EDMUND WALTER POOK, Killing > murder, 10th July 1871.

Reference Number: t18710710-561
Offence: Killing > murder
Verdict: Not Guilty > unknown
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561. EDMUND WALTER POOK (20), was indicted for the wilful murder of Jane Maria Clousen. He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.


HARRINTON and BESLEY, conducted the Defence.

DONALD GUNN . (Policeman R 295), On Tuesday night, 25th April, I was on duty in the Woolwich Road—Kidbrook Lane is attached to my beat—I went on duty at 10 o'clock, and remained on duty till 6 a.m.—on Wednesday morning, 26th April, I was in Kidbrook Lane between 1.50 and 1.45—I passed through the lane (I had not passed through it previously from the time I came on duty)—nothing attracted my attention at that time—Mortimer was the policeman that I succeeded on that beat—I don't think he was on duty up to 10 o'clock; he was in the fore part of the evening—I passed through the lane again at 4.15—nothing attracted my attention then—it was as I came back again in the lane—I did not come back the same way—I passed up on the foot-path, outside the lane—there is a hedge between the foot-path and the lane, so that I should not be able to see anything that was in the lane unless I walked in the lane—when I went down I went on the foot-path beside the lane—when I returned I came back in the lane, and I then found a young woman on her hands and knees, on the side of the lane next Eltham—the lane runs from Eltham towards Morden College—I came up on the right-hand side of the lane; the foot-path is on the side next Eltham—the lane is about 7 yards wide between the hedges—when I got up to the woman, she was on her hands and knees, moaning very faintly, "Oh, my poor head, my poor head!"—I asked her what was the matter with her, and she made no answer—I noticed that her right cheek was covered with blood—I put my hand on her left shoulder and gave her a slight shake, and asked her what was the matter, and how she came by the injuries—she raised her left hand, and said "Take hold of my hand," at the same time turning her head a little to the left, which enabled me to see her face, and I noticed a cut on her left cheek and a lump of blood on her forehead, which appeared to me to be her brain protruding; I should say it was just in the centre of the forehead—when I saw such a fearful sight, I

hesitated a moment to give her my hand; and as I stretched forth my hand she fell flat on her face, and said "Let me die!"—she never spoke after that—when I could not get her to answer any questions I turned round, and found there was blood just exactly behind where I was standing—I should say it would cover nearly a foot square, it was a large clot of blood, clear blood; there were spots of blood about a foot square, but there was one large clot, a lump of blood as it were in the middle of it—I saw some footmarks about, a good many, close by where the blood was—the ground was very soft and sloppy—her gloves were lying within 2 feet of her, one in the other, and her hat within 2 feet of her gloves—I looked about, but could not see anyone, and I ran down to Well Hall Farm, knowing that the ostler would be in the stables at that time, and I sent for a stretcher—as I went down to Well Hall, one of the men told me that Sergeant Haynes was outside—I told him what I had found in the lane—he went up to where the woman was lying, and I went to Eltham after a stretcher—she was then taken on the stretcher to Dr. King's surgery, and then to Guy's Hospital—when I found her, her head was lying close by the hedge, towards Eltham; her head was bobbing up and down from the ground.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I went on duty at 10 o'clock—I did not go down Kidbrook Lane before 2 o'clock—I was down the lane twice during the night, once at 2.15, and again at 4 o'clock—I heard nothing when I went down the first time—I went as far as the brook then, I was coming from Eltham; I went to the brook, along the footpath—I passed the place where I afterwards found the woman—I came from Eltham the first time—my beat extends up the lane to the rivulet—that is the end of my beat—I then returned back again—I passed the place where I afterwards found the body, twice on that occasion, going up and coming down—I heard nothing on either of those occasions—that was at 1.45—I passed, going up, on the footpath outside the hedge, where the body was lying—there is a hedge between; the hedge was on my right, as I went up from Eltham the first time—I returned back down the lane, in the lane, and past this very spot—the width of the lane is 7ft. between the hedges—I measured it with a 2ft. rule, and made it 21ft. between the two banks, including the ditches—there is one little ditch on the left hand side—I was walking close to that as I was going back towards Eltham—when I found the body, at 4 o'clock, it was on my right hand side, between the place where I went when I went up the lane to the rivulet, and the place I passed when I came down at 1.45—at that time I saw nothing, and heard nothing—I found the body on the right hand side, as I was going back to Eltham, into the Woolwich Road, which leads from Eltham to Shooter's Hill, past the Greenwich Cemetery—at 4.15 I went on the path up to the brook, the same path I had done the first time—I did not go into the lane at all before I got to the brook—when I got to the brook at the end of my beat, I turned to come back, and came down the lane, and found the poor girl in the lane, on the right hand side; I walking on the left, near the ditch—she was in a spot between the place I had passed going up, and the place I passed in coming down—I bad a lantern with me—I did not turn on my light at all that night; it was getting rather light at the time I found her, so that I did not want my light; there were footmarks about, near the blood—the reason I did not use my lantern was because it was not so dark as I have seen it there; it was light enough for me to see—I did

not use my lantern when I went up at 1.45, nor when I came back, it was light enough without—there seemed to be a good many footmarks about, but they seemed to be defaced, as if there had been dew falling on them during the night—they appeared to be going all ways—I did not see any blood besides the pool, except under her head; there was not much—it seemed to be clotted up in the mud—there was a little; I should say I might cover it with my hand—the pool was about 4ft. from her—the ground was trampled about where the footmarks were—she was at Guy's Hospital until the Sunday, when she died.

Re-examined. The height of the hedge would be, I should My, about 10 ft.—from 10 to 11ft. opposite where the girl was lying; it was a high, thick hedge—it was not very dark, nor yet very light, before morning broke—I don't think there was any moon—by 4.15 the morning was breaking—I use my lantern to look at particular things—when it is a very dark night we use it sometimes in finding our way, especially in a place like that; it is a very lonely place—I could not tell from the marks on the grass whether she had moved or crawled along from one place to another, I did not notice.

COURT. Q. Were any steps taken by you, or in your presence, to preserve these marks, or to measure them? A. No, none at aft—it was not part of my duty to go to the rivulet from the Woolwich Road before 2.15—that lonely spot was left without any policeman pawing along it from 10 o'clock to 2.15, in the ordinary course of things.

FREDERICK GEORGE HAYNES (Police Sergeant R) On Wednesday morning, 26th April, about 4.10, Gunn came to me, in the gardens of a gentleman named Langley, in the Woolwich Road—he made some communication to me in consequence of which I went into Kidbrook Lane—I went through the field by the side of the lane till I came to the spot where I found the woman lying on her back, with her head in the direction of Kidbrook from Eltham—she was taken away on a stretcher to Dr. King's.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I saw that the grass was trampled down round about the spot—it appeared as if there had been a struggle; that was near where the body was—I did not notice footsteps then, I did afterwards; about noon in the day; I traced them for some little distance towards the brook or rivulet—I was examined before the Magistrate, and Mid I found some spots of blood—there were three spots at the edge of the rivulet, on one stone, I believe, as if they were dropped there—I believe that was over 300 yards from where the body was found, on the Kidbrook tide of the rivulet; I mean the other side of it, as you go up from Elthem—there is a plank that goes over the rivulet in the lane—the blood was to the right of the plank, going from Eltham, and very likely four yards from it, in the lane—the brook goes right across the lane—going from Eltham, the plank would be on the left—it was where the brook ran through the lane that I found the spots of blood—I saw some long sliding footsteps going in the direction from the body towards the brook—I found a locket among the girl's clothing—I took that locket to Randall, a silversmith, in London Street, Greenwich—I took with me a man named Humphreys—(MR. HUDDLESTON proposed to ask whether Humphreys had not stated in Ransall's pretence that he bought the locket there, and had given it to the deceased. THE SOLICITOR-GENERAL objected to the question; and as MR. HUDDLESTON did not put it as matter going to the credit of the witness, it was not admitted)—That was on Saturday, 5th May—I believe there had been two or three

hearings of the prisoner at that time—I saw Humphreys at the Blackheath Road Police Station—I went with him to Randall's, and had the locket with me—I produced it there—I saw Mr. Randall and some lady—I produced the locket to them, in the presence of Humphreys—I don't think he has ever been called as a witness for the prosecution, or Mr. or Miss Randall, either before the Magistrate or the Coroner.

Re-examined. I saw marks of a struggle, and the grass was trampled down—I should not think, by the appearance, that it had taken place very long, some hours perhaps, four or five hours—I could not tell from the look of them whether they had been made in the early part of the night or not—there was a dew that night—it was a very dark, heavy night—I could not tell whether the dew had fallen on the marks, or the marks had trampled out the dew.

MICHAEL HARRIS . In April last, I was house-surgeon at Guy's Hospital—about 7 o'clock on the morning of the 26th, the deceased was brought there—she came at once under my examination—I have my notes of it—she was quite unconscious, and very cold—the injuries were very severe which she had received, and were chiefly confined to the anterior half of the head; they were all of an incised character, clean cuts—there was one slight abrasion on the left cheek; with that exception they were incised—there were altogether about a dozen wounds on the face and head—there was one over the left ear—there was a wound down to the left temporal bone, and it was smashed in; the bone itself was fractured and depressed—on the bone being raised, the brain was discovered to be lacerated—the injury was external and internal—there were two other wounds which were more severe than the others on the face—one above the right eye, about 3 inches in length; the bone was completely smashed up, so much so that several fragments were lying quite loose, and the brain was protruding; that was a cut—the other was a transverse wound on the upper lip, which extended down to the upper jaw bone, which was broken, and a piece was removed; that was also a cut—those were the most severe of the injuries—there were altogether twelve or fourteen, the others were less serious, but they were quite separate, distinct wounds—there were several cuts on the arms and hands, at the back of the hands; they also appeared to have been produced by a sharp, cutting instrument—they were such wounds as might have been produced in a struggle, if she had been defending herself against violence—there were two cuts on her arms, just as they would be if she had put up her arms in front to defend herself; those were clean cuts, they were quite superficial, not deep—there was one very slight bruise on the right thigh—I think those were all the injuries I observed—the bruise on the thigh was recent, I should say a few hours—she remained under my care at Guy's till she died, on the 30th, about 9 o'clock in the evening—she died from the direct effect of the wounds—such an instrument as this hammer (produced) would produce the wounds I saw—it must have been a sharp and heavy instrument, and this is so—I think it might produce the wounds I saw—I think if that instrument had been used with violence, the wounds I saw would be the natural and probable result—I examined her after death, she was pregnant—I think she had been so about two months—the embryo was dead, and decomposed—it would be impossible to say how long it had been dead, I should say a week or two—I could not tell whether she had ever had a child before—I was shown certain articles of clothing by Superintendent Mulvany—I did not

examine them, I only saw them—that was on the morning of the first police examination, on the Tuesday following her death, the 2nd May—there were some spots upon them, I thought they were spots of blood, they looked like blood; of course I could not say, I merely saw them, that was all—on the day I examined the girl, after her death, I cut off a portion of her hair; the length of it was, I should think, 5 in. or 6 in.—I did not measure it—I was directed by the Coroner to cut it off—I wrapped it up in brown paper and gave it to Mulvany—(Dr. Letheby here produced it, stating that he had received it from Mulvany)—It was a lock resembling this, that is all I can say.

Cross-examined. The cut on the forehead was just above the eyebrow, on the right side—there is an artery there; that was divided—there must have been other arteries severed by other wounds—generally speaking, when an artery is severed, blood spurts forth; sometimes when it is completely divided, it will not bleed at all, but at other times it would spurt forth—ordinarily speaking, where there are such serious wounds as these, I should expect blood to spurt forth—when I was examined before, I expressed an opinion that it was quite consistent that the wounds I saw might have been inflicted as late as within a couple of hours—I gave that as a minimum, and I give as a maximum, ten or twelve.

COURT. Q. When you speak of the clean cuts on the arms and other places, was there any appearance of bruising about those cuts? A. No, none at all; they were quite clean cuts—there was no appearance of bruising about the sides of the cuts—I think an instrument like this might, if it was sharp, produce a clean cut, without any bruising, supposing a person to be lifting up her arm; I have not felt the edge*; may I do so?—some parts of it are very rough—I say ifr might, if it caught this part of the edge, which is sharp, but other parts of the edge are turned aside, and could not cut at all—I think the sharpest part of this instrument might do it; I think it would—I think it would produce a clean cut, without any bruise; if it came in contact with the roughened edge, I think it would bruise, but the sharpest part would produce a clean cut, such as I saw on the arm, without any bruising—the character of the cut must depend upon the force of the blow—there were two cuts on the sleeve of the dress that she had on—I don't know whether the material was cut through—I don't know what the material was; I suppose some kind of stuff; I did not notice it very much—(The dress was here produced)—I believe this to be the dress she had on—I don't see the cuts here; I certainly saw them at the time she was brought in—I don't see any cuts on either arm here—it may have been on the mantle (Looking at the mantle)—I was confusing the mantle with the dress; there are two cuts here—I believe this to be the mantle she had on—there is one cut on each arm—there is a jagged cut—the larger cut is about an inch long, the other about a quarter—the larger one is on the left sleeve, about 3 inches from the wrist or end of the cuff; the other is a three cornered hole; it is almost a cut—that is on the right arm, about the same distance from the cuff—it is a cloth mantle, worn over the dress—there is no doubt about the cuts on the arms being clean cuts—I am quite sure of that—each wound was about half an inch in length, just about the middle of the arm, in both having a direction downwards and inwards, about the middle of the arm, between the wrist and the elbow—she was plump altogether—I don't remember the arms especially—the sleeve seems to be confined at the wrist—it is a small wrist—the right wrist is torn—I did not notice whether it

was so at the time; these things were handled by a great many persons—I don't remember whether the dress was next to her arm, or whether she had anything underneath—the nurse undressed her.

ELIZABETH TROTT . I am the wife of William Trott, of 6, Agnes Place, Old King Street, Deptford—the deceased, Jane Maria Clousen, was my niece, my sister's child—on 1st May, I went to Guy's Hospital, and was there shown her body—I had seen her last on the Sunday before the murder—she took tea at my house—she was seventeen years of age on 27th April—she had been living at Mr. Pook's, of London Street, Greenwich, stationer, for a year and eleven months—that was her last place before the murder—she left there on 13th April—she was rather a good-looking girl—she was not dirty, quite different to that altogether; a very clean, respectable young woman, and a hard-working, industrious one, too—she was very stout, a fine-looking girl for her age—at the time of the murder she was living at 12, Ashburnham Road, Greenwich Road.

CHARLOTTE TROTT . I am the daughter of the last witness, and live with her—the deceased was my cousin—she had been in the service of Mr. Pook.

FANNY HAMILTON . I am the wife of Alexander Hamilton, a clerk at Lovibond' Brewery, Greenwich—a Mrs. Wallege and her daughter lodged with us in April last, and do so still—some ten or twelve days before 25th April, Jane Maria Clousen came to lodge in our house with Mrs. Wallege—it was on a Thursday, I did not see her for two days after she came, she remained twelve days altogether—during the time she was there I often had communications with her; she said she came from Mr. Pook's—I never saw her in company with any of the Pook family—she was low spirited at times, and I asked her the reason—on the evening of 25th April, I went out with her, we left the house about 6 o'clock—I am certain it was 6 o'clock, because she asked me the time, and I looked at a clock—she left me at 6.40—I had conversation with her during that time—we walked into Deptford High Street, which is three-quarters of a mile from where I live—we asked a person the time in High Street, and I looked at a watch, it was then 6.37, and she stopped with me three minutes afterwards—we were then at the top of Douglas Street, where it runs into High Street, she then left me—when she left me, she told me where she was going—The SOLICITOR-GENERAL proposed to ask the question, "What did she say to you?" to which MR. HUDDLESTON objected, as whatever was said was in the prisoner's absence, and he had no means of cross-examining up on it. The SOLICITOR-GENERAL contended that it was a declaration so far accompanying the act itself as to render it part of the rejected (Set "Hadley v. Carter, 8 New Hampshire Reports"). Mr. ARCHIBALD, on the same side, urged that it was a question whether it came within the description of hearsay evidence, and submitted that it did not. MR. HUDDLESTON was heard in reply, and contended that such evidence was contrary to law. THE COURT did not permit the question to be put.)—I do not know the Pook family—I do not know the prisoner's writing—it was just after I ascertained the tune that the deceased left me—she went back into Greenwich, and I never saw her alive after that.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I am not acquainted with Deptford—she was with me from 6 o'clock till 6.40.

THOMAS BROWN . I am gardener at Morden College—on Thursday, 27th April, between 2 and 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I picked up a plasterer's hammer in the grounds there, on the left-hand side, 5 yards from

the public footpath; I took it over to "Sergeant Hodge, who lives opposite me—he was in bed, and I took it back and gave it to my wife—I think it looked newer and brighter when I found it—I saw some marks of blood on the handle, between the iron straps, but not much—it looks as if it had been wiped or washed off—it was rusty and more blotchy than what it is now—I saw no blood on the iron part of it—there was a string to it.

LUCY BROWN . I am the wife of the last witness—on the afternoon of 27th April, he brought this hammer into the lodge—Police Constable Hodge came about 9 the same evening, and T gave it to him in the same state—Morden College is rather more than a mile and a half from the spot where the murder took place.

THOMAS HODGE (Police Sergeant R). On 27th April, Mrs. Brown handed me this hammer—I took it to the Police Station at Lee, and handed it to Inspector Wilson.

CHARLES WILSON (Police Inspector R). On 27th April I received a hammer from Sergeant Hodge—I wrapped it in paper, took it to Scotland Yard, and handed it over to Mulvany—a piece of string was attached to the handle, and there were marks on the handle having the appearance of blood.

JOHN MULVANY . I am an Inspector of the Detective Police at Scotland Yard—on 1st May I went with Superintendent Griffin to Mr. Pook's house, London Street, Greenwich—we went up stairs and saw Mr. Pook, the prisoner's father—I told him something, and eventually he called up the prisoner—I said "This is Superintendent Griffin, and I am Inspector Mulvany"—he said "I know Superintendent Griffin, he is the superintendent at Greenwich"—I said to the prisoner "I want to ask you a few questions relative to your father's late servant, Jane Clousen?"—he said "Oh yes, I will answer anything"—I said "When did you see he last?"—he said "On the Thursday she left here, and I have not seen her since"—I said "Have you written a letter to her?"—he said "No"—I said "People say you have"—he said "Do they? Have you the letter? If it is in my handwriting that will prove it"—he also said "I know nothing about her; she was a dirty young woman, and left here in consequence; I can account for all my nights," or "time, last week"—I said "Very well, do so"—he said "I did not leave work till 7 o'clock on Monday evening, I was about the town all the evening; on the Tuesday I went to Lewisham, came back, and was indoors by 9.15"—I asked him whom he went to see at Lewisham—he said "A lady," and was it necessary to mention her name—I said "Oh no"—he said he did not see her—I asked him if he went into any house—he said "No," and nobody saw him that he knew, and he came back by way of Royal Hill.

COURT. Q. Would that be on the way from Lewisham? A. He could come that way.

Q. It would be the direct road, as far as I see on the map, from Lewisham to London Street? A. Yes, I believe it is—I said he could come that way because there are several ways across the heath by which he could come—round by Blackheath would be going a great distance out of his way—I cannot show you any more direct way than the way he said that he came—I believe it is the direct way.

MR. ARCHIBALD. Q. Did you say anything to him about his clothes? A. I asked him what coat he was wearing on the Tuesday night—he said at first, an overcoat, and then he recollected and said it was a blue frock coat—I asked him if he would fetch it, and he fetched me a frock coat—I

asked him what hat he wore that night; he said "A billycock hat"—I asked him to fetch it, and he did so—I asked him if the trowsers he was wearing were those he had on on that night, he said they were—I then asked him if he could show me the shirt he was wearing that night, he said he thought it was gone to the wash—I asked him if he would ask for it, he did so, and went out and brought a shirt—I examined it, and there were some stains on the upper edge of both wristbands, but more on the right than the left—I handed it to Mr. Griffin, and then asked the prisoner if he could give any explanation of those stains—he said "No, unless they were caused by a small scratch," which he showed just above his left wrist, on the inside—he said he did not know how he got it, unless it was from the machine—Inspector Griffin took up the left wristband and said "But this stain is on the outside of the right wristband, and your scratch is on the left arm"—he made no reply, but afterwards he said "I never unbutton my wristbands in washing my hands, and they may have got dabbled in that way"—I said "I shall have to take you in custody on suspicion of murdering Jane Maria Clousen"—he said "Very well, I will go with you anywhere"—during the conversation he said "I did see Jane on Saturday night with a man, and I came home and told my brother"—his brother was called up by the father, who asked him, in the prisoner's presence, if that was so, the brother said "Yes, I remember his coming home and saying that he had seen Jane with a swell"—I took the prisoner to the station—I took the shirt, coat, trowsers, and hat, on 3rd May, to Dr. Letheby's, Sussex Place, Regent's Park—I had them back from him again, they are here—I also received a parcel of hair in brown paper from Mr. Haynes, Surgeon of Guy's Hospital—I also took that to Dr. Letheby, in the same state as I received it—I also received this hammer from Inspector Wilson, of Scotland Yard, and took it to Dr. Letheby, on 4th May.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I have been nine years a detective, before that I was a police officer—Griffin was with me when I went to Mr. Pook's, we were there twenty minutes or half an hour before the prisoner was called in, or it might be more—I examined the whole of his clothes—everything I asked for was shown to me, nothing I asked for was kept back, that lam aware of—I told the father, people said that his son was on terms of intimacy with the girl, and had corresponded with her, and that there was a letter to her in his writing—I did not say "There is a letter to her in his handwriting"—he said "It is absurd, I am positive it is not the case, Edmund is a different sort of boy altogether, it is almost impossible anything of that sort could have been going on without some of us disovering it."

Q. Did he say that Jane was very slovenly in her work, that she had warning to leave on two or three occasions, and that on the last occasion she had not asked to stay, but had left? A. He said she was very slovenly, but I do not remember his saying the rest—he said "As to Edmund, I am quite certain of his innocence, because being subject to fits we were contantly watching him about the house"—I do not remember his saying that for the last three weeks, on account of his daughter-in-law being in the country on a visit, his eldest son-in-law had been living in the house and sleeping with Edmund every night; but I will not say he did not—we asked to see his bedroom, Mr. Pook took us up stairs, and we inspected the things that were there—I lifted the lid of a portmanteau and looked into it; it contained some window curtains, I believe, and articles of clothing—I asked

the father if that was his son's portmanteau, he said he really did not know—I asked if it was open, and he said "Look and see"—I examined two coats hanging behind the door, an overcoat and a frock coat, two pain of trowsers, and one or two waistcoats—we then went down into the drawing-room—it was the prisoner's father who suggested that he should be called up, and I began to ask him questions—I asked him where he had seen her last, and he said "On the Thursday that she left," and he had not seen her since—some time afterwards he recalled those words and said "Yes I did though, I saw her in the town, talking to a young gentleman, and I came home and mentioned it"—he did not directly recall his words and say "Yes, I did though, I saw her in the town, talking to a young gent, and I came home and mentioned it"—I know that Griffin has said so, and it is the truth, but it was in a later period of the conversation.

Q. Listen to this, "He directly recalled his words? A. If he did say so, it is a mistake—when the prisoner said he could account for his time, I don't remember his saying that he was about the town, on Monday night, with his brother—he said he could account for his time of an evening; I said "Well, do so," and he said "Where shall I begin f—I don't remember his saying anything about his brother; but I won't say he did not—it was a long conversation, and I repeated it, to the best of my belief, from memory—I don't remember whether he said "Principally with my brother"—he may have—I won't say he did not—if he did, I have forgotten it—I don't remember it, or else I would have repeated it—he said that on the Tuesday he went to Lewisham to see a young lady—I asked him whether he saw her, and he said "No"—he did not say he waited near the railway bridge nearly forty minutes, but did not see her—I don't remember his using those words—if I remembered it, I would say so, and if I don't remember it I won't—I will not undertake to say he did not—I said "No," because I did not remember it—I believe he said he went to Lewisham, his usual way, up the side of the Park, out by Mrs. Sainsbury's gate, and across the heath by the guns—I did not tell you that, because I did not know the place, and I had forgotten it—I remember his saying "Across the heath by the guns," but the other part I do not remember—I have not been there—you might go through Mrs. Sainsbury's gate, and across the heath by the guns—there are two guns on the heath—Pook's house is No. 2, London Street—the Stock-well Street end, near the Church, which is marked red on the plan—his house is very near Stockwell Street—it is close to Skelton Street, but it is the second or third house from Stockwell Street, on the heath side, on the opposite side to the Thames—if a person went by Groom's Hill, leaving Sainsbury's gate 'on the left, and leaving the guns on the left, they would get that way under Lewisham Bridge and the railway bridge—I think it was the father who called the prisoner's brother up and asked him questions, and he said to the prisoner, "On the Monday night you were about the town with me"—I don't remember the prisoner saying "Where was I on Tuesday night?" and the brother saying "On Tuesday night you went to Lewisham"—I will not say it was not said by the father or the brother—they were all joining in conversation, and the prisoner repeated it several times—the prisoner was asked where he was on Tuesday night, and either the father or the brother said that he went to Lewisham—when he was asked whether he had seen anybody, and if he went into any house, he said he had seen their boy delivering a parcel, but the boy had not seen him—that was either going to Lewisham or coming back—he said that he came back by

Royal Hill—if I was returning from Lewisham Bridge, and instead of going by the guns, were to go straight along by Dartmouth Road, that would take me into Royal Hill, past Mrs. Playne's shop—Royal Hill must pass Mrs. Playne's shop—I don't know that they close the Park gates at dusk—the most direct road on the map is Dartmouth Hill, Royal Hill, and so to London Street—the direct road is the steepest—about 100 yards on the Greenwich side of the hill it is very steep—the round about road is less steep than the direct road—another way would be up the Lewisham Road, round by Blissett Street, and then into Royal Hill—that would not be so steep, that is what I meant when I said he could go another way—a person going from London Street to Lewisham, if he went round the Park by the guns would have a less steep walk than if he went by the direct road—Lewisham Road is not so steep as the way round by Blackheath—a person going to London or to Royal Hill, might take the Lewisham Road still more to the left, and turn into Blisset Street—that brings them on to the Royal Hill, and that would avoid the steepness of the road—you could come round then at the back of Blackheath Hill, instead of mounting the higher ground—I did not hear him say that his shirt had gone to the wash, I was sitting at the opposite side of the room—I did not say that he said the stains on the shirt were caused by a small scratch, but it was small—there was a scratch on his arm—I was not at the Police Court when an observation was made about his standing with one hand over the other—the dabbling of the wristbands was in reference to their being crumpled—I handed the shirt to Griffin—I think he made a remark about expecting to find more blood on it—when I said I should have to take the prisoner in custody, be asked if he might take a book with him, and he took up a copy of "Pickwick"—I don't know whether he had been reading it—he took it with him to read—when he said he had seen the girl, he said "I remember I did see her in the street, on Saturday, with a man"—I said "Do you know him?'—he said "No, but I came home, and told my brother"—the brother was then called up, and I think his father asked him "Did your brother tell you he had seen Jane with anybody?—the brother said "Yes, I remember his coming home, and saying he had seen her with a swell"—I did not take the prisoner's boots off when I took him—I believe they were taken off afterwards, by Griffin, I believe—I did not take them to Kidbrook Lane—I got this brush from Superintendent Griffin, with which the prisoner is supposed to have brushed his clothes, at Mr. Plane's—it is a dark brush, the centre is lighter than the outside—it was taken to Dr. Letheby, and submitted to him—the prisoner's trowsers were not taken off till half or three quarters of an hour after I took him—he did not sleep in them that night—they were not taken off the next day, because I brought them to London—he was put into a small room first, which is used by the Inspector as a reserve room; not into a cell—it was there his trowsers were taken off—the Inspector's private room would be the proper term for it—that was Monday, May 1st—I have been principally engaged in looking after this case—I issued two hand-bills—this is one of them—(Read: "On the evening of Saturday, the 22nd of April, a man purchased a lathing hammer at the shop of Mr. Thomas, tool dealer, 186, High Street, Deptford. At the time he did so, two or three persons were in the shop, one of whom, it is believed, purchased a spoke-shave. These persons are requested to communicate at once with Superintendent Griffin.")—I found that that was a mistake, and that the hammer

on the 22nd was bought by a plasterer's boy—Conway afterwards came forward—I produced him before the Coroner—I was not present when he pointed out the prisoner, but I was present at the station when he picked him out as the man who bought the hammer on the 22nd—I afterwards found that it was purchased, not by the prisoner, but by Elliott—Conway was the person who purchased a chalk line in the shop on the 22nd—he came and identified the prisoner as the person he saw purchase the hammer on the 22nd—he had a lot of other persons shown to him, and he picked out the prisoner, and I have ascertained that it was purchased by Elliott—Conway is here as a witness—this case was postponed by the prosecution at the last Session—I took Walter Perrin to the entrance of the gaol, but did not go in with him—I was not there when the prisoner was shown to him—Perrin did not give me any nails—they were given to Mr. Griffin, but I saw them.

Re-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. The conversation lasted about three-quarters of an hour, or more—when the prisoner said that he came by Mrs. Sainsbury's gate, across the heath, by the guns, Griffin said "That would bring you to the top of Groom's Hill, by Prince Arthur's house, where you were to meet the young woman"—I don't remember that the prisoner made any reply to that—I will not swear that he used the words "small scratch," but he said "The blood came from that scratch," pointing to a small scratch—when I asked him what coat he was wearing on Tuesday night, he said "I think it was an overcoat; oh, no, I recollect, it was a blue frock coat"—he hesitated at first, and said "I think it was an overcoat," and then he said "No, it was a black frock coat"—I think I said before tile Magistrate that he said he was not quite sure whether it was an overcoat, and then he said it was a blue, frock coat—if it is down there, it most be so.

JAMES GRIFFIN (Police Superintendent R). Kidbrook Lane is in my division—I received information of the murder on the Wednesday morning that it was discovered—on Monday, 1st May, I accompanied Inspector Mulvany to Mr. Pook's, about 1.50—I asked for the father in the shop—he came forward, and went up stairs with me and Mulvany—the prisoner was sent for, and after he came up, Mulvany said to him "I am Inspector Mulvany, and this is Superintendent Griffin"—he said "I know Mr. Griffin"—Mulvany said "We have come to inform you that the young woman who was injured, and murdered in Kidbrook Lane, and died in the hospital, was your late servant, Jane Clousen; we have heard that she was a sweetheart of yours, and that you have been corresponding with her"—the prisoner said "It is not true; it is nothing to me; she was a dirty girl, and left in consequence"—Mulvany said "You have corresponded with her; you have written a letter to her"—he said "If you have the letter, that will prove it"—Mulvany said "You were the last person who was with her on the night when she met with her injuries; she left a person to join you on the Tuesday night"—he said "I can account for all my nights last week, I have not seen her since she left here"—he made some other remark to his father, and then he said "Yes I did though, I saw her talking to a gent. in the town, and I came home and mentioned it"—Mulvany said that she left a person to join him, and it was mentioned that that was near Prince Arthur's—Mulvany was the principal spokesman—the prisoner said "I can account for all my evenings last week," and "Where shall I begin?—Mulvany nodded, and said "Well, do so"—he said "Where shall I begin;

with Monday?" and Mulvany said "Yes, with Monday"—he said "On Monday I was about the town principally with my brother; I did not lose sight of my brother, or he of me, more than fifteen minutes at any time, and he can prove it," or "My brother can prove it; my friends seldom leave me, or lose sight of me for long at a time, as I am subject to fits"—either I or Mulvany said "Tuesday," and the prisoner said "Tuesday evening I left work about 7 o'clock; I usually leave work about 7 o'clock, and I went to Lewisham to see a lady, is it necessary to mention her name?"—I think we both replied "Certainly not"—I then said "Which way did you go to Lewisham?"—he said "I went through the Park, and across by the guns," meaning the part of the Park where there are some cannon—I said "Then which gate of the Park did you go out at?"—he said "That by Mrs. Sainsbury's"—I said "Then that would bring you to the top of Groom's Hill, and by Prince Arthur's, where the girl told the person she had to meet you"—he made no reply to that—he was then asked where he went to at Lewisham, and he said "To Lewisham Railway Bridge," and he stayed there about forty minutes—he was asked whether he saw anyone there who he knew, and could prove he was there—he said "No," while he stood there he did not see anyone who he knew, or who he thought knew him, who could prove he was there—he was asked to produce his clothes, and whether those were the trowsers that he wore on the Tuesday night—Mulvany was sitting on a chair as close to him as I am to that board—I saw that Mulvany was looking at him, and scrutinized the leg of his trowsers—he said "Are those the trowsers you wore on that night"—the prisoner said "Yes"—I was about three yards from him—he had a coat on, I believe—I have said that he was in his shirt sleeves, but upon reflection I think he had a short cut-off coat on—he was asked to produce the coat he had on that night—he produced it—Mulvany examined it—he was asked to produce the hat he wore—he went for the hat, and returned with this flat hat, which we had previously seen in an up stairs room—Mulvany closely examined it, turned it about, handed it to me, and pointed to a spot or two on it—these are the trowsers and coat.

COURT. Q. Are the spots here now? A. There are marks where the spots were—there is one on the upper edge of the band, and one on the end, and one on the bridge—I believe something has been applied to it—they have been treated chemically—they are about the size of the end of this penholder, and one is scarcely so large—they would almost pass unnoticed, unless you were searching for them—there is another small spot between the band and the hat itself; it has run down one sixteenth of an inch; it is perceptible, and when I moved it, I noticed that it was a little under the band also—the spots would pass unnoticed unless you were looking for such things, which we were—it was not so large as those circular marks which are here now—I rather think there was a fourth found by Dr. Letheby, but I did not hear his evidence—J don't see it—the hat has been pulled about and knocked about a good deal since—it had not then the rough appearance it has now.

MR. ARCHIBALD. Q. Are there any marks on the trowsers now? A. I believe so, and there are cuts where pieces were taken away for chemical examination—I did not count the spots on them—I saw five or six, but there were more than that—I think there are four or five left on them now, there are holes cut out—I think Dr. Letheby considered this one, but I have never had them in my possession—that is a continuation of a spot which was there—I can't tell you of one which has not been cut, as I have never

had them—there only appears to have been one piece out from this leg—they have been in Mulvany's possession—these four spaces are cut from the left leg, and one from the bottom of the right—they were cut by Dr. Letheby—I believe no mark was found on the coat—Mulvany then asked for the shirt which he wore that night—he left the room, and said he could not find it, he thought it had been sent to the wash—Mulvany then asked him to go again and endeavour to find it—he left the room, and on the stairs, just outside the door, he called a female, and after the lapse of a minute and a half or two minutes, he returned and produced a shirt, which was handed to Mulvany, who examined it—I believe this to be it—a portion was cut out of it, and there is no mark remaining, except dirt on the left wristband—the mark was on the right wristband—it was a stain apparently of blood, rather more than an inch long, and I think, perhaps, extending three-quarters of an inch in breadth; at one portion it has gone through both folds, in fact there appeared to be three folds, it was through the thickness of the wristband—Mulvany said "There is some blood here, can you account for that?"—I rose up to look at it—Mulvany passed the shirt to me, and I said "Yes, there is blood"—the prisoner said "I can only account for it by this scratch on my wrist,'* showing me a scratch about an inch in length, on the inside of his left wrist—I had the shirt in my hand at the time, and said "But the scratch is on the left wrist, and the blood is on the right wristband"—he made no reply to that—Mulvany looked at me and said he thought there was sufficient to take him in custody—I said "Yes, there is blood on his things"—Mulvany said "I must take you in custody on the suspicion of causing the death, or being the murderer of, this young woman"—he said "Very well, I shall go anywhere you like with you"—Mulvany took possession of the coat and shirt—the father kept asserting his son's innocence, and the son asserted his innocence, and said he knew nothing of the girl, that she was nothing to him, and it was ridiculous to assert such a thing; be never thought a bit of her, and never sweet hearted with her or anyone like her—the articles were packed up in a parcel—Mulvany took him to the station, and I followed a short distance behind—I booked the charge at the station, and after it was entered, he was placed in a room till trowsers were brought from his house—these were taken off about an hour or more afterwards—the father's house is a quarter of an hour's walk, and a messenger had to be sent there and return with them, it would be about an hour before he reached the station—the prisoner asked me, that afternoon, if he might write a letter—I said that he might, but it would be read before it was sent away—he made no objection to that—he was furnished with pen and paper, and he wrote this letter—I read it—I afterwards saw him searched, and this other letter was found in his purse—he asked that the letter he wrote might be posted, so as to go out by the last post at night, about 9 or a little before—I handed it to the inspector, and asked him to comply with his request, which was done—(Letter read: "Sunny bridge, March 20, 1871. My dear Edmund. I scarcely know what to say to you, it is such a difficult matter to get at the interior of a lady's heart; and, in Louisa's case, still more so. She is not, as you know, extremely demonstrative upon any subject, and when you question her, she seems inclined, to use very refined language, "to shut up." The only advice I can give you now is to wait until you see her, and ask for yourself. If she should say no, I daresay you would survive the shook; because you must feel as I do, that she is uncertain. If she were left to herself, perhaps

she would say yes; but while Alithea is single, they seem to cling together. I don't think she would like Louisa to be married before her. You are young, and can afford to wait until another opportunity offers. I told her if she was not inclined, there were others who would be if asked; so she was prepared, and will have time to think it over; she can please herself. As to your having a rival, no such thing at present at Lyonshall. Make your mind easy, therefore; it is no great matter which way it turns. Gentlemen can always get a wife, it is a very difficult thing with a woman. Mr. Norris, for instance. Alithea refused him; he is now married to a pretty, lady-like wife, and very happy. So, as I before said, wait your opportunity and take courage. Believe me, as ever, dear Edmund, your affectionate aunt. How is poor mother's health. Uncle's love. No more time.") This is the letter he wrote: (" Dear Alice. I am sorry I could not meet you last night as I wished; but I have been arrested on the charge of the murder of that girl at Eltham. Now it is almost too ridiculous, but still they have some circumstantial evidence, I presume, or they would not have taken so serious a step; but, of course, I shall come out all right, at least I believe so. I am writing from the police-station in Blackheath Road, and, between you and I, the idea is not pleasant, as I am not used to have the key turned on me. I shall be able to prove a complete alibi, so that I have no fear for the future. You will see the report of the case in the papers on Wednesday morning; and if I am discharged, as I expect I shall be, I will keep the appointment I have made for Wednesday night; but if remanded, of course I must grin and bear it. Believe me, yours as ever, E. W. Pook. P.S.—Do not talk to many persons about this affair, as there is no honor attached to it. You must excuse the writing, as I am rather flurried.")—On the day after he was taken to the station his boots were taken off—they had been polished and cleaned—he said he had worn them all the week—on 16th May, after leaving the inquest room, I purchased two hammers at Mrs. Thomas's—the last two they had in stock, as they said at the Inquest—these are them (produced)—one is a No. 2 and the other a No. 3—they have no strings—I particularly asked for the strings, and Mrs. Thomas reached a string out of the window and gave it to me, which she said had fallen off one of the hammers—I marked them in pencil at the time, and put a paper on afterwards.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I was not in Court when Mulvany was Cross-examined—it is true that the prisoner repeatedly denied, in Mulvany's presence, that Jane Clousen was anything to him, or that there was any intimacy whatever between them; but the father denied it more—the prisoner repeatedly denied that she was anything to him, or that there was any intimacy between them—when I put that expression upon him, that he was to meet her at Groom's Hill, I do not remember his saying "It is not true"—I will not swear he did not, because his father, and he, and me, and Mulvany, five or six of us, were all talking—he may have done so—(Looking at his deposition) it is evident that I said, before the Magistrate, that he said "It is not true," but I have forgotten it now—I have no doubt he did say it, now that I see it on my deposition.

COURT. Q. Here is a man whose life depends upon the issue of this case. When you were examined in chief, you swore that he made no answer; now you say he did make an answer, and denied that it was true? A. I was under the impression he made no answer, but seeing those words there, I have no doubt it is true—I have had hundreds of letters, daily and hourly, since; I have a bag full of them.

MR. HUDDLESTON. Q. You say that he made no answer; when you were before the Magistrate, did not you say "I don't think he made any answer?' A. I believe I did, and that was my opinion now, until this was shown to me; my impression now is that he did, and that when the matter was new in my mind I gave the correct answer, and that he did deny it—that would be consistent with what he said all through, that there was no intimacy of any sort between him and the girl—when he was speaking about his being about the town on Monday night, he said "principally with his brother"—I mentioned to-day about his not being away from home more than fifteen or twenty minutes—if the Coroner has not put down "between fifteen or twenty minutes," it is most likely he did not put down all I said—I believe I mentioned fifteen or twenty minutes before the Coroner, but he may not have put down the minutes—I cannot swear to what I said six weeks ago, but I have my belief that I mentioned fifteen or twenty minutes before the Coroner—my evidence was read over to me, and I signed it—I did not get a copy of it—what was printed in the newspapers was very different to what was given; many things were left out—I believe I stated it to the Coroner, though it was not written down—when he was asked as to when he had seen Jane Clousen last, he said "I have not seen her since the Thursday she left"—he directly recalled his words, and said "Yes, I did though; I saw her in the town, talking to a young gent., and I came home, and mentioned it"—he said a word or two aside to his father, but it was almost in the same breath, almost immediately—I have left out a small portion of my evidence; I could not remember it all; the conversation extended over an hour, and I was not twenty minutes giving my evidence—I can tell you now—when he was asked if he saw anybody who he knew, or who knew him, he said "By-the-bye, I saw our boy delivering a parcel"—that was in Mulvany's presence, but it was aside to his father and brother—he mentioned where, but I did not hear it—the room was large, and he spoke it aside—I heard him say "I saw our boy delivering goods," and to his father and brother he mentioned the name where he delivered them, but I did not hear it—when I asked him, "Did anyone see you at Lewisham who can prove you were there f' he said "No, I waited near the Plough, but I do not recollect that I saw anybody who knew me, or who I knew to prove I was there; by-the-bye, I saw our boy delivering a parcel," and he said at or to some name, which I did not catch—the Plough adjoins Lewisham Bridge, there is a pathway between the premises and the railway—the prisoner said he was innocent; he denied everything, and I have no doubt he denied going to meet the girl at Prince Arthur's—he denied everything of that kind—he took his boots off himself, and they were handed to me—I cannot tell how long they were in my possession—Mulvany carried them a day or two after to Dr. Letheby—when I went to the prisoner's father's house, nothing was kept back, every facility was given to me—we asked to see his room, and it was shown to us—it was the right wristband of the shirt that was marked—I said that his placing his hands one across the other would account for the mark of the blood, but I answered hastily; I found after that it would not—I was not asked if the left wrist was put over the right—I have no doubt I said before the Magistrate, "From the position the prisoner is now standing in, with his wrists across, the blood from the left wrist may have got on to the right wristband of his shirt"—those are the solicitor's words—I swore to them, and signed it—I wish to say that it was an accidental matter; the solicitor called my attention

to it, but he stood with his right wrist crossed over his left, and not his left over the right, and it could not in that case—the wound was on his left wrist, and the blood was on the right wristband; but if it had been reversed, it would have been correct; that is all the difference—I made the remark that he would have bad to put the wound on the right wrist, but he happened accidentally in the Court to do the reverse, and I answered too quickly, without noticing how he stood; but it comes to the same thing, if the wrist which was scratched had been put over the other wrist, it might have produced the blood on the sleeve—the question was put to me very impulsively, and I answered as impulsively—there is a locket in the possession of the police—I did not get it myself—I did not go to Randall's; Sergeant Haynes went there—I did not go to Humphreys'—Humphreys told me he had bought the locket at Randall's, and given it to the deceased—I sent Sergeant Haynes with him to Randall's.

MR. HUDDLESTON to SERGEANT HAYNES. Q. Did you go to Randall's shop with Humphreys? A. I did, and Humphreys there said that he had bought the locket there, and given it to the girl—Miss Randall said that was true, that she remembered his buying it, and Mr. Randall said that that very locket had been purchased there—another detective communicated that to Mr. Griffin.

MR. HUDDLESTON to JAMES GRIFFIN. Q. Was it communicated to you that Mr. Randall said that this very locket was purchased there, and that Miss Randal said it was purchased there? A. It was communicated to me that Humphreys said he had purchased the locket there, and that they believed this to be the locket, but that they were very common lockets, and they sold a great many—Humphreys said he had given it to her—I made an affidavit at the last Session to apply for the postponement of this case to these Sessions, which was opposed on the part of the prisoner by you—I got a person named Perrin—I did not take him into Newgate; I had nothing to do with sending him in to identify Pook—there was not an advertisement in the paper about a hammer supposed to have been purchased on 22nd April; there were bills—Conway came forward, and identified him, although it turned out that Elliott had bought it—I do not know John Black—I cannot tell you who would be inspector at Greenwich on 10th June, there are three, Browning, Digby, and Ebbs, would be the third, I think—I do not know anything of John Black—there are several witnesses I have never spoken with—I don't know of John Black offering to prove that what Perrin has stated is not true—I don't know of his going there in consequence of seeing a sketch of Perrin's evidence in the Telegraph paper—I got some nails from Perrin—I showed them to Mrs. Thomas—she said they had not been bought in her shop—Perrin is a hackney carriage driver, licensed year by year—I got from him those nails, he stating that he had bought them at Thomas's shop when he had seen the prisoner there—I took them to Mrs. Thomas, and she told me they had never been bought in her shop—I don't know that I said "I hope that fellow is not telling me lies;" very likely I did, because it certainly surprised me—I have got them in my pocket now—he showed them to me to prove that he was in the shop, but he gave me a different sample at Blackheath, two days afterwards, and said those were them—I was driving across Blackheath, towards Shooter's Hill, in my dogcart, to visit my county stations—he was driving a pair of ponies—I told him what Mrs. Thomas bad said, and he produced a long thin brad from his pocket, and said "I am not certain those are the nails, for I use a great

many in mending our vehicles, and I am not sure whether it was these I bought, or whether it was those"—he never said that till I told him what Mrs. Thomas had said—that was on Monday, 24th—the conversation between Mr. Pook, sen., Mulvany, and me, lasted, perhaps, ten minutes—Mr. Pook said "My son thinks too much of himself," and remarks of that kind, and "It could not have been going on without some of us discovering it"—that the deceased had warning on two or three occasions in conesquence of her slovenly habits, and "As to Edmund, I am quite certain as to his innocence, because, being subject to fits, we were constantly watching him about the house"—I don't remember him saying anything about his daughter-in-law—he said that he kept someone always in the prisoner's company, and that his eldest son had been staying with them, and slept with Edmund every night, and they never lost sight of him many minutes, or long together—Perrin first came to me about 8 o'clock, on the morning of 5th June.

MR. ARCHIBALD. Q. In the course of the conversation with the prisoner and his father, was reference made more than once to his meeting a person that night? A. Yes, I have no doubt of it, and he was questioned more than once about writing to her—the same answer was made each time, that he had never met her, and had not walked out with her—after the remark "It would bring you to the top of Groom's Hill," I have no doubt the prisoner denied it, because he denied all such questions that were put to him, and said he had never met her, or written to her, or anything of the sort—the questions were asked by Mulvany principally, he being acquainted with the district—I interposed and said "Which way did you go out of the Park," and he said "By the gate by Mrs. Sainsbury's"—that remark was made by me, and not by Mulvany.

COURT. Q. Who was it mentioned that coming out by the gate by Mrs. Salisbury's would bring him out at Groom's Hill, where the young woman said she had to meet him? A. I did—Mulvany did not say it—he did not know the position of the gate—he said nothing to that effect—it was my speech—Mulvany had mentioned it before, that the deceased had told a respectable person that she would meet him on the night of 25th—I don't think he made any answer to that, or else that is where he said "It is not true, I did not meet her"—he gave those denials so very frequently, but I am under the impression that he made no answer—I can't say one way or the other, because his denials were so frequent of having met her, or gone to meet her—I can't say whether he made any answer to Mulvany—if he made any observation it would be a denial—I can't say whether he then only said "I did not go to meet her, and it is not true"—there was a general denial all through to everything in connection with that girl, or going to meet her, or having anything to do with her of any sort or kind beyond her duties in the house as a servant—nothing in the nature of sweet-hearting, that is what I said—it was an unqualified denial from beginning to end, of having anything to do with her—that is what I wish you to understand.

MR. ARCHIBALD. Q. Who is Humphreys? A. I did not know him till he was introduced to me by the solicitor for the defence with reference to the locket, upon which I immediately acted, and seeing him at the Inquests and the Police Court—I heard that he had been employed by Mr. Pook, the prisoner's father.

Thursday, July 13th.

WILLIAM SPARSHOTT . I am a furnishing ironmonger, of 155, High-Street,

Deptford—on Monday evening, 24th April, I was standing at the door, on the step close to the window—I saw the prisoner—he came down the street from the direction of the railway, that is from the Greenwich way—I could not say exactly about the time, it was near about 8.30, to the best of my recollection—he asked me if I had a small axe of any kind; he told me he wanted it for some performance on the platform or stage, I would not be positive which word he used—I said I thought I had; with that we entered the shop—I went in and he followed me into the shop—I looked round the shelves where we used to hang them, we did not keep a large stock of those articles; I could not see one, and I asked my wife if we were out of the article—my wife was just inside the sitting-room door, or the door way, there is no door—she said she thought we had not got one—she came behind the counter from the sitting-room, opened a drawer and took out a cook's chopper, held it up and asked the prisoner if that would do; she stated the price, 2s., 2d., it was marked on the handle—the prisoner said that would not do, it was too expensive, and he did not want an article of that description—I could not say the exact words he made use of, but words to that effect; he immediately left the shop—I followed him to the door, I directed him to Mr. Thomas's, the tool shop further down the street, on the opposite side of the way—I told him that Mr. Thomas's, was a tool shop, and he sold every description of tool, and I had no doubt he would get the article he wanted there—I don't remember the exact words—it was my practice to send persons to Thomas's shop for tools that I did not sell—I can see Thomas's shop from my door—I pointed to the shop, there was a large cheesemonger's, lit up, just before, and I believe I mentioned the place next door to the lights, or next but one—the cheesemonger's was all lit up—the prisoner left and went in that direction—the gas at my shop was alight—I have two exterior burners at the window, and inside one light over my head, throwing a light forward within about 3 or 4ft. from the edge of the window—I afterwards saw the prisoner at the police-station in the yard, I forget the date, it was one Friday in May, there were other persons there, I should say about a dozen—I was asked if I had seen any of those persons, and I picked out the prisoner as the man that came—I have no doubt whatever of his being the person—on that night he had on a round hat, one of those black soft crowned hats that you can push any where, and a black coat, or a dark one, I could not say—I have a reason for fixing the night as Monday, the 24th—one reason was that my daughter had gone to pay my son's club money, and the other reason is that Messrs. Price & Dunn's traveller, Mr. Warr, called on the next day, which was Tuesday—he calls every alternate Tuesday, and he came the next day—my wife is here—my son was in the shop at the time the prisoner was there, and my errand boy, Renneson, was at the door.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. My shop is on the left hand side as you go up High Street, passing under the railway bridge, about twenty doors up beyond the bridge—Thomas's shop is further down on the opposite side of the way, further from the railway bridge, going up High Street—I think it is about 50 yards from the railway bridge to my shop, and it is about 60 or 70 yards from my shop to Thomas's—my shop is nearer the railway than Thomas's—I went to the police-station to identify the prisoner on the Friday of the examination at the Police Court—I don't recollect the date, I should think it was about a fortnight after he came to my shop—that was on Monday evening, 24th April—I never took any account of the date that I went to

the station to identify him—I know it was on a Friday—I expect it was the 12th May—I don't say for certain that it was that date—I had never seen him before, to my knowledge—I saw a picture of him in the Police News—(Looking at one)—I could not say whether this was the one, I don't think it is—I will not undertake to say it is not—I saw the picture in the Police News previous to my identifying him—I believe it was in the week previous, I could not say—I saw two, one previous to identifying him, and one afterwards, I can't say which that was—I believe it was the second one—(Two were produced)—I would not swear it—I said before the Magistrate that I saw the prisoner on Monday evening, 24th April—I might have said "I believe I saw the prisoner on that evening," perhaps so—I could not say that I mentioned those words—what I said was written down and read over to me, and I signed it—that was what I said that "I believed I saw him"—my wife was not in the shop the whole time, not when he first came in—she came into the shop as soon as he came in, and she was there all the time—I believe she does not identify the prisoner—but she has not seen him—she has never been brought before him—I believe she has not identified him—she has not identified him, of course—she says she cannot identify him, she never distinctly saw his face—she came into the shop, went behind the counter and took out the chopper—the prisoner did not come near the counter, not nearer than I am to his Lordship—the shop boy was out against the door—my son was in the shop—it was 8.30 as near as I can recollect—I believe it to be 8.30 as near as possible—I could not say which side of the half hour it was; it might have been before the half hour or a few minutes after, within the scope of five minutes either way—that I swear to, I am positive—I was asked about his trowsers before the Magistrate, I said my impression was that he had light trowsers; that was my impression—my impression was not as strong about the trowsers as it was about the coat and waistcoat—they never asked me about the waist-coat—I never mentioned about the waistcoat—it was not as strong about the trowsers as it was about the coat and hat—I mean to say that I said nothing about the waistcoat—I did say about the waistcoat, but you have not asked me about it—my impression was not as strong about the waist-coat as it was about the coat—I did say before the Magistrate "My impression is that the man had a dark coat and light trowsers and waistcoat, but I am not positive; that is my impression"—I am positive about the coat—I am not positive about the trowsers or waistcoat—I think I said before the Cotoner "I do not recollect his voice, nor could I tell it if I beard it"—I believe that is true—I have no doubt about it—I do not recollect his voice at all—I could not say anything about his voice, I have never heard him speak since—Mr. Warr is the traveller—I could not say the time he came next day—my wife saw him, I did not—of my own knowledge I don't know that he did come, I did not see him—I admit that, of course—that is correct.

Re-examined. What I said before the Magistrate, as to the waistcoat and trowsers, was my impression—I said also "I could not swear whether he had light or dark trowsers on. I think they were light, that is my impression; and the waistcoat the same, not white; light, not dark"—that was my impression—I was asked about portraits before the Magistrate (Looking at one), I think that is the one I saw—I was not shown it before the Magistrate; I was asked if I had seen it—I think that is the one I had seen previous to going before the Magistrate (Looking at another)—I only

saw two at anytime; these two, I believe (These were marked "A" and "B")—I would not undertake to swear that was the one I saw previous; I believe it is—(Looking at another, marked "C") I think this is another copy of the one that Mr. Huddleston first put into my hands (THE SOLICITOR-GENERAL stated that "C" appeared to be published on 27th May)—They are published three or four days before they are dated—no portrait was shown to me before the Magistrate—I had never had a copy of the publication in my hand; I only saw it in the shop window; I was asked if I had seen a portrait—the only one I had then seen was that small one, to the best of my belief—the portrait that I saw was quite a boy—I would not swear that this small one was not the one I saw—if either of them was the one I saw, it was that—at the time the prisoner was in my shop, there were three burners alight, besides the one throwing the light to the door—entirely apart from all portraits, looking now at the prisoner, I recognize him—this handbill headed "Eltham Murder" has been circulated about Greenwich—I read it—I see that it states Saturday the 22nd—I had observed that—the first time I went to the police-station to indentify the prisoner, was on the 12th May—I had not given evidence before that—the police inspector came and took a memorandum in the shop—the first time I gave evidence was at the opening of the Inquest; I had seen that bill.

COURT. Q. Where was it that you indentified the prisoner? A. At the Greenwich police-station—Mr. Griffin is the superintendent there—Mr. Pook, the solicitor, was present—it was on the morning that I gave my evidence—I think that was the 19th—I have no doubt it was the 19th, and not the 12th—I had not known the prisoner before—I had no knowledge of him whatever.

ELIZABETH MART SPARSHOTT . I remember the evening of the 24th of May, when my husband asked me some questions about a wood chopper—a young man came into the shop when he was there—my husband asked me if we had a wood chopper, and said he could not find one—we always keep them, but we had not got any at the time—I opened the drawer and showed this meat chopper (produced) to the young man; his back was to me—he asked the price—I told him 2s., 2d.—he said it was too expensive and too clumsy—he stood about 3 yards from me, facing my husband, who was looking for the chopper at a distance from me—he did not come to the counter at all—the choppers always hung in a row at the other end of the shop—my husband had been looking for them and could not find them, and then he asked me, "Have we not got any?" and I said "No, perhaps not," and I opened the drawer and got this; but I never saw the young man's face—he never came near to look at the chopper, I suppose he might have looked sideways, he did not see the chopper—he never took it in his hand—he might have seen it—that I don't know; but he made answer and said it was too clumsy—he looked sideways, like—I saw more of his back than I did of his face—I did not know him at all—he was not a person that I had any acquaintance with—I had never seen him before, to my knowledge—I should not know him again if I saw him—I know he wore a round little hat—next day Mr. Warr, the traveller came; that was his day, and I did business with him—he always comes every fortnight—I daresay I told my husband that he had been that day, when he returned home in the evening; perhaps I did and perhaps I did not—when travellers come I don't very often tell him, as I have more to do with the shop than he has—I can't say whether I did tell him on that occasion—I gave Mr. Warr an order.

Cross-examined. I believe the order was for some choppers—he is here, and has the order with him—it was on the 25th of May I ordered them—I do not mean May, I mean April—it was the very next day—I made a mistake when I said May, it was April—I did not give him an order on 25th May, it was on 25th April—I don't know whether I gave him any order on 3rd May, or the 10th—most every fortnight he called, I gave him an order—he comes every other Tuesday—I don't know that there is anything to distinguish one Tuesday from another—I can't tell what order I gave him on the Tuesday fortnight before the 25th of April, or the fort-night after.

Re-examined. My attention was not called to this day soon after—I might have heard of the murder, perhaps, about a week after—I don't recollect when it was—I don't know whether it was in the Sunday's paper—my son generally takes the paper in most every night—it was soon after, perhaps it might have been a week, perhaps it was only a few nights, I can't say—it might have been a week, or a fortnight, after I heard of the murder, that inquiries were made at our shop about the chopper—my husband went to Mr. Thomas's first, and on 19th May he was examined before the Magistrate about it—it might have been a week or a fortnight after this happened about the chopper that my attention was first called to it—I don't think my husband and I had any talk about it before he went before the Magistrate—we might have said "I wonder whether it was the young man that came to our house"—we might have talked about it—I have grown up sons of my own—I think we did talk of it.

ROWLAND WHITTON RENNESON . I was fourteen years old on 22nd of last April—I was shop-boy to Mr. Sparshott—I remember someone coming into my master's shop about 8.30, on the evening of 24th April—I was standing at the shop-door on the left hand side—Mr. Sparshott was standing opposite me, on the other side of the shop-door—when the person came in he asked my master for a common chopper, to act on the stage—Mr. Sparshott looked for the choppers, and could not find them—Mrs. Sparshott was behind the counter—she came out when the chopper was asked for, and she showed the young gentleman a meat chopper—he was standing by my master; it was while my master was looking for the chopper, and could not find it, and then she showed him this, but I don't think my mistress saw his face, because he stood like sideways—he said it was too clumsy, and too expensive—after that Mr. Sparshott brought him out, and pointed out Mr. Thomas's shop to him—he went over to Mr. Thomas's—did not see him go in; I saw him go down that way towards the shop—I noticed his dress, he had on a lightish pair of trowsers, and a coat with pockets on the hips, and a little round hat, black; it was like one of those wide-awakes, but not turned up so much; it had a brim, rather wide—I should not know the young man again—I don't think I should know the hat again.

Cross-examined. This was in April—I know it because my birthday was on the 22nd of April; that was Saturday—I don't know when I was first asked any questions about it—I think it was about a week after; it was in April—I did not go before the police; I was up at Whitehall—I was not examined before the Coroner, or the Magistrate.

COURT. Q. Have you any means of fixing the date when you were first asked about it? A. I do not know the date—I can't tell whether it was a week afterwards, or three weeks, or a month; I know it was shortly

afterwards—I don't remember that it was the 18th of May that I went to Whitehall—I don't remember the date of the month, or what month it was—I don't know how long it was before I went to Whitehall that I had been asked about it.

ALFRED SPARSHOTT . I live at 155, High Street, Deptford, and am the son of Mr. and Mrs. Sparshott—I remember one evening someone coming about a chopper; it was the 24th of April, Monday, about 8.30 in the evening—it was a tallish young man that came—I can't describe him, but he was a tall young man, and he had a round hat on, tumbled in at the crown, and black—I did not notice any of his clothes—I was behind the counter at the time—he said "If you please, I want a chopper"—my father went to look for one; we had not got any where they hung, and my mother showed him a meat chopper—he said it was too clumsy, and too expensive—he said he wanted it for a performance at the Lecture Hall—he then left the shop, and my father went to the door, and showed him the way to Thomas's—I was behind the counter all the time—I did not hear what my father said about Thomas's—he pointed across the road, but I was behind the counter, and did not see him point—I could not know the young man again if I saw him.

Cross-examined. He said the meat chopper was too expensive—I did not tell the gentleman who examined me that what the young man said was that it was too good, the words were "too clumsy and too expensive"—I don't recollect saying "too good," I might have said it; if I did it was a mistake—I described the trowsers as light trowsers.

COURT. Q. What coloured trowsers had the young man on? A. Light trowsers; I remember that—when my mother showed him the chopper he said it was too clumsy, and too expensive—I remember that very clearly—he did not see the chopper, he stood at the further part of the shop, and my mother was behind the counter—he just turned round and looked at it—she held it up, and he said it would not do, it was too expensive and too clumsy—she said the price was 2s., 2d.; that was when she held it up.

ANNIE SPARSHOTT . I live with my parents, in High Street, Deptford—I recollect one evening going to Church Street to pay some club money for my brother—it was the 24th April, Monday—I left home about 8.10, and got back about 8.40—I saw nothing of the young man, or the chopper, at my father's shop.

GEORGE WARR . I am a traveller, in the employ of Messrs. Price, Dunn, & Co., iron merchants—I am in the habit of going to Mr. Sparshott's shop, at Deptford, every other Tuesday—I was there on Tuesday, 25th April—I have it according to my order-book—I date my order-book every day—I have it here, and produce it—I took an order that day from Mrs. Sparshott; this is it, "Quarter dozen small hatchets, cheap; quarter dozen bill-hooks, small, cheap; and quarter dozen ditto, mid."—they are all hatchets, cheap kinds—I have not put any price against it, I merely say cheap—there are several other things on the same order, but no more hatchets.

Cross-examined. I can't say, without referring to my book, whether I was there on the 11th—I am there every other Tuesday—the Tuesday before would be the 8th—I was there that day, but I took no order, it was merely to exchange a fender; no order was given.

WALTER RICHARD PERRIN . I live at 4, Warwick Terrace, Blackheath Hill, Greenwich, and manage the business of livery stables for my mother

—I am also a comic vocalist—that is my profession—for five or six years past I have had an engagement from time to time to sing at the Golden Lion Music Hall, at Sydenham—I have seen the prisoner before—I should think I have known him by sight about three or four years, but I have not seen him very often during that time—I drive a basket carriage and pair of ponies during the day—on 24th April, I recollect going home from my work about 6.30—I took my horses into the yard, took them out of harness, and took the harness off—I leave the work for the chaps to do in the yard—there are three or four altogether there—I left them to do the feeding, and putting the beds down, and so forth, as I have to get to Sydenham to my singing, to manage this hall—I was supposed to be there by 8 o'clock, that was my general time, but it was very seldom I was there at 8 o'clock, unless it was in the winter time; hardly anyone comes in there in the summertime before 9 o'clock—I generally went in winter time by the 7.20 or else the 7.35 train, and in the summer time I generally got the 8.3 or the 8.12 train at New Cross to Sydenham—I should get there about 8.25 or 8.30, as near as I can recollect—I had nothing to do before I left home but wash my face, put my collar and tie on, and brush my coat—I had got my trowsers and waist-coat, and so forth, on, ready for the evening's concert—on 24th April, I started from home to catch the 7.22 train—at the top of High Street, I met a man named Henry Kirby—he is also a vocalist—he sings under the name of A. D'Albert—he has two or three assumed names, I believe—I had a little conversation with him—I did not catch the 7.22 train—I could have caught the 7.37 train, but I did not try for it; it did not matter whether I got down there at that time, because I knew there would be nobody there—I should think I was in Kirby's company half-an-hour, or three quarters of an hour—I parted from him at the bottom of High Street, but we met Robert Jellis before we got to the bottom of High Street—we met him opposite the Duke of Cambridge, in High Street—he joined us—we went into the Duke of Cambridge, and had a pot of half-and-half between the three of us—after we had the beer, we went down together—Jellis had a little child with him; a little girl that could just toddle along—just this side of High Street the little child began to cry, and he said "Well, I shan't come any further with you, Walter," and he left us this side of the railway station, at Deptford—Kirby and I walked leisurely down to the bottom of High Street, opposite Hamilton street, in High Street, and when I got there I remembered that I wanted some nails, as I was outside this ironmonger's shop—my back was turned to the ironmonger' shop, and I said "Oh, by-the-bye, I wanted some nails"—I mean the ironmonger's shop at the bottom of High Street, which I now know as Thomas's shop—Kirby said he was going on to the Star, at Bermondsey—I bade him "Good-night," and went into the shop, and bought some nails—I can't positively say whether it was a pennyworth or twopennyworth of nails that I got—it was a small quantity—I did not know the shop before, or the people of the shop—a woman served me with the nails—I don't remember ever seeing her before—the next time I saw her was up here at the door, last Session, and I pointed her out to Mr. Mulvany—I said "Why, there is the woman that served me with the nails"—to the best of my recollection I paid in coppers, but I would not be sure—I have known the prisoner by sight for some years—I have not known him to have any sort of conversation with him at all—I only knew him by sight—I only knew him by the name of Walter—there was another name that he went by but that

I don't remember—I have tried to remember it, but I can't—he occasionally sang—I heard him sing once—he might sing under some other name than his own—I should think it was two years ago I first heard him sing—it is not at all an uncommon thing for young men to sing, and take another name—on the night that I have spoken about, when I parted with Kirby, and bought the nails at the shop I now know to be Thomas's, I saw the prisoner down at the bottom of High Street, coming across the road—that was on the 24th—I saw him as soon as I came out of the shop—he was coming across the road, going up the High Street, from Sparshott's shop, but it was not direct from Thomas's shop, crossing the road—he was coming from the side of High Street, on which Sparshott's shop is, crossing direct out of the door where I came out of—fie was coming down the street from the Broadway entrance to the High Street, and he came across right opposite Thomas's shop—he was coming down the street from Sparshott's shop, on the left hand side from the foot-path across—he was crossing the road when I saw him, in a slanting direction from Sparshott's shop—I would not be sure whether he nodded first or I nodded first—as near as I can remember he had a black coat and a dark pair of trowsers on—it was an ordinary coat, a sort of a frock-coat, and a dark pair of trowsers, as near as I can remember—he had one of those billycock hats on—I think it was a soft one by the look of it, I could not say—I did not feel it—I did not take particular notice; I had no reason for taking notice—I, should think the skull part of the hat was soft—the brim was a hard substance of course; a stiff brim as near as I can remember—I have not a very distinct recollection on the subject; not the exact words, but as near as I can remember I will tell you—there was nothing whatever to lead me to take particular notice of the man's dress more than at any other time—as near as I can remember it was about 7.45 when I saw him; the gas was not alight, it was getting dusk—as near as I can remember I got to Sydenham about 8.25, or 8.30 it might have been—I caught either the 8.3 or the 8.12 train—when we nodded he asked me how I was getting on, and I said "Oh, middling"—he said "Are you still at Sydenham?"—I said "Yes"—he said "Oh, I should think you would live and die there, at Sydenham"—he said "I am just going in here, if you like to wait a minute we will have a liquor up"—those were the very words, I believe—I said that I had not time to stop, as I wanted to catch the 8.3 train; and I saw him go into the shop that I had just come out of—a van heavily laden with either flour or coals, I don't know exactly what it was, with three or four horses attached to it, caused me to stop on the edge of the pavement, prevented me from crossing, I stood there for the waggon to pass by—as the van was passing I turned round promiscuously, just a glance round, and I saw the same person who served me with the nails reaching a hammer out of the window—I went up Hamilton Street, and made my nearest way to the station, caught the train, and went on to Sydenham—that was the last I saw of him, or anything connected with him that night—there was no gas in the shop when I went in to buy the nails; it was not lighted when Walter left me to go into the shop—there was no gas alight outside the shop or in—I can positively say that I saw Mrs. Thomas reaching the hammer, at least I would not positively say that she took it right away out of the window, but I know she moved it off a brass bracket that was there—a brass thing that was standing there in the window—there was a hammer in the window, and I saw her move it—I saw handbills like this circulated about Deptford and Greenwich

soon after they came out—I could not tell the day, nor exactly the time, I saw them—I noticed the date at which the matter about the hammer was spoken of in that, but I did not take much notice of it—I looked at it—it stated there on 22nd April, and I knew I was not in High Street on the 22nd—that is the fact, I was not at the bottom of High Street on the 22nd; I might have been in High Street, but not that part of it—it was on Saturday, the 3rd or 4th June, I first came forward and gave information—some time after the Inquest, and some time after the investigation before the Magistrate—I saw Mrs. Thomas over the way at dinner last session, and I heard her name mentioned as Mrs. Thomas, and she was the person that I saw hand the hammer—I did not know her name at that time—I did not even know the name of the shop, because Thomas's shop was always this side of the railway arch.

Cross-examined. I know the time, because I went by the 8.3 or the 8.12 train—this is not the first time that I have mentioned the 8.12 train—to my remembrance—I gave my evidence to that gentleman (Mr. Pollard)—I won't say positively whether I told him that it was the 8.3 or the 8.12 train—I told him that finding I was too late for the 7.22 train I determined to go by the 8.3 train—I told him that the time I saw the prisoner was 7.45, that was about the time—I would not right down swear to that time—that was the time I gave to that gentleman, but I won't positively swear to that time—that was the time I fixed, but I won't positively swear to it—it might have been before 8 o'clock, and I believe it was—that is to the best of my belief—I might have said that I went by the 8.3 train to Sydenham—I believe I have said so—it was on the Coronationday, the 28th June, that I gave my evidence to the Solicitors of the Treasury, but I gave part of the statement prior to that—I don't know that I ever said anything to that gentleman about the 8.12 train—I can't remember whether I said it was the 8.12 or the 8.3, but I know I stated the 8.3 train—I said I was at Sydenham at 8.25—I was there at 8.25, or 8.30, it might have been 8.25, or 8.30—as near as I can remember it took me a quarter of an hour to go from the station to Sydenham, fifteen or sixteen minutes—I had to walk from the station to the Golden Lion, that is from 250 to about 300 yards. I was not at the Inquest—I was not in the room, that I will swear—I was not before the Magistrate, not on this case, not at any of the meetings, nor in the room—I heard of the case—I have been before a Magistrate, charged, about twice I think, as far as I can remember—twice it was, for an assault—twice I have been charged with that—only twice to my remembrance; once was for an assault upon a man who insulted my wife, and I would upon any man that insulted my wife—I was fined 1l. or fourteen days—I did not pay the fine, I would not pay it—I suffered the imprisonment, fourteen days—that was two or three years ago, I could not positively say—I did not get hard labour—I can't say positively to the time, nor I won't say unless I could recollect it—I don't remember—that is the only answer I can give you,—it was either two or three years ago—the other occasion was an assault—that was some little time back—I could not tell you the exact time—I was fined a sovereign then, I paid it, that was supposed to have been for an assault—the Magistrate fined me 20s., for a young woman breaking her parasol over my head—I did not pay it, a relation of mine paid the money for me—a gentleman of the name of Perrin, the same as my own—I don't remember any other occasion on which I have been convicted—I will swear I don't remember any other—I won't swear

it, I might have been, I don't know what my friend Mr. Pook has got up against me—I have been a comic singer about thirteen or fourteen years—I have been at the Golden Lion (Mr. Field's) for six or seven years, on and off—I might have heard them speak on different occasions about this murder, at the Golden Lion—I have not, that I remember, ever said a word about having seen young Pook, because I never knew him by the name of Pook—on the next Saturday after I had given my evidence, Mr. Field, of the Golden Lion, did not turn me away, and say he would not have such a liar on his premises—he did not turn me away, I left—he discharged me, but he did not turn me away—he said this to me, "Perrin, there are two or three of these fellows coming down here inquiring into your character, and I have never done anything in my house and I don't see why I should be humbugged by these fellows coming down here, and I think you had better stop away until after this trial is over"—I don't know whether this was on the Saturday or the Monday after I had given my evidence—I think it was on the Monday—I had never spoken to Walter before, not that I remember—I don't think I have—and I have not seen him very often during the three years I have known him by sight—when I met him he asked me to come and liquor up—there are a great many persons who know me in the concert business, and I don't know them—I don't know a person named John Black (He was here called in)—I don't know that man, and never saw him before, to my remembrance—I don't remember the exact time I read that bill, but I know I saw them about—I don't think I saw them outside the police-station—I would not swear I did not—I did not see that man, as I remember, at any time while I was reading one of those bills outside the police-station—I don't remember saying to him I had bought two pennyworth of tacks that night—I don't remember it, and I don't remember the man at all—I did not say that to him outside the police-station—I can't remember saying that I bought two pennyworth of tacks that night—I did not say to him "I never saw young Pook there; he was not there when I was there; I should have known him by his coming up to the heath"—I won't swear I did not say so; I might have said so; but I don't remember it—I live at 4, Warwick Terrace, Blackheath Hill—I was living there during the whole time the Inquest was going on, and during the examination before the Magistrate—I read the papers; I knew that the murder was said to have been done with a hammer—I did not read the papers from day to day—I have got my own business to attend to instead of reading the papers—I read them two or three times, as the case went on—I gave to Mr. Griffin the nails that I purchased at Mrs. Thomas's—about two days after I told Mr. Griffin that, since I had had a conversation with my wife concerning the nails, I would not positively swear to those nails, and I looked in my drawer and I found some more tacks—it was two or three days after, I could not say—that was not after Mr. Griffin had told me that Mrs. Thomas said I had stated what was untrue, when I said the nails had been purchased there—not that I can remember; he might have said so, but I don't remember it—I won't swear whether he did tell me so or not, because I can't remember exactly what he said; but I told him that since I had a conversation with my wife, I would not swear to the nails I had got—I have some more here in my pocket, if you want to see them—it was on Blackheath that I showed the second lot of nails to Mr. Griffin, to the best of my recollection—I don't remember that he laid to me, "Why those nails you

gave me as having got from Mrs. Thomas, she says distinctly you never bought at her shop, and she has not got such nails."—I won't swear he did not say so; and I won't swear that he did—I don't remember it—I have read part of the newspaper this morning—I think I read that part about the nails—I think I can say I am almost sure I did, I believe I did read it—I think I did—well, then, I am sure I did—is that what you want—I might have forgotten it—I did read the paper about the nails—I said I might have forgotten it, but now I remember I did read it—I did not think at the moment whether I did read about the nails, but now I come to remember I did—it was this morning that I read it—I could not at first understand about reading about the nails—I had seen the prisoner a few times—I was taken into Newgate the first day of last Session—Mr. Mulvany took me in—I can't remember whether it was on the Monday or the Wednesday—I don't know whether the governor or deputy-governor were present—I don't know them—there was that gentleman sitting there (the governor)—there was a rare lot of persons brought out besides the prisoner—I never passed any of them, they went past me—I did not, after some hesitation say "I don't know, I think that is the man"—I will swear I did not, I said "That is the man, to the best of my belief"—I said at first "That is the man," then the officer turned round to me and said "That is the man to the best of your belief," and I said "Yes"—those are the exact words—"That is the man to the best of my recollection"—he was the second or third one that passed me—I was just going to say "That is him," when the officer said "Let them all pass before you say it is him, just wait a minute;" and I said "That is the man, to the best of my belief"—they went round three or four times—I did not alter my opinion—I said that was the same one—I was still of the same opinion—I had known the prisoner by sight; but I was not right-down acquainted with the man—I only knew, him by sight—I was talking to him in the High Street on Monday night, and I believe that was the first time I ever did stand and talk to him.

Re-examined. I did not know I was going to Newgate until Mr. Mulvany fetched me—he said "I want you, you will have to go into Newgate"—when I went in I saw a lot of men walking round and round—I was on one side of a sort of cage, and they were on the other, so that I could only see them through the cage—they walked past two, three, or four times—it was under those circumstances, seeing them in that way, that I said he was the person, to the best of my belief—I had nothing to do with putting them in that place, or arranging how I was to see them—I did not know I was going to see them until I got there—Mulvany said I should have to go there, and see if there was anyone there I knew—I don't now know for certainty that his name is Pook—I have always known him by the name of Walter—I never knew him by anything else—I had not been before the Magistrate—before I was taken into Newgate to identify him, I did not know him by the name of Edmund Walter Pook—it was at the station, about 8 o'clock on Monday morning, that I saw Mr. Griffin about the first set of tacks—I went down to give my statement—Mr. Goodwin, the detective, came to fetch me from my stables—it was on Monday, about the 5th or 6th of June, that I saw Mr. Griffin, and had a talk with him about the first set of tacks, at the police-station, Blackheath Hill—then it was I gave him the first set of tacks—the conversation I had with him afterwards was on the heath—he came up on the heath in a dog cart, and I spoke to him, and said "Sir, you have got some nails there that Mr. Goodwin took down

where my pictures were hanging, those nails I won't positively swear to, since I have had a conversation with my wife, for I could not say whether those were the nails, but I have found some more tacks since that, in my drawer, and also another large nail"—that was all that passed, to the best of my recollection, between Mr. Griffin and me—I had the nails with me, and showed him them—I have them now—when I showed him the second set of nails he said "Oh, never mind, you had better keep these tacks yourself'—so I said "Very well, sir," and I did keep them—I told the Solicitor for the Treasury that there was a train at 8.3, which I thought I went by, and there was another one at 8.12—I intended to go by the 8.3 train—I don't know whether that was the train I went by, or the 8.12—that is what I said, to the best of my recollection—I could not positively say now whether I went by the 8.3, or the 8.12, but I think it was the 8.3.

MR. HUDDLESTON. Q. Did not you tell Mr. Field, at the Golden Lion, that you had been at the Police Court for three hours, and that you thought they had got him to rights now? A. I don't remember saying so—I don't remember saying any such a thing; if I did say it, it would be untrue, but I don't remember saying it—I won't swear I did not say it, and I won't swear I did.

COURT. Q. You can't say whether you told an untruth, or not? A. No, I can't say—I might have said it, but it was an untruth if I did say so—I went to Mr. Griffin the first time, at the Blackheath Station, on the Monday morning—I was taken there about 8 o'clock, by Mr. Goodwin, the detective of the R division—he came into the yard about 7.45—that would be Monday the 5th—I should think it was on the Saturday prior to that that I gave the statement to the policeman, and I went down on the Monday following—I should think that would be the 5th June—I don't remember whether I had been told that Mrs. Thomas had denied my purchasing the nails at her shop, before I produced the second set of nails; I don't remember ever hearing of it, not till after—I really can't remember whether Mr. Griffin did say it, or not, before I produced the second set of nails.

MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. You say you won't swear whether you told Mr. Field in substance that you had been to the Police Court? A. No—I don't remember telling him; if I did tell him so, it was untrue—if I did say so, it was a lie, I don't remember saying such a thing to Mr. Field—I should not like to go any further than I don't remember saying so to Mr. Field—I won't swear it, because I don't remember it; I won't go beyond that; I won't positively swear it.

ALFRED GEORGE KIRBY . I live at 51, Hamilton Street, High Street, Deptford—I am a paper-hanger, and house decorator, in the day, and at night I do comic singing and flying trapeze performance, under the name of D'Albert—I know Perrin—I remember going to the Duke of Cambridge on a Monday, about a fortnight after Easter—the first time I met him must have been about 7.20, at the top of High Street—he came up to me, and spoke to me—he afterwards met a friend right opposite the Duke of Cambridge—I did not know his friend—I know him now, it was Jellis—he had a little girl with him—we went to the Duke of Cambridge, and had a pot of beer there—after that Jellis left us about. 20 yards from the railway, on this side, and I and Perrin went on as far as Thomas's shop—Perrin said something to me, and went into Thomas's shop to get some nails—I left him, and went up the Lower Road—when we were leaving the public-house it was 7.30—I could not judge at all the time he went into Thomas's—it

did not take us more than about eight minutes to walk from the public-house to Thomas's, we walked pretty quickly—I suppose it must have been 7.40 when we got to Thomas's, to the best of my recollection—my attention was called to this matter about a fortnight after, or three weeks—I daresay it was a fortnight—Perrin had been up to London, and I daresay it was a fortnight before they fetched me—I could not tell how long ago it was from this time; I know they had me up last Thursday week at Whitehall—that was not the first time—I went to the police-station first on Blackheath Hill; I can't say exactly how long it was before that, I should think it must be five weeks ago.

Cross-examined. I am not a friend of Perrin's, I only know him by going to music-halls—when I see him we generally go together and have a drop of ale—I don't see him often—I have not seen him now till we came up here—we have not been together—we did not come up together this morning—I last saw him when I came out of the room, and before that, yesterday, over the way, at the public-house—before that, I saw him when I went up to the police-station, the night after, I think, when he was going up New Cross—I did not walk with him, or talk with him—he said "Halloa, how are you getting on?"—I only answered that I was nicely—I had not seen him for a long time before that, when I met him at the top of High Street—I had not seen him from that time till I went to the Police Court, or spoken to him, or received any message from him—we did not go together to the Police Court; he came up after me, to go there—he came to fetch me, along with the policeman, on the Sunday night—that was on the Sunday before I went to the Police Court—of course, I saw him then—I am a comic singer and a paper hanger—that is my business—I work for Mr. Chell—I am also a tumbler on the trapeze.

Re-examined. I went to the police-station—I did not go before the Magistrate—I went to the station to give my evidence—I could not tell you the date that was; I know it was on a Monday, and that is all I can tell you—I could not tell you the date—the prisoner had been committed then.

ROBERT JELLIS . I live at 23, Charles Street, High Street, Deptford—I know Perrin—I have known him all my lifetime—I have seen the last witness, Kirby—I remember an occasion when I went to the Duke of Cambridge public-house—it was on 24th April, Monday—I saw Perrin on that night, opposite the Duke of Cambridge—there was another friend with him—I did not know his name till I came up here, when I heard his name was Kirby—I had my little girl, about eighteen months old, with me—we all three went into the Duke of Cambridge, and had a pot of half-and-half—that was at 7.30—I noticed the clock when I went in—we stayed there about three or four minutes, not longer—when we came out, I walked down behind Perrin and his friend, a little way down High Street, Deptford, towards Deptford Station—I left them about 20 yards this side the railway-station—when I got my little girl home, and got in-doors, it was 7.50 by my clock—I looked at my clock—the time I left Perrin was about 7.40 or 7.45, I think, not later—I don't know Thomas's shop—I know it now, by going by the door—I don't know whether the name is Thomas, I know the shop; I never noticed the name—they were, I should think, 100 yards from that shop when I parted from them—it was a tool shop, I think.

Cross-examined. I am a jobbing butcher—I was first spoken to about being in High Street on 9th June, I think—nobody told me it was the 24th April; I know it, because I was at Mr. Block's, on Blackheath Hill, on the

26th—I swear that I know it was the 24th—I did not say to that gentleman (Mr. Hodgson) "I do not recollect on which day it was, but it must have been in that week"—I never said that, that I remember; nothing of the sort, that I recollect—I did not say it, not those words—I said that I recollected Mr. Perrin coming to Mr. Block's, and trying to lift a pig—I believe that was the same pig of which I took two legs to Mr. Lucas—it was on Saturday, the 29th, that I took the legs to Mr. Lucas—I am sure of that—I receipted the bill—it was on Wednesday that I lifted the pig—I am not particular sure of that, because we have three or four pigs, and two of us there—it was on the Wednesday, I believe, that Perrin came to Mr. Block's, and tried to lift the pig—to the best of my recollection it was—I did not tell that gentleman that I did not recollect on which day it was, but it must have been in that week.

Re-examined. In the week of 24th April, I was working for Mr. Block, a butcher, on Blackheath Hill—on the Saturday, I took two large legs of pork to Mr. Lucas, and was paid, and receipted the bill—I have not seen the receipt since—this is it (produced)—that was given on the 29th—it was in that week that Perrin came to try to lift the pig—I am not positive sure what day it was—I could not say—I know it was not Monday or Tuesday; I am not sure what other day in that week it was—I think I told that gentleman (Mr. Hodgson) that it must have been on the Wednesday—I am not now positive that it was on the Wednesday or not—I am mistaken about that; if I was not to say so, I should tell an untruth.

LYDIA. CAVILL . I live at 2, Deptford Green—I know Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, the ironmongers, of High Street, Deptford—on 24th April I was at their shop, at 8 o'clock—I remained there about three quarters of an hour—I can fix the time, because while I was waiting there the church clock chimed a quarter past 8; that is the only thing by which I can judge the time—I was in the sitting-room, at the back of the shop, you can see from there into the shop—I purchased a pair of scissors—I was served in the sitting-room—I did not pay for them there—there was no light in the shop when I went in—only Mrs. Thomas was there then—several customers came in while I was there—I noticed a lady come in for some knives; but she did not purchase anything, and I noticed a young man come in for something, but I don't know what he purchased—I noticed that he had light trowsers on, and a dark coat, and a kind of a low round hat, of a dark colour—I could not see his face; he was standing sideways against the window—I believe Mrs. Thomas was in the room with me when he came in, and she went into the shop to serve the young man—I saw her reach something from the left-hand window; I mean the left-hand window going into the shop, and the right looking into the street from the sitting-room—she wrapped it in the brown paper, and handed it to the young man—I did not see what it was—I can't say whether that was before or after the clock chimed a quarter past 8—it was rather a small parcel—I saw the back part of it, under the young man's arm—I should think it was 18 inches long—I could see it under his left arm, as he left the shop—that is all I know of the size of the parcel—he appeared to be a tradesman, or something of that kind—he did not appear like a working man—the son, David Thomas, was in the shop when he was served by Mrs. Thomas—he is ten years old, I believe—there was no one else in the shop—I saw Mr. Thomas that night, just as I was leaving the shop; he was coming in at the front door as I was going out—the gas had been lighted before I left—it might be a little before 8.45 that I left—

Mrs. Thomas lit the gas before Mr. Thomas came in—I can say it was 8.45, because I had to post a letter to go to Constantinople by 8.45, and I left in time, to post the letter—as near as I can remember, it was between 8 and 8.30 when the young man was served with the parcel—I should not know him again.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I can't say bow long I stayed after the young man left—I sat talking to Mrs. Thomas some time—it might have been ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—the post-office was next door to Mrs. Thomas's, and I went out for the purpose of getting a letter in before 8.45.

JANE MART THOMAS . I am the wife of Samuel Thomas, who keeps a shop of tools and cutlery, at 168, High Street, Deptford—it is on the opposite side of the way to Mr. Sparshott's shop-shortly before the end of April we had kept a shop on the other side of the railway bridge, and had removed to this one—amongst other tools and cutlery, we kept in stock plasterer's lath hammers—I have seen the article produced, in this case—I sold several dozens of them—we had such hammers as this in stock on 24th April—this would be a number 2 hammer—I have got my books here—up to the 15th April, I find we had three number 2, and three number 3 in stock—I had not sold any from November till April—one of the number 3 was sold on 15th April—there is an entry of it in my own handwriting—I have since found out that that was sold to a person of the name of Whitter—at the time of the Inquest I had two remaining of the No. 3—I have sold one since, and have given one up to the police—as to the No. 2 hammers, I find that one was sold on Saturday, 22nd April; that entry is also in my handwriting—I have since found that it was sold to a young boy of the name of Elliot—one of the remaining "No. 2 has been given up to the police since these proceedings, and the other was sold on the 24th, according to my books—I don't recollect anything particular about the 24th—I am more often in the shop than my husband—Miss Cavell was in the shop that night, and I sold her a pair of scissors—that is entered in the book in my writing; this is the entry: "One pair of scissors, Miss Cavell, unpaid, 2s., 6d."—the "un" was scratched out after the account was settled—you will find other entries the same—the last entries are "Lath hammer, 1s., 6d.; turning for table leg, 2; one pair of scissors, Miss Cavell; nails, 2d.;" and so on—I have no doubt, looking at that entry, that I sold a lath hammer to someone, or that day, but I can't tell who to—I am certain I sold it to someone, or else it would not be in ray book—I have not the slightest recollection to whom I sold it; we have sold eleven hammers since that date, and only two we can account for, and those are two that Superintendent Griffin had—we have had a fresh stock since then—the hammers were kept in the left-hand side window going in; the right-hand side window is kept for cutlery—sometimes the hammers have a string, and sometimes not—if they are hung up in the window they have a string—the string is used for hanging them up.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I think I gave the hammers up to the police the day we came from the Inquest—it was on a Monday—that was before we got the eleven hammers in stock—we were out of hammers, and had been asked for them, and we got a fresh supply in—I could not tell when I sold this spokeshave iron, how long before the hammer—it was sold some time during that day, when I could not tell—I could not tell when I sold the nails—I could not say that they are put down in order as they

are sold, because my attention is called various ways very often—I put them down at a convenient time, after I sell them—the nails is the fourth entry on that day, and then there is a lot—that is the handle of a jack plane—Griffin showed me some nails—I told him they were not nails that we had ever kept in stock, and that was true—he laid four on the counter, and I told him they were not nails we had in stock—it was a flat pointed nail, not a nail that we sold—I was taken to see if I could identify young Pook—I went carefully through several persons that were shown me, and I could not identify anyone—that was on Monday, 1st May, the day he was taken into custody—I did not identify anyone as the person who had bought the hammer—I should not have known the hammer had been sold if I had not booked it—I did not recognize anyone of the persons who were shown to me as the person who had bought the hammer, or who had been in my shop, or as anybody I had seen before—we gave every information we could give on 28th, 29th, and 30th, and the 1st May—we went to the Police Court to try and identify him, and we could not do so—there are hundreds of people come into the shop that I can't account for at the time—I make the entries as near the time that the things are sold as I can.

COURT. Q. Do I understand you there is no entry about the eleven hammers? A. They are not all entered here—there are some of them, but I had so much confusion that I did not enter you see for several days; but I can account for them by the invoice—I made entries of lath hammers, but I don't know whether any of those eleven are down or not—persons had been running into my shop repeatedly, and pronouncing me as "The thing that won't say who she sold the hammer to"—the police had access to my books on the 29th—I pointed out the entries to the police—the first one I came to was the 22nd; a customer came in as I held my finger on the 22nd, and I served her with a compass saw, which I have in my book, and I left the policeman with the book—he did not take the book away with him—he left, and came in a short time afterwards—he asked for my husband, and he was not at home; the third time the policeman came my husband was at home, and they both looked over the book—both my husband and myself have given every facility in our power as to the examination of the books, and so on.

SAMUEL THOMAS . I keep a shop, at 168, High Street, Deptford, and amongst other firms, deal with Turner & Naylor, of Sheffield—these hammers are their make—I was at home on the night of 24th April, between 7 and 8 o'clock—I think I was at home at 7.45, as near as possible—I was out some time before that, but not after that time—I saw Miss Cavell there that night—I don't remember whether she was there a short time or a long time after I got in—Mrs. Thomas was lighting the gas after I came back—I served a Mr. Simpson that evening with four turned table legs—they were entered by my wife, in the book—I was examined at the Inquest, and at the last time before the Magistrate—I took my books up to the Police Court, expecting to be called, but I was not, and I took them back again—the first time was on Tuesday, 2nd May—they were examined the first time on 29th April, after I came home—I was present—my wife had pointed out the entries to the policeman before that—he had not got the book when I came in—he came in after I came home—I left it to him to look over them—that was Saturday, the 29th—on the next day, Sunday, Mulvany and another officer came and looked over them in my presence, and brought a hammer, and asked if I knew that that hammer was sold out of my place—on Monday,

1st May, Superintendent Griffin and Mr. Mulvany came to my house for me to go with them to identify somebody at the station—I said to my wife "You had better show these gentlemen the book," and they looked at it—that was the second time, and on another occasion they looked through the books, as they had done before—the traveller to Turner & Naylor is Mr. Harris—he is the traveller with whom we dealt.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I don't remember anybody buying a hammer on the Monday—I can't be positive as to half an hour, but I believe I served Mr. Simpson, and I marked the time by the light—it was nearly three months ago—I did say, before the Magistrate, that I could not be positive to half an hour.

Re-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I said I could judge by the light, and as far as I could say, jt was between 7 and 8 o'clock that I served Simpson with the four legs—when I came home I was on the premises, I can't say that I was in the shop all the time; it is all uncertain how long I was in the shop—I was on the premises, that is all—I have heard the question asked my wife about the eleven hammers, and she could not answer—she was so ill-used at the Inquest that she has left off booking things—she has not booked things since that, and that is the reason the eleven hammers are not booked.

GEORGE HARRIS . I am town traveller to Turner, Naylor & Co., tool manufacturers, at Sheffield—I live at 44, Kingsland Road—Mr. Thomas is one of my customers—in November last, I sold him a quarter dozen No. 2, and a quarter dozen No. 3, plasterer's hammers, and none afterwards till 7th July—I supplied them from Turner & Naylor's stock, in London—the hammer produced is one of their make—here is our trade mark, "I. Saw by," with a Punch's head and shoulders.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. We make hundreds of thousands of hammers like this; men are constantly making them as fast as they can turn them out—I have no means of identifying this one as one sold to Mr. Thomas.

WILLIAM ELLIOTT . I am learning the trade of a plasterer, under Mr. J. A. Essell—I live in Ship Court, Deptford—on 22nd April, I bought a lath hammer at Mr. Thomas's, High Street, Deptford—I kept it till Tuesday morning, and took it out to work with me—I have got it now.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I bought it shortly after 9 o'clock on the evening of Saturday, the 22nd—my age will be eighteen next November—I paid 1s., 4d. for it—it has my initials ons it—I never went to the shop before in my life—I bought nothing else at the time.

THOMAS WHITTARD . I am a plasterer—on 15th April, I bought this hammer at Mrs. Thomas's—I have not had it ever since—Inspector Sayer came, and took it away from me—I had it till then.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLEBTON. I paid 1s., 3d. for it—it was about 9.30 at night.

WILLIAM NORTON . I am coachman to Captain Gamblin, of Blackheath—on Tuesday evening, 25th April, I went with Louisa Putnam to Kid-brook Lane, by Morden College—we went across the fields by Morden Church, into Kidbrook Lane, in the direction of Eltham—we passed a young man and woman in the fields—in the footpath, in the last field before we got to Kidbrook Lane—we still walked down the lane towards Eltham, till we got to the water brook—when I first saw them, they were ahead of us, coming the same direction as we were going—we overtook

them, passed them, and did not see them afterwards—we were all going in the same direction—it was about 200 yards before they got to the lane, and going towards the lane, that we passed them—we crossed the brook, and kept on the footpath by the side of the lane—there is a hedge by the side of the footpath—I heard two or three screams, and afterwards saw a man running very fast up the lane towards Kidbrook, from Eltham Lane—that lane runs into Shooter's Hill Road—it was then 8.30 o'clock—he was coming from the Eltham direction towards Kidbrook, in the direction of Shooter's Hill—we were then in the footpath, and he was on the further side of the lane—we were going down in the direction of Eltham—he was ahead of us, but coming in an opposite direction—the screams were ahead of me—they came from the direction of Eltham—they were nearer Eltham than to us—I just caught sight of his face—he was a young man; he had no hair or moustaches; he had a dark coat on—that was all I noticed—we continued to walk towards Eltham—I fix the time because it was 8 o'clock when we came through Morden College—we did not go as far as Eltham Church—I did not see any clock or watch, only Morden College clock—we waited at Eltham some time, and then I heard the clock strike nine—I could not recognize the man again.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. The man and woman I first saw were before us, going in the same direction that we were going—we passed them and left them behind—they were in the footpath then—I know Maxwell's Farm—there is one brook there, and another further on—I spoke of the brook down the lane after you had passed Kidbrook Green—it was before we passed that, that we passed the young man and woman in the field—that is not on the Elthnm side of Kidbrook Green, but on the Kidbrook side—we had not got to the lane—we had got to Maxwell's Farm in that last field—there is a water brook going across that field—the place where we passed them is between Maxwell's Farm and Kidbrook Green; before we came to Kidbrook Green and after we had passed Maxwell's Farm—it was about 100 yards after we got over the brook, that we saw the young man running—I don't know how far that was from where we passed the young man and woman, I have not measured it—when we heard the screams we had crossed the brook and got into the footpath—we heard the screams two or three minutes before I saw the young man—I was examined before the Magistrate and Coroner—I told the Coroner, that, from the screams, I thought it was a young man and woman larking; I said it was more in fun—before the Magistrate, I said "I do now say that the screams I heard, were those of some one larking"—what I say now is, that the screams or cries conveyed to my mind the notion of a person in fun, and not in pain or anguish—it was just getting dusk at the time—I saw the man running by—I being in the field and he in the lane—we walked on the footpath, in the direction from which I heard the screams, and nothing attracted my attention till I got to Eltham, which is close to a mile, I should say, from the brook across the fields—Mill Hall Lane comes out again Dr. King's, at the other side of the church—we walked on at the usual pace—it was when we got into the last field, before we came to Eltham, that I heard Eltham clock strike 9 o'clock—I was one of the first witnesses examined at the Police-Court—I saw the prisoner, and could not identify him as the person I saw in the lane—I can't say whether the man who passed us in the lane, running, had anything in his hand.

COURT. Q. These screams in fun; was there any cry for help? A.

No; there was nothing in the nature of the screams to induce us to go to see what was the matter—we did not think anything of it, though we were going in that direction—it was not of that nature to attract attention.

LOUISA PUTNAM . I am single, and live at Jubilee Cottage, High Street, Eltham—on 25th April, I was walking with the last witness, in a field near Kidbrook Lane, about 8.30—we crossed the brook into the fields and along the footpath—when we were across the brook we heard screams, which appeared as if they were in the Woolwich Road; about five minutes after that we saw a young man run past us in the lane towards Morden College, very fast—he appeared out of breath—he was dressed in dark clothes, with a low hat—I did not see his face—I went on with Norton towards Eltham, and parted company with him there just before 9 o'clock—I think the screams were like lover's play.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I have said "The screams appeared like the screams of a young man and woman playing, not at all as if a person was being hurt"—that was the description I gave when I was first asked—that is what I mean when I say that it was like lover's play—I am telling you what my impression was at the time I heard it—it did not cause me any alarm.

WILLIAM CRONK . I am a gas fitter, of 2, Kidbrook Road, Shooter's Hill—on the evening of 25th April, I was coming from Eltham to my own house; that led me through Kidbrook Lane—I kept the footpath, which is not in the lane, but is in the same direction—I went up the lane for a little way, and then went on to the footpath—they are separated by a hedge—you have to come along some part of the lane first, and then get into the footpath, and then into the lane again—when I had gone some way along Kidbrook Lane, I came to the footpath, and followed it till I came to the lane again—while I was in the footpath, I saw a young man and woman in the lane, about 200 yards or 300 yards the Eltham side of the brook—the footpath there in some portions of its course is higher than the lane—you look through the hedge if you want to look down into the lane—the young woman had got her back to the hedge, and the young man, as far as I could see, was standing in front of her—I came up nearly opposite to where they were, and could see pretty plainly that there were two persons there—at the time I got to an open gap in the hedge, they got out into the middle of the lane, and the young woman wanted to turn towards Morden College, Blackheath, and I heard her say "Let me go, let me go" or "Let us go, let us go;" and I thought she mentioned the name of Charley—the young man took hold of her shoulder, and they went towards Eltham—I saw them go about two yards, then turned round and came on home—my path at first led me towards Morden College, and as I was going along I met William Norton and Miss Putnam going towards Eltham—I did not know them before, but having seen them since, I know they are the two per sons I met—I did not know the other two persons at all—he had a dark frock coat and a billycock hat, his height was about 5ft. 6 in. or 7 in.—the young woman was much shorter; I should think about 5ft 3 in., middling stout; not very stout, and not over thin—she wore a dark frock, a dark jacket, and a light petticoat, but the petticoat did not look white, and a hat or bonnet, I am not sure which—between fifteen and twenty persons were shown me in a row at Greenwich Police Court, and I picked out the young man by his back—I did not see his face in the lane—he is the same height and same appearance in every respect, but I do not speak to his face—I

won't swear to the words "Let me go"—I thought I heard the name "Charley pronounced—it was getting dark—I met the second couple just between the brook and Walker's, or Layton's Cottage—that was Norton—they were in the lane—about four minutes after I lost sight of the first couple, I saw the second—the lane was very muddy—I went along it to Eltham that day—I was also in the main roads and streets; they were not muddy, even the path by the side of the lane was dry, but the lane is lower.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLBSTON. I had been down to my father's, at 2, Straightsmouth, Greenwich, at the back of the church, which is at the back of London Street—I was not near Royal Hill, or anywhere in that direction, nor at Lewisham—I said before the Coroner, that the woman was calling out "Let me go," or "Let us go," and I did not catch the other word, but thought it was Charley—I thought she addressed the man by the Christain name of Charley, and I think so now—I picked the man out by his back—I did not see his face—I did not speak to Norton or Putnam—I passed close to them—I did not know them—they were not in the footpath, but in the lane; that I am sure of—I swear it—I saw them between the brook and Walker's cottage—I walked on; nobody overtook me—I was walking at about three miles and a half an hour—I heard no screams—I was alone—I had come from Pope Street, Eltham—I went up Millhall Lane, and across the fields into Kidbrook—I saw the back of the young man some 200 yards or 300 yards from the brook, towards Eltham—as you go from Millhall Lane, you come into Eltham Lane, either across the fields or through the lanes—I went through the lanes; I did not go by the footpath—I went up Kidbrook Lane a little way, and then came out and walked on the footpath, not right across the fields—when I saw them first, as far as I can say, the young woman had got her back towards the hedge, and he was in front of her—they were on the side of the lane nearest to me—his back was towards me—I did not see his hands, because the hedge would prevent that—when I got to the gap, I could see his hands—he had nothing in them—this was about 8.45; I feel certain—I have the means of fixing it—I picked out the prisoner—I never saw his features.

EDWARD GEORGE OVENS (Policeman R 254). I was stationed at Eltham at this time—on 26th April, about 9 a.m., I went to Kidbrook Lane with a stretcher, with others, having heard of the murder at the station—I returned again at 9 o'clock, and found a whistle about 15 yards from where I had seen the woman lying when I was there before—it was nearer to Morden College than where the woman was—it was not exactly in the lane—it was lying by the mud, or rather in the mud—the point of it was sticking downwards and the mouth upwards—I kept it till 11.30, and then gave it to Sergeant Wells.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. It is the practice at the station to make entries in a book of things connected with articles of this description, for which a book is kept—I have been a policeman three years and four months—I do not enter things in the book, I report them out to the sergeant or acting sergeant, and he enters them—I reported the whistle to Tilbrook—I believe it is not entered in the book—it was produced before the Magistrate on 19th May, for the first time I believe—it is one of those common metal whistles which are sold by hundreds.

Re-examined by MR. SOLICITOR GENERAL. I have nothing to do with

the books—it is my duty to report what I find to the sergeant, and I did so—I was examined before the Coroner—I forget the date of the Inquest.

GEORGE WILLS (Police Sergeant R 39). Between 11 and 12 o'clock on the morning of 26th April, I received a metal whistle from Ovens—I took it to Eltham Station and gave it to constable Tilbrook, who was in charge of the station.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLBSTON. I keep a book in which I put down things connected with a crime—I have made hundreds of entries—it is the duty of the officer in charge of the station to make the entries—I don't belong to that station—if it had been my station I should have made an entry in the book—that would have been the regular and proper course—if the whistle had been brought to me at my station there would have been an entry in my book—I handed it to Tilbrook—I don't know whether it was his duty to enter it—if there was any evidence about the whistle it might have been embodied in a report.

Re-examined by MR. SOLICITOR GENERAL. It would be the duty of the person in charge of the station to make an entry immediately an article is brought there—it is the practice at our station when a case is under investigation to enter everything found and brought to the station in the regular occurrence book, and it is signed by the finder—I should have entered this whistle—I have never had such a thing come under my notice in this manner before—only the officer in charge of the station makes entries in the occurrence book—I have never had anything found to bear upon any particular case—I have had articles found and brought to the station, and signed by the constable and also by the receiver—anything found in a public thoroughfare would be entered in the occurrence book—I mean articles found by private individuals—if they are foundry a constable they are entered in the book, and signed by the man and counter signed by the receiver—we have two or three books—I have never had anything found connected with an investigation—if anything is found not connected with a case under investigation I should enter it.

COURT. Q. I will put the very case of a whistle found in a public thoroughfare where a murder has been committed, if that was brought to the station would it be the duty of the officer to make an entry of it? A. I should make an entry of it—I should enter the whole occurrence in the book, embodying it all together—I should have entered the finding of this whistle in the book.

SAMUEL TILBROOK (Policeman R). On Wednesday, 26th April, I was in charge of the Eltham police-station part of the day—Sergeant Wills belongs to that district, but not to that station—he gave over a whistle to me on the morning after the murder was committed, and in the course of that day I gave it to Sergeant Haynes—there is no entry of the whistle in the book at Eltham—I was in charge of the station, but I made no entry, as I considered it of no importance at the time—I handed it to Haynes, who is my superior—I was in charge—he was on night duty—I generally enter anything found, if it is of value—it is printed at Scotland Yard, and circulated amongst the whole of the Metropolitan Police, and if anything is lost, it is generally reported at the station, and we refer to the informations at each station—as far as I know, that is the object of the entries—it is to show that we have reported it—there is a regular system, orders from Scotland Yard.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I don't know whether the book is

here—Sergeant Haynes is here—I was told that this whistle was picked up in Kidbrook Lane; I knew that there had been a murderous assault there on a young woman, and I made no entry of the whistle, but I placed it in a safe cupboard—I did not lock it—nobody could get at it while I was there—I put it in a place of security, where nobody could change it—I thought it important to keep it—it was given me by my superior officer to keep, and I handed it to the sergeant, thinking it an important thing—I did not enter it, because it was of such frivolous value—I did not consider it important, but I thought it important to keep it—I don't consider that I ought to have entered it—anything of value would be entered—I see now that it was of importance—if a knife had been found in the lane, with blood on it, I might have entered that, and also a knife without blood on it, or the blade of a knife with blood on it—I don't know whether I should have entered the handle of a knife without blood—I can see now that it would have been better if I had entered the whistle—we exercise a certain amount of discretion.

Re-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. There is a discretion on the part of officers in charge of stations to enter things if persons find articles—articles are owned at times almost as soon as they are found—I don't think I have ever had a case of this kind where an article, whether of intrinsic value or not, has been found which might or might not be important to the investigation of cases under inquiry.

SERGEANT HAYNES (Police Sergeant R 26). I have not got my occurrence book—Mulvany produces the whistle—Tilbrook handed it over to me, and I kept it from 2 p.m. on the day we found the deceased till the evening of the next day, when I showed it to Mulvany, with other property; the money and the two keys found on the deceased; and he said he would take possession of it—the money was eleven shillings in silver, and 4d. in bronze—there was also a pair of gloves, a handkerchief, a purse, and a hat—they were all shown to Mulvany, and he took possession of the keys and whistle.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I am at that station—there is a book kept called an occurrence book, to enter anything of value, or anything belonging to a case—I had no idea of this whistle belonging to the case—I knew that it was found in Kidbrook Lane—I did not hand over the young woman's locket to Mulvany—I got it at the same time—I kept it by me—I gave it to Mulvany, I think—it has been out of my possession once since—I don't think I ever gave it to Mulvany—I said I did, because it went out of my possession once—the whistle and keys, I mean—if I said I did give the locket to him, it was an error, I said it in my confusion—it went out of my possession at the Lee station—a constable called for it there—I can't say who it was—it was brought back to me by a constable, I don't know who—Mr. Mulvany took possession of the whistle and the keys—the locket he thought nothing of, and I kept it by me—he saw the whole of the property, and took what he thought proper—the woman's hat, and purse, and money were left in my possession—I made no entry in the book, of the whistle—Mulvany attached some importance to it when he took it away, but I thought nothing of it myself, and did not enter it—I entered the locket, the keys, the purse, and the money—I did not enter the gloves—the keys were of very trifling value—there was not much difference between the value of the keys and of the whistle; but I found the keys on the deceased, the whistle I did not find—there is nothing in writing in the

regular book to show where the whistle was between 26th April and 19th May.

Re-examined by MR. SOLICITOB-GENERAL. Mulvany was the person who had the conduct and the investigation of the case, and I thought he took from me what he thought important in its investigation—at the time he took the whistle there was no suspicion against anyone—there was no clue at all, that I am aware of—he took the things that he thought might be useful to afford a clue in case of any apprehension—the intrinsic value of what he took did not enter into the question between him and me—the value of the whistle is a few pence—if it had any importance, it was affording a possible clue to find out the murderer; and under those circumstances no entry was made—the book is at Eltham station—I am sergeant there now. (The witness was directed to produce the book to-morrow.)

JOHN MULVANY . (Re-called.) I received some keys and a whistle from Haynes—the keys were found in the possession of the murdered girl, and I took them to find, when I knew where she lived, what was in her boxes—I did not know who she was for some days afterwards—the whistle was shown to me some days afterwards, and I was told it was picked up in the lane, near the body—I said I would take it and keep it—I continued to make investigations to discover the man who committed the crime—I made no inquiries with respect to the whistle then—I kept it from 27th April till the present time—I informed my Superintendent that I had it in my possession—that is the Chief Superintendent at Scotland Yard, Mr. Williamson, and I showed it to him—when Miss Durnford's statement was about to be taken by the Solicitor to the Treasury, on 18th May, I informed him that a whistle had been picked up, and gave it to him for the purpose of being used at that interview; it was then returned to me—when Miss Durnford was called before the Magistrate, on 19th May, I was re-called, and produced the whistle—her proof was taken on the 18th, and she was examined on the 19th.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I knew that a letter had been written to her by the prisoner, on 1st May—I never had the locket—the whistle and the keys were given to me at the same time—this is the whistle—I saw the locket at the police-station on 25th April—I put these two marks on the whistle; but there is another mark which was put on by the Solicitor to the Treasury—there were no marks on it when it came into my possession—it is a common ordinary whistle—I daresay there are hundreds of thousands of them—all the marks were made since it came into my possession.

WILLIAM HENRY POLLARD . I am a clerk in the department of the Solicitor of the Treasury—I had this whistle in my possession about half an hour—I received it from Inspector Mulvany for the purpose of taking Miss Durnford's statement—I used it in the course of taking her statement—that is the only time it was in my hands—that was the first time I was aware of its existence, on 18th May—after I had taken her examination, I immediately returned it to Mulvany—the Treasury did not take this case up for some time after the first inquiry before the Coroner—it was not till the 6th or 7th of May that the Solicitor to the Treasury received instructions from the Home Office—after I received instructions, it was produced at the next examination.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. The date of the letter from the Home Office, containing the instructions to take up the case, is 4th of May

—I think Mulvany came to me first, and Griffin afterwards—I should not see them till 5th May, I think—I was in communication with the Police from the 5th to the 18th—I think there was only one meeting before the Magistrate between those dates, and that was on the day I first saw Mulvany—we were very busy—we went down to Greenwich Police Court with Mr. Poland, and a remand for a fortnight took place—I don't think we attended before the Magistrate on the 10th—I think there was a remand from the 6th for a fortnight—there was a very long remand, I know—I don't think there was a meeting on the 13th; but I would not say there was not, without referring to papers—I don't know when the meetings of the Inquest were—I did not attend them—I heard nothing of the whistle from the 5th to the 18th—the evidence was not given before.

Re-examined by MR. SOLICITOR GENERAL. The evidence was not given before, because there was no evidence until 19th May, and then Miss Durnford was called—Harris, Mulvany, Playne, and others, were examined on 10th May, but I was not present—I was not present till the 19th; I have no doubt there were six or seven examined—a remand was applied for on the 13th—the investigation was going on from day to day—as the fresh information was brought in, the Treasury, to the best of its power, made use of it—we could not do so until it was brought—the moment the importance of this matter suggested itself to me, it was made use of, and laid before Counsel and the Magistrate at the earliest moment.

ALICE DURNPORD . I live at 10, Bridge Place, Lewisham—I have known the prisoner about eighteen mouths, and have walked out with him from time to time—my father and mother were not aware of that—he was not a visitor at my father's house—he occasionally wrote to me, and I sometimes saw him passing, and joined him—he also used to make me aware of his being near me by a whistle which he used as a signal, and I used to join him, and walk with him—I believe I saw the whistle once, and had it in my hands—it was something like this—the last time I saw him before the night of 25th April, was a week or a fortnight before Easter—on Thursday night, 27th April, I saw him from the window—I did not join him, I was obliged to stay in the house—I met him on the following Sunday evening, but not by appointment—I do not know whether he signalled; if he did, I should not have heard him, as I was out that day—I met him close by my house—I do not know where he kept the whistle—I went up to the Treasury, and was examined as to what I could say on the matter, and the whistle was produced—I told what I knew, and it was written down, and I gave that evidence before the Magistrate the next day.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I believe I have seen him sometimes with a bone whistle, and sometimes with a bright one—this (another) is something similar to what I have seen him with—I did not pay particular attention to it; all I know is, that it was a bright whistle—I did not notice the shape—I know he had a bone whistle, and the other whistle was bright—I do not know their form, or shape—I cannot say which of these is the one he had—we did not part very good friends before Easter—I do not know whether he was a little jealous—I was with him about twenty minutes on the Sunday after the 25th—he seemed quite in his usual spirits.

Re-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I do not think I mentioned to Mr. Pollard about the bone whistle.

JOHN THOMAS BARNES . I am a pawnbroker, of 25, Nelson Street, Greenwitch—on 25th April, I left my house about 8.30 or 8.40—I fix the time

by the time we shut up—I walked with Miss Priscilla Billington through Burney Street, and up Royal Hill on the left hand side, a little way, and crossed over, and went to the right—we passed Mr. Playne's shop, and Miss Louisa Billington was there—we went straight up Royal Hill, and met the prisoner just by Morley*s, at the corner of Circus Street, coming down the hill towards Mrs. Playne's, walking pretty fast—I knew him to speak to, but I did not speak to him on that occasion—I noticed nothing particular about him—five or ten minutes after he passed, I heard the clock strike 9—that is all I saw.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLBSTON. When I went out of Burney Street, I turned to the left, and went up Royal Hill, and he was coming down—Mrs. Playne's is nearer London Street, above.

PRISCILLA ESTHER BILLINGTON . On Tuesday evening, 25th April, I was walking with Mr. Barnes—we went through Burney Street, about 8.50, and as we walked up Royal Hill we met the prisoner coming down—I knew him by sight, but not to speak to—he passed us, running in the road—he looked rather red in the face—soon after that I heard 9 o'clock strike—I did not see him again that night.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I call it running—he was running. ELLEN PLAYNE. I am the wife of George Playne, and keep a confectioner's shop, at 11, Royal Hill, opposite the Institution—I have known the prisoner, it may be a year and a half—he came to our shop about the middle of April, I think—I don't recollect the dates—Miss Billington, and Mr. Ben. Dixon, were in the shop—that is another Miss Billington—I don't know the day of the week, but I know it was not Monday or Wednesday—it was about 8.30 or 8.45, or it might have been later—I saw him come in—he was rather hot and excited—asked him what was the matter—he told me he had run from Lewisham Road, and asked me for the loan of a brush—I lent him one, and he brushed his trowsers—I was behind the counter, and he was in front—he then returned the brush with thanks, and then I think he wished me good-night, and left the shop—he might have been ten minutes, or a minute or two longer, in the shop—I was aware that he had had fits, and when he told me he had run all the way from Lewisham Road, I thought he had either had a fit, or was just about having one—he did not say why he had run from there, but simply what I have stated—my shop is about five minutes' walk from his father's house.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I saw him once have a fit—it may be nearly a year ago—there was blood pouring from his mouth, or rather, running from his mouth—I have not seen him in a fit since—when he asked me for the brush, I don't remember his saying that he had slipped down, because I should not have recollected the circumstance of the brush if it had not been for his being hot and excited; but his saying that he had run from Lewisham Road impressed it upon my mind—he shook hands with me when he bade me good-night—he had been in the habit of coming to the shop of a night occasionally—I can't recollect his buying some lozenges that evening, because when I saw him looking hot and excited, I was glad when he left—I know now that he did buy some, but I ran up in a hurry to get the brush, for fear he should be ill.

ANN LOUISA BILLINGTON . On Tuesday or Wednesday in the same week, I was in Mrs. Playne's shop—it was the night that Mr. Ben. Dixon came in—I remember the prisoner coming in in an excited state, and perspiration running off—he asked for a brush—Mrs. Playne remarked how

warm he was—he said "Yes, I have run from the Lewisham Road," and he borrowed a brush, and brushed his trowsers—she asked him if he had brushed all the mud off—he said "No, but the rest I will wash off with a sponge—he then bought some lozenges, and handed them to me—I refused them—Mr. Ben. Dixon came in, and the prisoner left—it was from 8 o'clock to 8.30, I only speak from memory—it was a very dry night, and rather cold—the streets were very dry indeed, and the neighbourhood—they were not muddy at all.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I did not notice mud on his trowsers—he did not say he had slipped down—I never touched the brush—he bought the lozenges of Mrs. Playne, and laid the money down on the counter, and offered them to me—they were in paper—I don't know whether he put them in his pocket when I declined them—the bag was open when he handed them to me.

JULIUS CARR BEN DIXON . I live at 23, Haversham Road, New Cross—I know Mrs. Playne's shop—I was there on 25th April, and saw her, and Miss Billington, and the prisoner—the prisoner said "Good-night" to Mrs. Playne, and went out—I have known him—it was 9.15, or 9.20—I fix the time because I left my uncle at the New Cross Railway Station at 8.58 by the clock—I saw him off by the train, and went direct to Greenwich—it was the North Kent line—I saw the prisoner in the shop three or four minutes before I entered it, when I passed the shop, and went to the Institution, to an entertainment that was going on there.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I was not in the shop more than fifteen seconds before the prisoner went out—I had a watch with me, but I did not look at it—I don't know whether Mr. Warner Sleigh read the trial scene from "Bardell v. Pickwick" at the Institution that evening, I was not there in time.

Friday, July 14th, 1871.

THOMAS LAYZELL . I live in one of the cottages in Kidbrook Lane, which goes by the name of Walker's Cottages—I am a gardener and florist there—I know the prisoner—I have known him eighteen mouths—I only knew him by sight—I saw him on Tuesday evening, 25th April, about 6.50, in the barn-field, Kidbrook Lane—that is near Morden College, between Morden College, and the first water brook—he was going towards Kidbrook Lane—a female was with him; she was a young person—he was walking with his arm round her waist—she was a pretty, good-looking young woman—she was not so tall as him—she was not stout, and she was not thin; a middling-made young woman—I don't recollect at all how she was dressed, I did not take that notice—I was about 30 or 40 yards from them when I first saw them; they were walking towards me—they passed me quite close—I had an opportunity of seeing him, and being sure about him—I passed him as close as I am to this (the bar of the witness-box), within 2 or 3 inches of them—they went on towards Kidbrook Lane, and I turned and looked at them—I did not know the young woman; I had never seen her before, as far as I knew—I did not recognize her—I was going the other way, to Greenwich—I am quite certain the prisoner was the man—it was about 6.50—I only guess the time from the time I left off my work—I left off my work at 5.30, I then had my tea, washed myself, cleaned my boots, and brushed myself up, and went to Greenwich—I got to Greenwich at 7.30—my father lives there—I live at both places; I sometimes sleep at one place, and sometimes at the other—after having passed them, I went on to

Greenwich, I did not come back that night, I slept at Greenwich—I was afterwards at the Police Court—I went into the yard, where there were a number of persona together—the prisoner was there—I recognised him—I knew him before—I went from the barn-field through Morden College, and straight across the heath, down into Hyde Vale, and into George Street—my father's house is at the corner of George Street—I afterwards went to pay my father's club, two or three minutes after I got home—that was about a mile off, or a little over—I passed the Greenwich Theatre, and left my aunt there—on coming back from paying the money, I passed St. Alphage's Church, and the church clock struck 8 when I was there, at the time I was passing by.

Cross-examined. I have been examined before—I had seen the prisoner twice before, as I am sure of—the first time twelve months ago, and the second, eighteen months ago—twice in eighteen months—I am sure about the time, that it was 6.50—I am not sure of it, I am guessing at the time to the best of my knowledge—I left the place where I saw the prisoner, and walked into Greenwich—that took me about half an hour or a little more, I can't exactly say the time—it was 7.30 when I got into Greenwich—if it was 6.50 when I saw the prisoner, that would make it half an hour and ten minutes; that was the time, to the best of my judgment—I am sure it was 7.30 when I got to my father's house in George Street—I stayed there about two or three minutes; I repeat that, two or three minutes only—I can't exactly say the time I was there—I have sworn that I stopped there about five minutes—that was true—when I said two or three minutes I was guessing as near as I could—I then went to the club in Clarence Street—I don't know how long it took me to get there, it was a mile, I could go there in a quarter of an hour comfortably, or twenty minutes—I stayed there about five minutes—from there I went past the church, and it was 8 o'clock when I passed the church, I heard it strike 8—there is no mistake about that—from that I am pretty sure it was 6.50 when I saw the prisoner—it would be about three miles from Douglas Street to where I saw the prisoner—people in my part of the country don't walk three miles and a half in twenty minutes—it was on the Morden College side of the stream that I saw the young man and woman—it was on Maxwell's farm field, about 50 yards from the building, nearer Morden College, that would be past Kidbrook Church—it was just past the building, between the farm building and the rivulet—I said before the Magistrate that I did not notice her dress or his dress, because I was in too much of a hurry; that is true—I heard of the murder on the Wednesday—I heard that young Pook was taken into custody on the Monday after—I did not give it a thought to tell the police then—I told them on the Wednesday—the reason I did not tell the police what I had seen was, that I saw so many persons pass my cottage—I mentioned to my mother on the Monday night that I could almost swear I had seen Mr. Pook—those were not the words I used; I answered "Yes" at first; I now say "No"—I did not tell my mother on the Monday night that I could almost swear I had seen Mr. Pook—I did not say so before the Coroner—I cannot read—I wrote my name to the deposition—I cannot read writing—this "Thomas Layzell," is my writing—my deposition was read over to me, and I put my name to it—(The Witness's deposition being read, stated: "I did not tell what I had seen, as I see so many persons pass my cottage in the same manner; I mentioned to my mother on Monday night that I could almost swear that I had seen Mr.

Pook.")—I told my mother on the Tuesday that I could almost swear I had seen him; I mean on Tuesday, 2nd May, after young Pook had been taken into custody—I mentioned about Mr. Pook being arrested on the Monday—it was on the Tuesday that I said to my mother I could almost swear I had seen him—I did say that before the Coroner—it is not true that it was on the Monday, it was on the Tuesday—I said then that I could almost swear; when I got before the Coroner I said I could swear—a gentleman named Ikey, a resident of Morden College, used to deal with me—on the Thursday after the murder, the 27th, he ordered some double stocks from me—everybody was speaking about the murder then; he did not ask me if I had any suspicion who the murderer was—I swear that—he did not ask me whether I had seen any persons whom I could recognize who had been in the lane on the day or night of the murder; nor did I say "No;" that I swear—or that I had never known the lane so deserted—I did not say anything of the kind—I did not say that I had not seen any one person, man or woman, or to that effect—I did not say that the only person I had seen, and that at 4 o'clock in the morning, was a labourer who was passing, and who called out to me saying that he had just picked up, opposite my garden, a white pocket-handkerchief covered with blood, which he showed to me and told me that he was about to take 'it to the police-station at Blackheath—that was at 8 o'clock in the morning, next morning—I did not tell that to Mr. Ikey—I told the sergeant of the patrol that a man had picked up a pocket handkerchief and had showed it to me, and it was a blue one—a blue duster, it was not a pocket handkerchief—I told the patrol of it and I did not hear any more of it—it had blood on it—I saw it—this was on the morning of the murder, the Wednesday morning—I saw a blue handkerchief with blood on it, it was shown to me by a stack maker on the morning of the murder, at 8 o'clock, just outside Morden College gates—I don't know the man's name, I knew him by sight—I don't know where he worked—he told me he had picked it up in the lane—I told the sergeant so, I believe the sergeant is here, somewhere outside—I don't know his name—I did not go with the sergeant to try to find the stack maker—I told him of it, and he said he would see to it—I told him that the man said he would take it to the police-station as soon as he got back to Eltham—I told that to the police sergeant—(The police sergeants were here called in)—that is the one I mentioned it to (George Wills).

GEORGE WILLS (Re-examined). I know that man—I believe I saw him on the morning of the murder, and an old gentleman with him—he said a handkerchief had been found on the green, near the field, entering on Mr. Maxwell's farm, and he was told by this man that he found it as he was going to work that morning; he could not tell me his name, but he was a stacker, living in Eltham, he knew him by sight—that was all he told me—he told me that the handkerchief had blood upon it; I thought I had mentioned that—he said it was a check handkerchief—he did not tell me the colour of it, I am sure of that—he called it a handkerchief—I asked him where this man was to be found, and he said he did not know, but the man intended to call at the station in Eltham when he returned from his work in the evening—I was not there in the evening—I saw what was called a handkerchief, it was a slate coloured duster, at the Lee police-station, on the following day; that is a different station from the Eltham station, it is the chief station belonging to that sub-division—there were stains on it—I could not say whether they were blood, I think not—I don't thiuk they looked like blood.

THOMAS LAYZELL (Re-examined). I did not say anything about that to Mr. Ikey; I did not say anything of the sort to him; I could not have said it, and not remembered it; I did not say so—I did not say before the Magistrate "I told the Coroner that I did not remember telling Mr. Ikey that I had seen anyone in the lane that night"—I said "I might have said so, but don't remember saying so"—I did say that—I do not remember saying the other—I did say before the Magistrate "I told the Coroner that I did not remember telling Mr. Ikey that I had seen anyone in the lane that night; I might have said so, but do not remember saying so"—I did swear that before the Magistrate—it was on the Thursday that Mr. Ikey came to me—on the Friday evening I took the flower roots that he had ordered to the College—he asked me if I had heard anything further; I said "No," I had not told him at that time that I had seen the man with the duster; I told nobody of it, only the police—on the Saturday after the murder I remember three young gentlemen calling at my house for shelter out of the rain—I did not tell them that I noticed no couples in the lane—they were speaking about the murder—my mother did not say they must have seen or heard anyone that passed, as they made it a rule to look out several times during the evening, and they had seen nobody that night—she said "It would have been a very strange thing if we had heard anybody in the lane at that hour in the morning, and we supposed it was done between 2 and 4 o'clock in the morning"—I am sure that on the Monday night I did not say to my mother that I could almost swear that he was the man, but I did on the Tuesday.

JAMES GRIFFIN (Re-examined). Inspector Wilson has charge of the Lee district—he is within my district—he is not here—I know that there was a piece of blue lining picked up by a man—I don't know who he is—it is at the Lee station now I expect; although it was regarded as a piece of rubbish, it was not thrown away—it was a ragged dirty piece of rubbish—it would be a piece of glazed lining which has been washed, I should say—a very flimsy material, in colour like a butcher's blue frock, but not linen as a butcher's frock is, not so thick a texture as linen; it is a flimsy material such as a woman's lining of a dress would be after being washed—it is unhemmed, it is a rag—(The Court directed it to be tent for)—It will take two hours to get there and back—I do not know where to find it—I saw it at Lee station, and I believe it is in the cupboard there—I shall know it if I see it again—I have not the least idea who the stack maker is, or where he is to be found—I heard that he was a labourer, that is what I was informed—the Lee inspector would have been here, but he is gone to bring up a sick witness—Mortimer is the man who was on duty before Gunn, it would be his duty to go up Kidbrook Lane about once in three hours—from three to four hours, I could not tell you exactly the time allowed for every beat—there are 460 men—there is a beat-book in which the rounds are entered—every beat is timed, but that would not have a correct view, because if one man is off duty and sick, another would take his beat—there is no record kept of where they are at particular times—I could tell you where any man was, the beat he was on, by the name, Blackheath Village, Shooter's Hill, or anything like that, or where he was on a certain day twelve months ago—Mortimer went on duty on the 25th, I believe at 3 o'clock in the afternoon—but there was a little irregularity with reference to his duty, because he had performed an extra duty in the morning in the shape of attending the Police Court, for which an allowance was made to

him in the evening—he would go on at 5 or 5.45, and remain on till 9 o'clock—he ought to be on till 3 o'clock in the afternoon, but if he was at the Police Court an allowance of some three hours would be given in the evening, so that he was not on duty fifteen hours—he would go on duty at 3 o'clock and remain till 6 o'clock—from 6 till 10 o'clock his beat was not covered—Mortimer is not here—from 6 till 10 o'clock there would be no particular policeman on duty, charged over that portion of the ground—I know that to be so from enquiry I made about this—I enquired who was round there in the evening, and learnt that—I have no doubt there would be an entry of that in the beat-book, that he had time given him—it is at Eltham—(The Court directed the book to be sent for)—Mortimer is alive, he would know how long he was on duty—Sergeant Haynes is here, to whom he reported himself off duty—the time he went on duty and the time he came off would be entered in the book—I don't think that would be in the beat-book, it would be in what is called the sergeant's state.

MR. HUDDLESTON. Q. On almost every occasion did not Mr. Pook, the solicitor, ask for the production of Mortimer? A. I never heard him asked for—I have heard it asked "Who was the man who was on duty previous to Gunn; Mortimer?"—I never heard that he was asked to be produced—of course he can come—the Eltham occurrence book is here, it was asked to be brought here—I will see if it is entered in that, and if not I will find the sergeant's state at Eltham—it would be entered on that—it being a little immaterial matter, the sergeant would have power to give the man two hours.

SERGEANT HAYNES (Re-examined). I have got the occurrence-book here—I have got the time of the men going on duty on the Tuesday and Wednesday—I have not got the sergeant's state—it is at the Lee station.

MR. HUDDLESTON. Q. You were on several occasions before the Magistrate and before the Coroner? A. Yes—Mr. Pook was in attendance as solicitor for the prisoner—I heard him ask before the Magistrate how it was that Mortimer was not there—I remember it on one occasion, before Mr. Maude.

JAMES GRIFFIN (Re-examined). This book, the Eltham occurrence-book, will show where the man was, by his own signature—I might explain that this man was allowed to go home, for duty he had performed—it was the acting-sergeant Tilbrook, who is outside, that was allowed to go home, and this man took his place, and the fact of Tilbrook going home is entered in the Eltham occurrence-book. (The entry stated that Mortimer was in station from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m., on Tuesday, 25th April.) It should be 10 o'clock—he would not go out on duty after that, he would then have completed his day's duty—the entry respecting Gunn's duty would be on the state; I will send for it—Mortimer was at the station, at Eltham—that is upwards of a mile, or a mile and a half, from Kidbrook Lane—a man named Weeks was patrolling from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m—he would be patrolling the whole section, and visiting four, five, six, seven, or eight men, that might be out on their beats—I don't know that he was patrolling in Kidbrook Lane—what is termed Eltham Section is many miles in extent—Weeks went to see all the men out on beats, and he would go miles round—he had no points to meet them at; he would see that the men were doing their duty—he would not go into Kidbrook Lane; at least, I suppose not, because he would know that there was no man there for him to see—he would know that that man was in the station.

THOMAS LAYZELL (Re-examined). I did not know the girl at all, I had never seen her before—it was on Monday, 1st May, that I first knew that the girl I had seen with Mr. Pook was the girl who was murdered—I had nothing before that to suggest that Mr. Pook had any connection with the murder—I first mentioned it to my mother, on the Monday evening, and it was on the Tuesday I told her that I could almost swear I had seen Mr. Pook—I had two conversations with my mother; one on the Monday, and one on the Tuesday—it was on the Tuesday that I made use of that expression—on the Wednesday I went to the police—it was in the barn-field that I saw Mr. Pook and the young woman, not in the lane—it was about 300 or 400 yards from the lane—I did not see anyone in the lane itself that night—I did not meet anybody else till I got on to Blackheath.

MARY ANN LOVE . I live at 9, George Street, Greenwich—I have known the prisoner since Good Friday last—I have known him a long time, but not to speak to—I have a friend, Alice Langley—on Sunday, 23rd April, Langley and I met the prisoner—his cousin was with him—I know his name was George, but I don't know his other name—he lived at Wolverhampton—we met them at Groom's Hill Gate, by the Park—we were to have met them at 6.30, but it was a little later than that when we met them—it was by appointment—we all went for a walk together—we went by the way of Mrs. Sainsbury's Gate, through the Park, along Chesterfield Walk, across the heath to Morden College, through the grounds, down Kidbrook, through the fields by Well Hall Farm—we went through Kidbrook by the fields, by the side of the hedge, and that took us to Well Hall Farm—we rested there about half an hour, and then returned back by the same road, with the exception of going through Greenwich Park—we went through the Circus, and got home about 9.30—we left them at the corner of the Circus about 9.15—the prisoner told my friend it was not convenient to see him on the Monday or Tuesday, as he was going to sing up in London—he had been walking with her, and his cousin walked with me—he made an appointment for meeting again on the Wednesday evening, at Groom's Hill, but we were walking up London Street, and he came out of a music shop, kept by Mrs. Fitzgerald—that was on the Wednesday—he said "Good evening," and I left them then.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLBSTON. I was not examined before the Magistrate, or before the Coroner—I was first asked about this on the Friday before Whitsun Monday—that was the Friday before last Sessions, in June.

COURT. Q. Is that walk that you went, a common walk for the young men and women of the neighbourhood? A. I don't know; I had not been there before.

ALICE LANGLEY . I live at 13, Reginald Street, High Street, Deptford, with my parents—I have known the prisoner some time by going into his father's shop—I remember seeing him on Good Friday last, and I afterwards met him on Sunday, 23rd April—I had met him in the meantime—I met him that night at Groom's Hill—I was with Miss Love—a young man was with the prisoner; a relation of his, I believe—we went for a walk together to Well Hall Farm—we were together from a little after 6 o'clock till 9.15—before we parted, he told me he could not meet me till the Wednesday night, as he had an engagement at some hall in London, for the Monday and Tuesday—it was singing, I believe—he mentioned where it was, but I don't remember it—I arranged to meet him on the Wednesday night at the corner of George Street, at Croom's Hill, at 8 o'clock—I went there to

meet him on the Wednesday; but he was not there—I saw him that night in Mrs. Fitzgerald's, the music shop in London Street, two or three shops further up from his father's shop—he came out and spoke to me—he said he had a very bad cold, and he had been in Mrs. Fitzgerald's all day, minding her business, as she was rather ill—it was when about 8.15.

Cross-examined. I believe Kidbrook Lane is a place where young people walk.

FREDERICK WILLIAMSON . I am the Superintendent of the Detective Force, and my office is in Scotland Yard—I first had this whistle shown to me on 28th or 29th April, by Mr. Mulvany—he merely showed it to me—he reported to me the circumstances of the case, and showed me the whistle, and took it away with him by my sanction.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. There would be no record in my office of its being found—after the 4th May, I communicated with the Treasury, through Mulvany—it would not come within my office to make any communication about the whistle.

ALICE WICKS . I live at 3, Maiden Terrace, Forest Hill—I have known the prisoner about a year or a year and a half—I have known Miss Durnford two or three years—I knew the prisoner was paying his addresses to her—I saw the prisoner, on the afternoon of Sunday, 23rd April, at a place called the Pavement, at Lewisham—it was near Miss Durnford's house—it was about 4 or 4.15, as near as I can recollect now—he asked me to give a message to Miss Durnford; and, in course of conversation, he told me that he had been very ill, and he looked very ill—he asked me to tell Miss Durnford to meet him on Thursday evening, at 8 o'clock, at the usual place—I agreed to give the message, and gave it to her in the evening—I saw Miss Durnford on the Thursday evening—I called at her house—I did not see anything of the prisoner—Miss Durnford did not go out—she was compelled to stay in on business for her mother, and was not able to go out—on the following Sunday evening, I saw the prisoner again at St. Stephen's Church, at Lewisham, about 8.30; I can't be certain of the time—I asked him how he was—I don't remember what conversation we had—he asked me if I had seen Miss Durnford, and I said "No"—he said he had been over to Lc wish am on the Thursday, but did not see Miss Durnford—he told me he had been on the Tuesday as well, but he had not seen her—I knew where the usual place of meeting was, very near Miss Durnford's house at Lewisham; right opposite the "Plough," that is right at the corner of the railway bridge—in course of conversation he said he had shaved off his moustaclie—this was on Sunday, 30th—he said he had shaved off his moustache in consequence of some comic business—when he made the remark, I noticed his moustache was off—he was wearing a moustache when I saw him on the previous Sunday—it was not a very large one, but still it was very plain indeed; it was very dark—I had noticed his moustache six or eight weeks before Sunday, 23rd—I remember that he said where the comic business was—I did not pay much attention at the time—after that Miss Durnford came up, and I left them together outside the church—I met Miss Durnford about three-quarters of an hour afterwards—the following day I heard of the prisoner's arrest.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I noticed the moustache on Sunday, 23rd, when he gave me the message—I should not have noticed that it was off unless he had called my attention to it, because I did not look at him sufficiently—it was not a slight one; it was not very thick, but it was

very plain—I said before the Magistrate I had noticed his moustache on the previous Sunday; it was not a very thick one—I had noticed that he had a slight one six weeks before—I said before the Coroner "On the Sunday before the murder, when I saw him, he had a slight moustache"—I left him with Miss Durnford—he told me that he had been on the Tuesday, but had not seen' her.

FREDERICK HENRY CAIJOR . I am a surveyor—I produce a plan of Blackheath and the neighbourhood, prepared by me—that is the original from which the tracings were taken; it is the Ordnance map, in fact, 6 in. to a mile, with those portions left out which have no reference to thia trial—I know the locality—I have measured certain distances which appear on this list—they are correctly stated there—I have also checked them on the Ordnance map, and they agree.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. The distance from Douglas Street, Deptford, to the spot in Kidbrook Lane, I have given as three miles, five furlongs, and eleven yards, and the distance from the spot in Kidbrook Lane to the prisoner's house, is two miles, six furlongs, and 106 yards, add those two distances together, and it will give you nearly six miles and a half—the distance by the road, from Douglas Street to a place half-way between the barn-field and the brook, would be about two miles and five-eighths—the whole distance from London Street, by Sainsbury's Gate, passing the gardens down to Lewisham Bridge, back by the Lewisham Road, Blissett Street, and Royal Hill, to Mrs. Playne's, would be two miles, two furlongs, and forty-six yards—the distance one way would be near about one mile and one-eighth.

DR. HENRY LETHEBY . I live in Sussex Place, Regent's Park—I am a bachelor of medicine and professor of chemistry—I have made the subject of blood and blood stains a matter of special inquiry—on Wednesday, 3rd May, I received from Inspector Mulvany a paper parcel, containing a pair of dark-coloured trowsers, nearly or quite black, a shirt, and a wide-awake hat—on the following evening Mr. Mulvany came again to me, and on that occasion I received from him a lock of hair in brown paper, a pair of men's boots, and a plasterer's hammer wrapped in brown paper, the uterus of a woman, and a clothes-brush—I kept the uterus and the lock of hair, and the other matters I returned to Mulvany the following evening, after I had made an investigation—I found on the trowsers, a little above the left knee, on the inner side, a human hair 71/2 inches long, and there it is (producing it)—I have put it between glass—it was on the outside of the trowsers, on the cloth—I compared that hair with the lock of hair that I received from Mulvany—I am certain that it could not have got from the parcel to the trowsers after I had them, because the parcel was opened afterwards—I did certainly open it on the evening Mulvany brought it, but I don't think it likely that anything could have fallen out of it then, because it was on a different occasion; one evening the trowsers were brought, and next evening the lock of hair was brought: they were not together until I took the hair off, and then I examined it in comparison with the other—the hair was very closely attached to the trowsers, as it were felted into it—it was exactly the same colour as the lock of hair, and under the microscope exactly the same structure; there is a little difference in the structure of hair—I examined the trowsers carefully, and I found at the bottom, and on the front part of the left leg, several spots; I think I cut out seven, and here they are—there are some remains here of spots, even at the parts where I

cut them; there is enough remaining about the spots, if there is any necessity for further examination—I cannot express any opinion about them—anything I thought it worth while to experiment upon I cut out, but we make it a rule in all our investigations not to destroy the material in such a way that no one else could have a further investigation if necessary—here is nearly half-an-inch remaining of this spot—here are two large spots, pointed out by the Jury, I don't think I could speak to that till I examined it—that one on the right leg I did not find to be blood—the larger spots on the back of the left leg, pointed out by the Jury, are the remnants of another spot which I found not to be blood; I could not recognize that as blood; one can hardly discover a negative; I did not recognize it as blood—when I test things, I ascertain whether they are blood or not—from the test I applied I did not find them to be blood, then you conclude, I suppose, that they are not blood, but I don't go quite so for as that, for the stain was so slight that I don't speak positively about it; but I don't think it was blood—there are seven spots which I have pointed out; I think on careful scrutiny you will find more, quite enough to test my investigations, if anybody is so disposed—I submitted the seven spots that I cut out to microscopical examination, and chemical experiments, and in my judgment they were blood stains—it is not safe to swear to the distinction between human and animal blood; I should not like to do so; I do not know any distinction, when we have small quantities like that to experiment with—I can't say whether it is animal or human, all I can say is, that it is blood—old blood gradually gets less and less soluble in water, until after exposure for some week or fortnight or so, it becomes insoluble in water; this was soluble in water; from which I judge that it was not Tery old blood.

COURT. Q. After that time would the blood not be soluble? A. That would entirely depend upon the condition of the atmosphere to which it is exposed; the insolubility is due entirely to the action of weak acids floating in the atmosphere—as well as my recollection goes, it loses its solubility in most cases in about a fortnight.

MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. Under the most favourable conditions of the atmosphere? A. Yes, I think precisely so—I had also a shirt submitted to me; I found on the edge of the upper part of the right wristband six very small-spots, one had gone through—when I unwrapped it, that had every appearance of blood, here it is; I have cut out the spot, and I ascertained that that was blood; that was soluble—this hat was also submitted to me; I found three spots on the brim and one on the edge of the band; I examined them, they were spots of coagulated blood; I have marked with a pencil where I cut them from—there was a very great difference in the appearance of the spots on the trowsers and those on the hat; the clot was very different to the other—on the hat blood had fallen, and had coagulated there; it had not been in any way removed, but on the trowsers there was no coagulum as if the blood had remained untouched, but it had evidently been submitted to some process, whereby it had been to a large extent removed—the surface of the trowsers appeared to have had something passed over it; the bleeding did not remain for the blood to coagulate, whereas it did on the hat—I examined the boots also, there was nothing on them—this plasterer's hammer was also submitted to me; in the first place it was somewhat rusty on the surface, as if there had been wet on it, and in the next place I noticed at the top of the wood, on each side, red

spots, one of which I cut out, and found it to be blood—this is what I mean by the reddish stain (pointing it out), it is not deep—this is where I cut the piece out; it was similar to this, only the piece I cut out was a little larger, I think—there is a sort of notch at one end, and standing up from it there was at that time some dirt, and there stood up from it three small hairs, varying in length—one I think was about one-eighth of an inch, and the other, the longest, was half an inch—I placed them between glass, and produce them—I could not tell from the look of them whether they were broken hairs; I can't positively say, it is a very difficult thing—I made a large number of experiments whether you could judge as to a out or a broken hair, and I don't think you could—on the other side I placed some pieces of hair which Mulvany gave me—I compared the pieces of hair that I took from the end of the hammer with the lock of hair that was given me; they seemed to me to be the same colour and general appearance, and the same structure—I found some blood on the blade, in this notch—I scraped from the notch on each side of it a little clot, one of which I have examined, the other is there—the one I examined I found to be blood, and that I produce—I also examined a brush and a coat; I found no blood on either—that was all that I examined.

Cross-examined. I found nothing on the boots, the coat, or the brush—the single hair I have said was an ordinary brown hair—I could not tell whether it was the hair of a male or a female, except by the length—I could not form any opinion about it—I don't think I ever said that the single hair, the five pieces of hair, and the lock of hair, were, in my opinion, from the same person—I said they were alike, but that I could not say they were from the same person; I could not venture to do so—if it has been taken down so, I could not ever venture to say they were from the same person—there are certain points of similarity which might occur in 5,000 persons—the two or three smears at the back of the right leg, pointed out by the Jury, correspond with some that, in my opinion, were not blood—it would be impossible to say they were from the same person, or to express any opinion about it—I cut out part, and, in some cases, I daresay I cut all out—I said before the Magistrate "I can't say whether it is human blood or not, no one can say that; I can only say that it is the blood of a vertebrated animal, whether of a man or a mammal, I could not tell; they are certainly not old stains, it is the property of old blood to become insoluble in water; I should not like too much importance to be attached to this"—I said it would always be dependent upon the condition of the atmosphere—I also said "It is a mere opinion, but founded upon eiperience the acidity of the atmosphere in London has a tendency to change it into the insoluble form"—I give a certain amount of respect to Dr Taylor's book on Medical Jurisprudence; at page 444, he says "After a period of five or six days it is scarcely possible to determine, from the appearance, the date of a stain even conjecturally; indeed it is extremely difficult in any case, after the lapse of a week, to give any opinion as to the actual date of the stain," that is so—I think that has no reference to a chemical examination, I think it is merely as to the appearance; the condition of the atmosphere being tolerably pure in one place, and acid in another it makes a difference—in one state of the atmosphere, for instance, in London, it might become insoluble sooner than it would in the country; and in one state of the atmosphere it might be insoluble in a short time; in another, it would remain soluble for a longer time—without taking the

state of the atmosphere, you could not very well say the date of the stain; I say again, I have had a large experience, and my general observation is that it slowly undergoes change; but I cannot pretend to tell what time might elapse; I would not confine it to a week or a fortnight—I only know when it is soluble in water, as a rule, it is a sign of recent blood, whether a week, a fortnight, or a month, I could not say, unless I knew exactly the condition of the atmosphere to which it was subjected—I am referring to my own book, upon Spectrum Analysis, to see if I had not put down here about the times—I could not tell the date of these stains, I don't profess to do so—I could not fix any time at which the blood might have got upon the things.

The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.

EBENBZER WHICHEB POOK . I am the prisoner's father, and carry on the business of a stationer, in London Street, Greenwich—the prisoner is twenty years of age—before I took my business as a stationer, I was employed upon the Times newspaper for twenty-three years—I have been in business as a stationer in Greenwich ten years—my son lived at home as a member of the family—he was always a very quiet, well-conducted young man—there is no truth whatever that there was any intimacy between him and my late servant, the deceased girl—she had left my service on 11th April—we had given her notice on two or three occasions, and she had asked to stay—on the last occasion she seemed doubtful whether she should go or stay, but at last she left—she was very untidy—she left in consequence of the complaints—she was not fit to be seen, and I used to complain about her to my wife repeatedly—she would never clean herself, so much so that I would go to the door in order that she should not be seen, but we believed her to be strictly honest—I remember Mr. Mulvany and Superintendent Griffin calling on me on 1st May—the conversation with them lasted one hour and five minutes altogether, from first to last—they had full opportunity of examining all the clothes, and the prisoner's bedroom; every facility was given—my son was called up, and he came—I had been acquainted with Superintendent Griffin some time—when my son came into the room, he said "Good morning, Mr. Griffin, I know you," with a smile—it was said in a joking manner—he was laughing, in fact, he had just left the dinner table, where they were laughing and talking; I could hear them up stairs—he was not aware of why he was sent for, that I know of—I did not leave the room, I only called him—at that time no one knew what Mulvany and Griffin came for but me—I won't be certain whether he shook hands with Griffin, at all events he nodded to him—yes, I remember he did shake hands—my younger son, Thomas Pook, was sent for at the instance of the prisoner—Mulvany said "I am told that your son has been on terms of intimacy with this girl, he has corresponded with her and he said, tapping his hand, "There is a letter in her handwriting, and he has also given her a locket; and a servant of a near neighbour of yours was intimate with your servant, your son was intimate with both of them, and did as he liked with them;" all of which is totally false, and I told Mulvany so—I told him it was ridiculous and false, and that he was a different sort of boy altogether—I also said that, being subject to fits, we constantly watched him about the house, and in fact, if he was in his bedroom a minute longer than we thought he should be, we always went to see if anything was the matter or not, on every occasion—at that time my eldest son was staying with me, and had been two or three weeks—he is a married man, and his wife was absent in the

country on a visit—he and the prisoner occupied the same bed—I told Griffin and Mulvany that my son's wife was in the country, and that he had been living with us for three weeks, and stopping with his brother, and that they, were together on every occasion, unless the pressure of work prevented the elder brother being with the younger one, which had occurred once or twice—we never suffered the younger one to work later than 7 o'clock if we could help it, on account of his health—I mean the prisoner—Griffin kept repeating in a sort of fussy manner, "Ah, it is a very painful matter, but it is too true"—he said that five or six times during the conversation—after that, they asked to see the bedroom, which is a little room; they closely scrutinized every article of apparel there, and when we came down, I called the prisoner up, and Mulvany said to him "We understand you have been corresponding with your late servant?"—he totally denied it—Mulvany did not tell the prisoner that he had a letter in his writing, but he said "People say so"—he asked him if he could account for his time of an evening—my son said he could—Mulvany said "Where were you on Monday night?"—he said "About the town, with my brother; I always leave off at 7 o'clock, unless we are busy"—I have a printing business as well; that makes it necessary we should wash our hands when we leave off business—the prisoner said "On Tuesday night I went to Lewisham, to see a young lady; I suppose there is no occasion to mention her name?"—he said he waited forty minutes at the railway station, and came back by Royal Hill—Mulvany seemed to doubt it, and my son said, rather indignantly, "Call up my brother, he will tell you where I was"—ray married son, Thomas Birch Pook, then came up—those are my only children—the prisoner then said, rather indignantly, "Tom, where was I on Monday night?"—he said "You were about the town with me, the whole evening"—the prisoner said "Where was I on Tuesday night?"—he said "You went to Lewisham," seeming rather surprised he was asked the question—the prisoner said "What time did I return?"—he said "About 9 o'clock, as usual"—Mulvany then asked him for his shirt—he said "Well, I rather think it has gone to the wash"—Miss Harriet Chaplin, a cousin of mine, was staying with us, the prisoner called her—she knew where the dirty linen was—she went with him, and the shirt was produced—Mulvany looked at it, and handed it to Superintendent Griffin, who pointed out a stain on the wristband—the prisoner was asked to account for it—he said that he was in the habit of washing his hands frequently during the day, without unbuttoning his wristbands, and most likely the blood from a scratch on his wrist had gone on to the other sleeve—he pointed out a scratch on his wrist—I do not know how it occurred; we often have scratches in the printing business, and all other businesses—he has been found fault with for washing his hands without turning up his sleeves; we termed it a slovenly habit, and he has been scolded for it—Griffin had a very surprised look, and said that he should have expected to find more blood on the shirt—he expressed his surprise in his face—after that, they told my son they should take him in custody—he desired to take a book with him, and said he was quite ready to go wherever they wished—he was reading the book at the time, and he simply wished to resume it when he had the opportunity—he was asked if he had seen anyone in Lewisham who knew him, and he mentioned the fact that my boy had been there with a parcel—the boy was sent to an oil and colour shop, with a parcel, but did not see him—my son is, unfortunately, subject to epileptic fits, and when be is in them he had U

been covered with blood on almost every occasion, which arises from biting his tongue—he falls down in them, and is quite unconscious for an hour or more—he had a fit in April, but I did not see it; my other son can give you every information—the prisoner wore black trowsers, or dark mixture; he never had any light trowsers in his life, on any occasion; they would not do in our business, and besides that, he had an objection to them.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERALM. The prisoner used to be watched about the house—as a fact he was constantly away from the house for many hours together, but not alone—when we had anyone to send with him he was not allowed to go alone—we always sent an errand boy with him—I was quite aware of his intimacy with Miss Durnford; his brother was with him—I don't mean to say that his brother was with him when he went to keep an appointment with Miss Durnford—I do not know how long he has been with her—he has a little to do with penny readings at Greenwich—he never played at any public theatre—he never went to London for such a purpose—he never was away of an evening without our knowing where he was and who was with him—he always had some friend or acquaintance with him—I do not know of his acquaintance with Alice Langley; it was a little flirtation, I suppose, which I have indulged in when I was his age—I do not know that he went to walk and talk with her—I have heard Miss Alice Wicks mentioned, he has called there as an acquaintance—if he called alone, it was because we cannot send a person out with him every time—I do not know that he met Miss Love, the name is not familiar to me—I know the young lady, Louisa, he has seen her a few times, very few and far between—she lives in Wales, and he has been there for his health, once in two years perhaps—when he went out on Tuesday night, to Lewisham, he was alone, his brother had to work late then—I think Sunday was the day he had his cousin Winn with him, and they met two girls in the park and went for a walk—I never knew that he had any moustaches to shave; there was a little down on his lip, but I should not like to dignify it by the name of a moustache—I did not notice that it was shaved off, it was really so slight that it was scarcely noticeable—the conversation between me, Mulvany, and Griffin, and my two sons, lasted just over an hour and three-quarters; half an hour of which the officers were with me alone—the prisoner worked at composing, and also at press work, the usual routine—we used to strike work at 7 o'clock, unless we were very busy—we rarely work overtime, unless it is anything of great importance—he worked and took the same hours as the rest of us—my household consisted of myself and Mrs. Pook, and the prisoner, my niece, Miss Pook, the maid, and Miss Chaplin—my married son slept out of the house, except when his wife was away—the prisoner slept alone—my niece occupied one bed and the girl the other, in a double-bedded room, because we are rather short of bedroom accommodation—that has been the case always—I was not aware of my late servant being murdered till Mr. Mulvany told me—I then said "I am sorry to hear it is so"—I was aware that a girl had been murdered, but was not aware who she was—I know Humphreys, he worked for me about three years, as a compositor in the office—he was paid money for the last time on 11th February—he knew and worked with my son—he left my press in February—when the matter about the locket became known, he met me at the police-station, and told me he was the person who gave it to her, and it was afterwards identified—Humphreys' age is between thirty-five and thirty-six.

Re-examined by MR. HUDDLRSTON. Humphreys was in my service when the girl was—he was there three years, off and on; the girl was with us one year and ten months, so that he must have been there the whole time the girl was there—I know that on one occasion Miss Langley walked out with Miss Love, and Winn was with them—I know of no flirtation with Miss Langley.

MARY POOR . I am the prisoner's mother—the deceased was in my service a year and eleven months—there is no pretence for saying that there was any intimacy between them—he never had any light trowsers in his life—Miss Chaplin was in the house.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR GENERAL. As far as I could, I kept proper order in my house—the prisoner never spoke to the girl; certainly not once a week—I should certainly have discovered any intimacy—I knew about the same time as the rest, of the murder of the girl, but I did not know it was her—I saw no indication whatever of anything of the sort; he disliked the girl.

COURT. Q. How many rooms does your house contain? A. Four bed-rooms, and there are two front rooms, and one back room on each floor—all the family slept above—the top room is divided into three rooms—it is a small house, and we should hear the least noise in it, as we are always anxious about him, and we listen for any noise—if there had been anything going on between him and the girl I should certainly have noticed it—three slept in one room, my son in the back room, and my servant and niece in the front room adjoining ours—they are small rooms, and we could hear noises.

THOMAS BIRCH POOK . I am Mr. Pook's eldest son—I am married, and was staying with him at that time—I occupied the same bed as the prisoner—on Monday, 24th April, I left off work at 7 o'clock, which is our usual time—the prisoner left off at the same time—we washed ourselves after our work in the same room, and went out together at about 7.30—we walked about the whole evening—the first place we went to after we left the shop was the Lecture Hall, which is three minutes' walk off—we did not stay there long—we walked about, and came back to the shop together—my brother went into the parlour, and I went into the printing-office adjoining the shop, and fetched a book—we were not separated for five minutes—we met in the shop, and went out together again at a few minutes past 8 o'clock—we strolled about, and called in at the Lecture Hall again about 8.30—we then went into the Globe Tavern, adjoining the Lecture Hall, and had a glass of ale each—we stayed there about ten minutes—we did not return to the Lecture Hall—from there we went home, and got home about 9 o'clock—the boy was shutting up—I left my brother at the door—he went in doors, and I went on to the end of Nelson Street, about three minutes' walk—I was only gone about seven or eight minutes—I came back and was told my brother had been looking for me, as my brother-in-law and father-in-law had come up from the country—I went to see them, it was then 9.10—I stayed with them about forty minutes—my brother was at home when I came home, and he went up to bed before me, I stopped up for my father-in-law, who was going to sleep at our house that evening—I then went up and slept in the same bed with the prisoner—he slept soundly all night—I heard of a letter being received from my cousin Emily, at Newington Green—we did not go into Mr. Sparshott's shop that night—we did not go near Deptford at all—the prisoner wore darkish trowsers, I never in my U 2

life saw him with a pair of light ones—next evening, Tuesday, my brother left off work at a few minutes after 7 o'clock—he went up stairs for the purpose of washing, as usual—I left off work at 8.30, as there was some pressure of business—I saw him leave the house about 7.20 or 7.20—he went towards the Lecture Hall—he took a book to leave for me there—it is a library and reading-room—I was aware of his intimacy with Miss Durnford—I saw him again at 9.5 that evening, just outside the shop, and asked him if he had seen her—he made a communication to me—we had our supper at the regular time, 9.30—he was there—he had his supper and went to bed—he fell asleep quickly—there was nothing unusual in his appearance—while he was in Maidstone Gaol I received a communication from him, in consequence of which I looked into his drawer, and found two whistles, a bone one and a metal one—these are them—they were whistles that he was in the habit of using—that was on 23rd May—the letter was written on 20th, Saturday—I saw* him in a fit on 6th April, and he bit his tongue—it was in the lower printing office—blood came from his mouth—I remember him cutting his finger on 14th April—we were cleaning the printing machine, and his finger slipped against a sharp part of the machine—it bled very much—we are always cutting our fingers—the boy Lane, who was in our service, took the skin off both his thumbs—they bled very much—the prisoner tied them up—the blood dropped about a great deal—I have never seen the slightest intimacy between my brother and the deceased—during the conversation with Mulvany and Griffin my brother said that he had not seen the deceased, and then corrected himself and said that he had seen her—he mentioned it to me on the Sunday night.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR GENERAL. I went twice on Monday to the Lecture Hall, but not on Tuesday—we went there every evening—a youth named Coutts is the secretary—he knows my brother very well—my brother had professional letters addressed to him there; letters to sing at concerts—some of them were sent to the Lecture Hall, because people did not know any other address—they were addressed both "Edmund Walters" and E. W. Pook"—they were token in by Coutts and given to my brother—he only sang once, that was in the name of Edmund Walters—the letters were from other artistes—he did not sing at concerts; only once at the Lecture Hall and once at Tottenham—he and I hired the Lecture Hall between us for eight Saturday evenings, and that was his professional name, Edmund Walters, and mine was Thomas Birch—he did not sing at all—we engaged artistes to sing at the concerts, and they sent their letters to the Lecture Hall, directed to Edmund Walters—I was present on one or two occasions when Coutts handed letters to my brother, directed to Edmund Walters—the engagement at the Lecture Hall was not running at the time of the murder; but we were receiving letters from different parts of the country, at the Lecture Hall, within a month or so of April 25th—I don't know whether he received letters in that name after that—I did not see them in his hands, so late as the Saturday before; Mr. Coutts would know—my brother shaved off his moustache—that was not for the purpose of singing; it was a piece of joking between ourselves—he shaved it on the Saturday night before the murder, 22nd April—he had no moustache at all; you could scarcely see it—I have never seen the Thomas's in my life—I am sure my brother had no acquaintance with them—I did not know their shop, and don't know now the exact position in which it stands—my brother was home soon after 9 o'clock on the night of the murder—there was nothing in his

appearance to attract ray attention—he did not seem hot or excited—his clothes did not look dirty or disordered—I saw nothing different—his manner was just the same as usual—I knew he had had the whistles in his possession before he wrote to me, but did not know where he kept them—the drawer I found open—it was full of old rubbish, neckties and things—I knew that he used them for making signals—I was with him on one occasion when he did it, and I knew from him that he has done it on other occasions—he used to keep a whistle in his pocket.

Re-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I found the whistle on the 23rd—I was away on the 20th, 21st, and 22nd; I had been in the country to see my wife—I heard that they had produced a whistle before the Magistrate, and I looked in the drawer and found these—this Music Hall was taken for Penny Readings—my brother did not sing at them at all; his professional name was as the hirer of the Music Hall—he sang a comic song at Tottenham, and he sang two sentimental songs at Greenwich, on one occasion, for a charity.

HARRIET CHAPLIN . I am a cousin of the prisoner—on Monday evening, 24th April, he went out about 7.30 with his brother—I received, on that day, by the evening post, soon after 7 o'clock, this letter from my niece—I remember young Pook coming in—I read a portion of that letter to him a few minutes after 8 o'clock—his brother was waiting for him—they joined, and he went away with his brother—he came back at a few minutes after 9 o'clock, and the brother went to Nelson Street—I learnt that his brother and father-in-law had come—I spoke to them—I sent the prisoner to tell him; he returned immediately—he had supper at home, and went to bed—Nelson Street is a few minutes' walk from our house—I don't know what time he went out on Tuesday evening, but somewhere about 7.30—I saw him a few minutes past 7 o'clock, and again at 9.15, sitting on the sofa in his father's house—he had his supper there—there was nothing in his manner or demeanour to attract attention, he was quite as usual—he went to bed; I was there for a considerable time when the deceased was there—I slept in the same room with her—there is no pretence for saying that there was any intimacy between her and the prisoner—he never had a pair of light trowsers—I have seen him in many fits—I did not see him in one on 6th April—I know of his cutting his hand on the 14th—I tied it up—blood was dropping from it quickly, so that it might drop about.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. There was not the slightest intimacy between them—I never saw them together—she slept in my room—I never saw him intimate with anyone else—if there had been any' intimacy I should certainly have discovered it at once—I read this letter to him on Monday, a little after 8 o'clock—I had seen him before that, about 7.30—he came home about supper time, on Tuesday evening—he did not look hot, or excited, he was much the same as he was on other nights—he was precisely the same as usual—nothing attracted my attention to him—his clothes did not look disordered, or dirty—he went to bed about the usual time—I heard of the murder before I heard that it was this poor girl—I did not hear that till after the police had taken the prisoner away.

ALFRED GEORGE COLLINS . I am in Mr. Pook's employment as a printer—on Tuesday evening, 25th April, I left off work about 7 o'clock—that is my usual time, and I left at 7.10 that night—there was much work to do that night, but I did not stay, as I had a cold—I left Thomas Birch Pook at work—at the time I left, the prisoner was talking to Mr. Thomas Birch

Pook, and he and the prisoner said "Good-night, Mr. Collins'—I saw the prisoner next morning, he bade me good-morning, and asked after my cold—I went into Mr. Pook's employ in the middle of February—I have not seen the slightest familiarity between the prisoner and the deceased—a boy named Joseph was in the employ; I do not know his surname—I remember his cutting his finger about the middle of April, and the prisoner dressed it—it was under the pump when I saw it.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I never saw any familiarity between the girl and anybody else.

Re-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. If there had been any familiarity between the prisoner and the girl, I must have seen it—I noticed nothing that could arouse a suspicion in my mind.

JOHN FUNOE . I am in Mr. Pook's, employ—on a Tuesday, April 24th, I think it was, I took a parcel to 2, Granville Park Terrace—I did not rightly know the place, and went into a shop, Fisher Brothers, tallow-chandlers, to ask the direction—that is in Lewisham Road, just below Lewisham Bridge—it was about 8.10—I left the parcel, and said "It is all right, it is paid for."

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. It was on Tuesday—I said Wednesday first, because I forgot—it was the 24th, I am quite sure, but I cannot tell you why—I was first asked about taking this parcel to Lewisham by Mr. Pook, the father, the day after Mr. Edmund was taken, and not very long afterwards Mr. Pook, the attorney, asked me about it—I did not know of the inquiry before the Magistrate, or of the Inquest—I did not go up to Guy's Hospital.

Re-examined by MR. HUDDLBSTON. I am sure it was Tuesday—I believe to-day is the 14th.

ANNA SILFIELD . I am in the employ of Mrs. Sowerby, 2, Granville Park Terrace, Lewisham—on Tuesday night, 25th April, at 7.45, a boy brought me a parcel from Mr. Pook—he only said "Sowerby, it is paid for; good evening, Miss."

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I don't remember when I was first asked about it, but I think it was last Wednesday week; it was within a few days—Miss Chaplin came to ask me, and then Mr. Pook, the attorney, came' to me—I did not notice whether he took down what I had to say—Wednesday week, ten days ago, was the first time it was inquired about by anyone, only it was known in the family—I delivered the parcel—hearing of the occurrence that had taken place in Mr. Pook's family of course kept it in my mind—I saw it in the papers—I can't say when, or how long that was after the parcel was delivered—I saw something in the papers about one of Mr. Pook's family being concerned in the murder, and the little boy had brought a parcel, paid for, from Mr. Pook on the Tuesday—that had nothing to do with the murder, but we thought it had come from the family, and that kept it in our heads—my master and mistress do not deal there once in twelve months, but if they did not get things in town they do at Mr. Pook's—finding in the paper that Mr. Pook's family was supposed to be mixed up with this matter I remembered that the parcel came from Mr. Pook's on Tuesday, 25th April—I kept that in my mind till ten days ago, when Miss Chaplin came to me.

Re-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I swear that it was on 25th April that the boy brought the parcel—there is no mistake about that.

JOSEPH AMBROSE EAGLE . I am a surveyor, of 7, Bridge Place, Lewisham

—on Tuesday, 25th April, I had been attending the Royal London Ophthalmic Hospital for the benefit of my right eye, which I have partly lost the sight of, and that was the last day I received lotion for it, which is how I recollect the day—on the evening of that day I was at home, sitting by the window, and looking out—I saw a young man leaning over the bridge which crosses the stream under the road near my place, and opposite the Plough—I went to the Plough for some beer for supper, and saw the young man as I went—I got my beer—I perhaps stayed a minute or two, and I believe he was there when I came back—I could not say the time positively, but it was either a few minutes before or a few minutes after 8 o'clock—the prisoner is the man—I had never known him before, but I had passed him in the street in Greenwich—he is the man, to the best of my belief.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR GENERAL. I did not know him by sight before this—I said before that, "I believe I have passed him several times in the streets about Greenwich"—when I saw him leaning over the bridge it was a face that I recognized as having seen before—he was alone—I can't state positively how long he was there altogether, but it was about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—it was not lamplight, it was not dark enough—the lamps were not lit, that I recollect, but I don't remember for certain—it was getting dark—I know Mr. Catt—he keeps a bottled beer and wine store, under a portion of the railway, where there used to be steps up—he does not retail beer to be drunk on the premises—I had some talk with him about this matter—I told him that Mr. Pook, the attorney, called on me on Sunday at noon, and asked me to attend at his house on Monday, and that he asked me if I saw anybody there on the night of the murder—I did not tell him that in any confidence—I did not tell Mr. Pook I saw two young men leaning over the rails—I won't swear that I did not tell Mr. Catt so, because it must be nearly two months ago, but to the best of my belief I did not—I would almost swear it—I said that Mr. Pook asked me to go to his office, and I went there, and that Mr. Pook showed me three albums and a number of loose photographs—he pointed out no portrait to me, but I identified one of them as the photograph of that young man that I saw, and I marked it—I said "That is the man I saw," and he said that it was young Pook—when I told Mr. Catt this, to the best of my belief he did not say "Were the lamps lighted?—I will not perfectly swear he did not—he said be must have seen him if he had been there leaning over the rails, but he mentioned that he was away some time at his tea—he said "You must be mistaken, because I was at my door that night, and must have seen the young man if he had been leaning over the rails"—he did not say "The young men"—I will swear he did not say "them," because that was after the marking of the photograph, therefore I could not speak in the plural term—my conversation with Mr. Catt happened after the marking of the photograph.

Re-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I believe I passed the young man in the street—these (produced) are the two albums, and the photographs that Mr. Pook showed me at his office—they were of men and women—I picked out this one as the young man I saw on the bridge, and after that, Mr. Pook told me that it was young Pook.

MARY ANN EAGLE . I am the wife of the last witness—I remember his having a lotion from the hospital for his eye—the last time was 25th April—we were at home in the sitting-room that evening—the window

looks out on the street in which Lewisham Bridge is—I saw a young man leaning over the rails of the bridge, about 8 o'clock—it was the prisoner.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I was sitting at the side of the window, making a dress—the young man stayed a long time after 8 o'clock; twenty minutes, or more than that—he must have been there half or three quarters of an hour altogether—he moved towards the tree, and then came back again to the bridge—he was quite alone—I had never seen him before—I looked at him from time to time, because I thought he was a long while staying—I was not quite 40 feet from him, but it may be more—it was on a level—I looked through the glass—Mr. Eagle went across to the Plough, to fetch the supper beer—the prisoner was there then, and Mr. Eagle turned round, and had a look at him—we talked about him; we remarked on the fact of his being so long there—it was a very remarkable thing—I first mentioned it to a friend, who came in on the Wednesday evening—I saw Mr. Pook, the attorney, about it, and came up to his office, with my husbaud, last Sunday—that was the first time, I think—our proofs were taken by Mr. Pook, and we came here.

Re-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I believe my husband had been to Mr. Pook's before that—a number of photographs were shown to us; these are them; and I selected this one, as the young man I had seen on the bridge—I had seen him walk by before, but not to recognize his face—he was with a young lady, living next door but one to me, Miss Durnford—he seemed as if he was looking for her when he was looking from the bridge to the tree, and that made me look at him.

WILLIAM DOUGLAS . I am a house decorator, at 7, Bridge Place, Lewisham—on Tuesday night, 25th April, I saw Mr. Eagle come across the road, with a mug in his hand—there was no one on the bridge at that moment, but two or three minutes afterwards I saw a person standing near towards the tree, towards Miss Durnford's house—he was leaning against the iron railings, near the tree—I had seen him before, in several places, but not that night—it was from 8.5 to 8.15—the prisoner is the man—I had not seen him about before with Miss Durnford, but I had seen him come there before—a number of photographs were shown to me, and I picked out this one from two books and a number of loose ones as his likeness, and put my initials on it.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I had seen him before, but not full-faced—I did not know he was paying his addresses to Miss Durnford—I saw him about there, ten or twelve minutes—I was sitting at the window, while the kettle boiled, waiting for my tea—he must have moved, because Mr. Eagle saw him about 20 feet from where I did, but he was motionless while I saw him, leaning against the rails by the tree, for ten or twelve minutes—no one was with him, male or female—I had nothing else to take my attention, and I thought he was the same person I had seen before, making a noise with a whistle, when I thought he was calling a dog—they bring dogs there, and get them into the water—he did not whistle on that night—when I returned from my tea, he had gone, as far as I could see—I was first asked about having seen him last Sunday, by Mr. Pook, the attorney, but Mr. Eagle told me I should have to attend on Sunday, as Mr. Pook was not at home on Monday—Mr. Eagle and I have not been talking about it—how I had to attend Mr. Pook's is rather a mystery to me.

Re-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. My lodging is over Mr. Eagle's—I had a better chance of seeing him than Mr. Eagle.

ELIZA ANN MERRITT . I live at Providence Cottages, Mount Knot Square, Lewisham Road—on Tuesday, 25th April, I saw the prisoner in the Lewisham Road about five minutes walk, from the railway bridge, between the bridge and Deptford and Greenwich—there is one bridge over the river, and two railway bridges—he was alone—he was not walking; he was as if he was waiting for somebody—I knew young Mr. Pook—it had not gone half-past eight o'clock when I left my house—I swear I saw him there—I am sure he was there—I remember him being charged with this offence on 1st May, and the moment I heard it I spoke to my mother, and told her where I had seen him on the Tuesday.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR GENERAL. I knew him well—I never walked out with him—my mother did not visit at his house—I was born in Greenwich, and I have always known him—when I first saw him he was walking very slowly—I thought he was waiting for somebody—I merely saw him to pass him—I did not speak to him—I saw Mr. Pook the attorney about this, about a fortnight afterwards, in the middle of May—he took down my evidence on paper—I am certain that was Tuesday—there cannot be a doubt about it—I was only out on Monday and Tuesday till Saturday in that week, and this was Tuesday night—I knew of his keeping company with Miss Durnford—I have seen him with her—I never heard him whistle—it was half-past eight o'clock when I left him—I walked to the top of the street, and turned the corner—I saw him about five minutes after I left home—when I passed him he stood still, and I did not see him further—I did not look after him—he was walking towards his home, towards Greenwich, loitering or going slowly.

Re-examined by MR. HUDDLESTON. I am quite certain it was Tuesday, 25th April—I was at the Coroner's Inquest, and before the Magistrate, ready to be called—I was at the hospital twice, and the police could see that I was there.

ANN MERRITT . I am the mother of this little girl—I remember the prisoner being taken into custody—she made a communication to me about something which had occurred on the Tuesday night previous.

EDWARD MACKENZIE . I belong to the fire brigade—I live at Creed Place, Greenwich—on Tuesday morning, 25th April, I saw the prisoner about eleven o'clock—I shook hands with him—I noticed some spots of blood on the right hand wristband of his shirt—I asked him how they came there—he pointed out a scratch on his other arm, and said that that caused it—his wristband was down so far over his hands that I could not help seeing the stain—I wrote to Mr. McClew, and told him about it a fortnight or three weeks after Edmund was taken up—I have known Edmund for the lost five years, during that time I have known him as a quiet and in offensive young man.

CHARLES IKEY . I am a member and a resident of Morden College, Blackheath—I know Layzell—on the Thursday morning, the 27th, I went to his house to purchase flower-roots—this book is a diary which I keep—Layzell comme ced a conversation, and said be never saw Kidbrook Road look so desolate as it had been the day before—it had been very wet and bad—he said that at four o'clock in the morning he got up to gardening, and whilst he was in the garden a party passed, and seeing him, hailed him, showing him at the same time a pocket-handkerchief, which was, he said, covered with blood—he said he did not know him—he was a labourer in appearance, and he also observed that the party who committed the

murder must have gone on towards Blackheath—the handkerchief was picked up directly opposite to where Layzell lived—next morning Layzell called to bring the flowers—he never said that he had seen Mr. Pook—I was not at Layzell's house when the other gentlemen were there—he recommended me not to go down the lane—I said I had known the road fifty years or more, but I came for another purpose, and nothing would induce me to go down—this was on the Thursday—I was not talking all the time—we were looking out plants according to choice—I was there nearly half an hour—I walked round the garden with him; "There," he says, "you know the place; you can see it from here"—he did not tell me he had told a policeman about it—he said the party who showed him the handkerchief was taking it to the police—he said he had seen no one else—I know the barn field, but should not like to say the distance from the lane, as I am no judge of distance—it skirts one side of it about a mile and a half from the College.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I am sure he told me everything that is put down in that memorandum; I made it at the time—I am sure he told me he had seen no one else in the lane.

ROBERT HEAVES IVES . I am a clerk in the employ of Mr. William Bristowe, solicitor, of Greenwich—on the Saturday after the murder I went to Eltham, and called at Layzell's house on the way—I went in a shower of rain, with two of my fellow clerks, Harris and Reeve—we got into conversation with Mrs. Layzell, at Layzell's house—Layzell was at the door, but made no remarks—he was within hearing. THE SOLICITOR-GENERAL objected to this evidence, and it was not proceeded with.

THOMAS MORTIMER (Policeman R 163). I am stationed at Eltham—on 25th April, I was on the beat which takes in Kidbrook Lane from 3 to 6 o'clock; from 6 to 9 o'clock, I was in charge of the office—I do not know if anybody covered my beat—my beat was generally over at 10 o'clock—between 9 and 10 o'clock I went down the village, and then went home—I had not time to go to Kidbrook Lane in that hour—I went there between 3 and 6 o'clock.

Cross-examined by MR. HUDDLBSTON. I ought not to have gone there—I went once, and should have gone again if I had been out—I was there about 3.30 or 3.40—if I had gone again I should have been there between 9 and 10 o'clock—I do not know who took my duty—I do not know who ought to take it.

R. HUDDLESTON to J. GRIFFIN. Q. Do you know about the sergeant's state? A. No—I went to the station and made search for it the day before, and the day after I spoke to Inspector Wilson respecting that state, and he is outside and will inform you also that he carried it to the Police Court several days, expecting to be called—it cannot now be found—I have got the blue handkerchief (produced)—there are certain marks upon it which would be considered, to be blood marks; it is not stout enough to be a butcher's frock—it has not been washed—it is in the same state now as when found—it was handed over to Tilbrook, who examined it—it was shown to me on the second day—I said they had better take care of it—it was then put in a cell, when I went to Lee—I do not think it was ever in Mulvany's custody, as it was put in a spare cell, which is called the store-room at the station—it was not submitted to Dr. Letheby—I did not communicate with Mr. Stephenson, at the Treasury, about it—I believe Mulvany saw it, but do not know; he went to Lee and Eltham with me so many times.

COURT. Q. Did the father of the prisoner say "As to Edmund, I am certain of his innocence, as he is subject to fits," and that he did not lose sight of him for a long time together, and that his eldest son had been sleeping with him as usual? A. I think, in addition to that, he said they did not lose sight of him about the house—that was said by the father, "We always have a member of the family along with him; we should not lose sight of him long"—I said I did not think they said "About the house," because they would let him run up to the top of the house and down to the bottom again without somebody with him, but they would never let him go far away without somebody with him—that was the purport of the words—I have not the occurrence-book with me—I went first to Eltham and then passed on to Lee—Lee being the chief inspector's station—Inspector Wilson has four stations under him; I have twelve—this cloth was picked up immediately after the murder, about half a mile away, by a man going to his work at 4 o'clock in the morning—I do not think it was carried to the station before the following day—I thought it could have no connection with the murder, it was found so far away, and there are gipsies who often throw away rags about there—that is my explanation—many people knew about the rag being found—I did not hear of the murder till 12 o'clock the day after, and the footsteps that were seen would have been trodden over before that.

JOHN MULVANY (Re-examined). This rag was never examined at all—I saw it at Lee Station—I communicated with Mr. Stephenson about it—I don't know whether there is any blood on it—I never took it to them.

AUGUSTUS KEPPLE STEPHENSON . I am an assistant solicitor to the Treasury, I have been referred to on most occasions in reference to the conduct of this prosecution, in which it was a question of evidence—this matter of the blue rag was brought to my attention by Inspector Mulvany immediately after the case was put into our hands—the case was not in our hands at first—the Home Office letter relating to the rag was about the 4th of May—I have never seen that since until to-day—I gave most explicit instructions to Inspector Mulvany to follow it out as far as possible—I have had no reasons to believe that those instructions have not been carried out, I fully believe they have—Mr. Plant principally attended to this matter—he is in my department, and refers to me occasionally—both of us attended to this matter.

HENRY CATT . I am a wine merchant, of 3, Ivy Place, Lewisham—my place of business is in one of the railway arches there—I recollect having a conversation with Eagle—something was the matter with his eye—I remember his saying that Mr. Pook had called upon him and asked him if he remembered seeing anyone about there on the night of the murder—he told me that he had said to Mr. Pook that he had seen two young men leaning over the rails opposite his house, that night—he said to me "Were the lamps lighted?"—I said he must be mistaken, if there were two men leaning over the rails I must have seen them—I was standing at my door that night, and I must have seen them.

Cross-examined. I first saw the police when two detectives came to my house, two months ago—I gave my statement to the Treasury about three weeks or a month ago—I was not in Court when Mr. Eagle was examined—I have never seen or spoken to him since that conversation about the two young men.

HENRY POOK . I am solicitor for the prisoner—I am no relation of his

Saturday, July 15th.

WILLIAM SPAMHOTT (re-called by MR. HUDDLESTON). Mr. Crawford lives next door to me—I don't know his Christian name—I can't say for certain whether I saw him the day after Pook was taken into custody—I would not venture to swear that I did not see him, certainly not—I can't say for certain whether I spoke to him about the murder—I have spoken to him about the murder—I might have said that there was a party trying to purchase a hammer at my shop—I perhaps said that I had not one to suit him—I did not say that I did not take particular notice of the man except that he was dressed in light clothes—I positively deny that—I recollect speaking to him, I don't recollect its being that day—I daresay I said that I had not the article the man required, and that I had directed him to Thomas's, or words to that effect—very likely I said that the man wanted the hammer for some performance at the Lecture Hall—I did not say "But as fur swearing to the man I cannot do so, I did not take sufficient notice of him, "I utterly deny that—of course I never mentioned the hammer; I have never said "hammer" about the case at all; he asked for a small axe, I have never mentioned anything but axe—very likely I said I thought the man wanted a small axe—I did not say a hammer, I never mentioned a hammer in the case.

Re-examined. I don't recollect anything I said to Mr. Crawford, with the exception that I asked him about the young man's age—I asked him if young Mr. Pook was not more than twenty years of age—he said he looked older, and I said my impression was that the young man was older than twenty, but directly I saw him in the yard I recognized him instantly—I would not describe his clothes, I saw his features instantly in the court-yart, and I could not alter my statement on any account; I consider my character is quite as much at stake as any man's in the kingdom.

MATTHEW JOHN CRAWFORD . I am a baker and pastrycook, and live next door to Mr. Sparshott—I had a conversation with him—I can't say that it was the day after Pook was taken into custody; I can't state the day; it was after he was taken into custody; within a few days—we were speaking about the murder—he informed me that a person had called at his shop to purchase a hammer, he had not the article to suit him, he was under the impression that it was for some theatrical purpose or something of the kind, and he directed him to Mr. Thomas's across the road, and he told me that he should not be able to recognize the man again—we had some little conversation about it after that, and be repeated it three or four times that he could not recognize the man—he said to the best of his belief he thought the man had light clothes on; he said he could not swear to him—I told Mr. Pook of this conversation last night, in consequence of seeing the thing in the paper—I read Sparshott's evidence in the paper, and I felt it necessary to go to Mr. Pook, the solicitor, because I thought they were two versions.

Cross-examined by MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. I was aware that Mr. Sparshott had been before the Coroner, and before the Magistrate—I saw his evidence there—that was some weeks or months ago—I do not know young Pook, I never saw him before—Mr. Sparshott did not ask me anything about his age, that I am aware of—I don't believe he did; I have no recollection of it—I swear he did not—I believe, in conversation, I said the report was that he looked older than he was—I had never seen him—I can't recollect how that came about—I am not living next door

to Mr. Sparshott now—I am now living at 1, Nelson Street, Greenwich—I was not at the Police Court, or before the Coroner; I merely read the proceedings.

Re-examined. My father carried on business in Nelson Street for many years, and on his death I took the business—I have not taken the business more than two months, but I was carrying it on for my mother—I mentioned to many persons what Mr. Sparshott said to me, but I did not wish to have anything to do with the affair, not thinking my evidence was of sufficient value, but I felt it my duty to come and state it—he distinctly said he could not swear to the man.

The Prisoner received an excellent character.


Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

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