that I identified with the case of Spink—I compared Taylor's features with a photograph which I was told was hers, and I could recognise the general contour—the nose and cheeks had preserved their shape—I could not distinguish the eyes—there had been a change in her which was more remarkable than in the case of Spink, where there had been practically none—I think Taylor's body contained more antimony than Spink's—given the same conditions as far as the coffin and grave were concerned. I should have expected to find that a woman who had only been buried twenty months, and had more antimony in her body, to be less subject to change than a woman who had been buried five years and had less antimony—Taylor's coffin was a dry elm one, and, as far as I could judge, the body had not been contaminated by contact with the soil, which was very dry and sandy loam—putrifaction generally begins through the nose, mouth, and anus, and spreads outwards—there was none of that in either body—the superficial decomposition of the body was due to the growth of mould—the presence of antimony does not prevent the growth of moulds in fact they will grow in a strong solution of tartar emetic—the long railway journey which Taylor's body had taken, and the growth of mould were distinct from the case of Spink's,

and the growth of mould would depend on the cleansing of the body after death—Bessie Taylor's body was apparently cleaner than that of Spink's, as the latter had had a severe flooding shortly before death but that would only affect one part of the body—I have no reason to suppose that either of the bodies were not properly cleaned.

R. BODMER (Re-examined). I took part in the chemical analysis with Dr. Stevenson, on the parts of Taylor's body which were removed—I have heard his evidence and agree with his conclusions.

G. GODLEY (Re-examined). On October 25th I went with Kemp to the Grown—the first communication about this case was made to me through Dr. Stoker about midnight of that day—a telegram was sent to Dr. Waldo, the Coroner, at 4.19 a.m. on the 25th, and at 10 a.m. I saw his officer—at noon I went to the Crown and saw the prisoner—I said, "Are you Mr. Chapman?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I wish to speak to you quietly"—I did not then say who I was—there was nobody in the parlour on the same floor, and he asked me to go in there—I said, "am inspector of police for this district; Maud Marsh, who has been living with you as your wife, has been poisoned with arsenic, and from the surrounding circumstances I shall take you to the police station while I make inquiries"—he said, "I know nothing about it; I do not know how she got the poison: she has been in Guy's Hospital for the same tort of sickness"—I said, "Before we go to the police station I am going to examine the bedroom where she died"—he made no reply, but led the way upstairs to the second floor back room—he took a key from his trousers pocket and unlocked the door—I said, "I am going to take possession of all medicine bottles"—I saw the three bottles which have been produced—they were on the floor by the fireplace—the prisoner stooped down and picked them up and gave them to me—I said, "If you have any money in that safe you had better count it"—there was a safe in the bedroom—he said, "The safe is broken," and he produced a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked one of the small drawers in the chest of drawers, and took from it in coin and notes £268 10s.—there were some bottles in the room—I locked it up and left Sergeant Leak outside the door—I took the key with me to the station with the prisoner, where he was detained—about 4 p.m. I returned to the Crown, and found Leak still in charge—I went into the room and took possession of the bottles and some other articles—I went into the box-room on the other side of the passage—I found several boxes and other articles there in the bedroom I found three powders, which were produced yesterday, and some medical books—the pocket book I found in the office downstairs with a Pharmacopea—I found one of the syringes and Kemp found the other, which he handed to me—I also found the little book in Polish, the papers in Russian, the will, an American revolver in a case fully loaded, a number of photographic chemicals and bottles of various kinds; also a number of papers and documents, amongst them the photograph of Bessie Taylor—some of the papers related to the change from the Prince of Wales to the Grapes, from the Grapes to the Monument, and from the Monument to the Crown also a tpyewritten letter from

Biggs and Co,. dated September 8th, 1902, to "Mr. D. Chapman," at the Crown (This stated that they regretted having been unable to find a, customer, and that in order to push matters forward they suggested advertisements being inserted in the daily papers, which would no doubt effect a sale.)—I also found bills relating to the funeral of Mrs. Spink and Bessie Taylor—in the pocket book there is an entry, "February 13th, 1901, Wednesday. Bessie Taylor dead, at 1.30 a.m., with great sorrow, by G. Chapman," and on October 28th, 1901, "Sunday, 27th, to Mabele Spins marrid"—I gave certain bottles and powders to Kemp with certain instructions—at 7 p.m. on October 25th I went into the charge room at the station and saw the prisoner—he said, "Can I have bail?"—I said, "No, I have not finished my enquiries yet, it is a very serious case of poisoning—he said, "She did not die suddenly; if she had been poisoned she would have done"—I had the three bismuth powders with me then—I said, "I found these three powders on the drawers in your bedroom"—he said, "The doctor sent them"—I said, "I am going to see the doctor and finish my enquiries"—I left him, and again saw him at 10.15—I said, "It is now my duty to charge you with the wilful murder of Maud Marsh by poisoning her with arsenic"—he said, "I am innocent, can I have bail?"—I said, "No"—on the Monday he was brought before the Magistrate and remanded from time to time until November 12th, when the case was commenced by the calling of evidence—from that date up to the end of December he was charged as George Chapman—in the meantime I had been making enquiries, and on December 31st I charged him in the name of Severino Klosowski with the wilful murder of Mary Isabella Spink, otherwise Chapman, on December 25th, 1897, at the Prince of Wales—I also charged him with the wilful murder of Bessie Chapman, otherwise Taylor, on February 13th, 1901—when I told him of the name of Klosowski, and the charge was read over to him, he said, "I do not know the other fellow"—in answer to the charge of murder he said, "By what means, stabbing, shooting, or what?"—I said, "The inspector will read the charge to you after he has taken it down"—it was written down and read over to him—he said, "Who is the other fellow?"—I said, "That is you; we call you Severino Klosowski, otherwise George Chapman"—he said, "I do not know anything about the other name"—I was present at each of the exhumations.

Cross-examined. I made a complete search all through the house, and dealt with everything that I considered relevant to this charge.

WILLIAM KEMP (Inspector). On October 25th I accompanied Godley to the Crown, and assisted him in searching the premises and taking away the things we found—I found this green syringe—about 7 p.m. on that day I saw the prisoner in the charge room at the station—he said, "Can I speak to you a minute?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Your inspector brought some white powders in just now, which he said he had found on the drawers in the bedroom, has the doctor examined them yet?"—I said, "I do not know at present"—he said, "I would not hurt her for the world. I have had a lot of trouble with my barmaids, but I took a great fancy to this one there was some jealousy

lately, she said to me, I have been with you now twelve or thirteen months, and have not had a baby yet: if I do not soon have one, you won't have me with you long"; her sister would bring her baby with her sometimes, and after she had gone Maud would sit and cry for a long time"—with, the exception of the books and documents, all the bottles, syringes, and other articles that we found in the house I took to Dr. Stevenson—I afterwards received them back from him—I received some bismuth from Dr. Stoker, which I also handed to Dr. Stevenson in the same state.

GUILTY . DEATH .

ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MARCH 30TH, 1903.


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